#And a tickle party was the next day so of course I had to wear one!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kirikorik · 6 months ago

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- And yet you left me. - And yet I left you. You'll never forget…

Joost Klein × fem!reader.

Summary: You loved each other when you were teenagers, then he ran away, and now he's back again, and no matter how much you try to avoid him, you won't succeed... After many years, you receive an invitation to a party in honor of Joost's loss at Eurovision.

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 16+! Triggers! Violence! Sexualization! Sexy theme! Not canon! The story is not reality and everything except the known facts is my fantasy!

I don't know English. Maybe there are a lot of mistakes. ♡♡♡

The party is in full swing. The sounds of electronic music are hitting your ears, but you are laughing happily, feeling the vibration in your chest. You are a little drunk, you want to relax a little after work, so you replace your drink with a new one and go further to the dance floor to forget yourself this evening. This party was a celebration of losing.

Just a few days ago, Eurovision ended, Switzerland won with some damn singer. You had nothing against the performer from this country, but you were still bitter and offended for what you did to the «main star» of this party. Joost Klein was expelled. He could have easily won, the vote ratings in his honor were skyrocketing. People liked his songs, his style, people liked him as a person. But the truth is that people couldn't help but like Joost. He was something of a cherished dream. Unattainable and too mundane. The guys wanted to be friends with him, the girls just wanted him. And yet he was excluded from Eurovision, and now Joost was celebrating his loss, his lost dream…

You raise your hands, the flashing lights in front of your eyes spin, sweat rolls down your forehead. The room is hot and stuffy, but you don't care. You don't care. Your only dream is that this evening will never end and that you will never see Joost again. But he's like a ghost, a silhouette shining in the golden light. Joost is irresistible from the tips of his snow-white hair to his bottomless blue eyes.

The crowd is moving, changing, and no matter how much you blink, you still see only him in front of you. He has white paint on his face, black circles around his eyes, he's wearing his favorite makeup, which makes your legs give way. He looks so fake… Joost is unpredictable. Joost is crazy. Joost… You're fucking in love with him.

Someone steps on your foot, but you don't care. You close your eyes painfully and swear to yourself that you won't open them until dawn today. So as not to see his silhouette, so as not to hear his voice in the songs tickling your ears, so as not to feel his hot palms on your ribs, so as not to cry from how hard his nails dig into your skin. He's standing behind you, snuggling up to you, dancing to your rhythm. He is tall, even very tall, so casually he puts his chin on top of your head and slows down to the beat of his music, as if you are dancing not to loud, rhythmic hip-hop, but to the melody accompanying your unforgettable waltz. People are drunk and don't notice you. You don't want to think about whether it's a dream, whether you feel his touch. You take a deep breath…

You and Joost weren't friends, but you were definitely more than just acquaintances. You've known him for most of your life, ever since you went to school, when you lived next door to him. Joost Klein is a naughty, arrogant wretch. — that's what your parents used to say. Joost Klein was a couple of years older than you, and you were forbidden to communicate with him, but, to tell the truth, you didn't even know him. You often watched from the window of the children's bedroom as he played ball with his father and older brother, but you were always afraid to approach them. Your parents never paid enough attention to you.

Once in childhood, your mother ordered you to put on black clothes. But you didn't listen and chose a white shirt with red hearts. Of course, no one told you that it was very important, your parents ignored you. Standing at the funeral of Joost's father, who died of cancer, you realized what a mistake you had made. Joost looked into your eyes without blinking, as if he had known you for a long time. He probably hated the scarlet hearts on your shirt. You tightened your grip on your mother's hand and lowered your tear-stained gaze to the ground.

He was thirteen, and you were a couple of years younger and didn't understand much when an ambulance arrived at your neighbor's house a year later. You didn't understand much when a body covered with a black cloth was carried out of the house on a stretcher. You didn't understand much when the white-haired boy jumped out after the doctors, screaming loudly and heartbreakingly. You didn't understand much when Joost's older brother held him in his arms, comforting him. You didn't understand a lot, but bitter tears were rolling down your cheeks. You never saw Miss Klein again.

You're afraid, but you still lean back against Joost's wide, sweat-soaked chest, cling to him as if for the last breath of air, but you don't open your eyes even when his right palm begins to slide over your cheek. He knows that you won't dare to look at him, and yet he's watching your face intently in the hope of seeing at least something.…

When Joost returned to school a few months later, he was smiling as if nothing had happened. As if his heart didn't hurt unbearably much. Then, looking at him from around the corner, you promised to share his pain with him. Being the only viewer of his YouTube channel, you, as the most devoted fan, listened attentively to all his speeches. You left likes on his videos, wrote comments, it seemed like you knew everything about him. You weren't sure if Joost at least remember your name.…

When you turned 15, you often watched at night as Joost ran away from home, as each time he was picked up by the same dark blue car with his friends. You dreamed of going to the same place where Joost went one day. He always returned just before dawn, always with a drunken sincere smile on his lips, always happy. Was he happy? Even a fool would have realized that it wasn't.

Your hips move in a slow rhythm to the right and left, Joost pressing his pelvis against you follows your every movement, exhaling hotly into the back of your head, making you tremble and tremble…

You remember the horror reflected on your face when you looked into someone else's blue eyes. So similar to Joost's eyes… A brunette twice your size was pinning you to the wall with his body… It's the first time you've run away from home after your adult friends. The guy standing in front of you was Joost's classmate, one of his best friends. But, nevertheless, it was he who persistently groped you, drunkenly muttering something and ignoring your tears, running his hands under your short skirt. The room is dark, music is blaring outside the door, no one will hear you.…

A calloused palm squeezes your thin neck, interrupting you breathing for a few moments, and then sliding back to your cheekbone. Your ears are blocked, you can't hear the music and Joost's ragged breathing over your temple. He doesn't say a word, but you understand everything and therefore drink the remaining alcohol in the glass at a time. There's no way you're going to listen to him. Do you want to forget about the existence of Joost Klein… And yet you're at his party. And yet you responded to his invitation, but not to the bell.…

You swallow back tears, mumble something about your parents, about your mother, beg him to stop and not touch you. But other men's hands are not listening to you, lifting up your short top. Other people's lips wetly kiss your neck, nibble your shoulders. You try to push Joost's friend away, but you can't do anything, he's older and twice your size, stronger…

You dig your nails into Joost's forearm, trying to stop him and forbid him to stop. You pray that he doesn't stop, and you hope that you're dreaming all this.

The flash is followed by a loud bang and swearing. Dirty alien hands are letting you go. You shiver and cling to the wall, staring wide-eyed at the floor. Your fingers lower the edge of your skirt, wanting to cover your body as much as possible. You're almost hysterical, and when someone else's hands fall on your shaking shoulders again, you shudder violently, raising your head sharply. Joost is standing in front of you. Pale. He seems very scared. There are drops of blood on his cheekbone, the knuckles of his right hand are broken, and his best friend is lying unconscious on the icy floor next to you. But he hugs you with trembling hands and prays that you will be all right. His sweet lonely neighbor, who seems to know everything about him and at the same time nothing at all. Joost was not a fighter, he was not an athlete, and although in junior high he often fought with other children, as he got older, he completely forgot about it. And yet, when he saw you in tears, his fists automatically clenched. He was only thinking about how to protect you. — It's time for us to go home. He says softly, before borrowing an old navy blue car from a friend and taking you away.…

You hate him. You hate it as much as you hate yourself. But for Joost, you are the most valuable, the closest. You're what he always wants, but his hands only touch you when he's drunk. His lips don't know the taste of your lips. His eyes have never seen your naked body. Although he would be willing to give a lot if you told him at least once — yes. You loved him. He knew it, but it was all terribly ridiculous, almost disgustingly funny.

It's cold in the car, it smells like weed and alcohol. Joost doesn't seem to have a driver's license. But you don't even think about it, clinging to the car window and shivering in the front seat. Joost's doesn't look at you, but he's gripping the steering wheel tightly. An oppressive silence fills the interior of the car, and only occasionally your short sobs scare the two of you.

— Bastard… — you whisper softly, bringing your hands back and painfully digging your nails into Joost's scalpel, tangling your hands in his snow—white hair. You think he doesn't hear your words, but Just just chuckles softly and snuggles closer to you.

You don't say a word to each other when your parents meet you at the door of the house more angry than scared, you want to hate Joost for telling your parents everything. But it seems that the contempt in the eyes of your mother and father in Joost's direction is enough for you two.

— Y/n… — he drunkenly mutters your name…

You're under house arrest, and all you have is a view of his house from the window. You cry, remembering everything that happened, and you can't contain your anger when you see Joost climbing out of his room window again late at night. But the car in the yard is already a different color: scarlet, expensive and shiny, and a tall brunette is driving… There is disappointment in your heart, pain in your soul…

His hands tickle your ribs, stroke your waist, pity your body. Joost is unpredictable, like the first snow in October or the last in May. He comes unexpectedly, bursts into your life without any warning, as if you've been waiting for him for a long time. Have you been waiting for him? In response, you are silent, but your trembling hands stroke his cheekbones, slide along his neck while you press your back against his chest. You arch in the small of your back and hear your bones crunch, but it doesn't hurt you, just a little bit.

He smiles, it seems to sparkle and happily at his new girlfriend, a fateful brunette his high school classmate. She is one of the most beautiful girls in school: rich parents, good reputation, excellent grades. Joost is her opposite, but opposites eventually attract, don't they? You bite the inside of your cheek, talking to your friends, but your eyes are glued to the newly minted couple cooing at the entrance to the chemistry room…

— Why again? — you mumble, knowing the answer perfectly well…

When you see them naked in Joost's bedroom through the window of your house, something inside dies. You cry loudly, wipe your tears into your pillow, swallow your sobs and hope that everything will end soon.…

— I promised you, — Joost replies with an ironic laugh, whispering in your ear. Your skin is covered with goosebumps, and tears come to your eyes again.

You're drunk again, you ran away from home again, but now you have a reason for it — non-reciprocal love. There is a fog in my head, a picture floats before my eyes, how you joyfully rush into the arms of some unknown guy. Now you're 16, now you can. Someone's lips are sliding down your neck, somewhere in your head your mind is screaming at you to run, whispering that you don't want this. Your heart squeezes painfully in my chest, and your watery eyes are filled with memories of that damn night when Joost's ex-best friend tried to force you… You feel sick, sick and…

— Do you remember the night I promised I'd never leave you? — that damn grin that suits Joost so well doesn't leave his lips while he leaves a trail of kisses on your neck. Maybe you'll finally come to terms, maybe you'll finally give a damn and just say — yes?

Your head is spinning, and your legs don't hold you at all when long-familiar male hands, covered with ridiculous tattoos, pull you out of someone else's arms. You want to scream, but you just melt under the influence of a few bottles of alcohol and obediently follow Joost through the crowd. Somewhere behind you, you hear a woman screaming. The scream of that brunette bitch, that's what you called her.

— You were very drunk, crying and begging me not to leave you, remember? — Joost is circling you in his arms, hoarsely and insistently, without stopping whispering…

You're screaming. Loudly, tearing his throat out as the car leaves the city. Joost doesn't say a word, he's mad as hell, and except for the look in his eyes — «I told you never to go to high school parties again.» — You can't see anything anymore.

— I'd like to forget… — you see bright lights through your closed eyelids.…

It's night outside, the sky is overcast, and you can't see the moon or the stars, only the headlights of a damn car you know illuminate the road. Joost is looking at you, right into your eyes. His face is young without wrinkles and although his life has been hard, he still has naivety in his soft features. His white fluffy hair, always sticking out in different directions is wet. His white T-shirt is stuck to his chest, he breathes loudly, pulls his light eyebrows together and shushes through his teeth… In all the years that you've known each other, you've never had a normal conversation. But it doesn't seem to be necessary for any of you when you impulsively approach him and find his lips at random. You're fucking drunk giving Joost your first kiss. Joost doesn't push you away, and you beg him never to leave you again, he swears he won't leave you.…

— You'll never forget… — the blond man laughs slyly, resting his chin on your shoulder, you can feel his heart beating in his chest with your shoulder blades, and you want to tear out your own.…

A ringing slap in the face tears the air with a pop. The fatal couple, consisting of an failed singer, a party lover and the obedient daughter of rich parents, breaks up right in the hallway of the school. Now Joost's ex-girlfriend slaps him in the face. It's painful. But instead of at least saying something to her, Joost looks sideways with his icy blue eyes at you…

— Never… — you stutter, and tears come to your eyes… It's not even fair…

You have never said words of love to each other, never swore eternal feelings and promised nothing. You did not meet, did not touch each other, only with glances, only in whispers, only with short poems and songs.

— Never… — he whispers in response to your words, but the music interrupts him.…

And after that, Joost drops out of school, just leaves without even finishing his studies, he doesn't tell you a damn thing, just disappears after your long nights on the hood of his battered car, when you watched the stars with such love, each other…

You beg him to tell you why when he's packing his bags. You ask him to explain to you why when he buys train tickets. You whisper, «What about me?» When he just sighs softly and obediently turns away and goes deep into his house. You do not dare to follow him.

— And yet you left me… — you say, laughing softly, with irony, as lonely tears roll down your cheeks.

A few hours before his flight, you call him on the phone, ignoring the screaming music behind you, the laughter of people and… Joost knows perfectly well where you are, but only listens silently to your drunken pleas to come back, pick you up from this damn party, as he always did. Take you home and take care of you. Joost hangs up, you try again, you text him with loud sobs: — «Damn bastard, I love you!» — But it never reaches him, and a notification is displayed on your phone screen: «The contact blocked you.»

— And yet I left you. — Joost confirms your words. There's no need to lie, you both know everything.

The house opposite is now empty, you will no longer find any of the members of the little Klein family. And neither his friends nor classmates know where he is. After six months, you give up and stop looking for him…

— I was looking for you. — you're not lying, and, to tell the truth, all those five years that you were so far from each other, you kept looking for him. You kept looking until one day you came across a song with a familiar voice on the radio. You were ready to die to those damn lines: «Hearts on her shirt, kisses on her cheeks. Tears, behind which the eyes are not visible, she screamed after: You swore! And I blocked her contact with a bitter smile on my lips.»

— I'm sorry. — the only thing he says, and you don't know if he's really sorry, but you just nod. Tears are already streaming down your cheeks…

— I hate you. — your hands drop, and you finally open your eyes, which are glistening with tears, but still don't turn around.

— It's not true! — Joost exclaims almost resentfully in your ear and jerks you sharply.

In the five years that he was gone, you tried to live without him. You graduated from high school with honors and entered a prestigious university. You forbade yourself to listen to songs and all the art, it reminded you of only one person you've known for a long time.

Your tear-stained eyes express neither hatred nor contempt, only deep resentment when you meet the gaze of clear blue irises. Joost is still the same, although he is five years older. He's 26 now, and your age difference doesn't seem that surprising. Blond tousled hair, the same as before but shorter. Bright eyebrows, the same as eyelashes. He has grown a short beard and a small mustache above his plump lips, but it suits him. He smiles and… It's still the same smile. A smile you haven't seen in so long. And the smile you've been in love with for so long.

Joost suffered and tortured himself all these five years, but he knew that it was necessary, he knew that otherwise his dreams would not come true. Sacrifices were required, and unfortunately, on the way to his success, the first and biggest obstacle was you, and he decided that before it was too late, before things went too far, he needed to leave. But he loved you, loved you all these years, and you can't count the countless drafts and tracks that he wrote for you, but without releasing them in the hope that one day, when he returns, you will forgive him and listen to all these hundreds of tracks dedicated only to you with him. He had a lot of albums with your name on them.

— I don't want to see you anymore… — you mumble, your gaze slides down. You don't want to see his painted face anymore, he always hid behind the mask of his openness. But you knew how his heart could ache, how his hands could tremble, what his needy hugs could be. He needed you as much as you needed him, and yet…

Joost's eyes narrow, he shakes his head with a slight understanding smile on his lips, and then bends lower knowing that you will not pull away and whispers monotonously and hoarsely:

— Liar. — Joost concludes the verdict, crawling with his fingertips under your short top, wanting to feel you closer, wanting you…

— Which one of us is a liar here? — you laugh ironically and put your hand behind his head, tangling your fingers in his blond hair, they feel as soft as before and if you close your eyes you can probably believe that five years is not so much.

— Forgive me, honing(Honey)… — he does not dare to look into your eyes, even though you are looking for his gaze.

The crowd around you is pushing, jumping and shouting something loudly, the bright flashes of the spotlights hurt your eyes, make them water. You feel dizzy, your chest hurts, your legs can't hold you, and if it weren't for Joost's firm grip on your waist, you would have fallen. You wouldn't mind being trampled by a crowd. You wouldn't mind not seeing his face anymore, not feeling the air saturated with his scent…

And yet you can't take your eyes off his makeup, from his plump lips mutilated by a bitter smile. Even if he was regretting it wasn't that he left and left you. But he was definitely regretting for you.

— You know what, I won't forgive you, — you snort, biting your lip. Regret has long settled in your heart, and now, except for tears and aching pain, you can't seem to feel anything else.

— I know you hate me, — Joost freezes in front of your face, looks straight into your eyes, exhales hotly on your cracked, bleeding lips. — I know you love me. — he has an apologetic smile on his lips, but he doesn't regret anything when he touches your lips with a sweet kiss soaked in poison. You don't regret anything, biting his lips in return. The kiss is sour from the taste of blood, salty from the bitter tears rolling down your cheeks, and yet it's the only thing you want from each other.…

The sound of music is deafening, but your heart is beating much louder and your chest is constricted much more than from the touch of his lips. Joost pulls you to him, hugs you tightly, circles you, takes you out of the room. You know that tomorrow won't come. Joost's eyes are clear, clear, blue, almost transparent, so similar to the cloudless sky you looked at as a child. Behind the veil of tears, your eyes look like the cloudy sky that Joost looked at, holding back tears, at his father's funeral. And yet you whisper love to each other, and yet you beg not to leave.…

The loud, ear-piercing ringing of the alarm clock makes your heart skip a beat. You jump up clutching your aching head. The alcohol you drank yesterday makes itself felt and you slide back onto the soft pillow, smearing your bedroom with a blurry look. Fortunately, at least you are at home. A tired sigh leaves your lips and you jerk your head, a damn dream, a damn ghost with the face of your first love — Joost Klein. You roll over on your side and a single tear rolls down your cheek before you turn on your phone, open social media and notice hundreds of notifications. You're confused, your eyebrows furrow and you click on one of the links, looking closely at the photo with the caption: «Childhood friend of Joost Klein…»

In the photo, your eyes are glistening with alcohol, and your pupils are large and dark, your head is tilted back, a half-smile plays on your lips, and you look at the man in front of you in love, but his face is in shadow and you can hardly see anything. You feel awkward, even scared, confused. You straighten up, sit on the bed and zoom in on the image, noticing with a surprised «oh» traces of white paint on your face…

— Good morning, liefste(love). — a familiar hoarse, almost purring purring voice takes care of your ears, you freeze with your eyes wide open and turn to the door. There he stood at the threshold. Almost completely naked, with a rustic food tray in his hands and traces of remaining white makeup on his face. Joost Klein.

Your first and only love. Your first and last addiction. Your first and greatest pain.

— I brought us breakfast! — he laughs and talks as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't disappeared for five whole years and then returned without warning. You frown, the heart in your chest once again makes itself felt, but you shrug off the pain when you notice traces of pinkish kisses on Joost's face, neck, chest and arms. White paint and red lipstick mixed together. Joost grins, and you realize with surprise, but without any regrets, that the heart and the first kiss are now not the only thing that you gave him…

Don't post this anywhere without my permission!

I'm waiting for requests if there are any?

#joost klein #free joost #stand with joost #justice for joost #joost klein/reader #Joost Klein/fem!reader #europapa #eurovision #eurovision 2024 #joost x reader #joost fanart #Joost fanfik

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plasticfangtastic · 10 months ago

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Building Blocks ch. 1

A Butchlander fanfic

A/N: on a writing hiatus but i wrote this with the last spurt of orginal though I had in my heart, so dunno when ch. 2 will happen, plz enjoy and read my other a/n in the tags:

Sypnopsis: What if Becca had stayed with Butcher, what if she never left and kept that terrible secret to herself, and now it was Butcher who had to deal with Homelander in the aftermath of his wife's death after he shows up with the heartbreaking information that it was this blond supe who was his son's real father.

tags: fluff, HL unhingeness, slowburn, dadlander,so much angst, complete AU.

Chapter One

Hello

“I want a baby.”

Butcher watches the man’s lips move and he hears him clearly but it still seems fake, he didn’t recognize the man, I mean he knew who he bloody was, he was the Homelander. America’s son, for pete’s sake even his prick did– for he pissed on a cup embossed with his face during long road trips.

But now he wished he hadn’t met him.

7 hours ago he had just finished the worst day of his life.

It was a beautiful day, terribly beautiful, birds sang, flowers bloomed and butterflies tickled his nose– lifted from a teenage girl’s dream. Everything about today was dreamlike, covered in a hazy sparkly glow as he had finished burying his wife.

One day she was driving to go get takeout, for they had the house for themselves for the first time in ages and next thing he knows there’s a police officer at his entryway 3 hours after she went to go get scampi.

It had been a beautiful ceremony, the flowers looked so lively under the gentle spring sun, the breeze just cool enough to not make wearing this now disheveled suit unbearable, he arrived home, his father-in-law took him after he had drank a small liquor store while in his house, prostrated by the steps of the basement surrounded by cans and dried tears.

Somehow he was now in his sofa alone, he panicked trying to find his phone to try to find answers before he spotted the strange figure.

He’d blame it on the booze if he hadn’t now been completely awake– he lets him in as the man requested so politely, he had no idea what he wanted, what was going on, other than it was better than thinking that by morning it would become official… that it would become real… the last couple weeks had felt like a bad acid trip that he can’t wake up from, but once the sun returns he knows she’s never gonna come back, she’s in a pinebox 6 feet under and not on her way home– so why not give in to more nonsense.

Why not let this Supe into his home.

“You’re Saunders’s husband?” He said in a firm tone, the man looked at him like he was a worm, he could’ve sworn, certainly not that friendly man he met at that christmas party all those years ago– heard about the funeral… you have… my condolences, she was a great employee.”

Butcher brows crossed, Becca only worked there a couple more months after that party, quitting suddenly and telling him she had found a better job, it paid less yet the hours were flexible, he didn’t question much even if it made his stomach feel things, Becca had loved her job at Vought, she had just gotten a promotion with this man and then one day whatever had happened in the office had left her wanting to leave… of course he would find out weeks later, when he caught her puking and every single thing smelled rancid, what could’ve been the reason after all her new job offered longer maternity leave compare to Vought, it also didn’t include dealing with spandex wearing freaks and it was less stressful, she would come home without much complain compare to before where she could waste 2 hours of her life shit talking her boss.

Between the chronic pregnancy insomnia, diabetes and swollen ankles Butcher gave her no grief for her decision to quit a stressful job.

Butcher had never wanted kids… he was no good for them he'd said… he dreamt of Lenny on his knees pleading and bleeding but it wasn’t Lenny and it wasn’t his ol’ man… it was him and a little boy with hazel eyes, it was him reflected in them, she had been open to the idea but never decisive yet one day Becca wanted a child suddenly. Even at her worst she loved the child inside her… he understood when he first felt his little stubby fingers wrapping around his finger, when he felt that warmth against his cheek, when he saw him waddled towards him, that he understood what was going on inside her mind during those bizarre couple of months.

He hadn’t been perfect, he had been too rough and impatient, he had yelled and wished he could have his old life back but he loved her… and he loved Ryan and he would regret everything wrong he ever did because he loved them, because he wasn’t going to ruin this.

He liked the future they were building for each other.

So he stared at him.

At the bluest eye he’d ever seen outside of his boy’s sunny skies.

Blue’s he thought were from his mother.

Blue’s seen in a hundred billboards but never in his boy until now.

Homelander took a seat on his armrest without getting comfortable placing a manila envelope on his coffee table pushing cigarette ash around it.

“I’m Ryan’s father.”

He spoke bluntly and without hesitation, he had no modicum of decorum simply irritated with nothing in particular it seemed, maybe it was not finding his boy in this place but only a leftover fragrance, that had him irritated.

“8 years ago we had a short fling… I never knew…” he spoke softly, allowing his shoulders to unwind a little– until recently.”

It was the alcohol and the grief and the sleep deprivation that made him pull the man who could have easily shrugged him an acre or two away from his living room as if they were equals on any level, and the blond seemed bemused by this puny man’s might, letting this play out.

“Shut your trap you cunt.”

“I was nothing to her so am not her to emasculate you. I am here because that boy is mine.”

He punchest him, breaking his knuckles bare.

A twinge of a beast twinkles in those hazel eyes, teasing the darkness that he had tried so desperately to bury, Homelander is unmoved as he clutches his injured hand.

“If he’s not mine then could you explain to me why your woman was getting child support from me?” His eyes dart towards the folder, he stands up yet again walking past him not wanting to look at him further– seven years ago she went to Vought claiming to be pregnant with my child, they performed a DNA test and determine it was mine… then–”

Homelander beegins heading towards the bedroom wings.

“Madelyn and Stan… they didn’t want the scandal to ruin my image, for me to have an affair with a married woman, somebody who worked for me… so she signed an NDA, and without me knowing they had been paying her for her continued silence.”

“Lies!!” The brit shouts– You shut yer trap! I don’t wanna hear it anymore, you cunt! Just get the fuck out of me house!!”

“I could kill you. I should… but William…”

“Don’t say my name” He spits– Kill me? Aren’t you a fucking supe?”

Homelander’s light brightens the dark.

Butcher falls into the couch as glass bursts beside him, shards turn to burning liquid slowly cooling down as they burnt the vinyl floorings.

“I could kill you, and there would be a clean up crew who would make it seem like you killed yourself… Kids need their father’s… Ryan needs a dad and you did the job– so as a show of gratitude I shall let you live, but I can take things from here.”

Butcher watched the smoke trail rising from the ground, before Homelander could move towards opening that door, Butcher had leaped towards his direction, any faster and he would give his blue speedster some competition.

“ I read your file… you were a marine, SAS– now you work for the CIA… taking a year off due to obvious personal reasons. You should reconsider.”

Homelander entered the room, catching the strong aroma by surprise, dirt, grass and dirty shoes, a scoffed football rolled away from the entrance, English football teams plastered the walls, toys littered the floor and the bed was the only thing made.

Homelander wished to see at least one baseball poster, or some cards, something more familiar, that he could easily use as a gateway for bonding with the boy.

“Look you son of a bitch! Why are you doing this!?”

“He is mine.”

“So you are just gonna take him and assume he’s gonna love you? Are you daft?” Butcher had dealt with dangerous men, violent criminals and murderers, sometimes he had been made to talk with words instead of bullets or fist and it was clear the second choice wouldn’t work with him.-- I’m his father, you’re a stranger all you’re gonna do is traumatize him and make him hate you.”

“You don’t kno–

“You have no idea who my son is, you just read a line on a paper and made up a fantasy… he… he just lost his mother… he just saw his ol’ man get carried out covered in his own snot and whiskey… my Becca… I…”

Butcher could feel the contents of his stomach rising, he looked pitifully into the room, looking at all the toys and the clothes she had yet to put away still in the basket by the foot of the bed.

“8 years ago… I had an affair… she was my boss… it… I don’ know why… why I did it… it didn’t matter ‘cuz I fukked it all up, then one day… she told me we was having a baby and that I needed to get my shit together, or leave” Butcher laid against the doorframe– I don’t know why am telling you any of this.”

“Possibly a combination of the percocet, and booze in various percentages in your system.”

Butcher had no energy to even roll his eyes or curse at him, annoyed at the man for being obtuse at this moment, he looked straight at him fighting the urge to yell at him to leave.

“You’re the reason she gave me a second chance… she fucked you to get even then she made me raised your baby”

Butcher can only hold himself for so long, he breaks down, it shocks Homelander for all he knew of this man was that he was a ruthless killer, yet he was breaking down, sobbing and struggling to breath as he watched the image of the woman he loved, of the woman he had given all that he had left in this world, hurt him.

A dozen questions hounded him, did she loved him at all? Did she change her mind half-way? Did she do all of this to hurt him one day? When she saw him teaching Ryan how to goal-keep in his grandparent’s backyard– did she do it with malice in her heart? Or did she realize the mistake she had made? Did it all go out of hand? Did she believed her own lies?

He looked up behind the tears, as the world’s greatest Supe kneel beside him offering a t-shirt he had found on the ground to clean up his tears.

He should’ve hated him, he should’ve despised him yet… It was in the way he had spoken this whole time that he knew that he was just as hurt, using anger to disguise his hurt.

He could’ve stolen Ryan, he must’ve known the kid wasn’t here in the first place, he could’ve crashed the funeral and made a scene, he could’ve taken him while he slept the booze off, he could’ve waited ‘til tomorrow afternoon when the boy would be returned to take him away from him– but he came when it was only the two of them, either with murder on his mind or poorly planned out negotiation tactics.

How it must’ve felt to know you had a kid you never knew and want him… he wondered.

His own father would’ve been a happier bastard had he never had him, no doubt his mother’s biggest mistake wasn’t marrying the man, it was telling him they were having William in the first place… the complete opposite of what he was witnessing, when he saw those trembling lips and twitches that no amount of composure could hide.

As he cleaned his face on his son’s shirt, he couldn’t help but to think of how much he didn’t want the kid at first, swallowing his grievances and worries that this was a mistake, that it would change him for the worse and destroy their already fractured marriage… but he kept quiet for all he wanted was to kept Becca, it wasn’t until that afternoon where it was all over, and the doctor handed him that bundle of screams that he understood that he would never be like his father, for all he felt was love.

True love.

A love he only felt that night when he got stuck in an elevator with a pretty brunette, she had her groceries on both hands and one on the ground, cursing that her ice-cream will melt before somebody comes and gets them out.

An ice cream that would never make it to her apartment as it was left empty and discarded in that elevator with a pair of impromptu spoons made of celery stalks, that no doubt confused a neighbor or two.

He had loved her until the point it made him hate himself, that he had to screw everything up because the longer they stayed together, the more difficult it would’ve been to imagine a life without her, because that’s who he was… he was a man that drove others away, that’s why his father never loved him, that’s why Lenny had left him, that’s why his friends had such a hard time being there to put up with him.

And now without wanting, without trying at all, he was on the brink of driving his son away.

“Why do you want him?”

“He’s my son!”

“I ‘eard ya… but why can’t you make another one and leave us alone.” he cried.

“I can’t” He looks hurt– and is not a thing I would ever do! Abandon my child!”

Homelander turned pale, perhaps it was the strange intimacy between these strangers, perhaps it was the fact that they were technically strangers even if they had meet before, or the fact that he had fucked this man’s wife and would most likely not allow him to see daylight after they were done conversing, that made him blurt his most shameful secret.

He took his cape and wrapped it on his hand as he took a seat next to Butcher.

“When I was young, I was told I couldn’t have them… I tried… I tried a lot but nothing ever happened until… three weeks ago, when I stumbled upon this information– I’ll spare you the details… but it was a miracle.”

Homelander chokes slightly, catching the distaste at the force cheery tone on his mouth as he spouts the words miracle, it was true, Ryan was a secret miracle.

But it wasn’t him in those birthday photos holding his little boy with cream on his nose, and a wide smile, it wasn’t him on a camping trip, it wasn’t him holding that baby while giving him his first bath.

He wouldn’t tell Butcher, he had come earlier to survey the area, dig through his cabinets, scoffing at the disorganized sock drawer, or that he had been on this floor watching his family pictures, painting himself in those images.

“It’s that why you and Queen Maeve broke up?” he asked, clearing the snot– your baby batter no good?”

“It would’ve been easier if that was the case… she’s a dyke.”

Butcher turned around and shrugged, only mildly surprised by the news.

“How is he? Ryan… is he smart? What does he like?”

The man didn’t wish to tell him a thing but he was sure Becca would’ve yelled at him if he had, he was hurt and he could at least make her angry.

“He likes school but hates math class, got in trouble once for cheating on a math exam but I couldn’t get mad because I also hated math class… he goes to the same school as my friend’s M.M’s kid and the two are glued to the hip, keep joking he’s gonna end up being related to me for real one day” he chuckles behind some tears– he loves football.”

“Not soccer?”

“It’s football! Your country just wants to be special and call it something else but it's called football, real football!” He sounds less aggressive than Homelander anticipated, like he was talking to a coworker he didn’t dislike– he’s the goalie in his team ‘cuz he’s the tallest kid in his class, swear that boy is gonna be 6’ 2’’ one day…” He chuckles dryly– and he loves movies… he even started making little short films and posting them online recently… he’s such a good kid”

And it bites him.

Of course Ryan would be such a good kid, because deep down he shared nothing with Butcher.

His father was this great hero, this man of pure noble heart… It made him full with relief that his son would never have this darkness inside him, this darkness that came from his scumbag sperm donor, that came from his veins, it wasn’t just Becca’s goodness that made him a sweet kid.

“I like history books and movies… am actually good at math… not to brag or anything, I’m just good at it, could probably ace a fifth-grade math exam any day.” he chuckles dryly.

“Want a drink? I think I need one…”

“Anymore and your bladder will explode… your liver is okay but–

“Don’t do that. It’s freaky.” he said with visible disgust.

Butcher stands up, listening to nature’s call as he heads back to his living room finding that Homelander is already in their long kitchen taking a can of beer from the french doors, their house was spacious, and old 60’s built if he had to take a guess, far from the city in a more woodsy area, they had remodeled together (…mostly Butcher but she picked the wallpaper) but when he thought about it now, it made sense why she would want to be in such a quiet place, even if it was just 1 hour or 2 from New York, the house was unassuming, a place that Homelander would had never given a second glance.

“I don’t want him to hate me… Ryan… the last thing I want in the whole world is for him to hate me… all I’ve ever wanted was a family, all I’ve been denied my whole life is a baby…”

Butcher stared at him, dragging his feet on the terracotta tile, taking the beer he had placed on the counter, cracking it open as he tried to make sense of this man.

“I want a baby…”

“They’re okay… smelly tho” he took a short sip feeling too uncomfortable for his own good– can’t find a woman who could give you one? Sure your Vought doctors would help you out”

“They won’t let me keep them. Not really… the only reason Ryan is here with you and not… somewhere else is because he doesn’t have this inside him.”

Homelander takes out a small pouch from the inside of his boot, it's a slim and small, Butcher stares at it quizzically as he offers it, trembling fingers take the pouch to reveal a small pair of ampoules holding a blue liquid.

“Compound V.” He opens his own can while considering taking an actual sip– I had a child before… before Ryan… killed their mother in the womb… laser her in half… they think my kids should be born with powers because all other supes are made with that… if Ryan… if Ryan had been born with powers, they would’ve taken him from you both, and for some reason your wife keep taking him to Vought doctors as part of their agreement, I'm trying to figure that out but if he had hit sudden supe-puberty– you’ll be dead.”

“You’re telling me supes are man-made?”

“Ryan could still have powers… ”

Butcher held that vial, slowly realizing what was hiding behind his words, as the man took a sip of Butcher’s beer.

“You… you want to make him into one of you cape freaks?” He almost growled.

“Is the only way I can protect him, because they can’t take him from me… if you leave they will find you and if they find you before I do, they will take him to a place not even I will ever find out, and I would flatten all of Manhattan so badly It'll make Hiroshima seem like a kid’s game and yet I know they won’t tell me where he is… but if he has powers… and me…”

“No!”

“Compound V recipient with supe parents are 70% more likely to inherit the powers from the patrilineal line than the mother’s… my powers are divine and will keep him safe, the odds of him not getting my powers is very unlikely, and trust me you don’t want to be on your own raising a child with my powers– not that I’ll let you.”

Homelander left the can to fizz out.

“I think… I think we can make this work… you let me be there for Ryan, and I’ll protect this happiness… we are both in this place because your wife made a series of decisions and now we’re both fucked in varying degrees but believe me when I tell you that I love him… and if you don’t listen to me, I’ll take him from you.”

He walks past him.

His hand on the door to the yard, he looks back at William.

He knows it won’t be the last he sees of him, as he its waved goodbye by a sonic boom rattling his kitchen windows, he thinks of calling Mallory and disappear, take Ryan and abandon the world, but as he made his way back to his bedroom, as he looked at his phone with sore eyes, he told himself that Homelander wouldn’t be giving him a warning if it wasn’t willing to negotiate, he wouldn’t have given him this V stuff to earn his trust.

His fingers moved before he could regret his decision.

“Mallory…”

“Are you alright?” He was surprised to hear that anxious tone in that woman’s voice, he glanced at his bedside table catching the clock reading past 1 am.

“Can we meet tomorrow before Ryan gets here– he’s with Becca’s folks… is urgent.”

“Why? You’re not doing something stupid are you, William?”

“Is stupid but not killing myself stupid.”

“... Butcher…”

“Please.”

“I’ll be there for lunch.”

He hangs, dropping into his pillows clutching that strange vial, thinking of a supe he'd never care about before.

this is the house where most of the story will take place:

#homelander #billy butcher #billy butcher x homelander #butchlander #my fic tag #the scenes involving becca do not represent the author's opinions or attitudes towards becca #this is simply just a bunch of ppl talkign over a victim who is dead and can't explain what happens not what i think of becca so plz dont #unalive me #personal #dont know if there will be spicy so lets call this M rated at best

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uramilf · 11 months ago

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Day Ten - Ugly Sweater Party

It hadn’t snowed any more by the next morning and had definitely warmed up a little, so Matty’s house was no longer completely engulfed, and Mayhem could run around outside without sinking into the snow. Y/N sat in the living room with a hot chocolate, Love Actually playing on the TV. Matty walked in holding a paper gift bag and snuck up behind her to surprise her with a kiss on the neck. She jumped and squealed with laughter when his stubble tickled her skin. “Stop! I’m gonna spill this all over your sofa!” “Fine, fine,” Matty said, taking her cup and setting it on the table before throwing himself onto the sofa, laying his head down in her lap.

“I got us something,” he said, pointing to the paper bag which was now on the floor. “Ooh. Early Christmas presents?” “Sure, you could call it that,” Matty laughed. Y/N picked up the bag and looked inside before pulling out two Christmas jumpers, bright red with a Christmas tree in the middle. “You bought us matching jumpers?” she cried. “I love them!” “Seriously? I bought them as a joke cause I thought they were kinda ugly.” Matty raised his head with a grin on his face, sitting up to look at her. “Matty! They’re not ugly, they’re cute!” “They light up too,” he said, pressing a little button sewed into the hem of one of the jumpers. Some of the lights on the Christmas tree were real LEDs and started twinkling with bright colours. He watched as her eyes lit up too.

Y/N wasted no time in pulling her jumper on over her t-shirt, beaming at Matty. “Put yours on!” He rolled his eyes but pulled off his hoodie and put the jumper on. “Happy now?” he asked, kissing her cheek. “Very.”

—————

“Babe, I’m not walking the dog in it.” “Please! You bought it, you can’t turn around and say you’re not gonna wear it!” Matty groaned. “It’s Christmas. I can’t say no to you.” “You can’t say no to me anyway,” Y/N smirked. “True. Very true.” He pulled her in by her waist and placed a kiss on her lips, before decorating her face with smaller ones in every spot he could. “Mayhem’s wearing his coat, look,” Y/N sat down on the sofa beside the dog and started petting him as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He had been dressed in one of those dog coats she always saw in Tesco in the winter time, something she thought he definitely needed to keep him warm on snowy walks.

They walked to the nearest park and let Mayhem run around a little, throwing sticks for him and cuddling up on a bench laughing together while they watched him try to carry an entire tree branch cluelessly. They were even approached by a couple of girls asking for photos with Matty (a first for Y/N as they hadn’t really been out in public much together, only back and forwards to each others houses). She had initially tried to distance herself from Matty on the bench and play with Mayhem, but he didn’t seem to care at all about people knowing he was in a relationship. He held her hand while he talked to his fans and even asked her to be in the pictures, although she declined shyly.

The walk home was quiet; they held hands and enjoyed each other’s company while Y/N’s head raced with thoughts of the world knowing about her. She knew it was only a matter of time before she started appearing in paparazzi pictures and gossip magazines, but it was all happening so quickly. “Are you worried about people seeing us together?” Matty broke the silence, almost reading her mind. “I know I don’t have the best reputation, but…” “No! No, baby, that’s not it. I’m just nervous that your fans won’t like me, I suppose.” “What? Of course they will! And even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. People who like my music have all of my respect and gratitude, but the only one who gets a say in who I date is me. And I love you, no matter what.” Y/N smiled and kissed the back of his hand. “Thank you, baby. I love you.”

—————

“So…I’m on Twitter,” Y/N yawned later that night. “Huh?” Matty looked up from his book. “One of the girls we met earlier posted about how you were out with me earlier. But don’t worry, it was really nice. Look.” She handed Matty her laptop and he read the post silently.

“Guys, I met Matty Healy today!! He was so sweet, and his girlfriend was there too! She’s super pretty and really nice but she didn’t wanna be in the photos, I’m not sure who she is but they’re so cute together.”

Matty grinned. “See? I knew people would love you.” “Well, if your fans still like you after seeing pictures of you in that jumper, they must me great people. “What? You said it was cute!” “It is baby, I’m sorry,” Y/N laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagines #christmas75

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cookiesdippedinanime · 18 days ago

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🍭The Halloween costume sale 🎃

For a better reading experience (and because I unintentionally wrote it in a weird way) please pay attention to the emojis on the end of some dialogue. Ichigo🥕 Orihime🍞 Uryu👓 Chad🥊 And I'm sure you can figure out the others. Enjoy for real this time🥧

"Ouch."🥕

"Hold still or you're going to get pricked."👓

Right now, Karakura's most special friend group are at Uryu's place, doing him a favor. Said favor? Being his living MANNEQUINS for his Halloween outfits. A couple of weeks ago Uryu had fixed up a doll for Michina along with gifting 3 other outfits for it. She was, of course, happy, but made the mistake of asking him if he was going to Muzuiro's Halloween party.

He went on a rant saying no costume fits his "aesthetic" properly and he most likely won't have time to go anyway. But, then she plopped down another option. Make costumes. He'll be able to sew his own and get a little money for helping any other last minute trick or treaters. Uryu said he'll think about it, but not long after, he phoned his friends (Chad and Orihime. He'll be damned before he admits he and Ichigo are close) to get measurements of different classmates and clear anything they had to do on Saturday.

🎃

"Why'd I even agree to this crud?"

Ichigo grumbled as a batwing headband was placed on his head. Well, he knew why, but is seriously regretting it. Does he admit getting together outside of school to not leave for a world ending issue is fun? Yes, guilty as charged. But, posing for the world's pickiest "seamstress" is not. Maybe it's because Ichigo didn't hold the bus for Uryu last Tuesday, but he's being forced to model a dress. (Something like a dress)

"Ah, no talking. You move when you do."👓

Uryu snapped, tying a ribbon around the strawberry's waist. Ichigo's outfit is supposed be a "bat cutie" (the idea submitted by Tatsuki) And though it's obviously for girls, he's making men sizes too. Ichigo grumbled something about destroying Uryu's Jack-o-lanterns under his breath, while Chad spoke up.

"Uryu, do I have to wear the glasses the whole time? They're hurting my eyes."

The Quincy shook his head and propped up his own glasses.

"They're only for decoration, Chad. Feel free to remove them anytime."

He replied, casually. He didn't really have anything to say to the other two members of the friend group. (Besides twirl around) Orihime squirmed a bit, saying Uryu was tickling her, but otherwise they were perfectly still. And were allowed a break. Ichigo wasn't going to say it outloud, but he was dying for one of those pumpkin cream things Orihime was eating.

"Hey, Uryu."🍞

She said, grabbing her 3rd pumpkin thing. He grunted in acknowledgement.

"Are you done for today or can I submit another costume idea?"🍞

The boys flinched. None of them had the heart to tell her that MOST of her ideas most likely won't sell. The monkey astronaut did sound good for kids, but the dog samurai and bread girl not so much. Plus, the Quincy believes he was made for much more sophisticated projects than that. But, he'd sooner shoot his own heart out before he told Orihime that. So instead, he lies.

"Unfortunately, we're done for the day."👓

"Hallelujah."🥕

Ichigo muttered. Uryu's glasses whitened and he "accidentally" pulled the ribbon into a tight bow earning a strained 'ouch' from the carrot top.

"Aw, well that's too bad. I had real a good one this time."🍞

Orihime said with her usual bright smile. She was a pumpkin. (It was made in all sizes, meaning she didn't have to keep wearing it.)

"I know, I'll see to it next year-"👓

"Orihime! Please don't eat in your costume!"👓

"Huh, why?"🍞

As Uryu scrambled to brush crumbs off of the 'princess's costume, Ichigo ceased the chance to finally get off the prop stand. He tore off the ribbon and stretched. He looked at the clock.

"Damn. Have we really been here for 3 hours?"🥕

Chad nodded. And while cutting a piece of a pumpkin bundt. Which got Ichigo curious. Why the hell was this pumpkin spread here anyway? He was pretty sure his 'partner in crime' doesn't bake. Definitely not Uryu and Orihime could've brought the bread, due to her new job, but that still doesn't explain everything else. He plucked a cupcake off the table and inspected it.

"Hey Uryu."🥕

"What?"

Used to the snippy responses, the substitute soul reaper continued.

"Where'd you get all this stuff from anyway? I'm sure most of this is for Orihime, but I didn't take you for a holiday guy."

Uryu turned away from the now upset gingerette and pushed up his glasses.

"I'm not. Michina and the rest of the girls visited me earlier and dropped off various desserts."👓

"Even Tatsuki?"🥕

"Even Tatsuki."👓

Uryu fought the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, how is Ichigo still oblivious about how girly Tatsuki is? She may do martial arts, but she still likes to be feminine. Has he even ever seen her signature?

"Anyway, I didn't expect so many handouts. But, I'm not complaining."👓

The Quincy replied snagging a cookie himself. It's about time he took a break. (It took him 30 minutes find the right shade of black fabric for Chad's jacket earlier) Ichigo chuckled in his throat.

"Looks like you left a serious impression on Michina."

"Who knows, maybe she has a crush on you?"

Uryu blushed and the lens of his glasses turned white again.

"Stow that nonsense immediately!"

🎃

"Alright everyone,"👓

The wearer of specs said, standing before his friends.

"I appreciate your help up until now, but now it's almost time to open the door."

He grabbed his clipboard and pushed his glasses back.

"Orihime's content with posing as a pumpkin, Ichigo isn't content with being the bat cutie and Chad is a teacher."👓

As he muttered and wrote down stuff, Orihime hiccuped. Which immediately grabbed Ichigo's attention. In a positive and kinda concerned way.

"Is something wrong?"

He whispered, holding up his winged sleeve to subtlety hide their conversation. 'Hime shook her head.

"I'm a-okay. I just had one too many cookie sandwiches is all. So, don't worry."

She whispered back. That's...mildly concerning, but as long as she's not doubling over in pain, he's fine. Ichigo just smiled and adjusted her pumpkin beret.

"Alright. But if you get a stomach ache, hop down from the podium, okay?"🥕

She gave him an adorable 'okay' and the orange duo went back to somewhat listening to the Quincy's checking everything. After some more last minute "adjustments" (putting makeup on Orihime AND Ichigo, plus lenseless glasses for Chad.) Everyone stood on their podiums and Uryu went to the door. Surprisingly, a lot of people were lined up. From Grandparents to teens holding younger siblings. Ichigo immediately felt self conscious of his costume, but at least no one from school is here.

"Looking good, Ichigo."🥋

Tatsuki snickered. MOST of his class is here. Orihime's friend group came first and are still looking 'magic girl' costumes. Some randos came and laughed at him before checking out some bow props. His neighbor's kid did and said he looked pretty. And let's not forget, the 'orangette' told Rukia about it too. (Luckily, she and Renji aren't here yet)

Noticing his ashamed silence, Tatsuki tilted her head.

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed. This isn't the first time you crossdressed."

"Doesn't mean I like it."🥕

Ichigo grumbled, hiding behind his wings. He squeaked (like a girl) when he was suddenly slapped on the back by a small hand.

"Don't worry, Ichigo. You look great."🍞

Of course, it was Orihime with her endless enthusiasm. She beamed.

"Not only is your dress and tights very festive, but the ribbon shows you have a very nice waist."

Ichigo instantly turned red. It took a moment, but so did Orihime. Before she could nervously laugh off what she just said, her best friend cut back in.

"Any plans after this you two?"

"I know you're not doing anything,"

Tatsuki said shooting a playful look at Orihime.

"But, what about you Ichigo? Any new plans?"

The male ginger shook his head. (He's slowly coming down from earlier's compliment bomb) Besides carving Jack-o-lanterns with Karin and baking with Yuzu. And putting fake blood on the clinic sign with his old man, nothing. Tatsuki just chuckled.

"How about this?"

"You guys just hang out somewhere like you always do. But, maybe at a graveyard this time."

That...was actually a pretty good suggestion. Uryu would have to ice his hands at home after all this. Chad was just going to call his Abuela. Orihime was gonna watch a scary by herself (unfortunately like every other year) and Ichigo could get his crap done in 2 hours. Maybe they should just hang out?

"Well, I gotta go try this on."🥋

Their friend said, holding up a rather showy cheerleading costume. The fem carrot top waved, while the male one cringed. He knows about Tatsuki's pursuit to get a boyfriend before they graduate, but damn does it make his stomach turn every time he catches an attempt. Reminds him of the time Yuzu tried to wear a short skirt for a guy she liked in her class. So gross. His nausea was cut off when he heard another unfortunately familiar voice.

"Is that Ichigo Kurosaki? In a DRESS?"🦲

Ichigo groaned. Ikkaku. And the rest of the idiots he comes along with! Rangiku immediately went to squeeze Orihime.

"Hey Rangik-ugh!"

"Aww, Orihime. It's been too long~"🍒

The strawberry unintentionally blushed at the sight of two pretty girls hugging. (So, he thinks the lieutenant is sexy, who doesn't?) He was a bit concerned about the tightness of the hug, but his girl-er Orihime is pretty durable. He instantly frowned when he heard the 3rd seat clear his throat. He turned.

"It's not a dress, jerks. It's a...long shirt."🥕

Yumichika scoffed right back and put his hands on his hips.

"And I'm ugly. Although, I respect whatever crossdressing thing you're going through. I could never."

"It's not a dress, damnit!"🥕

Steamed practically poured out of Ichigo's ears and he flushed. He crossed his arms with a huff.

"What the hell are you guys even doing here anyway? I'm pretty sure the Soul society doesn't have Halloween."

Ikkaku snickered and grabbed a (luckily fake) sword prop.

"Cause, Renji told us if you dress up in the world of the living, you get free food."

They do know that's only for night day, right? And it's candy.

Ichigo and Chad thought, simultaneously. The sub soul reaper just sighed.

"Whatever, just steer clear of me while you guys shop."

🎃

"Hanh~? This cost how much?"🍒

"Twenty five dollars, Rangiku."👓

Ichigo couldn't stop snickering into his cup. (He's on break) When the "shop" first opened, Uryu was too happy to answer any questions about his design and give an unwanted tale of where he got his inspiration. But, now he's getting worked. Constantly telling people not to pull off the tags before purchases, not to go into any other room in the apartment that's not the bathroom and the prices do NOT change. And now Rangiku's hassling him over the price of a yellow ball gown.

It shouldn't be funny, but after all the sass he dished out earlier, Ichigo's trying not to burst out laughing. Chad (suddenly) appeared and sat down next to him. Surprisingly, he looked exhausted.

"Uh, you alright there Chad?"🥕

Ichigo asked, sweating slightly. He didn't answer and moved his shaggy hair to the side. Revealing a bunch of glossy KISS marks on his cheek. What the- Did he have a secret girlfriend none of them knew about!? (Actually his Abuela came by)

"What the fu-"🥕

"Ichigo?"🍛

Shit..! It's his sisters. They didn't come with his old man, did they!? Luckily, he was nowhere in sight. Yuzu opened her mouth to speak, but Ichigo already knew her question.

"Yes, it's a dress."🥕

Yuzu's shocked blink wasn't surprising, but Karin's awe was. He expected her to be grossed out or disappointed, but she wasn't. She turned to Uryu. (Who was busy pulling a child and Orihime away from the candy bowl)

"Hey, specs."⚽️

He sighed and grabbed his glasses. They nearly fell off this time.

"For the last time, Ichigo's second younger sister. Call me 'Ishida'."

Karin scoffed, resembling her brother perfectly.

"Whatever. Does Ichigo's costume come in kid sizes?"

Uryu nodded and led her to the girl's corner, while Yuzu still remained in front of her brother with a smile. Ichigo returned a lopsided one and chuckled.

"Something wrong?"

She chuckled and smiled.

"It's just funny."

"Ever since I could remember, you always been closed off and grumpy. But, now you have friends. Odd ones, but they fit you. It's nice."

Huh. The Kurosakis' looked over at his friends. Chad was blocking two girls from fighting over an European dress. Uryu was showing Karin other costumes she'd be interested in. And Orihime was just being her usual sweet self and was complimenting a little boy on his new costume. (He got the...space monkey thing) Yuzu was right. It really was nice. Before the whole 'Rukia thing', he was pretty jaded. But, now look at him. Crossdressing and modeling. He chuckled and set his hand on his sister's head.

"Yeah. It is."

Wait a minute- He pinched Yuzu's cheek.

"What do you mean they 'fit' me?"

🎃

The three 'models' laid on the couch, completely exhausted. Their costumes were now shed and on actual mannequins. Leaving them in white tanks and tights. (They looked like ballet trainees) They're a few stragglers left, but there mostly just getting rung up. The day was finally over. Orihime sipped her cider and sighed.

"What a day."🍞

She set her cup down on the coffee table. (Unintentionally, missing the coaster) She stretched and scratched her hair. Ichigo held in a laugh. She hangs out with them too much. His scruffy little quotes and mannerisms are starting to rub off on her. The carrot top himself yawned.

"I'm gonna sleep like a rock tonight."🥕

"How about you, Chad-?"🥕

Both of the strawberries paused when they looked over at the 'tank' of the team. He was fast asleep.

"Damn."🥕

Ichigo said, both impressed and shocked. This was probably the first time he ever saw Chad asleep. Sure, if he didn't stand up straight all time, he'd assume that. But, turns he snores slightly when he's sleep. Weird. Uryu staggered over, once again, pushing his glasses up. (Although this time, it's probably to look somewhat put together) He raised up a light blue envelope.

"We made 1,789 dollars today."👓

"Not bad."👓

Not bad!?

Ichigo, Chad and Orihime thought. That's a pretty big sum of money. Especially for one day. But, for all they know, he could've expected MORE profit today. Ichigo was about to say something snarky as usual when bills were held in front of his face. He blinked.

"What's this?"🥕

Uryu rolled his eyes.

"Obviously, I'm paying you."

"You all did me a service, so it's only natural."

The soul reaper accepted the cash in shock. As did the 'princess'. They know Uryu well enough to know he's "nice" in his own way, but money? It was just modeling for a few weeks and today. But, if he was that grateful, it'd be rude not to accept. Orihime smiled.

"Thanks, Uryu. Glad we could help"🍞

The Quincy blushed, but quickly turned away. He waved off her thanks with his usual preppiness and she just snickered. Ichigo, on the other hand, was a tad peeved about the color he caught on his friend's cheek, but shrugged it off. He understood. Uryu was smiled at by Orihime. Who wouldn't get a bit red? Ichigo stretched and relaxed into the couch.

"So, now what? We just help you clean up and head home?"🥕

He asked. Despite his tone, he was willing to stay around. Hell, they been here this long. Uryu pushed his glasses up. (For the umpteenth time today)

"No, but it would be appreciated-"👓

"Hold everything!"🐰

The friend group paused and the door suddenly burst open. Destroying Uryu's chain lock.

"What the hell!?"👓

He snapped, wondering who was crazy enough to destroy his property like this was a bad neighborhood. Orihime instantly put up a barrier. (After Chad got sought out in his own home, she's been putting them up instinctively) The figures emerged from the shadows, revealing...

Renji and Rukia. Looking exhausted. Did they run here or something? Rukia fixed her hair and cleared her throat.

"You're still open, right?"

Everyone groaned. (Expect Chad, but he was awake and frowning) The day was supposed to be done already. Uryu sighed and this time, took his glasses off. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Technically, yes."

He put his glasses back on and got back into 'business mode'.

"What can I intrest you two in-?"

"Actually."🥕

"We'll take care of this."

He paused and looked at the hand on his shoulder. Ichigo was stopping him? For what? He was gonna ask why, when he was pushed towards Orihime. She caught him with a laugh.

"We got this, Uryu."

She said, setting a gift wrapped rice crispy in his hands.

"Huh? But-"👓

Uryu tried to speak again, but Orihime gently pushed him back into Chad. Instead of bumping into his WALL of a friend's chest, he was wrapped in a blanket! Too distraught to complain (and 'cause the fabric was over his mouth) the Quincy was picked up like a baby and set down on the couch. Chad gave him a little smile and pulled the blanket over his friend's legs.

"Just relax."🥊

He said, before walking over to the gingers. Uryu was in shock. He knows they all cared about him, but this was his business. But...he has been on his feet all day. If anything, Ichigo should've pitched anything earlier, but he won't say anything. He'll just lean back and relax. And listen to the scene next to him.

"Alright Ichigo, look for anything from Bunny girls X."🐰

Rukia said, holding up a picture of an anime she's gotten hooked on recently. Renji chimed in too.

"And I want something from that one knight show too."🍍

"Why the hell are you guys asking me? Chad's here too, y'know."🥕

The duo scoffed and arguing began. Orihime tried to break things up, while Chad held back the carrot top. Uryu just chuckled to himself. It's embarrassing to say out loud, but he's glad they're his friends. Even Ichigo.

Sorry, this took me so long. But, I learned the lesson to stop putting myself on unnecessary time limits. I hope you enjoyed it🥧

#bleach #bleach fic #technically Ichihime #ichigo kurosaki #orihime inoue #uryu ishida #sado yasutora #chad #late post #halloween #halloween costumes #sillyposting #long post #finally #happy wednesday #bleach fluff

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unhappycylinder · 2 years ago

Text

Gonna Be Trouble (Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x F!Reader) Part 1

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3049

Warnings: none really, just some anxiety about school ig (reader is in college), flirty hangman, awkward reader, fluff and flirting to a concerningly self-indulgent point

Summary: Y/n goes back to her hometown airshow to escape the stress of school for a weekend and reconnect with her childhood passion. Hangman just happens to be a demo pilot at this same air show and falls for y/n instantly. Part 1 of idk how many but this will be ongoing and will move beyond the airshow pretty quickly. Strangers to lovers arc. Hangman is a sucker for a smart woman what can I say...

Part 2 Part 3

The sun was just setting under the desert horizon and you still had an hour and a half before you were back in Las Vegas. You had moved away to go to college three years ago and were looking for literally any excuse to escape the hell-hole that was university and reconnect with yourself. Years of books, essays, exams, and frat parties had taken their toll on you and your health (and your liver but we don’t have to unpack that yet because you literally turned 21 a month ago).

Anyway…even though planes weren’t your main thing anymore, you still loved them. Everyone has a soft spot for their childhood obsession. Most kids loved dinosaurs or the Titanic or horses, but not you, no…the American military’s aviation department really tickled your fancy when you were in elementary school. You even wanted to be a pilot for a while, contemplated joining the Navy and everything, but your family’s academic goals put a stop to that pretty quickly.

There was a quaint hotel within a few miles of base that you opted for instead, deciding to take the shuttle to and from the air show each day.

As your music played quietly over the car radio you finally got some time alone with your thoughts. Time to unpack all the crazy shit that had happened to you since college started, and time to think about what was next for you after you graduated next year. You decided that you were going to focus on yourself this weekend and nobody else. You’d silence your phone, try not to take pictures and post much on Instagram, and for the love of God you’d leave your barren dating apps alone cause lord knows nothing was gonna happen there.

“Love Me Tonight” came on the radio and you turned up the volume, swaying to one of your favorite songs as you passed the final mountain and saw Las Vegas in the distance, sighing in relief that your 15 hour day had finally come to an end.

–The Next Morning–

You only heard two gunshots outside your hotel last night, which to be fair was pretty chill for a night in Vegas, and the sunrise indicated that it was time for you to start getting ready for your day on base. You wanted to beat the crowd so you could have time to check out all the static displays before trying to find a seat in front of the runway.

Throwing on an outfit of leggings and a tight black long-sleeve with a denim bomber jacket on top, you finished getting ready before leaving your hotel room.

Hopping on the shuttle, you realized the only open seat was next to a man in his 70s wearing a Vietnam War Veteran ball cap who was blankly staring out the window with a slight frown on his face.

“Excuse me sir,” you said, “can I sit here?”

He perked up almost instantly and shuffled lightly towards the window, patting the seat gently and smiling up at you.

“Of course honey, it’d be a pleasure”

“Are you here with your family, or is it just you today?” You asked, leaning in to make sure he heard you

“Just me I’m afraid. My grandkids all live out of state and well my wife passed not too long ago. It’s just me now, and I haven’t missed one of these shows in years” he nodded

You smiled at him and nodded, “Me too. I used to come every year as a kid and this is my first time back since starting college”

“Oh how wonderful! What do you study?”

You and the old man chatted for what felt like half an hour but was really only the 10 minute ride to base. His name was Hank and he served two tours of Vietnam when he was 19. He met his wife, Marlee, a couple months after the war at an air show in California where he was promoting a veterans organization and they were married for forty-five years. He asked you about college, family, your interest in planes, and complimented you any chance he got. When the bus parked he struggled to get up, pulling out a cane from in between the seats and trying his best to wiggle his way out of the bus until you grabbed ahold of his other arm and helped him off the vehicle and through the air show gates.

“You know y/n you remind me an awful lot of my wife when I first met her. She looked just like you…” he paused, studying your face, “did her hair the same way, talked the same way you do”

“Aw thank you Hank that’s really kind,” you brought your hand to your chest and smiled at him, he beamed back.

“You know I hope you get to experience a life like me and my Marlee did, I just know it’ll happen for you”

You thanked him again and smiled, it was a sweet thing for him to say and you didn’t have the heart to tell him your only romantic endeavors thus far had been one-night-stands off of bumble. He smiled once again and shook your hand, hobbling off with his cane towards a C-5 parked right in front of the gate.

“And y/n,” he said while walking away, “enjoy the air show”

–

A-10s, F-15s, F-16s, F-35s, a B-1, and so many more aircraft that defined your childhood lined the runway along with the frequent hot dog and pretzel vendors. You wandered past each plane, circling them to check out their engines and empennages, taking special note of all the specs and features you used to obsess over as a kid.

“Any questions over here ma’am?” a tall brunette in camo and aviators asked you from beneath the wing of the A-10.

“Oh god, I don’t think so. This was my favorite plane as a kid and I’m just kinda reminiscing about it now,” you responded, squinting from the sun which was over the plane right now

“She’s my favorite too, I mean I’d hope she was cause I fly her, but y’a know”

“What’s it like to fly ‘em?”

“Magnificent ma’am, truly indescribable,” he said while walking closer to you

“I’ll ask you a question about them then if they were your favorite as a kid, how’s that sound ma’am?” He asked, you laughed

“Jeez okay go ahead, hit me with it”

“Alright, how many pounds-” he was cut off by a little kid running up and playing with the ‘remove before flight’ tags on the aircraft

“Excuse me miss” he said in a hurry as he ran to the child and politely but sternly asked him to stop fiddling with the aircraft. You chuckled and shook your head as you walked quickly behind the plane.

It was then that your eye was caught by the most magnificent thing you had ever seen in your entire life. You must have skipped over this part in the brochure online, because nothing would have enticed you more than the U.S. Navy’s very own F/A-18 Super Hornet. If the A-10 was your favorite plane as a kid, the F/A-18 might as well have been the reason you considered a career in the military or pursued anything aviation related at all. This plane was your absolute dream, and you had zero clue one was going to be here.

Completely forgetting your trivia game with the A-10 pilot, you practically ran over to the jet, shedding your jacket in the process. It was still early in the day and this bird was the last display on the lot, so nobody else was in sight. You dropped your jacket to the ground as you approached the jet, scanning every single inch of it, especially the name painted on the side below the cockpit:

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Your eyes were wide as you walked the length of the wing, hovering your hand over the grey metal, being afraid to touch it and damage it. As you got behind the wing however you noticed the beautiful dark blue Navy logo and simply couldn’t resist reaching out to trace your fingers along the gold ribboning which encircled the logo. Just as you made contact with the jet a voice erupted from behind you, making you jump.

“Scuse me ma’am,” it was said in the most delectable Southern drawl you’d ever heard

“Jesus Christ!” You yelled, turning around and immediately shrinking into yourself.

Standing before you was God’s very own favorite creation…literally the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He was in a dark green flight suit and aviators with his dark blonde hair slicked back from a side part. He twirled a toothpick in his mouth, which was twitched into a seductive smile as he peered down at you.

“Sorry,” you struggled to get out, turning red in the face, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking,” you turned back towards the wing and started walking to pick up your jacket from the nasty ground. A strong hand grabbed a hold of your upper arm before you could take more than a step.

“Darlin’ it's okay, sorry I startled you, didn’t realize you didn’t see me coming up behind you”

He pulled you back in front of him and kept his hand gently on your shoulder, you almost combusted from his touch.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, or to touch the jet, I seriously don’t know what got into me. I mean I just watched a kid get yelled at for doing basically the same thing and now here I am, a grown woman, doing the same exact thing, feeling up the aircraft.” You rambled and he just smiled, letting out a little chuckle here and there, “I don’t mean feeling it up, not like that. Sorry. I mean touching it. I shouldn’t touch government property, that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen…”

“I’m gonna cut you off now darlin’,” he interjected while rubbing your shoulder, “no need to apologize for feeling up my jet, I get it, I feel her up all the time” he winced at his comment.

“...your jet. You’re the pilot?”

“I’d hope so, last I checked that was my name up there on her cockpit”

You both glanced up to the name then down to his name patch on his suit…they did indeed match.

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin ma’am, callsign Hangman,” he removed his hand from your shoulder and held it out for you to shake it

“Y/n Y/l/n” you responded, placing your smaller hand in his and giving it a firm shake. He glanced down at your hands as you shook them.

“You got a strong handshake there miss y/l/n, you sure you’re not in the military?”

You chuckled, “no sir, thought about it, but no. I guess I just have big hands?”

You held your hands up in front of you and wiggled your fingers, making Jake laugh.

“C’mere,” Jake said as he stepped towards the jet where you had been looking earlier, motioning for you to follow.

“She’s an F/A-18E Super Hornet, but we like to call them-”

“The Rhino,” you cut him off, looking up at him with wide eyes

“So you’re a plane nerd, huh?” Jake asked, leaning against the fuselage of his jet

“Sorry. I used to be. These were my dream plane, I always wanted to fly them”

“You can touch it,” Jake smiled at you, you were still standing a good 2 feet from the jet, afraid to get any closer.

“No really it's okay, I don’t need to-”

“Come here,” Jake grabbed your right hand and pulled you towards him as he rested against the plane. You two stood there face to face for a second, inches from each other, hands interlocked, before Jake stood behind you and lifted your hands to touch the Navy logo together. His large calloused hand rested on top of yours as he guided your hands in a circle around the logo, his chest bumping into your back when you had to reach a little farther to touch the top of it.

“It’s a beautiful jet lieutenant” you said as you touched the plane, you felt his breath hitch when you said that last word. You looked over your shoulder to face him, his face inches from yours, his eyes more visible now through his sunglasses.

“You sticking around for the whole day?” He asked, removing his hand from yours and resting it against the jet so you were between him and the jet, enclosed by his arm.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here both days all day” you said, looking up at him, blushing beyond belief. How you were functioning right now was beyond you.

“Good. I’m gonna be taking her up in a few hours and I’d love for you to watch me. Maybe after I land we could go out for a drink,” he smirked, twirling the toothpick with his tongue to the other side of his mouth. God this man was doing unspeakable things to you.

“Are you asking me on a date?” You said with absolute disbelief, chuckling as if it was a joke. No part of you could believe that an actual in-person man was asking you out for the first time, and it was even more unfathomable that that man was the sexiest fighter pilot in the entire U.S. Navy.

“I suppose I am miss y/l/n, if you’d have me,” he said, his confidence wavering the slightest bit after your response.

“I can’t believe it. There’s no way! Look at you!” You gestured up and down to him

“Look at me? Darlin’ you must not have a mirror cause all I’m seeing in front of me is pure beauty. You’re gorgeous sweetheart, and damn smart too” Jake brought his hand off the plane to fix a stray hair that had stuck to your lip gloss, tucking it behind your ear.

“I-” you began but you couldn’t seem to form the words, “Yeah, yes. You’re perfect. Drinks after you fly, I’ll be there.” That was apparently the most coherent thing you could come up with.

Jake smiled a million dollar smile and took his sunglasses off his face, resting them on the zipper of his suit. His eyes were a gorgeous light green and they creased at the sides when he smiled, making you absolutely melt. He bent down until his mouth was right next to your ear, his warm breath sending chills down your neck.

“I’m looking forward to it Y/n,” he practically growled, “meet me back here after the demo,” he planted a soft kiss on your cheekbone as he pulled his head back, winking at you once you finally got the courage to make eye contact with him.

All you could do was smile and nod as Jake walked away and returned with your jacket,

“Don’t want you forgetting this darlin’, gotta stay warm, don’t want you catching a cold before our date,” he beamed.

You smiled up at him as you took your jacket, intentionally running your hand down his as you took the fabric, making his eyes widen and stare deeper into yours.

“You’re gonna be trouble for me, I can already tell,” he smirked and spun on his heels, walking over to a family approaching the nose of the aircraft. You stood behind the wing clasping your jacket in front of you, too shocked to move or think.

“What the actual fuck,” you whispered as you shook your head and started walking towards the stratotanker to the left of the jet. You fixed your hair as you walked, fiddling with the strands to alleviate your anxiety about whatever just occurred. Jake focused on the way your ass moved under those leggings as you walked away from his jet, completely ignoring the kid in front of him asking him a gazillion questions about his plane. He was right, you were definitely going to be trouble for him.

----

This is just part 1!! Let me know what y’all think. This is my first time posting a fic to tumblr so pls drop suggestions below!! Part 2 coming soon

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #top gun #navy

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edenjohansson · 1 year ago

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Epilogue

fifty shades of red

Epilogue :

10 years later.

Natasha's pov :

It was almost 8p.m and the party was supposed to begin in 1 hour but I was still away from my house. I was walking into the forest when my 4 years old daughter jumped on me.

"Got you mama!" She said, laughing.

"Well done Ingrid. Now we are going home because mom is waiting for us" I said, walking again.

I looked at my daughter who was walking next to me, she stopped to grab a flower from the ground. She was still in her red dress and her red hair was free on her back. Her grey eyes widened as she admired every little animal or bugs in the forest. She was unique and incredible. My angel.

"Mama?" Ingrid asked me suddenly.

"Yes angel?"

"Does aunt Mary and aunt Lena be there today?"

"Yes of course they'll be there angel" I answered as we reached the end of the forest.

I already heard from back there that a lot of people had arrived. I saw Yelena who was talking with Lyra. They were really close. Not in a romantical way but they were training a lot together for 3 years now. I looked at my daughter and leaned to take her in my arms. We crossed the huge garden which was already decorated. I greeted some guests and walked inside my house.

Donna and I moved out 10 years ago to move in a huge house near New york. We were in the middle of nowhere but closer to my friends and closer to Donna's castle. After everything that happened we wanted to get a new start. Donna got closer to the coast and I got closer to the Avengers campus so I could still work. Almost 1 year later, I was crowned Queen next to Donna and right after we started to work together.

After 3 years, Bucky decided to become a vampire too and got married to Mary. They were now parents of a 6 years old son named Oslo. He was just like Bucky with black hair and blue eyes like Mary and got powers. He has the capacity to teleport himself wherever he wants to.

After 6 years, Donna found out she was pregnant again. She was so excited to have a new kid to let Juniper be proud of her. We decided to named her Ingrid and when she borned with red hair and grey eyes we knew she would be like us. Ingrid was a little vampire and thereby was impulsive and strong but she was also so kind and empathic. She didn't show any kind of powers for now but Donna said that usually they showed up around 5 or 6 years old.

After 7 years, on our daughter's birthday, Donna asked me to become her wife and I agreed. We married during fall time of the same year and I was now the happiest woman in the world and we were celebrating our wedding at the exact same time as the arrival of our precious girl.

After 9 years and after a year of discussion, the Avengers were, for most of them, ready to become like us. I couldn't think about losing them. They were my family and I wanted to live 100 lives with them all around the world and the Universe.

Today we were celebrating a special day.

"You have twigs in your hair darling" Donna whispered.

I turned to face my wife and smiled. I walked towards her with Ingrid still in my arms and stopped in front of her. She was dressed in a red suit who looked so good on her. Her white hair was braided simply and she was wearing red lipstick.

"Mom! I want to see Oslo!" Ingrid said, interrupting our moment.

Donna looked at our daughter with a warm smile. She was the best mother in the world. She was patient and took her time to learn everything to Ingrid. She was firm when she had too but always listened to our girl's feelings.

"Oh you want to see him but not me?" She said, ready to tickle Indrid.

Ingrid directly laughed and squirmed in my arms. It was a tickle attack as we loved to call it. Our daughter tried to escape but she was trapped in my arms. I was laughing, seeing Donna and Ingrid like that. That was my favorite kind of moment.

I finally let Ingrid down and she directly ran out. I heard her find Yelena and ask her about Oslo. I was still focused on my daughter's voice when I felt Donna's hand on my cheeks. I smiled at her and leaned to kiss her. Our lips collided and moved together. I wrapped my arms around Donna's waist and she did the same around my neck. I was in heaven.

"You should shower and get dressed, darling" My wife said.

"I prefer to stay naked" I whispered back.

"Oh you do? That's not going to be possible"

"Why's that?" I asked with a smirk.

"Because all of these people will see you naked and I'm the only one who has the privilege to see your naked perfect body" Donna whispered, grabbing my neck in her hand.

I gasped but I love it. I love when Donna's become rough with me. I grabbed her waist with my hands, digging my nails in her white skin. I opened my mouth ready to talk back but Donna kissed me again more roughly. Her tongue entered my mouth and her hand grabbed my neck harder. I moaned in her mouth and felt myself getting wet. We kissed without stopping as we didn't need to breathe.

**Fuck me already. Be rough with me**

I said to her in her head. I quickly felt her hands moving behind my thigh to lift me up. We separated our kiss and Donna started to kiss my jaw line and my neck. She started to sucked my pulse when she laid me down on our bed. I let a loud moan escape my mouth.

"No sound darling. There are a lot of vampires in the house" Donna said to me.

Even if our room was on the last floor of the house, every vampire could hear us from far away but I didn't care. I wanted Donna. Just her. Just my wife.

"I don't care. Fuck me" I answered, moaning again "Tell Mary to get the kids out"

I felt Donna nodding in my neck still kissing me. Her hands reached the bottom of my dress as she lifted it up, letting me with just my panties already ruined. I started to unbutton her suit but Donna quickly took it off. She was really fast. We were now almost naked.

My wife grabbed my neck again and kissed me. I felt her knee pressing against my dripping core and moaned again. I started to grind against her to find some frictions but I felt a pressure on my neck telling me to stop. Donna took my wrists in her hands and found a red rope to attach them to the headboard. I moaned, feeling myself getting more and more aroused. Donna started to kiss my collarbones and reached my breast, she started biting and sucking my nipples as one of her hands slowly caressed my inner thigh and touched my core. I let out a moan as her fingers started to draw circles on my clit with my panties still on.

She finally started kissing my inner thigh as she opened my legs to kiss my clit over my panties. I arched my back, feeling her hot breath on my core. I whined, wanting and needing more.

"Be patient darling"

I whined again and moved my hips to ask Donna to get off my panties. She slid her fingers under my thong and pushed it down. Quickly she was back with her tongue directly on my clit. I let a dry moan left my throat as I felt her licking the entire length of my wet pussy. She started sucking my clit and let my hands cupped my breast to pinched my nipples. I felt my orgasm building inside me. My stomach tightened and my back was arching more.

"Please... I'm... I'm coming... More... Faster" I tried to say between moans.

**More? Faster?**

I nodded, hearing Donna's voice in my head. She moved her tongue to my entrance and started to push her tongue inside, hitting my g-spot. I closed my eyes as I felt my orgasm build inside me even more. I cried out when I felt Donna rubbing my clit with her thumb.

"Fuck... I'm- I'm gonna cum"

"Cum darling. Make a mess on my mouth"

It was all I needed to cum hard on Donna's tongue. She continued to licked me during my high. My brain was so dizzy that I didn't feel Donna kissing me. I opened my eyes to meet the dark red eyes of my wife.

"You made me hungry Natasha"

I smiled and moved my head so she could have access to my neck. I saw her shake her head, I furrowed my eyebrow and looked back at her. I have to admit I was hungry too.

"I want to eat you when you are going to cum on my cock darling" She said.

I gasped and nodded. She stood up and walked to find our favourite strap and clip it to her hips. She walked to me again and grabbed my waist but without warning she turned me so I laid on my stomach now. I moaned again and felt a slap on my ass. I buried my head into the pillows so no one heard me. I felt another and another slap as tears of pleasure started to roll on my cheeks. I was so aroused that I was dripping on the sheets. Donna grabbed my ass and lifted it up. I felt my liquid from my previous orgasm rolling on my thigh but I didn't care.

I wanted Donna so bad and without warning I felt the whole length of the strap inside me. I cried out of pleasure into the pillows and started moaning again as Donna started to thrust inside me fast and hard. I already couldn't take it anymore, I was feeling so full and aroused that my orgasm was almost hitting me again.

"You are not allowed to cum until I say so" Donna said, thrusting more and more.

I felt my walls clenched around her strap but tried to hold myself to not disobey her. I was biting my own arms to focus on something else than the pleasure of my lower stomach. Donna's hands reached my neck again to make me arched more. She kissed me again on the shoulder and fastened her movement.

"Ple-please..." I started, stopping by my own words.

"You can't even talk properly. I will maybe leave you without cuming"

"N-No.. pl-please"

The pleasure was too much for me. I couldn't talk, couldn't think. I wanted to cum so bad. Tears were rolling on my cheeks and chin but Donna didn't stop. Our bodies were fit together and every thrusts of Donna were pushing me on the bed. I was about to pass out when I felt Donna's teeth on my neck. That was the signal for me to cum. As I felt my walls clenched hard and my orgasm hit me Donna bit me on the neck and started to drink my blood.

I moaned so loudly that I was sure everyone heard me but I didn't care. Donna was still pounding inside me but she stopped drinking and slowed her movement to finally stop completely. I was drained but I felt so good. Donna was still behind me and her head was still on my shoulder. I couldn't move. She finally stood up again, I gasped feeling the strap leaving me, I suddenly felt so empty.

Donna leaned and placed her arms under my legs and under my back to lift me up. Even if I was a vampire I had to admit that Donna was really good at draining me. We showered together and got dressed again.

"Finally! We heard you from across the garden" Mary said as Donna and I were coming down in the living room.

"Oh shut up. Last time I heard you scream from across the forest!" Donna argued back, laughing.

Donna smiled and hugged Mary. They were really happy to see each other again as always. I smiled and saw Yelena playing with Ingrid and Oslo. I walked towards them, leaving Donna with Mary. Oslo saw me first and ran towards me.

"Auntie Nat! I missed you!" He said, hugging me.

"Me too Oslo!"

The last time we saw him, Mary and Bucky was 6 months ago. They decided to take some vacations together and went to Europe to discover new landscapes. They were back from their trips 1 week ago but we didn't have the time to greet them or just see them one instant.

I saw Bucky too, talking with Steve and Clint. I could hear their conversation from here but decided to still go see them. It's Steve who saw me first and stopped talking. When Bucky and Clint saw me too they tried to get away.

"Stay here. I heard you. It's too late" I said, grabbing Clint's arm.

Bucky rolled his eyes but smiled.

"Don't say anything or I'm going to say something on your moans" He directly said.

I opened my mouth ready to talk back but Donna called us inside. I looked at Bucky and shook my head. They were going to be the death of me. Without bad jokes of course. We were all in the living room. Ingrid was in Donna's arms almost falling asleep after having fun with Oslo.

"So" Donna started "The big news".

"Are you pregnant again?" Mary asked suddenly.

"No. One little me is enough for now" Donna laughed "I'm retiring. Definitely"

I already knew that she was gonna say that because we discussed it together. We decided that with Ingrid we couldn't work as much as before and we wanted to spend most of our time with her. So Donna chose to give up her crown and to work but only from home and with less responsibilities. Lyra was supposed to become the new Queen.

I let Donna explain all the alterations and placed my hand on her back. I kissed my daughter's forehead and rested my head along Donna's shoulder. I was truly happy.

It was my life.

My family.

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #smut #vampire #belladonna #fanfiction #natasha #aesthetic

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carolmunson · 2 years ago

Text

old times. (stella's version - rockstar!eddie)

let's revisit our life as stella rink in the rockstar!eddie universe. another day another crossover, check out libby's version here. catch up with the rockstar!eddie au here.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, drugs and drinking mention (mild), pregnancy talk, general tension, puking/pregnancy sickness, very sweet and overbearing eddie, all around deeply fluffy.

“What heels should I wear?”

“It’s a house party with some of my old friends, Stell, why do you wanna wear heels?” Eddie asks with a laugh, coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. He looks at you through the water droplets falling in his eyes from his curly bangs and smiles at the outfit laid out on the bed. Some little red number and nylons, four different pairs of heels laid out at the base of the hotel's California King bed.

“It’s not that kind of party, sweet thing. I told you,” he shakes his head, “just jeans and a t-shirt. There's no one to impress.”

"Are you sure?" you ask, turning to look in the mirror on the wall, tapping out a crease the concealer under your eyes.

"I'm sure," he encourages, "You want one of my shirts?"

"It's gonna be cold, right?" you wait for his confirming nod and start rifiling through the hotel dresser full of way too many clothes for a four day trip.

"I'll give you a sweatshirt, honey," he urges, tugging on a pair of old ripped jeans over a pair of boxers, "Just be comfortable, you're not supposed to be stressing out like this."

You roll your eyes playfully at him while he approaches you slowly, dimpled grin plastered on his face. A scratchy smatter of facial hair had come through over the past couple days that he hadn't bothered to shave and it tickled you while he leaned in for a kiss.

"It's bad for the baby."

Ever since you saw the little pink plus sign on the test, Eddie had taken any chance he could to say, "For the baby." He'd taken to calling you 'mama' in a Wayne like drawl ever since the blood work came in. He'd buy any onsie he saw in a store, always picking up one in a new state with some cheesy saying on it like, "My Daddy went to Texas and only got me this onesie!" He asked his manager to contact their merch developer to start making little Corroded Coffin shirts three weeks into the pregnancy. He asked the contractor on for the Hollywood house to start planning the nursery with him. There wasn't anyone more excited to be a dad than Eddie Munson.

Before you know it, you've found yourself in a pair of boot cut jeans (perfectly tailored of course) and white on white Adidas shell toes. A turtle neck and one of Eddie's Corroded Coffin sweatshirt's kept you warm on top -- not something you'd ever wear to a party in The Hills, but The Hawkins Daily probably doesn't care that you're not in Versace's SS RTW '94 collection.

You didn't look as glamourous as you would with a whole team, but at least your nails were done and your engagement ring sparkled brilliantly next to your diamond studded wedding band. Your small gold hoops hugged your earlobes -- you just needed something to add some pizzazz. You felt so tired and bloated these days, everything made you sick -- you deserved to feel pretty.

"You ready to go, lil' mama?" Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down your forearms to keep you warm. He looks so casually cool, you almost wanna shove him off you. Beat up old Reeboks from the 80s, ripped jeans, some stupid crudely drawn on shirt that said 'Hellfire' on it from years ago that wore tight against his adult body -- but still effortless, still sexy.

You blame it on the leather jacket and his over decorated battle vest. That had to be it.

You nod, heading down the back exits of the Indianapolis hotel to the parking garage where you loaded into Eddie's old van from high school. He preferred to drive this around when he was back home, brought on less attention than one of the Jeeps or Jaguars you both had lying around in California. While the outside still looked dingy and untouched, the inside had been redetailed and updated to keep up with the times. New carpeting, new sound system, updated leather seating, air conditioning, anything you'd want in a mid90s car -- it was in 'Charlene' -- named effectionately after one of Wayne's ex-girlfriend's who let Eddie have it when it wouldn't start anymore.

The ride felt simultaneously short and long, the rolling of your stomach in the car paired with the anxiety of being with a group of people you didn't know was inching up your throat. You looked pale in the side view mirror, pinching your cheeks hurriedly to bring some blood back to your face.

"You feel okay, honey?" Ed asks, "Want me to pull over? Did'j'you bring your water with you? I brought some if you need it."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you assure. You're not fine, but it's better not to worry him. You weren't sick. Just nervous.

"Should I have just gone to Wayne's?" your heart sinks when you ask, "I don't want you to feel like you need to entertain me all night or anything."

"You know Dustin – you met everyone else at the wedding," Eddie says, putting a hand on your thigh, "It'll be okay. We're just gonna do a short campaign for D&D -- you can watch. You'll get to see my acting chops."

When he winks at you, you melt. It's been five years and you still feel like a teenager every time his gaze lingers on you for a little too long.

"You're gonna put me out of business," you joke back, "Hollywood's next girl next door, huh?"

"They're gonna beat down the door to book me," he replies with a faux-seriousness that makes you giggle, "Gonna outshine all you little bitches."

The rest of the ride is filled with laughs because he knows you're nervous. He knows you don't feel good. And sure, Wayne would love to have you tonight and make you dinner and talk about the baby but Eddie so rarely gets to show you the old him -- the version of him before he was famous. Before he ever did heroin -- when all he did was sell weed and comic books out of Hawkins Comics & Gaming Expo after dropping out of high school in '83 so he could get his big break.

Every trip to Indiana was a holiday or so short they'd only be there a night. You both almost exclusively saw Wayne, either staying at the trailer -- since he gifted the house Eddie got him to a new single teen mother who'd found her way to Forest Hills two months after the renovations had finished -- or in a hotel in the bigger cities. You both never had the time to show each other your old lives, even after all these years together. So when Will Byers got on the phone during one of Eddie and Dustin's weekly calls and invited him to his birthday party -- Ed cleared his schedule to make room for the occasion. He hadn't seen the guys in a while, not since the wedding in October, and before that it was during his stint in Hawkins after 'the incident' in Toronto.

When the van pulled into the driveway, already littered with cars, and your nerves pooled back in your stomach. It wasn't just not really knowing them well that was making you nervous, it was them not really knowing you. The press about the sex tape was just starting to die down -- but had they seen it? Did they know about it? Did they watch Eddie on Leno? Did they hear about the broken microphones when he got in a fight with Howard Stern? Did they know about how Eddie had to pay to get Howard's studio redone?

"He shouldn't have talked his shit, then, baby," Eddie shrugged when he got the legal papers in the mail. You'd never seen him so angry in his life than when Howard called you his 'whore wife'. The clip of Eddie saying "Excuse the fuck out of me, but what did you just say about my wife? Do you wanna lose your fuckin’ teeth man?" Replayed on a loop on all the metal radio stations before playing a Corroded Coffin song.

Were these guys going to judge her the way the press had? Should she mention the pregnancy? Did they already know? They had to have known. Eddie called Dustin minutes after you both found out.

"It's gonna be fine, Stell," Eddie knocked you out of your running thoughts with his soothing voice, opening your door on your side of the van. He offers his hand to help you out, he always does, like a prince helping you out of a carriage. You walk hand in hand to the door and you can feel the coolness of his wedding band against your skin -- it's the only gold jewelry he wears, even though you offered to get it in platinum. 'I want it to stand out, baby. Want everyone to know I'm Mr. Stella Rink.'

Eddie rings the bell, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while your other hang grips the handles of the bag of treats and expensive champagne you brought. The champagne you can't drink. The charcuterie board with cold cuts that you can't eat. Your stomach lurches again.

You're greeted by all the boys when the door opens and they all start to scream -- low and vibrating yells from men in their mid and late 20s who just wanna be boys again. Your nose is hit hard with strains of four different colognes, weed smoke, and beer and you grab Eddie's arm in a panic. Fuck.

"Oh, shit, shit shit," Eddie starts, "Sorry, sorry, can she use your bathroom. I think she's gonna puke."

"Yeah, of course, c'mon, c'mon in," Will is so immediately caring that you want to cry. His hand on your back while he and Eddie lead you to the bathroom around the hall. You drop the bag of food and liquor outside the door before you run inside to wretch, closing the door on both men behind you.

"Sorry man," you hear Eddie explain, "She's pregnant so she's just, y'know, like, puking everywhere all the time."

"It's totally okay," you hear Will assure.

"Not surprised she's pregnant," you hear another voice say with a snicker, "We all saw it on the news."

"Hey," you hear Eddie's voice get lower while another heave of bile comes out of you, "Watch your mouth, Wheeler."

There's silence and then the sound of a smack on the back, "I'm just kiddin' man. Fuckin' love you guys."

You finally think you're done, rinsing your mouth out in the sink.

"Do you guys have mouthwash?" you call out, hearing their murmur of conversation.

"Behind the mirror," Mike responds. Your sigh of relief at the Listerine is audible and the boys snicker and you laugh too. This is ridiculous. What were you so nervous about? This was going to be fine. Just fine.

Eddie's waiting for you outside of the bathroom, offering his hand again when you emerge, "You okay?"

You nod and he picks up the snacks and wine while leading you to the kitchen. He puts the champagne in the fridge, maneuvering it amongst hundreds of beer cans and a covered grocery store cake. You go to open the snacks before Dustin stops you.

"I got it, Stell," he urges, "You should sit down."

"Henderson," you say with a cocked head, "I'm pregnant, not dying. I can put out snacks."

"Look, I'm just doing what I'd do for Suze," he says, "If I'm here, you're not lifting a finger."

"And where is Suze and the baby now?" you ask with a smile.

"They are in Utah to visit her parents and her brother's and sisters," he explains matter of factly, "And...lucky for me, I couldn't take off work this week to go visit them, too."

"I'm sure your thrilled," you laugh. He puts a finger to his lips and laughs too, fatherhood suits him so well. Despite being five years younger, Eddie has gotten so much wisdom from Dustin. Asking every question that comes in his head, picking Suzie's brain about pregnancy even though you have to keep reminding him that all of this is different for every couple.

Eddie puts a plate in front of you full of snacks you can have and strokes your hair, "Do you want water? Soda?"

"Can I have a Heineken?" you ask with a hopeful smile.

"No," he singsongs, "But you can have a Coke if you want?"

You frown, "Fine, fine."

Eddie opens it for you and places it next to your plate, barely biting into a cracker before the doorbell rings again. You've started your conversation back up with Dustin and Eddie to tune out the ruckus at the door and you swear you hear it -- but you can't be sure.

"Libby!"

Absolutely not.

There's no way.

You peer a little past the wall of the kitchen blocking off the view of the front door to see a glimpse of her hair falling over Will's shoulder and you know if she's here -- so is he. Your heart races in your chest, sweat building under your arms and in your hairline like you're going to be sick again.

You peer over a second time to see Steve on one knee taking off her shoes for her and bite back a scoff. You feel Eddie's hand on your shoulder and your attention snaps to him, "What're you lookin' at, baby?"

He follows your line of site and sees them, too. Eddie's regualr smile falls to a thin line, "What the fuck?" he mutters quietly.

"Of course he's taking her shoes off for her, can't do anything herself," you huff.

Eddie squeezes your shoulder, "Don't," he says with a shake of his head.

"Don't act up. You're just gonna make yourself upset," he warns. You both had a right to be mad, but Eddie didn't have the energy for negativity anymore. Lucky for him, you have enough energy for the both of you.

"I'm so sorry, dude. I should've told you," Dustin said. Their conversation is muffled while shock rings in your ears. You watch her give Will a gift, their jovial conversation, her dolled up outfit. Lucas and Mike giving her hugs hello. She sparkled. The life of the party. Her miserable hulking jock boyfriend hanging behind her with her purse in his hand.

You look back down at your plate of snacks -- you wanna puke again but you don't know if you need to puke again. You hear Libby and the rest of the crew maneuver into the livingroom, laughing and joking as they go. Her smile is so evident in her voice and your heart can't help but break at the sound of it -- she was your friend, too. Once.

It's not long before you hear it, the familiar stomps of a one Steve Harrington entering the kitchen with a cigarette between his lips. The interaction feels like it's happening in slow motion when he stops in front of the table.

"Shut the fuck up," you say under your breath, "You're joking."

Eddie instinctively steps in front of you, one hand sneaking behind him to stop you from talking -- ‘I got it.’

Steve stands there, dumbfounded at first, and then shakes his head.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he mumbles, looking straight at Eddie's face. It had been over a year, but rage surged through Eddie's system for a moment before he took a regulating breath.

"Uh, Eddie um, I just got my car uh, detailed -- wanna check it out? See if they did a good job?" Dustin offered, trying to break the tension.

"Yeah Henderson, that sounds like a great idea," Eddie agreed slowly, keeping his eye on Steve while the boxer turned on his heel to go back to the livingroom.

It was no longer a question of whether or not you wanted to puke.

You needed to puke.

Eddie and Dustin headed outside while you barreled back down the hallway to vom, turning the water on so no one would hear, praying that this would be the last time. After a couple of dizzying minutes, you gather yourself, rinse with Listerine, and cautiously head to the door.

You only see her feet in the corner of your eye, blocked by everyone surrounding her before you open the door. The cool March air kisses your face like a lover back from war, catching on the sweat of your clammy skin. You shut the door, making sure it's not locked, and scan the street for a sign of your husband.

"Over here," he calls from across the street. You jog over in your sneakers, Eddie looks you over, "You get sick again?"

"Yeah, but s'fine," you nod, "I'm okay."

Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket, hearing the crinkling of plastic, and his hand reappears with two gold wrapped candies.

Ginger chews. The only thing that kept your stomach settled these day. Eddie bought them in bulk the moment you found something that helped and kept at least 50 of them on him at all times, lest you felt even the slightest bit ill.

"Here, baby," he offers, holding the candies out on his outstretched palm, "You'll feel better. Think you need to eat something real, soon. You didn't eat a lot at breakfast."

"Ed, I'm fine," you assure, taking the chews and horking them down. You just don't want to feel sick anymore. He takes out his keys and hands them to you.

"I got a big bottle of Evian in there for you, go grab it," he instructs, "You're gonna just get more sick if you're dehydrated."

"Honey," you say with a warning edge, taking the keys, "I know. I can take care of myself, okay?"

He frowns, "Just tryna help."

You sigh with a smile, pecking his cheek, "I love you. I appreciate it. M'sorry." You cross the street again, catching Libby and Will in an animated conversation through the window and avert your eyes to the van. You grab the Evian and crack it open, practically chugging it behind the coverage of the passenger door -- heaving breaths out of your mouth when the bottle leaves your lips.

"Trying to pretend it's a real party, Stell?" Eddie teases, "Sucking that down like it's Moet."

You roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Munson."

"We're gonna go back inside, sweet thing," he says, tilting his head over to Dustin, "You need a minute?"

"Um, yeah, gonna let the ginger set in first and then I'll come in," you smile.

"I think they ordered pizza, that sound good? Want me to see if I can get you something else?" Eddie smiles.

"No, no, pizza's fine honey," your smile is tight while you watch them walk back in, the sound of too many voices and music peels through the open door.

You take a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, looking at yourself in the side view mirror again. You sigh, you’re sure you look fine to everyone else but you look bad to you. You step half way up and in to the van to open the center console, fishing out a spare blush and lip gloss that you kept there for emergencies. Your touch up helps make you feel a little refreshed, but still came the daunting task of going back into the house.

You crept in the door quietly, seeing Eddie and Dustin laughing with Mike and Lucas, standing like pretend grown men in a circle. You scan the base of the couch again and see Libby’s socked feet, taking a swig of your water while you position yourself next to Eddie. His arm naturally finds its way around you while he talks and you feel safe again. The vibration of his chest while he speaks, the scent of his cologne mixed with less and less cigarette smoke while he works on quitting before the baby comes. His presence lulling you back into security without as much as a word.

Lucas and Dustin walk away to help set up the table for the game, while Mike continues to talk to Eddie about guitars. Wheeler wants to get a new one but he isn’t sure he has the right adapter for his amp and your brain glazes over in boredom. If you never heard about amp adapters again it would still be too soon.

“Technology’s moving too fast, babe. The sound is getting too manufactured.” He’d complain throughout the house like a grumpy old man.

Will calls Mike over and they start talking about playing, you hear Libby’s voice in the background and your head swims. When the conversation pauses, Eddie looks down at you and smiles, “You look pretty, you put a different blush on?”

His ability to still notice the little things makes your heart leap, “The one in the car. Felt like I sweat all my makeup off after puking.”

“You look like a million bucks, mama,” he winks, pulling you in tighter and kissing your forehead, “Gonna go help set up sweet thing, why don’t you go put some food in your body with that water.”

You chug your Evian to stop from fixing your mouth to say something bitchy. It’s hard to let him take the lead, to have him suggest how to care for yourself in this state. You want to tell him to mind his business, to snap at him — but he’s doing it from a place of love and you know that. You’re not good at having someone take care of you like this. You never let him do it before.

There was someone at this party who had told you that to your face.

You get out of the way, padding into the kitchen and grabbing a handful of pretzels and tossing them on a plate, your previous snack plate thrown away. You gather some cheese curls, M&Ms, chips, anything in a bowl for eating and pile it high. Munching on it while you watch the party set the living room up for the game. Dice and maps and papers being passed out to eachother. Beers and weed being offered.

You're only half listening while you came back over to the table where everyone was sitting in fold out chairs or the couch, only to realize there was no seat for you. Eddie turns at your movement, sitting on the end. He scans the room, there’s space next Libby on the couch but that’s not happening so he spreads his legs a little farther, patting his thigh.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, “S’fine, honey.”

You perch yourself on his lap and watch him look at your plate, he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it — plucking a chip off and popping it in his mouth, then another.

“Really looking forward to this birthday campaign, Byers," Eddie says across the table, "Never thought Wheeler could come up with something so creative."

"Rude," Mike scoffs, "But, even though I'm definitely that creative -- I didn't write it. Libby wrote it." You look down at the pretzels on your plate as if they are much more interesting than anything else.

“You wrote it?” Eddie asks gently.

“Yeah, I mean, I just threw it together,” Libby assured, “It’s nothing special.”

“No, no,” Eddie urges, “It’s good. It’s really good.”

Bile creeps up your throat.

Good enough to kiss her at the bar again? You shake it out of your mind. You’ve moved past that. He can compliment her and have it not mean anything more than that. He complimented Max's hair at your wedding, he compliments your manager Simone all the time. You bite into a pretzel — it’s incredibly dry. Eddie’s hand finds your hip and your mouth runs drier. Did he touch you after so that you wouldn’t be mad? Why are you thinking so far into it?

You reach down to get your water but he beats you to it, putting his character sheet down with his other papers to open it for you.

“I can do it, Ed,” you assure gently, “You’re busy.”

“I'm never too busy for you, Stell,” he whispers while the conversation continues around him, “I just — I’m sorry.”

You stay on his lap, snacking, feeding him snacks while he pays attention to everyone else.Minutes pass, they feel like hours while you watch everyone else laugh and joke with each other. Libby is glowing -- completely in her element, and you're here in your husband's sweatshirt feeling like hurling every five seconds and no one cares about you at all.

You need air.

You get up and fish into Eddie's pockets while he talks, grabbing a handful of ginger chews and the dregs of your Evian bottle and walk over to the kitchen to the back door. For the second time that afternoon, the cool wet air feels good on your face.

You shut the door behind you and take a deep breath, putting your head down and leaning forward with your hands on your knees at the exhale.

"You too?" you hear. It's a gruff voice. A voice you know well.

"What? Not havin' fun, Harrington?" you ask dryly, rolling up slowly, vertabrae by vertabrae.

"Could ask you the same thing," he says with a shrug. You turn to look at him, still big and hulking as ever. Sunglasses over his eyes and a cigarette between his lips. You look at eachother for a moment, you can feel his eyes through the lenses -- the honey eyes that looked like daggers the last time you saw him. The honey eyes that rounded like saucers when you told Libby to leave while she still could. Looks like she didn't heed your advice.

He takes a small step toward you, "Want a smoke?"

The box is nearly empty and you don't smoke Marlboro's anyway, "I'll pass."

He shrugs, taking one of the remaining cigarettes left and popping it between his lips.

"So, when're you due?" he asks while he brings up his lighter.

"Excuse me?" you ask, eyes narrowing. You cross your arms protectively over your chest.

"When's the baby due?" he asked again on his exhale, blowing the smoke away from you.

"Who told you?" you look at him quizically -- it's not like him and Libby would've found out any other way but this party. You weren't announcing to the press until you were at least 12 weeks.

"No one," he smirks, "Any other party I've seen you at you're normally stumblin' around with some Cliquot and chain smoking by now."

"I am not," you huff.

"And fuckin' Munson hasn't broken out any party favors yet so either you're knocked up or you finally put him on a shorter leash," his smirk widens while he takes another drag.

"Get his name out of you're fuckin' mouth, Harrington," you spit. You see his jaw clench, like he's holding back.

"See you haven't changed much," you mutter, opening your bottle of water only to see that there's nothing left. Steve drops the butt of his cigarette, stomping it out with his shoe before turning to one of the coolers outside and fishing out a Sprite.

"S'not as fancy as Evian but," he cocks his head while offering it to you, "Might settle your stomach."

You peer at it, and then at him, slowly reaching for the dripping can, "Thanks."

It comes out more apprehensive than you expect. You walk over to the picnic table that seems decades old, sitting down on the damp old wood of the bench and opening the can -- catching the bubbles as they over flow. You see Steve fish a Sprite out for himself and head over to you, lighting the last cigarette in his pack. You jaw clenches.

"Uh, congrats though," he says, flipping his glasses to rest on his head and running his hand over his face. You nod, feeling a little uncomfortable -- it wasn't pregnancy making you sick at this point. It was the threat of where this conversation could go, and you had a sharp tongue today. It was the fear of Eddie coming out here and causing a scene because -- despite it being over a year -- he wouldn't want you out here alone with King Steve.

"You know what you're having?"

"Twins."

Steve chokes on his Sprite, turning around to spit the liquid out onto the yellowed grass. He turns back around, wiping his mouth.

"Good fuckin' luck," he breaths, shaking his head. "Fuckin' twins."

"I know," you say quietly, toying with a piece of splintered wood on the side of the table, "I haven't told Eddie about it yet."

"The fuck you mean?" Steve asks, concerned, sitting down on the bench opposite you.

"I just found out before I came down here," you confessed, still toying with the splinter, "He was already in Indiana when I went to the 7 week appointment -- that's when they saw two of them in there. Fraternal. I'm due in November."

"Shit," Steve mumbles, "Uh...you okay?"

You nod, "I'm nervous he's gonna freak out. He's excited but I know he's so nervous about being a dad. He's so scared he's gonna fuck up -- I feel like this will be too much for him."

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," you say, shaking your head while the rest of you shivers, "I don't even fucking like you."

He barks out a laugh, "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Rink."

You laugh with him and for the first time, there's a subtle softness between you that hadn't existed before.

"Um," he starts, "Not sure it's my place to say this but -- I think Munson'll be fine -- he's off the heavy shit, right?"

You nod, looking at the opening of the Sprite can, the liquid reflecting the sky above you. Your shoulders tense at him mentioning Eddie's drug use -- 'How're those veins holdin' up Munson?' Eddie hadn't touched anything beyond weed and a few bumps of coke (off your body) since '92.

"He's been off for two years," you say, ripping the splinter of wood off the table and tossing it into the grass.

"See? Already ten times better than my folks. You’ll be just fine," Steve says softly -- you'd never hear him speak like that. So inward, almost calm.

Your eyes meet, holding each others gaze with understanding before Steve slides his glasses back down.

"Drink," he demands, his chin jutting towards the can of Sprite.

"Pfft. You sound just like Ed," you groan with an eye roll.

"What, is he finally bossin' you around?" Steve lets out a chuckle while he puts his last cigarette in his mouth.

"No one bosses me around," you snip, eyes reaching the sky, "God he just doesn't stop it's so fucking --"

"Steve," you hear Libby's voice behind you, her socked feet at the door frame. She tip toes clumsily in the dry grass, light on her feet as she does and gets behind him, reaching into his pants pocket.

"Baby, what're you --"

"There it is," Libby says with a smile, his wallet in her hand. She fishes through it, grabbing a few bills. She looks over at you, but doesn't make eye contact, "Oh, hey Stella."

"Hi Lib," you say to the rotting plank of wood at the center of the picnic table. You try to stifle a laugh from how clear it is that she's really been enjoying herself.

Steve looks up at her blankly, and she grins down, "The pizza's here, Stevie. I don't want Will to have to pay for it on his birthday."

She turns to tip toe back to the door with the cash in hand and he follows, her socks dirty with wet soil and grass. You don't hear it, but you know he's scolding her for something -- his fingers gentle around her chin while he talks to her.

He comes back when she disappears into the house and sits back down -- the bench creaks.

"She's having fun," you smile, "Happy for her."

"A little too much fun," he takes a drag of his cigarette, "That Sprite isn't there for you to look at, Rink."

You roll your eyes but take a sip of it anyway, "I know you're not telling me what to do. Must be the roids talking."

He catches your mean smirk and smirks back, his eye roll rivals yours. You're almost impressed.

Steve looks at the house, seeing Libby in the window with the boxes of pizza and his brows soften behind his glasses. He takes a moment, like he's considering something.

"Look, Rink -- what I did..." he starts, lifting his glasses to rub one of his eyes, "In Toronto and Malibu..."

"Steve it's --"

"No, no, shut up -- stop," he says, resting his glasses back on his nose, "What I did, what I said -- it was shitty."

He pauses, you sit in silence for a moment.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you agree, taking another sip of Sprite -- you're annoyed that it is making you feel better.

"Everything I said was the truth, so -- I'm not apologizing to you," you say with a smile and a shrug.

"Fuckin' Rink," Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, attention turning to the door again where Libby is standing.

"Come eat!" she calls. Holy God, you're fucking hungry.

"Go," Steve instructs, and you wanna snap at him too, but whatever demons are growing in your uterus are really begging for cheese and sauce. You get up, looking behind you while Steve works on finishing his cigarette and step into the house.

"Shoes off, baby," Eddie says when you see him in the kitchen, a plate of pizza in either hand. You kick your Adidas off and scurry over to the front door, leaving them with the pile of everyone else's before meeting your husband back in the kitchen.

"You want veggie or pepperoni?" he asks, holding either out in front of you.

"Veggie," you choose, taking the plate of his hand. You turn to see Libby waiting at the door for Steve, a plate of slices in her hand -- offering it to him when he comes in the door. Your heart sinks. You want to believe it's a good relationship, you really do -- but when you see her like this, this contrast of her bubbly nature with the group versus her obedient meekness when he's around -- you worry. Eddie catches you staring and looks at you through heavy lids, his lips a straight line.

"What?" you ask, "What's that face for?"

"Don't be sneakin' around on me," he warns, "I don't like that."

"Baby, it's fine," you say lightly, "I wasn't sneaking around -- you were busy! I just needed some air."

"It's not fine. I didn't want you to see him again," he says through a bite of pizza, "And definitely not by yourself."

"Oh stop," you click your tongue, "Put that fake macho attitude away."

"I'm so macho, what do you mean?" he quirks his brow while he gets in your face, dimples deepening when he smiles into a soft, pizza saucey peck on your lips. You look at him, his eyes are a little glassy and blood shot.

"Are you stoned?" you ask with a laugh.

"Eh...not a lot, enough that this tastes like the best pizza I've ever had," he laughs back at you.

"C'mon, lets sit," he urges, giving you a tiny pat on the ass to get you out of the way of all the moving parts in the kitchen. You cozy up next to him on the oversized recliner by the couch and look at the maps and dice left abandoned on the table.

"Are you winning?" you ask, taking a bite of your slice. Fuck, you might not be stoned but this is definitely the best pizza you've ever had.

"It's not that kind of game, baby," he smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the edges when he does.

"Oh, sorry," you blush, "I didn't know."

"S'okay," he says with a stretch of his arm, wrapping it at around you while he folds his now empty paper plate with his free hand.

"You having fun?" you ask, shoveling another bite of pizza into your mouth.

"Feel like I'm back at a highschool party," he blushes, "Excited to get to the making out part of the night. You know there's this girl I have a crush on? Her name's Stella. Think she'd wanna be my make out partner?"

"Oh, so wild," you play along, "I know her. Do you want me to ask her if she likes you?"

"No, no, she'd never go for a guy like me," he fake frowns, "I'm a loser in a rock band."

Almost as if on cue, a Corroded Coffin song comes on the radio and you playfully lean over him to turn up the volume on the stereo. Eddie covers his face with his hands, biceps bulging in the tight fabric of his shirt.

"Oof, so embarrassing," you tease. The party, sans Libby and Steve, clamber over to join in on the teasing, but it all turns into hype when they start screaming the lyrics at him. He peeks over his hands and then drops them, screaming the lyrics with them.

You feel the air around you get hot at the sight of him air guitaring the exact right chords, his face getting confident and concentrated like when he's really playing. He notices your stare, looking up to shoot you a wink but when you blush at him he can't help but pull you into a kiss. It's lewd and sloppy, like how you'd make out at California parties when you both had too much to drink. You know deep down he misses that version of you, but he can always find her when he kisses like this.

The hype turns into childish playful groans of disgust and teasing coos, "Ewwwww, don't be gross."

"Get a room!"

"No wonder you have a baby on the way," Mike teased. The grouped lulled in quiet, everyone blushing but not at dark as Wheeler. Your eyes flit quickly to Steve and Libby, and a strike of guilt pangs in your chest. She didn't know. How would she?

Always good at breaking tension, you make a joke at the expense of yourself, "Don't act so surprised, you all saw it on the tape."

They probably had. It was all over the news.

The room erupts in cackles and you laugh into Eddie's hand while it claps over your mouth, "Shh, shh, stop." His giggle in your ear is infectious. You reach up to touch his hand, your finger sliding over his wedding band as a reminder that he made all the changes he said he would. He put in all the work he promised. He's still going to meetings and still seeing a shrink -- he's even brought you with him a few times.

'Eddie mentioned he thinks you might have some issues with letting go of control.'

'I think you don't know what you're talking about.'

In your peripherary, you catch Steve pull away from her touch -- renderring her visibly upset. She gets up and heads to the hallway and part of you wants to get up and go after her, but your attention turns to Steve. His eyes lock with yours and he gives you a look like 'See what I'm dealing with here? What did I do?'

You look back at him flatly at first because he knows what he did. You motion your head toward the hallway at him mouthing a small 'Go!' He huffs and bobs his head with another award winning eye roll because he knows you're right.

Mrs. Fuckin' Munson.

Both of them disappear in the darkness of the hall and you watch as Max and Will's gaze follow them.

"It's okay," you assure them quietly -- it grabs their attention. Will was better, but Max always got flustered when you spoke to her or paid her any mind. You weren't a stranger to people being star struck around you -- but you wished it wouldn't happen around Ed's friends. Especially when he just wanted to be normal.

"Stell, you wanna hear a story about how Eddie struck out with a super hot babe at Hawkin's Comics back in '85?" Lucas asked.

"Yes, absolutely," you nod feverishly, "I want every painstaking detail."

"Oh god is this the story with --" Eddie starts, flush blooming on his cheeks.

"Yep, with the magic trick," Lucas interrupts with a laugh.

"Oh yes! When he punched her in the face?" Mike adds. Eddie's head falls into his hands, grin plastered on his face behind his palms. His face matches the can on Coke on the side table next to him.

"He punched a girl in the face?" you gasp but it turns into a girlish laugh -- a mean girl laugh that you thought you threw away in grade school. You run your hand over his back in soothing circles.

"Who knew he'd be Hollywood's heartbreaker a year later," you tease, "Tell me everything."

You listen to the tale intently, Eddie eventually finding comfort resting against your chest to feel the vibrations of your laugh under him. His eyes lull when your fingers graze over his scalp, running through his hair -- an absentminded soothing action you did without realizing it. He can't wait for you to be a mother -- he knows you're gonna be great at it. You've already spent so much time taking care of him, how different can some rugrat be?

When the story is over and everyone is nearly crying with laughter, your stomach lurches.

"Oh shit," you groan, wretching nothing, "Fuck, sorry, hold on."

You race to the bathroom for the third time only to be met with the closed door opening to Steve and Libby. You wretch again, looking at them while they look at you.

"Sorry, please -- just, please move -- " you plead, shoving past them and shutting the door on their backs. You heave into the toilet. Undigested chunks of pizza and veggies plopping down into the water unceremoniously -- the fizz of the Sprite crawling back up your throat burning while it mixes with your stomach acid.

"Ugh, shit," you groan as another hurl rolls through your body -- up your back to your neck and out of your mouth. Your coughs and sputters turn to more upheavels until there's nothing left to throw up. You take a few deep breaths, resting your head on the cool porcelain on the toilet seat -- not even caring at this point if its dirty.

With wobbling legs you get up and rinse your mouth for the third time that day, splashing some cold water onto your cheeks. The knock on the door makes you jump and you wait to hear Eddie's 'Baby, you okay?' come from the other side, but it doesn't.

"Hey, Stell?" it's Libby asking for you.

"I got you some water. Can I come in?" she asks. Your heart races. Steve you could handle -- but you don't know if you can handle this. You hesitate for a moment, looking at the door then back at yourself in the mirror, then back at the door again.

You reach for the handle and click it open, revealing her and her glassy stare -- cup of water in her hand, and one for her in the other.

"Uh, here."

You reach for it, your mouth and joints suddenly feelings the strain of dehydration, and gulp some of it down. Letting out a 'thanks' with a sigh.

You're silent for a second, mulling over your next move. You could just walk away and go back to your husband or you could grow the fuck up. You and Eddie have had countless talks about their hookup. He never shyed away from it, always doing his best to be as open and honest about it to quell and insecurity you might've had. It didn't kill you that he'd had a little crush on her, you had little crushes on plenty of people -- you worked along side the most beautiful and charming people in the world. At the end of the day, the ring was on your finger -- his vows were a short novel that he got bound in leather and gave to you the night before your wedding. He still knew your Big Mac order. He still knew you'd always take a sip of his regular Coke when you ordered diet.

"Do you wanna go outside with me? I just really need some air," you offer. You see her eyes widen, but she nods while you walk into the space she made for you in the hallway. You walk ahead, slipping your sneakers back on and finding Eddie back in the game with the boys. Steve sitting in darkness off to the side with his sunglasses on -- what a putz.

Eddie's character voice is low and gravely but animated -- some kind of accent lacing the words but you know it's his poor attempt at Northern Irish. He turns his head when you giggle as he finishes his sentence, sneaking behind him and reaching into his jacket pocket for some ginger chews.

"You okay?" he murmurs to you.

"Yes, honey," you whisper, grabbing the candies and sneakily slipping out his box of Camels and his lighter to slide into your jean's back pocket.

"Your character seems really cool," you smile into a kiss on the side of his head from behind, "You sound great."

"Thanks," he blushes, still whispering with you while the other members continues.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say with a rub to his back and he nods before joining a huddle with Lucas, Dustin, and Will to plan their next steps. You turn back to Libby and motion towards the back door, heading back outside towards the picnic table -- the sun begginning it's descent. You shivered a little in your sweatshirt -- you should've worn a coat or maybe another layer. You watch Libby as she comes outside, sitting across from you with her back towards the door.

"Hi," you say softly, with a smile, "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Libby nods. There's a permeating silence, neither of you knowing how to start the conversation. The last time you'd seen each other had been so cold. You had only kept up through seeing whatever brand deals she might have garnered, or running into some of Steve's fights on TV. Sometimes when your makeup artist had worked with her she'd give you her insight, but it had never been enough. Apparently Steve wasn't hovering so often.

"So how do you know these guys?" you ask, because this was the last place you ever thought you'd see Libby and Steve. She lights up at the question, easy and middle ground.

"Oh, I was really close with Will in high school. Some seniors were picking on him and I...sorta yelled at them," she explained.

She giggled at the memory, "How about you? How do you and Eddie know this bunch?"

"Eddie started living with his uncle when he was around 10 and then sarted working at Hawkin's Comics after he dropped out of high school in '83," you say it like you've heard this story a thousand times before, and you have, "The boys used to come in and buy new issues and some Dungeons and Dragons play books, eventually they started a little club and stayed friends after. I'm sure since you knew them back then you might've heard about it."

"He stayed friends with the boys for the most part, but stayed really close with Dustin -- so when he was here last year after um -- y'know -- everything. They sort of all got a chance to reconnect. And here we are."

"I bet it's weird, huh?" she asks with a shrug, " Not knowing many people, being far from home."

"And I'm sober for it," you complain with an eye roll. Your chin goes to rest on the heel of your hand, leaning on the table.

"Congratulations, by the way," Libby cracks a shy smile, "On the baby and the wedding."

"Thanks," you smile back, "I'm due in November. Y'know I thought I'd be so relieved once the wedding was over after all that planning but -- with y'know the tape and all the press -- and then getting pregnant it's been...it's just been a lot. Kinda lonely."

"I saw some pictures," she responded, "You looked really pretty."

Your heart breaks, "I wish..." you trail off for a moment, unsure if you should say what you're thinking.

"I wish you could've been there."

"Me too," she says, eyes casting down towards the table.

"It was fun, and all the boys were there -- and Max. You would've had a good time," you say, and then pause to think, "Maybe not Steve. He doesn't strike me as good at dancing."

Libby laughs, "Steve never dances."

'Not much of a dancer but good enough in bed that you stayed with him this long? What kind of rhythm is he even working with?' you think. You laugh too, but it fades out when your heart swells -- it's better to be honest.

"Not just the wedding though. When the tape came out and -- everything that went down. I wished you'd been around. It's hard y'know, when everyone is talking about how much of a slut you are for having sex with your own husband," you confess, "And then Jesus, everything with Ed and Howard -- so embarrassing."

"I only had my sisters and my mom for a while. It just would've been nice to have a friend around, too. Someone who understood," you pause for a beat, "I missed you."

You grab the box of Camels and his lighter from your back pocket to open it. It's half full, which is impressive since Eddie bought this pack last week -- really following through with cutting down. Any other time, this pack would've been gone by noon at the latest. You hold the box out in your hand across the table -- not the olive branch you thought it would be, but it'll do.

"Wanna light?" you ask, "It helps sometimes just to smell it around me. Takes the edge off."

You're surprised at how quickly she reaches for the pack, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it with one fell swoop. The kind of speed you see back stage at fashion shows or in the back alleys of the studios you shot at.

"You're telling me," she mumbles through a drag.

"Didn't realize you were one of us now. Are you that stressed out?" you asked. There was no way things were going that badly already. You watch her look over her shoulder with a nervous shiver, certainly looking out for Steve.

"It's just like you said," she says before blowing out the gray haze, the scent hits your nostrils and your heart finally stops thrumming, "to take the edge off sometimes. Steve doesn't know."

"I'd imagine not," you tease.

There's a moment of silence while Libby takes another drag. Smoking suits her, she looks more established -- more grown up. Sure of herself.

"I missed you, too," she says. You think it's the pregnancy hormones that make you want to cry. You both smile at eachother, eyes shining in the cold air. It would've been a different year entirely if you had just stayed friends.

"Is—has everything been okay? With Steve?" you asked. The answer seemed obvious since they were still together.

"Yeah, things are good. They're..." you watch her consider the answer. No longer under the watch of America or her family, but someone who'd seen some of Steve at his worst, "...they're much better. He's been going to therapy, it seems to be helping," she admitted.

You laugh at the confession. King Steve sees a shrink. Of course.

"Ah, that explains it," you grin, fiddling with Eddie's zippo on the table. She laughs with you. It's nice to laugh with someone else other than Eddie.

"I'm sure that was a terrifying moment for you," she jokes, tilting her head towards the house. It was at first, talking to Steve one on one -- but then maybe it wasn't.

"I definitely didn't wonder if you had him cloned and rewired," you tease before reaching out to her across the table, "And you? How have you been?"

"Good. We're back on the road next week, Steve has a fight in Chicago," she explains. You knew that life.

"Any more Prada shoots?" you ask. Your mind wanders for a brief moment if Steve ever ended up giving her the card you wrote her.

"Maybe. But...I don't know, ever since we came back to Hawkins, I've been...no, it's silly," she waves her hand, making a face -- but you want to know what she wants.

"No, I know it's not! Come on, tell me."

"I've been thinking about...maybe taking some classes. I wanted to go to school, before I met Steve, and I'm just...wondering if maybe I still could," she says nervously. Like a secret she'd been keeping for years.

"Libby, I definitely think you still can," you encourage, "I think that's a great idea."

"Ah, I don't know. We'll see. What about you? How far along are you?"

You pull your hand away -- you're excited but almost a little exhausted by talking about the baby -- babies, you keep having to remind yourself. But you know it'll only get worse the more you start to show.

"Not very, just due in November. I mean, I'm scared shitless, but I'm excited. Eddie's nesting more than I am and he's not the one puking every five seconds," you can't help but get exasperating at his constant flitting about -- but thinking about him with a baby makes your heart melt.

"But...he's gonna be a great dad," you confess, your cheeks heat up for a moment.

"Yeah, he is," she agrees, "And you're gonna make the best mom, Stell."

You gulp and shake your head for a second, "I dunno. You think so?"

"I know so," her smile genuine and warm and you want to reach up and give her a hug but something moves behind her that catches your eye.

You spy Steve at the door way and your eyes flick to the lit cigarette in her hand while she talks. He takes a strong step forward, eyes meeting yours -- he puts a finger to his lips with a devilish smile as to warn you not to reveal his unfortunate surprise. You want to roll your eyes while she takes her next drag, but you know it'll give it away.

He comes behind her and cups his hand under her jaw and you stifle a laugh while she sputters out the smoke into his face.

"Hey, angel. Whatcha doin'?" he asks, you can sense he's less than happy about her currently predicament. Another reminder why he probably didn't want you hanging out with Libby in the first place.

"I-I was just keeping it lit for you," she says with rounded, mischevious eyes. You giggle, which makes her giggle, while he makes a face -- and you know he doesn't appreciate it.

"You think that's funny?" he asks down at her, but you know he's asking both of you.

"No -- " she starts, her voice falling into something small and meek. A familiar head of shaggy curls appears behind Steve's hulking frame. Fuck, you forgot your husband was here.

"Stell, babe, have you seen my Camels?" he asks while he jogs out, slowing down to a confused stop when he sees all three of you outside. He stands next to you, seeing the box of cigarettes and his lighter on the table -- a lit cig in Libby's hand.

"Okay, so when did you start smoking?" Ed asks, furrowing his brow.

"She doesn't," Steve says down at her. It's the only slight interaction they've had all night. You cringe.

"Sure you don't want it, Stevie?" Libby asks, offering it to him. He gives her a look and shakes his head -- tossing the cigarette into the grass.

"I don't smoke that nasty shit, and neither to do you," he almost looks offended that she asked. Eddie turns his attention back towards you, shoving his hands in his coat pockets -- his exasperated breath floating out in contrast to the cold air.

"What're you doing, huh?" he asks, "It's freezing out, you have no coat on. You've barely eaten. You're a foot away from someone blowing smoke around you. C'mon Stell, it's bad for --"

"For the baby. Yeah, yeah, I know, Ed," you sass. He picks up the box and puts it in his back pocket, lighter shoved in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

“Well, I hate the break up the Girl Scout meeting over here," Ed announces dramatically. You notice Steve's jaw tick.

"But I need to get you some dinner,” Eddie says, his hands giving your shoulders a soft squeeze, “Let’s go say goodbye inside so we can get going.”

“Ed, no, I’m finally having fun,” you complain.

“Don’t argue with me, please,” he says softly, “You got sick three times and barely finished your pizza. Let’s go get something that agrees with you. We can go to the diner.”

“No,” you half whine, grabbing Libby’s hand across the table.

“Let’s go, Stell,” he urged, annoyance and edge building on his voice — feeling Steve’s eyes on him while his wife blatantly doesn’t listen. Eddie turns and walks towards the house, expecting you to follow him but you stay on the bench and cross your legs. They tighten when Eddie turns back around half way to the house in the grass, frustration clear on his face.

“Stella Lynn,” he growls, "Get over here, now."

You huff, and you swear you can hear Steve snicker under his breath. 'You finally lettin' him boss you around?'

"Sorry, I have to go," you frown, getting up and taking a step over to him.

"You're being a buzzkill, Ed," you say loudly enough for them to hear. He takes a few steps back to meet you, putting his arm around you while he scowls.

"What's our agreement, these days -- hm?" he asks, not even caring that the other couple is there watching you, "If I don't get to do cocaine -- you don't get to what?"

"Don't get to start shit," you reply with a frown. You know Steve is snickering and you'd give anything to be back in the ring in Toronto to give him a right hook that you actually know how to do now.

"So let's go," he repeats.

"Just give me like, one second okay?" you ask, pecking him on the cheek. You scurry back over to Libby and Steve and interrupt their conversation.

You meet Steve's eye and before he can speak you put your finger in his face but your face is playful, "Don't."

"555-4823," you say down at Libby on the bench, "That's my new number. Call me literally whenever."

You hurry back over to Eddie who pulls you back in tight at the waist, leading you back into the house. The warmth envelopes you like a hug, you hadn't even realized how cold you were until you came back inside.

"Everything good out there?" Dustin asks, his concerned stance matching Eddie's from outside.

"Everything's fine, Henderson," you singsong, "Don't let Munson get in your head."

He smiles and reaches forward to pull you into a tight hug, "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

You hug him back tightly, letting go to go around with Eddie for the rest of your goodbyes -- Max nearly falling over herself when you reached forward to wrap your arms around her. Eddie smiles when he watches you interact with his friends, a little heart broken to take you away just as you started to loosen up but he planned to make more trips home now that you were about to start a family together.

You hear Steve and Libby come in while you make your exit, the door shutting behind you when you hear Will call out to her.

"You have fun?" Eddie asked, opening the van door for you. He helps you in, but you shake your hand out of his when he reaches for it. Eddie frowns but shuts the door for you before appearing on the other side.

"Yeah, it was fine," you smile, "Talked to both of them."

"How'd that go?" he asked, apprehensive. The van chugs to life when he puts the keys in the ignition, pulling out of the driveway.

"Good. I think," you nod, "I think it's good."

"I don't wanna go to the diner," you confess when he pulls onto the road.

"No? What'd you want?" he turns, and then focuses attention on your tummy, "Better question, what do you want?"

"I think McDonalds," you admit, making a face. He pulls a face that doesn't match yours, he's frustrated with you.

"I don't think that's a good choice, baby," he says softly.

"You don't really get to tell me wh--"

"It's not that I think it's a bad choice because it's unhealthy, it's a bad choice because you've barely put anything else in your body -- you need nutrients, babe. You didn't even take your vitamins today," he says, his voice raising slightly to talk over you.

"I'm not made of fucking glass, Ed," you snap, "This whole week you've been up my fucking ass, I'm so sick of it. I know how to take care of myself."

"Stell..." his voice softens, "I'm just trying to help you."

"Well, don't!" you smack the console between you -- your voice was petulant but you didn't care.

"Okay," he says, his voice calm. He doesn't want to fight with you, not after a good day. Maybe you'll be happier after you eat something. He keeps one hand on the wheel, knowing the roads well, the other slides over to you with his palm outstretched, "You wanna hold my hand?"

You look down at it and pout, sliding your fingers in to lace with his own, "Yeah."

Eddie smiles at your admission – something about your little mood swings these days was fun for him. Much easier now to reel you back in from being scathing, all he had to do was be a little cuter than normal. (And he was already pretty cute to begin with, if he does say so himself.) Ed pulls into the drive through, your order never changing, and before you know it you're back on the road with two hot bags full of burgers and fries on your lap.

"Want me to bring you to one of my old stomping grounds?" he asked with a smile, "We can pull over and eat instead of going to Wayne's right away."

"Oh, is it where you punched that girl in the face?" you tease. He huffs, spare hand reaching up and squeezing your cheeks while he keeps his eyes on the road.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', Rink," he laughs, teeth gleaming behind his lips.

"Nah, it's where I used to go hook up with nerdy babes from the shop," he blushed, turning down a heavier treelined road -- the mist of the rainy day settling against the warm orange lights.

"I'm sure they were throwing themselves at you," you mocked.

He turns to look at you, mildly offended, and scoffs, "I'm sorry. Have you seen my dick? Of course they were."

You giggle with him while he turns into an empty parking lot, a lone car further to the back. Eddie looks at the car and back at you, "Think it's a couple of kids?"

"Yeah, probably," you nod. He grins.

"Wanna go ruin their night?" he laughs.

"Ed, c'mon, let them have their fun. No one was interrupting you when you were screwing around," you chide, but as you pull closer you see the bounce of the car.

And the car is familiar.

"Oh even fucking better -- it's Harrington," Eddie is giddy at the realization, leaning on the horn with an evil giggle.

"ED!" you yell, swatting at his hands, "Stop! Stop!"

Ed turns on his high beams, able to see through the slight fog of the back window.

"Is that Steve's ass?" you ask, peering forward while Eddie beeps the horn again.

"Hey, don’t look at that," Eddie snaps, covering your eyes while he pulls away -- Steve's middle finger pointed directly at him. When you squeal out of the parking lot, you roll deeper down the road and onto the backway to Wayne's -- pulling in front of his trailer without getting out.

"Wanna eat in the back?" he asks, "We could fool around after."

"Just like with your nerdy babes?" you tease, "I can't wait."

You both hop out and meneuver to the back where he slides in close to you, passing your food over. You don't wait for him to get situated, your stomach growling at the smell of salt and cheese -- your saliva might as well be whatever oil they dunk the fries in.

"Woah," he says with raised brows, "That little gremlin is really hungry, huh?"

You swallow hard, gulping down a sip of your diet Coke.

“Little gremlins,” you say to the floor of his van.

“Hm?” he asks, “You know I can’t hear you all the way when you mumble, baby.”

The only perk of him losing some of his hearing in his right ear is that he can’t always catch on, but you knew you couldn’t keep this from him any longer.

“Gremlins,” you repeat, “As in plural.”

Eddie looks at you, eyes wide, like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying.

“As in two,” you say softly, pausing for a moment while he nods with your words, “As in twins.”

“Twins,” he repeats, his voice normal before his eyes blow. It hits him, finally, what you were saying.

“TWINS?!” you let out a breath of relief when he smiles, “We’re having TWINS?!”

“When – what — when did you find out? Why didn’t – how were you – we’re having TWINS?!” the food is left forgotten and fries skitter across the carpet of the van. He pulls you in before you can explain and kisses you, hard and intense, lips trying to move through his smile but he can’t stop grinning into your mouth.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?” he asks, resting his foreheard against yours, “Did they tell you yesterday?”

“Yeah,” you smile up at him, tears pricking your eyes, “I don’t know, I was scared you were gonna get stressed out or – or – be mad.”

“Be mad?” he asks, “Stell, you’re having our babies. By proxy I don’t think I’m ever allowed to be mad at you for the rest of my life. Especially not for having twins.”

He kisses your forehead while he continues, hands massaging the sides of your scalp, “Do you think maybe you’re a little stressed out and instead of owning it, you decided maybe I would be stressed out when you told me?”

You give him a look, “What, you see a shrink for two years and suddenly you think you know everything?”

“Oh, so I’m right,” he nods with a smile, your look doesn’t subside.

“I get that you’re stressed, because two is a lot – and we don’t even know what it’s like to have one,” he soothes, “But you’re gonna be the best mom. I keep telling everyone about how great you’re gonna be. I know you’re scared, but I’m here with you the whole way, okay?”

Your lower lip wobbles, and a few tears sneak their way out, “Okay.”

You are scared – but no one would hear you say it outloud. He pulls you against his chest, instinctively stroking your hair like he always does when you start to cry. His excited breaths steady so that yours can, too.

“Can we go tell Wayne?” he asks, “He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

You nod while he lets you go to pick up the mess he made, shoving slightly at your shoulder when you lean down to help.

“Please let me,” he mutters, “Let me do it, just go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”

You can’t help but sigh while you open the van doors and slide out. His shoulders tense at the sound.

“You gotta let me take care of you one of these days, Rink,” he says while you linger outside with your hand on the door. He scoops up the fries and puts them in one of the empty bags before crunching it up and hopping out of the van to meet you.

“Deal?” he asks, offering his empty hand to you.

“Deal,” you smile.

“Okay but you can’t just say deal and then not actually mean it,” he rambles while you walk towards the door of the trailer.

“Oh my God, Munson. You’re being so insufferable right now.”

“Will you two stop yellin’ out here!” Wayne calls from the window, “They can hear you two counties over.”

You both giggle. Still just two kids under the pregnancy. Under the sex tape. Under the wedding rings. Under the fight in Toronto. Under rehab. Under separating. Just two kids holding hands who don’t know how to be quiet when the street lights are on.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #stranger things au #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #boxer!steve #boxer!steve harrington

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hellfiremunsonn · 2 years ago

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You Remind Me Of The Babe. Steve Harrington x Reader

You Remind Me Of The babe.

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

Summary: could you write a fic where steve is a brat tamer and wants you to sit on his face but you’re insecure about it

(REQUESTED)

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

WARNINGS: Porn with a plot?, fem reader, face sitting, orgasm denial, Dom! Steve, brat tamer Steve, reader is a brat, drinking, mentions of alcohol, if there's anything else I forgot to tag, let me know.

Word count: 4312

Two things I knew for sure was that Steve loved when I wore red lipstick, and summery dresses. So today before bounding down the steps of my front porch I made sure to wear my yellow sun dress with my red lipstick tucked away in my bag. He had been teasing and taunting me all week, and I figured I'd give him just a little bit of payback. My old converse with frilly socks that came out just over the tops of my shoes blew in the wind, tickling my ankles as I hopped into the passenger seat of Steves car.

Leaning over he kissed me on the cheek, slowly taking in my appearance. "Well don't you look beautiful today"

"As opposed to every other day?" I joked.

"You look like a bombshell everyday baby" He said sliding his sunglasses back down off the top of his head to his nose, giving me that famous Steve Harrington grin. "Seatbelt" He said tapping my thigh lightly. He waited till my seatbelt was clipped in before driving away from my house. I loved the way he was so protective of me and in such little and subtle ways. He never shied away from showing me off to everyone and making it known that I'm his and I loved every minute of it. Of course that didn't stop me from being a little shit from time to time, I liked to push his buttons and he knows it, because when were alone, he doesn't let me forget who I belong to.

So while sitting next to him in the car still I unclipped my seatbelt, scooting forward to the edge of the seat and pulling down the little visor with the mirror. I pulled the red lipstick out of my bag uncapping it loudly. "Do you have to do that right now?" He said glancing at me briefly.

"Yes" I said slowly and tentatively applied the red lipstick to my lips. Rubbing them together and finishing with a loud smack I smiled at him and leaned back into my seat. Knowing he was watching my every move. He shifted in his seat ever so slightly and I knew my plan was working.

"Seatbelt" He said again and I rolled my eyes in response. "Hey" He said sternly. "Don't roll your eyes at me"

I blushed and looked down at my lap, while slowly putting my seatbelt back on. "Sorry" I said quietly.

"Sorry what?" He asked checking the review mirror and turning down a street.

"Sorry daddy" I said quickly. I loved the pet name he encouraged me to to call him but I still got so embarrassed when I said it out loud. Our relationship wasn't always so heavy in this sort of lifestyle especially outside of the bedroom but it was exciting when it did happen.

"Good girl" He said reaching over to place his hand on my thigh.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" I asked tucking my legs up under me.

"Robin wants to come over with vickie and have like some sort of date night party thing, but it's never an actual party with us as you know. We'll probably get drunk and watch movies like every other time" he smiled.

"Sounds like a perfect Saturday night to me, we should invite Nancy and Johnathan, and maybe Eddie?"

"Eddie isn't dating anyone though" His brows furrowed.

"He's seeing Chrissy remember?"

He nodded in response. "Do you think Chrissy likes hanging with us though? We're not exactly her type of people"

"Baby she's dating Eddie, we're definitely her type of people" I let out a small laugh.

"Yeah I guess you're right" He said smiling at me.

By the time we got to Steves house Vickie and Robin were laying down on the lounge chairs by the pool in his backyard. I called Nancy from Steves phone in his kitchen and then called Eddie next.

Sitting down on the ground near the two girls I untied my shoes, discarding my socks and dipped my feet into the pool. Listening to the two of them banter back and fourth. Robin could talk a lot, her words spilling out of her mouth faster than her brain could process them, and Vickie was the exact same, it was hard to keep up with them sometimes as they jumped from one thought to the next. The conversation that peaked my interest the most was when they started talking about The Labyrinth, with David Bowie.

"That movie is superior, I mean David Bowie? Covered in glitter, and that hair?" I dramatically fanned myself. "That could get a girl going!"

"You remind me of the babe" Robin said, glancing at me from the side.

"What babe?" I quoted back.

"The babe with the power!" She yelled.

"What power!?" I said leaning up onto my knees.

"The power of voodoo" she wiggled her fingers at me.

"Who do?" I fake questioned, tapping my chin pretending to be deep in thought.

"You do!"

"Do what!?"

"Remind me of the babe!"

"Oh my god the two of you are so annoying" Vickie giggled.

"Yeah but you love us" I stated, sitting back down onto my butt.

"But yeah, the hair thing (Y/N)? We know you have a thing for nice hair, you're literally dating Steve 'The Hair' Harrington remember?" Vickie teased.

"So you admit that Steve has nice hair?" Robin teased, poking at her sides making vickie lean back into her giggling.

"I mean I'm not blind baby!" Vickie giggled against Robin. Robin smoothed Vickies hair away from her face a little before leaning down to give her a small peck on the lips. "Yeah he does have some magic hair, I'll give him that" Robin said agreeing. "Don't tell Steve I said that though, I can't let his ego get any bigger, it might go to that hair and start increasing in size, and that's something none of us could even begin to prepare for"

A hearty laughed left my chest, making me throw my head back. "God we can't have that can we?" I said between laughs. Our laughing was disrupted by the loud swing of the backyard door and Eddie carrying Chrissy over his shoulder, her legs kicking wildly as she laughed against him. "Eddie!" She yelled still laughing. Eddie shot us a famous grin before flipping Chrissy over and dropping her straight into the pool with a loud splash. She surfaced gasping at the cold water, her bangs clinging to her forehead. "You're going to pay for that Munson!" she yelled holding up her fingers into a 'gun' shape and aiming them at him.

"Baby please, you're gunna shoot me? After all I've done?"

"Any last words Munson?" she asked cocking her fake gun, squinting one eye as if it was going to help her aim.

The three of us on the sidelines, watching intently as the scene before us played out, stifling laughs.

"I LOVED CHRISSY CUNNINGHAM!" he shouted, and with a dramatic bang, he spun, clutched his chest and fell backwards into the pool, this time splashing the three of us on the sidelines. When he surfaced he engulfed Chrissy in his arms and she blushed. We erupted into an applause, whistling and yelling at their performance. Eddie bowed and helped Chrissy out of the pool, joining the rest of us. "We should have known you two would have ended up in the pool, within seconds of being here" I joked, bumping my shoulder into Chrissys.

"I like my girl nice and wet what can I say" Eddie said wiggling his eye brows at me.

"Eddie!" Chrissy yelled, her cheeks glowing red once again.

"I'll get you guys towels" I said shaking my head while getting up to head inside. Steve, Nancy, and Johnathan were all gathered in the kitchen chatting, drinks in hands. Steves eyes lit up when he saw me come in.

"Grabbing towels, Eddie threw Chrissy in the pool again"

"Again?" Nancy said.

"I think it's becoming a tradition" I laughed heading up the stairs and to the linen closet just outside Steves bathroom and grabbed a handful of towels. Clutching the towels to my chest I carefully made my way back down the wooden steps, making sure not to slip or trip. Steve watched me, his eyes soft as I passed the kitchen. I gave him a bashful smile on my way out the back door.

Once outside I put the towels on an empty lounge chair and took two of them, throwing one at Eddie and wrapping the other one around Chrissys shoulders which she took thankfully.

"Why'd you throw mine at me!?" Eddie scoffed.

"Because you're a little shit Munson" I said smiling and returning to my position at the side of the pool. The water cold again as my feet and legs adjusted to the temperature. I inched my dress up higher on my thighs so the sun could get to them better, I could easily just go put on a swim suit, knowing that there was bound to be one I had left here from pool days before, but I really didn't want to get back up again. I tucked my dress in-between my thighs into some make shift shorts so I wouldn't flash anyone in the process. Steve and the rest of the gang finally joined us around the pool, handing drinks to everyone in the process. Steve sat down next to me, handing me a red solo cup. Taking a sip I frowned realizing it was only water.

"Water?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

"Yup" He said popping the 'p' while staring straight ahead, taking a slow sip from his cup.

"Why?"

"Because I said so" He said turning to me with a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes laughing but stopped short when his two fingers tapped my cheek hard. I looked around quickly but no one had seemed to notice. "What did I say 'bout rolling your eyes at me?" He said quietly just enough for me to hear, peaking at me over the top of his sunglasses.

Deciding to test the waters I smiled looking down, before rolling my eyes again. Steve stiffened next to me. "Do it one more time and you're in trouble"

My stomach flipped and I shifted back and forth slightly, squishing my thighs together. "Hey Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I see your cup for a second?"

She raised an eyebrow but leaned forward and handed it to me. I glanced into it quickly confirming that Steve really gave only water to me and I glared at him slightly, and while not breaking eye contact I threw back robins drink, wincing as it burned on the way down. "Okay well if I knew you were going to do that I wouldn't have handed it to you" She said leaning back on the lounge chair bringing Vickie back with her. "It's okay, we can share" Vickie said holding her cup up over her head passing it to Robin.

"Sorry Rob, but Steve apparently thinks he can control when I drink or not, he gave me water" I said while reaching over to my cup again tipping it completely upside down so it splattered onto the pavement next to me, the water rolling until it hit the bottom of my dress, soaking the fabric.

"Wow Steve" Robin said laughing into Vickies shoulder.

Getting up I walked towards the shallow end of the pool, stepping down the few steps until it was at my thighs. Deciding to push my luck a little further I reached down to grab the hem of my dress, beginning to lift it up over my head when Steves hands grabbed me, lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder. "Excuse me while (Y/N) and I have a conversation" He said sternly, continuing to walk with my torso bobbing against his shoulder.

Multiple 'ooooohhhhs' were whispered along with a dramatic fake gag from Robin. Steve continued to carry me away from the group and into the house. "Steve" I huffed. Up the stairs and too his room, he didn't set me down until he shut the door behind him with his foot, turning quickly to lock it. Still ignoring me he roamed his room, throwing the curtains closed, kicking off his shoes and rummaging through his dresser. "Steve" I said again breaking him from whatever trance he was in. His eyes almost black, the rich amber colour of his eyes barely noticeable.

"Sit" he said pouting towards his bed.

I moved quickly, tripping slightly over my own two feet before sitting on the edge of his bed. My dress bunched up against my waist so the wet fabric wouldn't get onto his bed. Finally walking towards me, he leaned forward, his hands at my sides, his nose barely touching mine. "Do we need to go over some rules? How you should be behaving?"

I looked down at my hands, fumbling with my fingers still wrapped around the bottom of my dress. I was nervous, but very aroused. "No" I said softly.

"No?" Steve repeated but it sounded more like a question. "interesting, because last time I checked, good girls behave, and that's what you want to be right? A good girl?"

"I am a good girl" I lied while giving him a small smile. He walked away from me. leaning against his dresser, arms crossed in front of his chest, his biceps gaining in size. I bit my bottom lip and hummed lightly, attempting to hide more of my smile.

"Are you? Because I think you've been bratting all day to me. Which means to me that you need to be punished about it. I think you need to remember who you belong to and how you should be acting, especially in front of company" He tilted his head to the side, watching me intently. "And by the looks of it, you're becoming a needy little whore about it, acting like I can't see you squishing your thighs together, or how your cheeks are flushed"

I rolled my eyes, silently cursing myself for how well Steve could read me. Taking quick strides towards me he slid his hand around my throat, tilting my head to look at him.

"What did I say" He paused tapping my cheek lightly with his other hand. "About rolling your eyes at me?" He slapped me this time. Not hard but enough to shock me a little. Heat pooling between my legs.

"You said not to do it"

"Exactly, and how many times did you do it after I told you not to?" he said squeezing my throat just a little harder.

"U-Um" I furrowed my brow trying to think. I brain wouldn't, no couldn't work when he was this close to me, hand around my throat.

"How many times princess" He repeated.

"Three? Or t-two?" I licked my lips. "I don't remember"

"Awe of course you don't" He cooed, loosening his hand so it was simply just held there, as a warning, as a point. A point to note, that he was the one in charge, in control. "Dumb little baby huh? Needs daddy to remind her to be a good girl, very pathetic" He rubbed his thumb across my cheek and I nodded, looking up at him through my lashes. Glancing down he noticed the wet fabric clutched into my fist. He took it out of my hand, feeling it with his fingers, tutting. "Not to mention trying to strip in front of our friends knowing damn well you don't have a bra on" He traced his fingers along my collar bones, my shoulders, down both of my arms, across my chest, just barely touching the soft skin where my breasts began. Fingers roaming ever so slightly across them, only briefly pausing over each nipple, making them harden under his touch.

"I don't think good girls do that hmm?" He asked, lifting my face up to look at him. His expression was soft, but I knew that hard Dom was hidden just beneath it.

"No" I admitted.

"No they don't" He tapped my cheek a few times before pulling me up by my hands so I was now standing in front of him. He sat at the edge of the bed now, hands on my waist. "Take this off" He said sliding my dress up my thighs and to my stomach, before I reached down myself and lifted the dress up over my head, dropping it to the floor next to me. "Hands behind your back"

My hands swinging behind me, one of them holding onto my wrist, keeping them in place. Turning me with his hands, warm on my skin he pulled me over onto his lap so I was face down with my arms behind my back, ass laying across his thighs. I could feel his erection under me and I squirmed slightly resulting in a loud smack against my ass. A stinging pain under an assumed pink handprint I could already feel forming. I whimpered agains him, spit from my mouth wetting his thigh.

"Awe poor baby" He said with another slap, softer then the first one. "Don't like being spanked huh? This is what happens when you don't behave princess" another smack. Groaning into him I attempted to roll my hips to the side, waiting for some sort of relief of my stinging ass but his opposite hand held me in place. "Just a few more baby, you can handle it" He encouraged. "If you couldn't you wouldn't have been a brat today" two smacks. Those ones were worse, and part of me hoped they would leave small purple marks so I could think about them later. I could feel tears brimming my eyes but I quickly squinted them closed, trying to keep them from falling down my cheeks and onto Steves jean clad thigh. With a final smack he lifted me back up sitting me down next to him. The sudden movement causing me to open my eyes, and the tears I tried to contain rolled down both my cheeks.

"Awe my poor little love" He said caressing my cheek in his hand. "Scoot up" he instructed with a nod of his head, and with a sniffle I shifted further onto his bed. "Will you behave now?" He said laying down next to me, running his fingers along the band of my underwear. I hummed in response as he trailed his fingers lightly against my skin.

"Yes" I whispered, afraid to speak any louder.

"Will you though?" He asked slipping his hand into my fabric. A breathy moan escaped my mouth. He removed his hand. "Will you, behave" He asked again.

"Yes, I promise, please touch me, I'll be such a good girl, I'm sorry for bratting, but please daddy, please touch me" I begged, fresh tears falling from the desperation I felt between my legs. His hand slid back down sliding between my fold gathering some of my arousal before two of his finger tips began rubbing slow soft circles on my clit. His pace never increased, and it felt like time had suddenly stopped with each rotation of his fingers. "Can I cum?" I asked in preparation, knowing I might forget once that knot in my stomach began to grow.

"Maybe" He said quietly, pressing only slightly harder onto my clit.

"Oh fuck" I moaned. "Faster?" I asked looking at him, his eyes still black. He obliged, circling faster, tightening the knot within me.

"Please" I breathed. He knew I was close, he probably knew before I did.

"Steve, I'm gunna- Fuck" I spat my head dropping back a little further into his pillow. "I'm going to cum" I rushed. And just as that knot was about to untangle and tug at my insides, he stopped, removing his hand completely.

"What the fuck?" I said sitting up.

"Language, or I won't let you cum all week" He threatened. "You can cum later" He ensured. "Come here" he said gesturing for me to sit on him. I sat up and straddle him, leaning down onto his shoulders. "I wanna try something" He said rubbing his hands against my things.

"Oh?"

"So here's what you're going to do okay?"

"Okay?" I said skeptically.

"You're going to take that pretty little pussy of yours, and you're going to sit on my face"

Heat crept up through my body and I looked away knowing my cheeks were as red as they felt. This was something Steve really wanted me to do but I was insecure about it. "What's stopping you" He asked quietly.

"I just... It's weird, I mean it's not weird, I just don't, want to... Crush you?"

He laughed. Squeezing my thighs while he did so. "Baby you won't crush me, and it's not like I haven't had my face there before" He said licking his lips and glancing down between my legs. I bit the inside of my cheek, tilting my head to the side as I thought about it. As much as I knew I was going to cringe about it at first, I really wanted to cum, and Steves mouth on me right now would be an absolute dream.

"Okay"

"Really?"

"Yeah" I said blushing.

He smiled and playfully smacked my thighs with both hands, scooting himself down so he was flat on his back. "Your seat awaits"

I tugged my underwear off and threw them to the side before crawling forward on my knees. I hovered over his face hesitating slightly. He grabbed my thighs harshly and pulled me down to his face, his tongue lapping at my folds and my limbs instantly turned into jelly. "Oh my god" I said leaning forward, one hand against his headboard. I rocked my hips slightly and his nose brushed at my clit and I whimpered.

He shifted so his tongue was now sucking and circling my clit and I could feel that knot being tied again. "Daddy, can I cum?" I asked for the second time tonight. He didn't reply, he only kept his movements quickly, not stopping. "Daddy" I mewled.

And again just as that knot started to untie he stopped completely.

"Fuck" I said smacking my fist against his headboard. "Really?"

He chuckled from beneath me. I moved back so I could look at him. His face shining with my arousal across his mouth and chin. "I told you, that you could cum later"

"When is later?" I pushed.

"Whenever I want it to be" He said smiling, giving my already sore ass a light smack.

I crossed my arms over my chest. A small 'hmmp' leaving my mouth.

"If you keep pouting, I won't let you cum at all today, and I already threatened to not let you cum for a week, do you want that to happen?"

"Nooooo" I whined.

"Then be grateful I got you even close to humming pretty girl" He gave my thigh a quick kiss. "Come here" he said again. I got off of him and tucked myself into his side, laying my head on his chest. He hitched my leg up over him so it was laying across his waist. He smoothed my hair out of my face and rubbed my head for a few minutes.

"You okay?" he asked, coming down from his dominate high.

"My butt hurts, and I want to cum" I complained.

he laughed a little, my head shaking against his chest from the vibrations. "Later, gotta make you suffer a little bit you know?"

"Yeah, yeah" I said smiling into him.

His warm hand slid around to my ass and he rubbed at the pink spots lightly. "Can we have a bath?" I asked.

"Absolutely we can baby"

Removing himself from me to go run the water, but not before giving me a kiss on the head. I listened to him hum a sing I couldn't recognize as he shifted around the bathroom. "Bubbles?" He said emerging with a large pink bottle in his hands.

"Always"

"I don't even know why I asked" He said chuckling to himself. "Always yes to bubbles"

"Alright my princess" he said walking towards me, hands out in front of him so I could grab them. Twisting me so both arms were criss crossed around my chest and we waddled awkwardly towards the bathroom. The water was warm and soothed my butt almost getting rid of the stinging completely. I leaned against Steves chest, his arms wrapped around my shoulders. "I wasn't too rough on you was I?" He asked quietly.

I laughed through my nose. "Baby you didn't even fuck me, you weren't too rough, I'd say it was perfect" I leaned to the side so I could look up at him. His forehead dewy from the steam from the hot water.

Loud laughter and commotion coming from downstairs disrupted the little love bubble we were in. "Guess we gotta go back down and entertain them" Steve sighed.

"They're gunna think we fucked" I said covering my face with my hands.

"Is that so bad?" He said poking my sides making me giggle.

"Yeah, because we didn't"

"Later baby" He reassured.

We got out of the bath drying ourselves off and getting back into clothes. I witched into a pair of shorts and one of Steves shirts seeing as my dress was still wet. Steve hung it on the back of his door so it would dry. Hand in hand we headed back downstairs and into the kitchen for a drink, this time Steve handed me a cup that actually had booze in it this time. I gave him a small smile and we regrouped with the rest of them.

"Finally you guys are back, I was going to start screaming" Robin said loudly clearly a little bit more than tipsy. "You guys are always fucking like rabbits" she said waving her hand in disgust.

"We didn't even fuck Robin" Steve said nonchalantly giving me a knowing smile. I giggled into my cup as Robin rolled her eyes leaning back into Vickie.

#Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington fic #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Nancy Wheeler #Johnathan Byers #hellfiremunsonn #x reader #Steve Harrington imagine

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age-of-greta · 2 years ago

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The Lovers

The Lovers represent relationships and choices. Its appearance in a spread indicates some decision about an existing relationship, a temptation of the heart, or a choice of potential partners. Often an aspect of the querent's life will have to be sacrificed; a bachelor's lifestyle may be sacrificed and a relationship gaine, or one potential partner may be chosen while another is turned down. Whatever the choice, it should not be made lightly, as the ramifications will be lasting.

Author’s note: hi Happy Halloween friends!! I hope you enjoy this very special spooky chapter set in today! This will be the chapter for the week, so the next part will be out next Wednesday! Have a very spooky day everyone!

Pairings: Jake x reader & Sam x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption, language, adult content

Word count: 2.6k

PART 7.5:

TODAY:

HALLOWEEN:

October had finally rolled around. The most glorious month of all time. You danced around your kitchen, the aroma of pumpkin spice cinnamon rolls in your oven filled the air along with a pumpkin cupcake candle you had lit in the living room. Donovan’s Season of the Witch softly played in the background on your record player. The trees had started to turn their magnificent fall colors and the crisp autumn chill crept in. Your grey wool socks slid along the hardwood while your oversized burnt orange sweater tickled your thighs as you swayed around. Jake had just gotten back from two weeks of touring, and in perfect timing. You were making a late breakfast for you two while he showered. You brewed a salted caramel coffee in your keurig and got to work on the white chocolate pumpkin cold foam. This was the only time of year where you enjoyed making your coffee at home. You felt hands wrap around your waist and a smile grew on your face. Jake swayed with you and started peppering kisses along your neck. You dipped your finger in the cold foam and held it up to Jake.

“Try this!”

Jake opened his mouth and sucked the foam off of your finger.

“Oh that’s good. My girl has many talents, now add barista to that list.” Jake says continuing to sway with you.

You laugh and go back to preparing your coffees. It was going to be a beautiful month.

You had just landed in Nashville. Excitement was pulsing through your veins, it was the eve of Halloween. Of course there was no one else you would rather spend it with than Jake. You had so much planned in such a short time. Today you would all carve pumpkins, watch horror movies, and go to a haunted house. Tomorrow, it was time, Halloween. You had convinced the guys to throw a Halloween party rather than bar hopping again. They had invited a few local friends in the industry. You were beyond excited. Jake had picked you up, he was delighted to see you even though you saw him last week. Jake had spent most of October with you in Atlanta. You were so caught up with each other that you had neglected Sam a little bit. Daily phone calls turned into weekly phone calls. You felt bad, but you were going to reconcile that this weekend. No matter what you and Jake were, Sam would always hold a soft spot in your heart. When you and Jake arrived at the house you greeted everyone with hugs. Sam looked better than the last time you had seen him, he was wearing a pumpkin grandma sweater that you complimented. Josh made some boozy spiced apple toddies for everyone and the pumpkin carving had commenced.

“Something about Josh’s strong as shit drinks and sharp surgical tools doesn’t sit right with me.” Sam says, taking a sip of his drink.

You laugh at this while Josh holds up his little carving tool fake stabbing and makes the iconic sound from Psycho. Pumpkin carving was successful but everyone was absolutely buzzed from Josh’s drinks. They were delicious, but so strong. You had all ordered an Uber to a nearby haunted house as no one was able to drive. Everyone was in a goofy mood, playing around and rough housing.

“Here’s Jakey!” Jake screams, jumping out from behind the wall and grabbing Danny.

You laugh and shake your head. “Frightening Jake, truly.”

He walks over to you and grabs you by the waist. “Oh baby, I can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare to try.”

“Oh yeah? Save it for the haunted house.” You say as Jake attacks you with kisses.

“Uber is here! Onward to the houses of haunts! Spooky creatures around every corner! The devil himself!” Josh proclaims.

“Holy shit we are going to get kicked out.” Sam says, laughing at his older brother.

“I’m with Sam on this.” You say as you look at him and give him a smile.

Sam smiles back ever so slightly at you.

The haunted house was a shitshow, but in the best way possible. Josh had stuffed his pants with shooters and kept passing them out to all of you in line. Everyone was too drunk to even think of being scared. Jake had locked you in his arms and everyone had behaved throughout most of the haunted house. Sure, everyone was a little giggly and of course Josh tried to strike up conversations with the actors. All was going smooth until Sam had hit his head on a small dangling ladder prop in the spooky jungle room. Then you all had lost it, laughing and carrying on like you had just seen a comedian. After that you had a guide walk you through the rest of the haunt. You all stayed around the little Halloween village for a little while and took goofy pictures before heading home. Once home you begged everyone to have a sleepover in the living room. It didn’t take too much convincing. Sam and Josh were on snack duty, Danny was rearranging the living room, and you and Jake were the pallet makers. Everyone all gathered on the pillows and blankets in pajamas and watched John Carpenter and Deborah Hill’s Halloween. Sam had busted out the pre-rolls and it turned into the perfect night. You all laid on the pallet and couch wrapped in blankets, passing around the pre-roll, and eating popcorn. Everyone stayed awake for the first movie, but a few fell asleep by the beginning of the second Halloween movie. You weren’t too concerned, every year since you were 7 you had stayed up until midnight on Halloween to ring in the day. Towards the end of the second movie it grew quiet and you had assumed everyone was asleep. Jake was snoring softly laying in your lap. You looked at your phone and it was 11:58pm, almost time now. You kept checking your phone and smiled when the clock struck midnight.

“Happy Halloween sorority girl.”

You turned around and saw Sam eyes heavy, but wearing a smile.

You smile back at him. “Happy Halloween Sammy.”

You woke up the next morning to a sweet aroma swirling in the air. You crack your eyes open and you’re still in your pallet wrapped in blankets. You rise up and realize Sam and Danny are still asleep. You enter the kitchen and see Jake making pumpkin spice pancakes. He has a little bit of flower smeared on his face and a dish towel over his shoulder, how cute.

You sit at the island. “Smells good.”

Jake smiles over at you. “Happy Halloween lover.”

You smile back at him. “Where is Josh?”

“Sent him out for coffee while I make breakfast for everyone. Yes, he’s getting your favorite.” Jake says.

“That’s so nice of you. Thank you Jakey.” You say cheesy.

He bows, “Anything for you on your day my love.”

The rest of the day consisted of horror movies playing in the background while you all prepped for the party. You made the guys pull out all of the stops for decorations and food. Once you were satisfied with the spooky atmosphere, you decided to get ready. You told Jake to grab what he needed because you wanted a grand reveal. Jake had shown you his costume, he was being a pirate of course. You had no idea what the other guys were being. You gathered all of your costume together and smiled with delight. You were so excited about this one. You decided to do hair and makeup first after you showered. You dried your hair and started putting waves all throughout it, then you added extensions to make your hair even longer and fuller. For makeup you did your usual full face, but exaggerated the contour and blush more. You did purple smokey eyeshadow and did trails of glitter coming from below your eyes. You did a glossy pink lip and you were finished. Your costume consisted of a white puff sleeved crop top that was off the shoulders, a black very mini skirt with a coin belt, black fishnets, and black thigh high boots. You accessorized with a head chain, hoop earrings, a bundle of necklaces, and a plethora of rings with different stones. You grabbed your tarot cards and were ready to show everyone after spritzing perfume. There was about an hour left before people started showing up, so you decided to go downstairs to help with the final touches.

“Goddamnit Sam get your hands off my hunch punch.” You heard Josh say as you made your descent.

“Whew damn.” Jake said when he saw you.

“The queen of Halloween everyone!” Josh shouted.

Sam bowed.

You laughed at them. “Yes I have graced you with my presence! Now can we please light the pumpkins and get some music going?”

“As you wish.” Danny stated. He was dressed as a golfer for Halloween, how on brand for him.

Jake’s pirate costume was very cute and he even adorned a real sword that you would make sure would get put up after a few drinks. Josh was dressed as Shaggy from Scooby Doo, with a little plush Scooby. Sam was Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, wearing a clear raincoat with blood splatter, a fake axe, and his hair slicked back. You were impressed with everyone’s costumes and excited to start the night. But first you had to get pictures before the party really started.

About two hours later the house was moderately full. Mostly it was local industry friends and their girlfriends over. You saw a few familiar faces, but didn’t know everyone. Jake had introduced you to a few people as his girlfriend and that made your heart skip a beat, it was the first time you had heard it out loud like that. The music was a combination of older rock music and Halloween hits. Someone had brought a keg, and Josh was doing a keg stand. You and Jake stood by and laughed as they picked him up with ease. Danny and Sam were off having their own conversations, everything was chill but so fun.

“Do you want another?” Jake asked you, motioning towards your drink.

“Absolutely.” You say handing him your cup.

“I’ll be right back.” Jake says, mocking that one scene from Scream.

You watch Jake walk away then you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and see Sam with a girl in a ladybug costume.

“Oh hi.” You say giving them a smile.

“Hi!” The girl says back. “I’m Mari.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance over at Sam wondering who she might be.

“This is one of our recording studio techs.” Sam says motioning to Mari. “And this is the infamous Atlanta girl.” Sam says motioning to you.

“No shit! So you’re Jake’s girlfriend or uh his…” She trails on.

Sam clears his throat.

You laugh lightly at her. “Yes. It’s nice to meet you.”

She smiles at you. “Likewise.”

Then Jake comes back with your drinks. “Oh hi Mari.” Jake says.

“Hey Jake.” She leans over to lightly hug him. “She’s even prettier in person.” She half whispers patting his arm.

Jake huffs a laugh. “I know. Here babe.” Jake says handing you your drink. “Is Alana here?”

You have no idea who Alana is, and a small part of you feels slightly insecure because of it. But you don’t say anything.

Mari huffs. “No, she’s out of town this weekend.”

“Ah what a shame.” Jake says, sipping his drink.

Oh.

“Well I just wanted you guys to meet. I’m in need of another beverage.” Sam says, swishing around his empty white claw.

“I’m right behind ya. It was so nice to finally meet you.” Mari says before taking off with Sam.

The rest of the night had been a lot of fun. You and Jake played Josh and Danny in beer pong, and won. You were tipsy but not drunk, there were horror movies playing in the background, and everyone had on a Halloween costume. Jake hadn’t left you except to get drinks all night. His hand was always on you while the other held his drink. You felt blissfully happy. This was the perfect conclusion to your favorite month of all. Then a small commotion broke out across the room from where you were.

“Ah fuck.” Jake said, looking over.

You looked at him curiously. “What?”

“This guy likes to get drunk and try to fight. It looks like Danny might need some help. Give me a minute.” Jake says as he walks toward the scene.

You watch as he starts talking to Danny about what the hell is happening, he’s obviously frustrated. Wouldn’t be a party without some drama you supposed. You sipped your drink and scanned the room. To your left was Sam standing close to the door by himself. You decided to go speak to him.

“Hi Sammy.” You say as you approach him.

He smirks at you. “Ah sorority girl. How is your night?”

“Phenomenally spooky.” You reply. “So you and this Mari girl?” You say nudging his ribs.

He chuckles at this. “Not exactly.”

“Why not? She’s cute.” You say.

Sam turns and looks at you. “She doesn’t exactly like me.”

You huff out. “Oh come on Sammy. You’re a total catch, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

He stares into your face a bit before responding. “I mean obviously, but she isn’t into guys.”

You suck in air at the realization. “Oh.”

“Yeah she has a girlfriend, Alana, who sometimes works in our studio as well. I saw your face drop when Jake said her name. No need to worry there.” Sam says.

So that’s who Alana was. A little relief washes over you, but you're embarrassed that Sam saw right through you.

You fake a laugh. “No clue what you’re talking about, I’m as cool as a cucumber.”

Sam snickers at you. “Oh sure.”

“Well Sammy not to worry. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Before he can respond Jake is storming towards you two.

“Sam, can you go help Daniel with that drunk fuck? My patience is thinning.” Jake says, running his finger through his hair.

“Shit. Yeah.” Sam says as he nods at the both of you before heading off.

“Sorry my love. Shall we dance?” Jake says extending his hand to you.

“Absolutely.”

As people began to trickle out you had started to wind down as well. Eventually when the music shut off Jake took you upstairs while a small group remained helping clean up.

“What a night.” He said, mildly slurring.

“I’ll say. I had a perfect Halloween Jake.” You said kissing him on the cheek.

“I’m glad baby. I did too. Although I am a little bummed you didn’t get to use your prop.” Jake says motioning to the tarot cards you had sat on the bed.

You giggle a little. “Well I can’t disappoint you. I’m not an actual reader, but I have enough basic knowledge where I can do a one card pull for myself.” You say grabbing the cards and opening the box. “Would you shuffle these for me?”

“Of course.” Jake says taking the cards from you.

Once he has shuffled the cards thoroughly, he hands them back to you. You proceed to spread them out on the bed and stare at them, waiting for one to speak to you. Jake watches you as you reach forward and make your selection. You take a deep breath and flip your card over.

Jake laughs a little. “How perfect.”

But you feel a little weird inside knowing the true nature of the card. You knew that the cards could be interpreted in many ways, so it didn’t necessarily make you worry. It had just felt a little odd. You placed your card down and looked at it once more.

The Lovers stared back at you.

• thank you for reading!! Happy Halloween besties :) stay spooky!

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #sam gvf #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #the lovers #happy halloweeeeeeen

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hops-hunny · 3 years ago

Text

Angels on Earth

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Chubby!Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.8k

Request: “CONGRATS ON 300 FOLLOWERS!!!! I love your writing sm <3

this is my first time ever making a request and recently I found out that the person I was dating is still in love with their ex so I'm looking for comfort rn hehe

could you do a 23, 33, 35 with Ron, a mix of fluff and smut? chubby/plus size fem reader please”

Summary: Ron thought he was obvious, but it was clear (Y/n) was more obvious.

Warnings: Sexual themes

A/N: This took a while but I’ve also been busy but, enjoy!

23. “Cause I never believed there was a heaven till I found you.”

33. “Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” “I’d fuck you right now.”

35. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.”

For as long as Ron could remember, he had always found his potions partner to be beautiful. Who could blame him? (Y/n) was a beautiful girl. Round cheeks, soft all around, beautiful (h/c) hair, and the prettiest set of (e/c) eyes he had ever seen. But that wasn’t originally what drew him in, it was everything else. (Y/n) had an aura that surrounded her that was so bright, so full of life. Everyone who befriended her was always in a positive mood, smiles seen left and right from the jokes she’d tell. Even right now, with her hair pulled back from her face and the cute little goggles she insisted on wearing, he couldn’t help but admire her.

“Right. I think that should be it.” She said, pushing the goggles up her face as she turned her head to look at him. His face flushed and if she had noticed, she didn’t say much. “That is unless you fucked something up. Merlin knows how bad you are with Potions Weasley.” she giggled, his heart pulling and racing in his chest.

“Oi! ‘M not that bad. Plus you didn’t let me touch anything, should be fine unless you managed to make a mistake.” He leaned towards her a bit with a devious smirk. “But it’s impossible for you to do that isn’t it? I forgot you were just a perfect princess.” He pulled away, eyes trained on the potion in the cauldron in front of them. Amortentia, was it? He found it a bit strange because he couldn’t smell anything but the girl’s perfume no matter how far he leaned in. In his own state of confusion, he completely missed the girl’s own shocked look on her face.

“What do you smell?” she questioned, gathering her things due to the period drawing to a close. His eyes widened at his realization before calming down. Now was a better time than ever. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before sighing.

“You.” his eyes shot open at the sound of a snort. (Y/n) had made her way towards the exit of the potions room, (e/c) eyes rolling at him as she shot him a smile. She went to leave the room before giving him an up and down.

“If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just said so.” she teased, shooting him a wink before exiting the room. He groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face as he adjusted the awkward bulge in his pants. He stood, gathering his things as he huffed to himself.

“I’m in deep aren’t I?” he said out loud, ignoring the look his slimy potion’s teacher gave him. Without another word, he left continuing on his path to his next dreadful class of the day.

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

“She probably thought you were joking.” Harry said, causing Ron to give him a glare. Even though there was a big possibility that Harry was right, he didn’t want to believe him. He thought his attempt was a good one! He was direct about what he meant, right?

“He’s got a point. You guys usually joke around and mess with each other a lot. She probably thought you were cracking a joke. Have you tried just telling her how you feel?” Luna asked as if the answer was obvious. Ron felt his brow twitch as he sighed, sinking down in his seat more as he threw his head back.

“What can be more obvious than saying you smell someone in your Amortentia? Do you guys even think?” He questioned.

“Do you? Cause if you did then you’d know that was a poor attempt.” Hermione chimed. Although at first he was sure his attempt was good, that it was obvious, suddenly he was beginning to have second thoughts. Was he clear enough? Sure, you could say one thing but he’d be the first to admit his actions didn’t match. He huffed, looking at his friends, desperation hidden in his eyes.

“Well, what should I say then?”

“Say something truthful! Let your heart speak for what your actions couldn’t.” Ginny chimed, causing them all to give her a strange look. She crossed her arms, looking away with red cheeks. “What? I think I’d know what chicks like, I do shag em afterall.”

“So tell us, what does your heart say Ron?” Luna asked, he sighed as he racked his brain. He liked her a lot. How could he not? (Y/n) was beautiful, a gift from the heavens above. The softness of her skin, the roundness of her tummy, and those beautiful luscious thighs. He was surprised no one else had made a move on her yet. She was kind too, always willing to help her fellow (y/h/h) in need.

A lovesick dopey look took over his face. “I...I’d say…” he let out a dreamy noise as hearts took over his eyes, “I never believed there was a heaven till I found you. Never believed angels walked among us at Hogwarts, that I think she’s amazing and I-”

“Okay ew that’s enough. I’m gonna be sick. Save it for her.” his sister said, grimacing as she stood up. “And with that note, I’m gone. Why not tell her at the Gryfindor party tonight? I’m sure she’ll be there!” Ron gulped nervously. That soon? Surely a few hours wasn’t enough time to prepare! Maybe he’d try in a few months…

However as he looked across the hall, seeing some twit practically eye fucking her, it was settled. Tonight he would tell her and if not, he’d at least make some progress.

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

Ron let out a shaky deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands along the front of his jeans. Whether it was the sweltering heat of all the warm bodies, the shots he had taken, or the thought of what he had set out to do tonight he didn’t know, but either way he was burning like a phoenix. His eyes trailed the room nervously, looking for (Y/n). How was he sure she’d be here anyways? She wasn’t a frequent attender to parties, only showing up to them sporadically. However at the sound of a familiar laugh-snort combo, he had all he needed.

In his buzzed(and slightly drunken) haze, he followed the sound blindly, face heating up at the girl's appearance. She wore a blush colored bodycon dress that clung to the folds and curves of her body nicely.. Her hair was styled differently than usual, but suited her perfectly nonetheless. Most things did. And when she saw him? Her face broke out in a bright smile as she hiccuped, handing her half empty cup to one of her friends. She stumbled her way over to him. He steadied her by placing his hand on her waist, looking down at her.

“Ronnn! Omg Ronnie, what’re you doing here?” she hiccuped again, giggling as she stared up at him. He smiled back at her softly, stroking along the softness of her waist.

“ I could ask you the same thing, love, you’re not much of a drinker usually.” he placed a hand on her cheek, thankful for the liquid courage flowing through his system. “You alright? Come on, let’s sit you down. You don’t seem to be too steady.” he said, guidning her towards the couch. When they got there, he expected her to sit next to him but was in shock as she parked herself in his lap. She wrapped an arm around his neck, smiling down at him drunkenly. He handed her a glass of water, the same one he had been handed earlier when he was getting a bit out of hand. She thanked him, sipping on it at a slow pace.

After a few minutes, the hiccuping and giggles had died down from her, leaving her to form goosebumps at their current position. She was fully seated on the boy’s lap and he had his arms wrapped around her, rubbing his fingers along her soft pudgy sides. She bit her lip as she looked off to the side, before bringing her eyes back to his.

“Uh, Ron,” she started, looking down as she picked at the skin around her nail beds. Letting out a deep sigh, she continued, “Can I ask you something?” her heart began to race rapidly as she looked at him, watching as he nodded before offering her a soft smile.

“Course. What’s up?” How should she phrase it? Should she be simple? Should she-

“Would you fuck me if I was skinny?” she blurted out, eyes widening. Although she had wanted to ask him something about if he was attracted to her, she hadn’t intended on being so...bold. She was known for speaking her mind but not in situations like this! In a state of panic, she went to stand up but was pulled down by a strong pair of arms, pulling her close to an even stronger, toned chest. He chuckled in her ears, hair tickling the edge of her neck.

“Shit princess, I mean...I’d fuck you right now.” his grip on her sides tightened, trailing one hand on her thigh. Out of all the things she could’ve said, this was the last one Ron expected. (Y/n), his snarky potions partner, in his lap in that god forsaken dress asking if he’d fuck her. He felt his own heart begin to race. Did she mean to say it? Well, did she mean to say it to him? Or did she just want his opinion for someone else?

“O-oh.” she stuttered out. (Y/n) pulled back some, turning her head to look at him, finding that his eyes instantly were drawn to hers.

“Do you mean that?” they both asked. Ron’s cheeks turned red as (Y/n) felt her own face grow warm. Both of them let out breaths they didn’t even know they were holding, laughing with one another.

“I meant it but, did you?” she asked, breath hitching of the closeness of their faces to one another. She could smell the fire whiskey mixed with hints of cannabis and weed mixing with it making her absolutely intoxicated. He nodded, pressing his forehead against hers.

“‘Course I did, love. You don’t have to be skinny for me to do anything with you, let alone fuck you. Because trust me,” he trailed a hand along her upper thigh, sliding it between the soft expanse of them. “It’d be my pleasure to fuck a woman with a body like yours. A woman so soft, so tender, bet that cunt of yours is tight and dripping. Isn’t it?” the girl squeaked, clenching her thighs around his hand. He leaned down, pecking her lips softly before pulling away, (Y/n) whimpering in a desperate attempt to let him know she wanted more..

“And if I were to grant you that pleasure right now?” she purred, placing a soft hand on his cheek which he gladly leaned into, a dark chuckle leaving his lips.

“I’d be the luckiest man alive.”

#ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x y/n #ronald weasley x reader #ron weasly imagine #ron x reader #ron x you #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #chubby reader #x chubby reader #chubby!reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader

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hoe-doroki · 4 years ago

Text

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk and @therealvalkyrie for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

#bakugou smut #bakugo smut #bnha smut #mha smut #tw: voyeurism #not/sfw #bakugou birthday bash

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loooreleii · 3 years ago

Note

So after episode 11 … do you think you could write anything not angsty please

I got you ✊ Mindless, tooth rotting fluff to make us all forget about the pain! This is Pat and Pran slow dancing in their new apartment. I hope you like it 💛💛💛

(Also, this is slightly AU. I decided Pat and Pran didn't break up, but decided to stay together after their beach trip.)

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

"Dance with me, babe"

"Shit," Pran swears, and he angrily looks down at the half-assembled coffee table in front of him as if it personally offended him. Something doesn't fit, and Pran is pretty sure he followed the instructions in the manual perfectly, so it's absolutely the furniture's fault, and not his. There's definitely a screw missing, and the pre-drilled hole is off-center. So much for quickly putting the table up so they can host a small housewarming party for their friends later.

Pran doesn't know why he has to be the one to assemble the furniture for their new flat when his engineering boyfriend, who knows much better how to use tools, is right there, but Pat is too busy unpacking boxes in the kitchen and happily putting away mugs to notice Pran's struggle.

Pran sighs, puts the screwdriver down, and lets himself fall back into the cushions of their new couch, just watching Pat for a moment.

He notices that Pat's hair is getting long, tickling the back of his neck and falling into his eyes, making Pat run his fingers through it again and again to push it back. He's wearing one of his annoyingly small tanktops, leaving his broad shoulders and toned arms exposed, and Pran can't help but admire the way his muscles bulge beneath his skin when he moves. He's dancing as he works, and singing along to a terrible American pop song that's playing on the radio. Pat has many great qualities, but singing is not one of them. In fact, it's awfully out of tune, off rhythm, and his English isn't good enough, so he mumbles along every few words when he doesn't know the lyrics. Still, Pran smiles at his exuberant goofiness. For the whole week before the move, Pat had been giddy and excited. And for once, he was the one planning everything meticulously, packing boxes and labeling them almost lovingly, and getting excited whenever they'd decide what to throw out and what to keep as theirs.

"I can't wait to have our own life together," he said while cuddling close to Pran on the couch one night, hugging him too tightly and rubbing his face against Pran's chest as Pran combed his fingers through his hair.

Pran is excited, too. Of course he is. But to him, it's just a new place. To him, they had a life together long before today, and it doesn't matter to him that his plates are now their plates, and Pat's comforter is now their comforter, or that their names are next to each other on the doorbell. To him, their life together started when they chose each other, to hold onto each other, to never let go. He can't pinpoint the day, if it was their first kiss, the day Pat confessed his feelings to an auditorium full of people, or the one at the beach where they decided to not give up and weather the storm together. Or maybe it was long before that, because in some ways, their lives have always been so entwined, it's difficult to tell where to separate them neatly without taking away a vital part.

Still, seeing Pat's happiness, the excitement radiating from him, was contagious, and Pran fell equally in love with the idea of having their own little place, just for the two of them. The flat isn't big, just two rooms and barely more space than their dorms. But it's their own, and it has a lovely little balcony and a bathtub, and when the light filters through the windows, it looks like a place where they can love each other in peace. It's all they really need after years of hiding, years of fighting for this, for them, against their friends and their families, and sometimes their own fears. Pran doesn't know how he deserves someone like Pat, who stood by his side so fiercely through it all, even when Pran doubted they could make it. But somehow they did. They graduated, they'll both start working in a few days, they're still with the same group of close-knit friends, and they're even talking to their parents again.

It's still awkward, uncomfortable, every interaction tinted by a year of radio silence and countless arguments following it. But they're coming around now, slowly and begrudgingly, and Pat and Pran know they're at least trying. They're not at the stage where Pran can invite Pat over for dinner yet, but his dad greets Pat now when he sees him around town and burrowed him some tools a few weeks ago when Pat had to fix their fence. After more than three years together, it's not much, but definitely more than either of them expected. But they both stopped making their happiness dependent on their parents' approval a long time ago. Maybe they had to grow up a little too fast because of it; maybe it wasn't always easy, and there are moments where Pran still wishes he could hug his mum and have her pet his hair gently like she used to do. It's better than living without each other, though.

Pat crumbles up the last piece of wrapping paper and looks at his work, then over his shoulder at Pran. He grins, wiggles his brows, then walks over to the stereo and cranks up the volume, blasting another cheesy pop tune. He shimmies over to where Pran is sitting, lips pursed and his head bobbing up and down, still singing and his eyes shining, doing an elaborate but completely arrhythmical choreography with his arms. He's also a terrible dancer. Pran finds it endlessly endearing.

When he finally stands before Pran, he bends down to peck his lips, mouthing the lyrics against Pran's smile until he can't keep the giggles in anymore. Pat is ridiculous, and Pran thinks he might burst from happiness. So he leans forward, pulls Pat in by his tank top, and kisses him again, softer this time, drawn out and languid. His hands find their way around Pat's neck, holding him close and not letting go before he gets his fill. He knows the satisfaction won't last long, and that he'll crave this closeness again soon. But unfortunately, Pran has obligations that unfairly prevent him from spending all his days in Pat's arms, kissing him, holding him, and making love. And right now, it's a coffee table with a missing screw demanding his attention.

So he sighs against Pat's lips as they separate, ready to get back to work, but Pat chases him, peppering kisses over his cheeks and brow, the tip of his nose, and his eyelids, still humming along to the song. Pran pulls back, pretends to half-heartedly swat him away, but he knows Pat can see right through him, that he knows every miniscule twitch of Pran's expression from years of studying him. Pran gives in as soon as Pat cups his face in his hands, holding him with aching tenderness and nuzzling their noses together.

The song changes again, this time to something slower and softer, the words of a lover serenading his love filling the room, a gentle voice and the quiet strum of a guitar.

Pat takes a step back then, holding his hand out as an offering, asking Pran to take it in his. "Dance with me, babe," he says, his voice soft and his eyes hopeful.

"No," Pran says, shaking his head and raising his brows, but his defense is thin at best, and he's already laughing at Pat's exaggerated pout and the way he wiggles his hips.

"Please?" Pat whines, looking up at Pran from under his lashes, and Pran still doesn't understand how a guy of Pat's size can look so utterly adorable.

"I have a table to build, and…." but Pran doesn't have a good excuse, because the table doesn't matter, but Pat does. He's the only thing that matters. Still, Pran rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous," he says, but his face is hopelessly fond at the same time.

"You’re the one who chose me," Pat points out smugly, and Pran can't deny that it's true. He chose Pat, and Pat chose him, and it’s still the best decision Pran ever made. And he can't really deny him anything. So he takes Pat's hand, allows himself to be dragged up and against Pat's chest, and lays his free arm over Pat's shoulders.

Pat wraps his own around Pran's waist, pulling him in, putting their clasped hands against his chest and pressing his face into Pran’s neck to smell him. Pran feels Pat's lips against his skin, feels the smile tugging at Pat’s mouth and how he nuzzles against him, and he shivers when Pat's breath tickles against his collarbone, before they start moving.

They're simply swaying with each other, cheek to cheek, moving in slow, mindless circles to the music that's floating through their tiny living room. Pran lets his nose run along Pat's cheek, kisses the hinge of his jaw, whispers "I love you," into his ear, and Pat’s hold around Pran's waist tightens in response.

Pran still knows no place as safe and comforting as the circle of Pat's arms, and he melts into him now, grips his shoulders tighter, and buries his face deeper into his neck, feeling sheltered and protected in the way only Pat can provide. All his life, Pran felt like a little boat lost on the high seas, unequipped for its vastness, and too small to withstand the crashing waves and raging storms, the world seemingly too chaotic for his anxious mind. So he plans, sorts, and organizes; anything to combat the constant feeling of being pulled under by a force of nature far greater than himself. But Pat is his anchor, tethering him to the ground, breaking the waves for him, and keeping him afloat even in the worst of tempests.

Sometimes, when his anxiety threatens to consume him, Pran wonders if he gives Pat enough in return, if he deserves all of it, if he deserves him. But then, he remembers that this, their love, is not a competition. They tease and challenge each other, still engage in little contests, simply because it’s what they’ve always done, and they wouldn’t be Pat and Pran if they didn’t. But Pran has learned over the years that Pat's love for him has no exchange rate, that he gives it freely and endlessly, and that with him, for once, Pran can just be. And Pran is endlessly grateful for it.

He draws back a little to look at Pat, at the man he loves, his handsome face and sparkling eyes, crinkled at the corners from his wide, happy grin and the laugh lines that are starting to burrow into his skin permanently. Somehow, they make him even more beautiful. Pran lifts their entwined hands up, presses his lips to Pat's knuckles, and watches as his smile softens and his eyes fill with that gentle expression that is reserved only for Pran: an open, unguarded adoration that still takes Pran's breath away.

"What are you thinking of," Pat asks quietly, his thumb stroking over the small of Pran's back.

"You're getting old," Pran teases as he lets his fingertips run over the crunched up skin. Pat's nose scrunches up in offense, and then his brows rise high, the glimmer in his eye changing to something more mischievous.

"Can an old man do this?" He asks, and dips Pran over until all that's keeping him from falling to the ground are Pat's arms around his waist, holding him securely. Pran squeaks, grabs Pat's hand tighter, and Pat uses the leverage to pull him back up again, back into his embrace, before twirling him around by his outstretched arm.

Pat spins Pran around, again and again, until he's dizzy from it and tumbles right back into Pat's arms, happy and drunk on all the love that's bubbling up inside of him. Pran throws his head back and laughs, stretching his arm out to twirl Pat in return, delighting at the sight of him, the childlike glee on his face, this simple moment of happiness and freedom they took out of their day just to be with each other for a few minutes.

Eventually, as the song slowly peters out, they find each other again, Pran's arms wrapped securely around Pat's neck, and their foreheads resting against each other, both of them with their eyes closed, just feeling each other, basking in their shared warmth and comfort.

Until a loud crashing sound and a colourful string of swears break their moment of quiet intimacy.

Pran turns around in Pat's arms, but he's not ready to leave them yet. He presses his back against Pat's chest, wanting to feel this warmth for a little bit longer, and holds onto Pat's arms that are still securely wrapped around his waist, as they watch Korn and Wai struggle to get their dresser through the apartment door.

"Korn! Damnit, don't put it down yet. I'm still on the stairs!" Wai yells, his face red with anger.

"Fuck off, it slipped out of my hands," Korn grumbles, furrowing his brows and pulling a face over Wai's tone. "Can you lift it up again?"

Wai's face reddens impossibly more as he spits out: "Do it yourself, asshole."

"I fucking hate you," Korn groans, but he lifts the drawer up again to relieve Wai of some of the weight.

"Love you, too, babe," comes Wai's sarcastic reply, and not for the first time, Pran wonders how they can stand to be with each other. But he knows that their love simply has a different shape than his and Pat's.

"I still can't believe they got engaged before us," Pat whispers into Pran's ear and chuckles. "They'll beat us in achieving all the milestones."

"All you have to do is ask," Pran says, and finally pushes himself out of Pat's embrace to help Korn and Wai with the dresser, leaving Pat stunned and speechless in the middle of their living room.

#bad buddy #patpran #bad buddy the series #bad buddy fic #pran parakul #pat napat #my writing #kornwai #but it's miniscule #waikorn #pranpat #some swearing

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