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monstersflashlight · 3 months ago

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Day 8. Monster-kinktober: Medieval Menace + Aftercare/Role play

A/N: This is medieval role-play and the idea is thanks to @hyperionferrison who suggested: “county/country fair where they have harness pulls and the like-fem reader teases a minotaur and a centaur competing in a contest against each other that the winner can have her. They decide to pull to a draw and double team the cock-tease”. This is completely and utterly historically inaccurate, and you have to be very imaginative with the poses, but I think it’s quite good, so have fun!

Minotaur x centaur x fem!reader || sharing is caring, role-play, teasing, oral sex, spit-roast, size difference

“And the price… for today’s harness pull is… this pretty lady,” the announcer said as you shivered in anticipation.

You looked over all the monsters waiting in line and measured them mentally, deciding where your hope laid. There was a couple of them that you could see yourself going back with, and there you saw them. There was a minotaur and a centaur who looked so big and strong that they looked like mountains between all the others.

You slowly sashayed your way towards them, pushing your chest up so your boobs looked indecent in your corset, almost spilling out. You heard some of the monsters gasping when you passed, but you didn’t mind them any attention, your body already choose, and you knew they will win, either of them was fine… both of them would be golden.

“You, and you,” you said pointing at them, your neck pulled back to be able to see their faces, so far over you. The size difference was so noticeable that your pussy was already tingling about it. Your inner size queen self was more than ready to be stretched. “Whoever wins can have me,” you announced, talking loud enough so everyone could hear, but directing your words just at you.

“I’ll win and we’ll have the best night of your life, my lady,” the minotaur said, his voice deep and rough, sending sparks down your spine.

“You won’t win anything, bull,” the centaur said, sounding like an insult, “I will make sure you end the night satisfied, my lady,” he added. They looked at each other and growled, making you whimper softly, your pussy getting soaked under the many layers of your skirt.

“Let the contest begin,” the organizer behind you repeated, alerting more participants around you.

You weren’t worried, you knew the rest had no choice in front of the big minotaur and strong centaur, their strength was unmatched. And when the contest began, they rapidly started outshining every other contestant, to everyone’s amazement. The crowd was cheering like crazy, frenzy rising among the people around you as they pulled. It was a spectacle to behold, their muscles bulging and their bodies pushing forward… Your body reacted immediately, getting wetter and more aroused every time they moved.

By the time there were only two left, you felt like you were melting, your underwear soaked and your clit tingly as they were only two left. As expected, the minotaur and the centaur stood one in front of the other, growling at each other faces. But when a smile broke on their faces, you felt like lightning hit your body. Something big happened right there, too far away from you to hear.

“We aren’t going to pull anymore,” the centaur announced loud enough for everyone to hear. Someone gasped beside you, and you stood there, mouth open and confused.

“What then?” The announcer asked, as confused as everyone else.

“We share the price,” the minotaur explained, looking directly at you. You had to fan yourself, suddenly you felt too hot under your clothes.

Some random person asked: “Is that allowed?” And to everyone’s surprise, the announcer nodded.

“Very well, gentlemen, the price is yours to do whatever you want with her.” You shivered again, your body too pent up with desire to even comprehend the whole implications of the two monsters sharing you. But when they approached you, everyone around them stepped back.

The minotaur arrived to you first, his hand coming around your waist, cupping a feel of your ass as he did so. “Let’s go to the inn to find a place to retrieve our price, my lady…” He teased as he grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over the centaur’s back. You laughed cheerfully as they moved through the crowd towards the inn, your pussy getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

You were in a daze as they drove you into a room, everything looked tidy and neat, but you didn’t care at all. They slowly let you down to your feet and stared at you, expectantly. You only wanted to be ravished by those two monsters that won you in the contest. And you verbalized that, much to their surprise: “Who is going to have his way with me first?” You asked, cheekily. They looked at you with utter surprise as the minotaur broke down into a big laugh.

“You are a true gem, my lady,” he let out between laughs. You were about to answer when the centaur grabbed your head roughly and claimed your mouth in the most passionate kiss you’ve ever received. You whimpered against his lips as he devoured you. “Good Goddess you two look amazing together,” the minotaur added, the laugh long gone and a spark of need in his tone. “My turn,” he said as he pulled you away from the centaur’s mouth and claimed your mouth until you were breathless and your legs gave out under you. But they got you.

Two seconds later you were laying flat on the bed, and your clothes were slowly being peeled off your body by four grabby hands that teased and groped every inch of uncovered flesh. By the time you were naked, you were a panting mess of need, and they were two hungry beasts trying to devour you. You squirmed as they stared at your naked glory, and when they launched at you at the same time you screamed in joy.

The centaur took off his loincloth and approached you, his dick moving side to side in the most mesmerizing rhythm. It looked magnificent, giant and leaking, all red and needy for you. You wanted to be a witch in that moment, just so you could do some kind of magic to swallow him down completely. But there was no way you could take more than his tip in your mouth, probably not even that because of his girth.

“I can’t- I can’t take it all,” you lamented when the centaur cock was in front of your face, pouting as you looked at it.

“Don’t worry about it, my lady, I would take whatever you want to give me,” his tone was reverent as he positioned himself over you, his hooves close to your head. He looked like a giant looking down at you like that, and that made it even hotter for some weird reason.

“You are being too nice to her, she’s our price after all,” the minotaur said somewhere between your legs.

The centaur position over your body made it impossible for you to see anything but his dick and balls. It was a great sight. You were about to answer him when his mouth made contact with your dripping cunt. You cried out, and the centaur took advantage of your open mouth to press the tip against your mouth. You licked over it without even thinking, your body reacting before your brain could process it.

Your brain was trying to make sense of all the sensations at once, the huge tongue of the minotaur licking over your sensitive flesh as he growled low every time you clenched over nothing, so needy to be filled. And in the other end, the tasteful flavor of the centaur against your taste-buds, your tongue going over and over the tip and collecting all the precum pooling there. He kept making those tiny whimpers that were driving you insane.

When the minotaur pushed a big finger inside your pussy, you opened your mouth in a gasp, accidentally swallowing more of the centaur’s cock and choking on it a tiny bit. He instantly pulled back, apologizing, but you didn’t want any of that, you could feel your pleasure building as you grabbed his cock with both hands and started stroking it in earnest, your mouth finding the tip again, sucking around it and making him scream your name.

The first orgasm took you by surprise, you screamed around the dick in your mouth as the minotaur roared against your pussy, his big tongue collecting all your juices as his fingers pressed against your G-spot. It was marvelous, better than ever. You laid there quiet and content for a total of five seconds before you felt the tip of an enormous dick against your still twitching pussy and the centaur whined over you, reminding you he existed.

You groaned loud and deep, launching for his cock again, alternating between sucks and jerking him off with both hands. The second the minotaur pushed his dick inside of you, you were seeing stars, he was so big he filled you completely, all your nerves coming to attention at the same time. He couldn’t fit inside of you, not completely, but he pushed until you could feel him tickling your cervix. It was the most amazing feeling ever, and your eyes rolled back into your head.

Nobody spoke, there was only a symphony of groans, moans and whimpers as the minotaur fed your pussy and you fed on the centaur’s cock. The combination of dicks was soon too much for your poor body and brain, and you exploded into a thousand pieces of high pleasure as the minotaur filled you with his seed and you swallowed the first shoot of the centaur’s come. He pulled back to avoid choking you, painting your face and tits with his come as the minotaur’s come overflowed your pussy and made a mess out of your southern region.

By the time all of you were done, you were covered in come and completely sated, your body too tired to even think of moving. “I’m sleepy…” You whispered, your voice almost gone. You closed your eyes as you heard some movement around you, your body suddenly cold. But it didn’t remain like that for long.

“We know, darling, but we need to take care of you. You promised you would let us do this after this little game. You need to pee and we even prepared a bath. Don’t you want a bath? It’s all warm,” your minotaur boyfriend tried to convince you to move, his hands slowly caressing your body.

You whined, not wanting to move, but you raised your arms to indicate you wanted to be carried. He chuckled and did exactly that, walking with you to the bathroom where your centaur boyfriend was adding some essential oils to the water. “Come here, babe, you deserve to be cared for,” he told you kissing your forehead softly.

They slowly washed all the cum from your body, tender hands and fingers traveling all over to make sure you were relaxed and content.

“Told you the medieval fair was going to be good,” you mumbled as one of them washed your hair.

“Yeah, yeah, you are always right, my lady,” the minotaur joked much to the centaur’s amusement.

They took care of you until your body was languid and relaxed, and then cuddled with you in bed until your breathing evened out and you fell asleep between their warm bodies… That night you fell in love with them a tiny bit more.

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roanofarcc · 5 months ago

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TWISTERS FANFICTION + more

TYLER OWENS

WORTH MY WHILE. as the local weather woman, you shared an interesting rivalry with your hometown storm-chaser. while you always reported on the dangerous weather from a safe distance, tyler barreled into it head-first. but things change the night of the county fair when you find yourself in the middle of a storm rather than in the safely of a newsroom.

A MISJUDGMENT. when kate drags you back to the midwest for a one-week stint to help out one of her old friends, you meet tyler owens. the uncouth cowboy and his reckless actions when dealing with something as dangerous as tornados almost instantly prick your nerves until you realize maybe there's more to the cowboy than meets the eye.

YOU, BRIGHT BLUE. between the moments of chaos of storm chasing, tyler finds the break in the storm when with you.

A LITTLE LIFE. when a storm tyler is chasing changes course, putting you and your daughter in the direct line of danger, tyler drops everything to reach you.

harding!reader

LIKE MOTHER LIKE FATHER LIKE DAUGHTER. you had made a name for yourself in the storm chasing game; it was in your genes, being the daughter of famous chasers jo and bill harding. tyler found your knacked for knowing just what the storm’s thinking a little infuriating and incredibly impressive.

GETTING EVEN. after tyler owens saved your ass, you return the favor.

boone sister!reader

THE ALCHEMY. the reunion of you and your high school sweetheart, years after your split, brings back all those long-lost feelings you tried to bury. (based off of taylor swift's "the alchemy")

FUNNY BUSINESS. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

JAVI

IN YOUR ORBIT. a quiet moment between chasing storms makes you feel like you’re in college again, with your two best friends. you realize just how far you've all come since tragedy plagued your lives five years prior.

CHASE IT. Javi has a problem telling you how he feels until he almost loses you.

A CRULE FATE. getting trapped as a tornado rages closer and closer dreges up all of the horrible memories for that day five years ago, but you’re determined not to lose any more friends.

PINKY PROMIS. trapped in a car as a horrifying 'fire-nado' rages towards you sends you into a panic and a fit of memories from the accident 5 years prior.

YOU NEVER LEFT ME. after the loss of three of your best friends, you found yourself pushing everyone away. it seemed easier that way. you had no intention of seeking out kate nor javi. you thought it was better that way. until, one day fate brings you all back together, and you have to deal with some long unspoken feelings.

BOONE

A PIPE DREAM. storm chasing was all fun and games until you started crushing on one of your team members. and boone had a bad habit of falling hard.

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER. years spent in the a mediocre relationship with your “highschool sweetheart” comes to an abrupt end. instead of the heart break you thought would consume you, you feel free. and that freedom leads you right to boone’s front door.

SCOTT

IS IT CASUAL NOW? what happened between you and scott was supposed to be strictly casual, but when you feelings got too involved, you decided to call it quits. But storms and close calls have a way to bringing out true feelings.

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #javi x reader #javi twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters #twisters fanfic #boone twisters x reader #boone twisters

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penelopepine · 8 months ago

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Maybe I'll write this later:

Poly!141 x Bull Rider Reader

Poly!141 go on a vacation to a cabin owned by Laswell. She let's them know that the county fair is in town the same time as them, and that they should check it out. Says they should experience this aspect of the states. Mentions at the very least they should go and watch the bull riders.

Poly!141 go to the fair. Price thought it sounded interesting, but didn't care either way. Gaz thought that it was a fun idea; definitely wanted to go. Soap was the most hype about going; he was down to go the moment he knew about it. Ghost didn't really want to go. The only reason he did was because he couldn't say no to Gaz's big brown eyes or Soap's pretty begging.

Poly!141 do all of them normal fair activities. They checked out the cooking competition. Trying all the chilies, pies, dips, and cakes. Making bets between themselves on which ones will win.

They play a few of the fair games. Price absolutely dominates at the balloon darts game, and wins prizes for all of the others. Soap tries to his best to win at ring toss; he REALLY wants one of those giant stuffed animals. He doesn't care how impractical carrying that thing is going to be. Try as he may he can't do it though. Soap had given up, and decided to give his last throw to Gaz; who won in one throw! This both delighted and infuriated Soap. Ghost was totally ready to just buy or steal the giant stuffed animal if he hadn't made it.

Poly!141 are finally able to watch the fair shows later during the day. The first they watch is the ax throwing competition. Ghost spends the whole time judging their stances and forms. While also silently admiring the strength that some of them have. Gaz can't stop thinking about how if Price wore a flannel shirt that he would fit right in, and they'd probably lose him in the crowd.

After that is when they go and watch the bull riding competition. Soap is immediately invested in what's happening, and is convinced that he could do this as well. Price is impressed; watching these men and woman willing get bucked around while they could easily get hurt. Ghost spends his time holding Soap down trying to tell him that he can't go down there and ask to do that. Gaz wants to try this for himself, but he knows better than to try it on a real animal. Looks up places they could go and ride a mechanical bull instead.

Poly!141 are instantly drawn to you when you make your appearance. Your smile was dazzling, and they definitely weren't looking at how good your ass looks in those pants.

Bull Rider Reader is an experienced rider. They've been performing since a young age, and has made a bit of a name for themselves within the community. They know how to make a show, and wow the crowd.

Once the show is done Bull Rider Reader runs into Poly!141. Soap is asking questions about how it feels to ride a bull, and how could he do that too. Gaz is saying that they were very entertaining to watch, and asking how long they've been doing this. Ghost is mostly silent; only saying that they did good and wondering to himself if bull riding would come in handy in other aspects of life. Specifically the bedroom. Price is the one who asks Bull Rider Reader if they live around the area or if they traveled for this event.

Poly!141 invite Bull Rider Reader to watch the fireworks with them, and later asks if they would want to hang out a different day since they're still on vacation for a few more days.

Bull Rider Reader knows a bar with a good mechanical bull, and offers to teach them some tips. Poly!141 is instantly down and ready to learn.

The next day everyone meets up and the amount of flirting is through the roof on both sides. Light touches and sexual innuendos are at a none stop with this group. The night ends with everyone having ridden the bull; even Ghost who was easily the best and managed to stay on the longest out of everyone.

Everyone leaves feeling happy and a new number in their phones.

#141 x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #call of duty #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #x reader #poly 141 #tf 141 x reader

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msgexymunson · 1 year ago

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Prettiest Bitch

Description: you and Eddie have a special way of showing each other you care.

A/N: this is a real life fucking story of me and my partner lmao. Please like and reblog if you enjoy it sweetheart.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, established relationship, mean Eddie and mean reader but it's just fun and games, reader is AFAB, female oral receiving.

Masterlist

900 words

Laying on Eddie's sofa, you bask in the warm glow of being near him. Your legs were draped over his as you rifled through a book that you were barely paying attention to. Eddie's hand is up your loose pyjama pants, tracing soft circles on the bare skin of your calf.

"Eddie?"

"Yeah sweets?"

"You've always got to be touching me, don't you."

"Suppose so."

You smirk, pulling his hand out of your pants. He whines like a child that just got his favourite toy confiscated.

"Why?"

"Dunno, I just want your skin."

Laughing loudly, you scoot closer on your knees, just shy of climbing onto his lap.

"You want my skin? That sounds so fuckin' weird."

Eddie drops his voice into an odd gravelly gasp, the one he reserves for goblin NPCs when he's DM.

"Eddie wants it! Give Eddie your skin!"

Before you can react he's pulling you onto his lap, hands wandering up your top and stroking hard at the exposed flesh.

"You dumbass that tickles! Stop!"

"Never!" He doubles down his efforts, lifting your t-shirt and blowing a wet raspberry on your stomach. You try to lean away but he has you trapped.

Finally wiggling from his grasp in a fit of breathless giggles, your rump bumps heavily on the floor.

"You're an idiot, Munson."

"Yeah? Well you like me, so who's the idiot now?"

"Still you!" You flip him the bird and he pokes his tongue out at you at the same time.

Now eye level with the coffee table, a leaflet catches your eye.

"What's this? Hawkins County fair?"

Leafing through it, you hear Eddie's chuckle.

"Yeah, just a bunch of farmers showing off the size of their pumpkins and shit, it's so stupid."

"But look!" You wave the ad in his face as he rolls his eyes.

"Dog show Eddie! Dogs! Look, they've got categories and everything."

He goes to steal it out of your hands but you hold firmly on, reeling off some of the different categories.

"Senior dogs… there's one for puppies that's cute… oh haha look, prettiest bitch! I should enter." You nod at him and his gaze softens, sinking down to join you on the floor.

"Oh sweetheart" his thumb brushes your cheek as you melt under his gaze.

"You're not pretty."

Gasping, your eyes snap back open to see Eddie rolling on the floor gasping with fits of laughter.

"Edward James Munson! Gonna make you regret that!"

You straddle him, fingers digging bruises into his sides, trying desperately to find ticklish spots.

"It was a joke! Come on sweets, you know I'm not ticklish there."

Grinning devilishly, you straddle him backwards, clinging onto his legs like a koala.

"Nope, but you are here!"

Your fingers tickle at his socked feet as he writhes beneath you.

"Fuck, no fair! Stop!"

"Never!" Your relentless onslaught continues.

"I will kick you in the head!"

"Say I'm pretty!"

"Fine! You're pretty, stop, stop!"

You finally relinquish your hold and clamber off him still giggling triumphantly.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Nope. That was really mean Edward." You huff dramatically, folding your arms over your chest.

"Kiss it better?"

You both use that phrase. It started off with kissing your knee when you fell, then you used it to comfort him once when some jocks had been particularly mean to him, then it just melded into your day to day life.

"OK."

His smile is wicked as he pushes you to your back, fingers hooking into your pyjama pants.

"The fuck are you doing?" Gazing down at him, he smiles sinfully as he pulls your pants down in one smooth motion.

"Didn't say where, sweets."

His tongue runs the full length of your pussy and runs around your clit in a smooth circle.

"Fuck, Eddie!" Hands make their way into his unruly curls as he continues his apology, suckling at your clit.

Thick fingers probe your entrance, gliding in to curl in that spot just like you like it.

"Sweetheart, you're the prettiest girl in this trailer."

Not giving in that easily, you pull his hair.

"I'm the only girl in this trailer!"

He laughs and sucks your clit again hard, making your back arch off the floor.

"OK," he practically breathes into your cunt, "the prettiest girl in Hawkins?"

"Better."

"Fine, the prettiest girl in the fucking world."

"OK, oh shit, oh you're forgiven!" Moans replace words as he fucks you hard with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to release.

"Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna come, Eddie!"

He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit hard as you ride his face into a searing wash of ecstasy.

Releasing in a broken scream, you melt into a puddle. Moments later, a very smug Eddie hovers over you.

"You are the prettiest bitch" He says, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

Too fucked out to argue, you pull him close and hold him. You'll get him back later.

@munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiesprincess86

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie fanfic #eddie fan fic

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supernovafics · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

summary: in which a moment at a party that led to a drunken kiss and a heartfelt admission pushes you and your best friend away from each other. after nearly a week of silence, it’s still hard to find the right words to say to steve and to find the right way to mend what feels as if it has been permanently broken. until you’re drunk at a bar and he is the one to come and get you.

warnings: bestfriend!steve, explicit language, underage alcohol consumption, angst with a happy ending<33

author’s note: this was sitting in the drafts for a veryvery long time and i’ve finally decided to let it see the light of day🫶🏾 (full “folklore” album series masterlist here)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i didn't know if you'd care if i came back, i have a lot of regrets about that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The bar was comforting in a weird kind of way.

It was pretty dark and empty for the most part, which partly made sense since it was ten o’clock on a random Wednesday night. You didn’t mind the music softly playing and the stool you were sitting on actually felt comfortable, or maybe it was the alcohol making you believe that.

Somehow even with the number of drinks you’d had in the past hour, it still didn’t manage to effectively push your thoughts far away from Steve and what happened at Robin’s birthday party.

You couldn’t not think about the kiss with him, which you had abruptly and drunkenly initiated; it was a kiss that felt simultaneously wrong and right. And his words that followed the kiss played on what felt like an endless loop in your mind too.

“I’ve wanted this, I’ve wanted us, for practically forever. Ever since that moment our mom’s forced us to meet at that county fair thing when we were ten, I think I knew it was you.”

It was hard to think about what you did in response to that, but still the quick, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” you managed to stutter out before basically running away from him played on equal loop in your head.

The two of you hadn’t spoken since that Saturday night, with you returning back to your college that was two hours away from Hawkins early the next morning. And you were unsure if it was you leading this dance or if both of you were equally avoiding each other because the phone calls that would happen practically daily were reduced to nothing. It had barely been a week, but it was long enough for everything in your life to feel shifted; to feel a little emptier.

“You look like you need to talk to someone,” The bartender, a woman who you were certain couldn’t be older than thirty, said as she slid you the latest drink you’d ordered.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” You trailed off with a small sigh before taking a sip from the cold glass. “I did something stupid this past weekend and I regret it, but I also think it might have been the right thing to do.” You were unsure if you were referring to the kissing Steve part or the running away from him part. “I don’t know, I just wish that entire night hadn’t happened, actually.”

You knew that it wasn’t solely your inebriation that made your words seem as if they didn’t make any sense, because everything going through your head was so damn confusing even when you were completely sober. None of it, the emotions you were feeling or the situation itself, fully made sense to you and you forced yourself to not think about any of it by solely consuming yourself with your schoolwork for the last few days. And when doing that was no longer enough to silence your thoughts, you decided to come to this bar.

It was dumb and probably only making things worse, you knew that, but it also felt so much easier.

“Okay,” The woman said. “Can I have a lot more context?”

You were unsure why you had the immediate urge to tell her everything. Maybe it was the alcohol, or perhaps because it was just always so easy for anyone to pour their heart out to a stranger.

“My friend— my best friend, we’ve known each other since we were ten— me and him were at a party. It was actually our other friend’s birthday and she just turned eighteen, so of course, we had to make it a huge thing for her, and we did it at Steve’s house; my best friend, that’s his name. Anyway, it’s about two hours into the party and we’re all pretty drunk. Me and Steve are in his backyard sitting on one of his old patio chairs, and then I don’t know why, I blame it on my drunkenness and how close we were in that moment, but I kissed him. I pulled away almost immediately, but then he said that he has wanted this, wanted us, to happen for so long, and I didn’t know what to say to any of that. So, I just mumbled out a stupid “I’m sorry,” and then left.”

You had barely taken a breath as you spoke, spitting out what happened that night in one rushed go. Finally saying all of it out loud— recounting the story in pretty much its entirety— made you feel a little better. Everything was still a complete mess, but you felt like you could breathe the tiniest bit easier.

“Why did you leave?”

A part of you expected her to ask that question, and at this point, you should’ve had an answer to it that felt certain, but you didn’t.

“It just… It felt like the right thing to do, I think.”

The thought of anything more happening with Steve hadn’t ever crossed your mind, at least not consciously, and even now you still refused to think more about it. Because it wasn't just about Steve. You didn’t want anything more with anyone; you didn’t want feelings, a relationship, any of it.

It wasn’t that you hated love or the thought of it, it was more so that you had been burned because of it so many times that you refused to fall into it so easily again. Falling for boys that you thought actually liked you only to be proven wrong and left heartbroken.

“I get it,” The bartender ultimately said, her voice soft. “You guys have been friends for practically forever and if you started dating and then broke up it would probably change everything between you two.”

We would never break up.

The thought hit you so abruptly that it actually managed to surprise you.

The woman looked at you, confused. “Okay… So, then what’s the problem?”

“What?”

“You said that you and him would never break up, so what’s the problem?”

You hadn’t realized you said the thought out loud, and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about accidentally saying it because all you could think about was how completely true it was. You and Steve would work so well together, you pretty much already did. You knew the ins and outs of each other; everything little that was annoying but also so endearing. It was what you loved about him— as a friend and as more.

But still, it was so fucking hard to admit that out loud, and you wanted to forget about the entire realization.

“I– I don’t know,” You finally answered before folding your arms against the countertop and then putting your head down. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that that action would be enough to will away the tears that you could now feel threatening to spill out.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and i ended up here. pouring out my heart to a stranger.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey, you okay?”

The voice was soft and immediately comforting and oh so familiar. It was enough to put a smile on your face, but your head was starting to pound so you couldn’t bear to do anything but groan.

You lifted your head and mumbled out a soft, “Steve?”

You only vaguely remembered the bartender, whose name you eventually learned was Chelsea, asking for a phone number of someone that could pick you up. And although you should’ve given her your roommate’s number, you instead gave her Steve’s.

“I never thought I’d be the one picking you up from a bar,” Steve said as he sat down next to you. “I always thought it would be the other way around.”

“Y’know what they say about college, it changes people,” You told him with a nonchalant shrug. The two of you hadn’t talked in days, but it still felt like second nature to fall back into the joking cadence you had with him. “I’m a total badass now.”

Steve laughed a bit and looked at you amusingly. “Mhm, yeah, sure you are.”

You weren’t as drunk anymore but you were entering the early stages of a hangover that would be a bitch, and you already knew that there was no way you’d be going to your eleven o’clock Statistics class.

“I can’t believe you drove two hours to pick me up,” You said as you settled yourself in the passenger seat of Steve’s car after you paid your pricey tab and goodbyes were said to Chelsea.

Steve offered you a small smile. “What else are best friends for?”

You couldn’t help but look away from him as you mumbled out a soft, “I didn’t know we were still that.”

“We’ll always be that.”

There was so much certainty in his voice that it actually managed to soothe something inside of you. Only for a second, though, because then you were back in your head again.

The drive back to your dorm was quiet with only the soft sounds of the radio to fill the silence. It was a short ride, only about ten minutes, and the entire time you could only focus on your dull headache and what you wanted to say to Steve because you knew that you had to say something. Although you didn’t want to, that night needed to finally be talked about.

When he was parked in front of your building, you still didn’t know exactly what to say, but you decided to start with something. “Listen, about Robin’s party–”

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it. Let’s just pretend it never happened,” Steve interrupted you. He pushed a hand through his hair and then met your gaze. “It was really dumb of me to say all of that stuff, and I partially blame it on all the drinks we had— definitely way too many. We’re just friends, I know that. And your life is here now, for the most part, and mine is back in Hawkins, so yeah…” He trailed off with a small shrug.

You suddenly felt nauseous and you knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He was saying everything that you fully thought you wanted to hear— what happened at the party should’ve never happened, you two were just friends— so why did it feel so wrong?

Things became quiet and Steve was looking at you expectantly, and you were unsure how long you’d been silent for.

“Um, yeah, exactly,” You finally said as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Before you opened the passenger door to leave his car, you reached over and pulled Steve in for a hug. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” He said as his arms circled around you.

For some reason, there was a huge part of you that wanted to say “I’m sorry” in that moment, but you didn’t entirely know why, so instead you said nothing and simply got out of his car.

You headed to the entrance of your dorm building and then turned around, giving Steve a final wave before he drove away.

It was then— as he headed down the street and after a few moments his car became completely out of your view— that you wished you’d been honest; with yourself and with him.

Because it was in that moment of you yearning for him to turn around mixed with you sincerely wanting to go after him that essentially sealed it for you.

Steve was different and he always would be.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You felt slightly lucky that you only had two classes on Thursdays because when you woke up after sleeping through your Statistics class, you knew that you wouldn’t be going to your Psychology class that started at three. And the reasoning actually had nothing to do with your hangover.

Aside from the slight headache, you woke up with your mind feeling completely clear for the first time in a long time. You knew exactly what you wanted and what you wanted to do, and before that feeling could go away, or you could convince yourself to push it away, you were in your car an hour before your class was supposed to start and driving to Hawkins. You were pretty much running off of impulse and hope.

The weather was terrible and you hated driving in the rain, but it didn’t matter to you right then because you needed to see Steve.

You had two long hours of driving in terrible rain to figure out what exactly you wanted to say to him, yet you still couldn’t form a coherent set of sentences in your head. But, similar to the rain, that didn’t stop you from ringing his doorbell.

In hindsight, it probably would’ve been smart to bring an umbrella because it was still pouring and from the short walk from your car to his front door, your clothes managed to become effectively soaked, but it didn’t bother you.

“Hey,” He said when he opened the door, it was easy to tell that he was surprised to see you. “Did you drive all the way here?”

You quickly nodded at his question. “Yes.”

“You hate driving in rain.”

“Yeah, but I… I just really wanted to talk to you, and didn’t wanna do it over the phone.”

“Come inside,” Steve said, pushing the door open wider so that you could step in.

You almost followed him but then stopped. “No, wait… I kinda just wanna say this here.”

Steve looked at you confused, but ultimately nodded. “Okay.” He then stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him; his clothes immediately got wet. “It feels wrong that you’re the only one getting hit by the rain.”

You laughed a bit. “Thank you. That’s very considerate.”

Things got quiet for a second and you suddenly felt nervous, but you pushed that feeling to the side.

“I know you said that we don’t need to talk about the party and we should pretend that it never happened. And although that’s exactly what I’d been doing for the past few days, I don’t wanna do that anymore.” It actually didn’t feel too hard to let all of this out; verbalizing exactly what had been going on in your head. In a way, it felt like a relief. “I think I kissed you that night because deep down I know that it’s you too. And that it’s always been you… Which is actually so scary to think about because we’ve known each other for so long and you’re the one person in my life that has been the biggest constant. You’ve seen every part of my very horrific love life and I don’t want us to end up like any of the stupid relationships I had before, and I think that’s why I ran away that night, which I do really regret.” You pulled your eyes away from his for a second. “But, what we have is different, and I want to try. I want us to try.”

You let out a long breath. “Okay, that’s it.”

Steve didn’t say anything for a few moments, and it was then that you realized how loud the rain was, and somehow it was actually a bit calming to hear the sounds of the heavy drops hitting the ground.

You searched his eyes to see if you could decipher what he was thinking, but before you could get a clear read on anything, he was closing the small bit of distance between you both and reaching up to cup your face in his hands before leaning in to kiss you.

The abruptness of the action slightly startled you, but you were completely okay with this nonverbal response to you pouring your heart out. You were kissing him back almost immediately and suddenly the sound of the rain was gone and instead all you could hear was your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The kiss felt perfectly new but also so insanely familiar; even though this was the first time this was happening sober. And so many things were running through your mind, but it was also effectively blank and you knew you wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence even if you tried.

Most of all, though, everything happening right then— the way your hands fisted themselves in his rain soaked t-shirt to pull him impossibly closer to you, and how his thumb stroked your cheek so tenderly— it all felt so certain and sure and right; there wasn’t an ounce of doubt lingering in the air around you both or lacing its way within the kiss.

When you pulled away to catch your breath and smiled up at him, a smile that Steve immediately matched with an elated grin of his own, it slightly killed you that all of this hadn't happened sooner.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i just wanted you to know that this is me trying.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington

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helixobesity · 3 months ago

Text

🌀 Never look back 🌀

Because I’m in charge of your future now

I’ll be making sure you’re a growing piggy

Because I want to see you too fat to reach to touch yourself, too fat to appease the urges that drove you to be willingly docile and fat

To keep you lazy, getting you addicted to eating, to make myself become everything and anything you need

Stealing you away to a life of pleasure

And maybe their could be days

You could act the part of a “normal” relationship

Times where you’d be taken out to a restaurant

Shown off to my coworkers, too brainwashed to keep up with our conversation

You just sit there

Just eat

And you’ll be waddled back home

Like a pig that won first place at the county fair

And returned back to the only thing you’re left able to do

To get off to how I control you

To eat

To become massively fat

And never look back

🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀💿🌀

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gorgeys · 5 months ago

Note

Madison request maybe a first date kind of thing, based on her recent fair post

you look so good in this light ★ madison beer

Madison Beer x femsinger!reader

your first date at the county fair is picture perfect

Warnings: SUPER fluffy, kissing

Word Count: 600

Note: i'm so obssessed w femsinger!reader so i did that again. but there's only one part in the fic where i really mention that reader is famous.

also send more madison requests 🫠

everything felt strangely normal. walking arm in arm around the moderately empty fair almost felt too natural and easy. a little voice in the back of your head was waiting for something terrible to happen.

but that bad thing would never come. instead, you lean into madison's side and laugh along to made-up back stories she creates for all the different people you passed. one of your arms is wrapped tightly around hers, like a toddler refusing to let go of their mommy in fear that she would magically disappear, and the other holding the giant teddy bear she won you at a sharpshooter game. safe to say you were pleasantly surprised by her skill with the water gun. but, judging by the proud, all-knowing smile she sent you after the victory bell rang, she wasn't. you picked out the pink bear with red hearts in it's eyes and proudly held the bear up in front of you, staring into the hearts.

"don't worry, buddy," madison said to the bear while draping a loose arm around your waist. "i look at her the same way."

your heart swelled in your chest as you turned toward her with the cheesiest smile. you couldn't help but squeeze her in the tightest hug you had ever given another human being.

"you're the best," you mumbled into her shoulder, just loud enough for her to hear it and smile.

and that was only a fragment of your perfect, official first date together.

you shared pizza and fried oreos, almost threw up on the tilt-a-whirl, and now, you would watch the California sunset from the top of the ferris wheel.

you had let the brim of your tattered high school baseball cap fall low in front of your eyes to avoid being noticed. miraculously, no one had approached you all night, allowing you some normalcy. if this is what it felt like to be a regular person, on a regular first date, you would trade fame for regular any day.

but now, as you sit across from her in one of the ferris wheel cars, almost at the top, you remove your cap and smooth out your hair. when your eyes meet madison's, she's already fixated on you.

the setting sun is perfectly hitting the skin of your face. you're in your golden hour.

"you look so good in this light," she says so delicately, leaning forward onto the edge of her seat as she studies you like a renaissance painting.

it's impossible to restrain your dumb smile.

"you're straight out of a movie, you know that?" you say, resting your elbow on your knee and your chin in your hand. you look at her as if she's a rom-com character come to life. "you're my patrick swayze just way cuter and prettier and...well, better."

she chuckles softly, then places a hand on your knee.

"you know what'd make this a real rom-com?" she asks, that familiar proud expression returning to her face as her nails scratch gently against your skin.

"hmm?" you give her a subtle nod. the quirk of your lips shows you have a pretty good idea of what she means.

she doesn't have to say anything else. she leans into you and her pink lips make their mark on yours. her hands move to hold your cheeks, while your own hands loosely hang around her arms. all is perfect as your car halts at the top of the ferris wheel and the sun tucks itself away into the horizon behind you.

#madison beer #madison beer x reader #madison beer x fem!reader #madison beer x you #madison beer x y/n #wlw

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featherandferns · 5 months ago

Text

daylight - epilogue

jj maybank x fem!reader | the final part of the daylight series | read part 12 here

content warnings: mentions of sex; alcohol

word count: 1.6k.

blurb: life is pretty beautiful in Kildare but nothing comes anywhere close to the beauty of your boyfriend.

An arm loops over your shoulder. You jolt, caught by surprise, and come close to dropping your camera. Thank God for neck straps. You’re so used to the feel of JJ around you that you don’t need the smell of his cologne to identify him.

“Hey you,” you say, smiling up at him.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling just the same. “Pretty good turn-out, huh?”

“I know,” you beam, looking around.

With some help from the Pogues, you’d managed to organise a fundraiser for Barry’s garage. It came following the photos you’d posted on your Instagram gaining traction in the local community. They were shared in Facebook groups and around group chats, with people rallying to help Barry’s struggling business. It seemed the garage had been a staple in Kildare County for as long as most people could remember. Kiara was more than happy to organise the bulk of the fundraiser, having done her fair share for environmental clean-ups, and Pope had managed to rally his dad to provide food, free of charge. John B and JJ did most heavy lifting: they assembled stalls and tables and seating; strung lights and bunting; hung up balloons and signs; and carried crate after crate of soft drinks and beers.

Your eyes fall on Barry, laughing with a local who you’d seen working at the docks. It makes you smile. For once, it seems he’s at ease.

“This is a real nice thing you did for him,” JJ gently says.

“Well, he’s a real nice guy,” you reply.

JJ leans down and plants a kiss to your forehead. It feels nice, having him do it in front of others: even if nobody is looking. He’s unashamed to show you off and to show his affection for you. Interlocking your fingers with his, he guides you towards Barry.

“Let’s go say hi,” he says as he leads the way.

As you pass a group of local teens, JJ shares a quick word, accepting a bro-hug from one, but his hand never strays from yours. Perfectly timed, the fisherman who was talking to Barry departs towards Heyward’s stall just as you and JJ arrive. Barry turns to find you both and grins.

“You kids having fun?” he asks.

“Yes, sir,” JJ replies.

Barry brings his beer can to his lips slowly, making a show to glance down at your interlocked hands. “See things are going good still.”

“I guess they are,” you return with a sheepish smile.

Since the day at the Chateau, you and JJ no longer held back. There was no need to, the fear of being too much now gone. Movie nights were a weekly staple, with half of the film ignored as the focus switched to each other’s bodies. Hang-outs with the Pogues were riddled with teasing and berating from the group from the smallest signs of P.D.A. At work, JJ distracted you, finding any excuse to approach. Drives home were lengthened by sloppy make-outs and take-out stop offs. Mimsy was used to JJ’s company despite being back in Vancouver, thanks to him lying in your bed or lounging on the couch whenever you’d facetime. She’d once remarked ‘you might not be at the wedding, but I will’ in a gentle threat to remind JJ where he stood in the hierarchy of your affections. But you knew it was tongue-and-cheek. Thanks to Mimsy, he too had been educated on the serial killers and stalkers of America. What took you by surprise was how invested JJ was in it.

You’re happy, though. JJ made you feel held, just like you’d asked and just like you’d always wanted.

The squeeze of JJ’s palm against yours pulls you back to the conversation.

“You enjoying yourself, Bar?” JJ asks.

“Hell yeah,” Barry jovially replies, making you both laugh. Tipping his beer can to you in thanks, he says, “your friend Kie really knows her stuff.”

“She’s pretty great,” you hum in agreement.

“Your old man didn’t show up, I see,” Barry says to JJ.

“He, uh, got wrapped up in something. He’d probably just cause a scene anyway, right?” JJ lightly says.

Since starting your official relationship with JJ, you’d spent more time at his house. You’d gotten to know his history the same way he had yours, and you knew about his absent mother and nightmarish father. He’d got himself in trouble with prescription fraud and was serving a short stint in prison. JJ hauntingly joked that it was his ‘second home’. You’d held him all that night to help him fall asleep.

“You know how much you’ve raised so far?” you ask, diverting the topic.

“I’m told it’s somewhere around seven grand, so far,” Barry replies. “Shit. That’s enough to fix that damn roof.”

“That’ll save you a job after the next hurricane, then,” JJ notes. Hurricane Agatha had been building gradually. Everyone was preparing for her arrival in the near future, summer now in full swing.

“Damn straight. Look, you kids go enjoy yourself. You don’t wanna be trapped with an old dog like me,” Barry urges with a tired smile.

You roll your eyes. “I like being trapped with an old dog like you.”

He was used to your company at the garage. Surprisingly, you’d taken to learning some handy work in mechanics. Even more surprisingly, you weren’t half bad at it. JJ had also picked up extra shifts at the garage. You don’t think Barry liked when the two of you were there together though: the amount of work that got done seriously depleted.

“Let me get a photo of you two, at least,” you add, lifting your camera.

JJ sighs like it’s a burden but you know how much he likes being in front of the lens. Your memory cards were saturated with photos of the blonde haired boy, as was your pinboard and Instagram. He’d claimed the polaroid photos of you and shamelessly kept them by his bed, as well as a framed photo of you and JJ from the beach that Kie had taken with your camera. It was of the two of you, wading in the low waves, the mid-day sun high in the background, casting shadows on your frames. He was splashing you and you were screaming with laughter, trying to dart out the way. The moment JJ spotted it as you flicked through your gallery after a day at work, he’d begged for you to print it. Now it stood by his bed, proudly displayed like a Van Gogh original.

JJ settles beside Barry and hooks an arm over Barry’s broad shoulders. The two of them smile - JJ’s brighter and beaming - and you snap several shots. Barry holds out his hand for your camera.

“Let me get one of the love birds,” he gruffly says.

You comply with a small roll of your eyes. JJ takes his spot by your side, his arm comfortably sitting around your waist. One of his calloused hands plants firmly at the top of your hip. You lean into his hold slightly, eased in his company like a reflex, and the two of you smile at the camera, squinting through the sunlight. As you go to move away and retrieve your camera, JJ’s spinning you around and dipping his head, planting a chaste kiss to your lips. Your eyes close on reflex, smile easily, and you hear your camera shutter click.

Later that night, after the fundraising is long over, you and JJ are lounging on his sofa. He said something the other day about being home alone and how much he disliked it, when his dad wasn’t around. It was strange to you that he felt that way given the hell his dad brought, but then you’d remembered Barry’s comments from what felt like a lifetime ago. How JJ was loyal to the bone, even when it might not be in his favour. You suppose love is never lost when perspective is earned. So, instead of questioning it, you’d decided to stay with JJ. It was nice anyway, playing house.

Your feet are in his lap, back lent against the arm rest, and one of JJ’s hands absentmindedly rubs at the palm of your foot. His other hand nurses a bottle of beer and his eyes are trained to the grainy TV. Every now and then he laughs, engrossed in a rerun of an old episode of The Simpsons. As you flick through the photos you’d taken that day, one makes you pause. A smile creeps onto your face. It’s one Barry had taken: JJ’s head dipped as he kisses you. You hold the camera out for JJ to see.

“JayJ,” you mumble.

He reluctantly pulls his gaze from the TV. “Yeah?”

“Look.”

He does as you ask, eyes flitting down to the camera. Taking it from you to see it better, his smile mirrors yours.

“Cute, right?”

JJ nods, almost bashful, and passes you back the camera.

“Send me that,” he says, looking back to the screen.

“Why?”

“I wanna post it,” he shrugs, as if the answer is obvious. Your giddy smile that follows makes you drive your teeth into your lower lip. Nodding, you go about transferring the photo to your phone. Placing your camera on the dusty coffee table, you shift so you can cuddle into your boyfriend’s side. He gladly makes room for you, tucking you into his body, and you steal his beer for a sip.

“Quiet you fool, it can be yours,” Homer’s inner thoughts say.

As JJ chuckles, his body shakes against yours. You look up at him, smiling to yourself at his beauty. Eventually he catches on to your staring. Looking down at you, his eyebrows raise.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, “you’re just really fucking pretty.”

Chuckling almost soundless, JJ smiles down at you. Then he’s closing the gap, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

Two.

One more and - yes, perfect.

The End

taglist:

#jj #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fic #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #jj fic #jj maybank fic #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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justghoulythingz · 7 months ago

Text

curled smoke and gossamer clouds

an au in which you and cooper howard get snug as a bug in a rug inside a photo-booth at the county fair.

pairing : cooper howard/afab reader

word count : 1.3k

warnings : sentimental horniness, finger banging in a confined space, desperate grinding, light praise kink, cooper being a genuinely kind, suave motherfucker. 18+, mdni

writing tag

gif credit

divider credit

The photo-booth is a snug fit, perfect for two adults enjoying an evening straight out of their youth. You taste like cotton candy and he smells like cigarettes. A contrast that melts into one another smoothly, painting a picture of curled smoke and gossamer clouds.

His words are spun sugar in your ear, your laughter hoarse and secretive in his.

“‘Member the first fair we went to?” Cooper reminisces, tracing circles along your abdomen.

Your initial pose is looming, so you stare at the lens, anticipation for more (always more) of him beginning behind your ribs and spanning your limbs.

You make sure to smile before you answer, the timer moving faster than the leisurely pace at which you like to experience these moments.

Outside, you hear muffled conversations and the buzzing of insects. It’s industrious farm land and the pleasures of city life combined. An eight o’clock hue beneath the curtain. Summer.

Every day is a summer’s night with Cooper Howard.

“God, I was so nervous,” you finally reply, and the deep rumble of his own laughter tickles your backside.

His thighs flex. As they distract you, pressed so tightly to yours that they’ve started to stick, one of his hands slips through the dense humidity to caress the front of your hip.

You twitch. He grins, award-winning. Your heart demands an encore.

“Scared outta your wits by a harebrained ranch hand, were ya?” he teases, peppering kisses along your throat, the shell of your ear. Right where you feel the thunder of the ocean.

The second photograph captures your full-tooth smile, glancing toward the floor, his smirk buried in your throat.

“Who is this harebrained ranch hand you’re referrin’ to? Because I distinctly remember a very determined teenage boy who excelled at everything he put his mind to. Hell, you even got me t’talk. Remember how mousy I was?”

Your speech warms him, igniting a flame, a match struck by fingertips grazing the sinew of your inner thigh. You inhale as if sparks flew directly from its tautness. He speaks against your straining tendons, watching you swallow.

“I can still make ya squeak, darlin’,” he purrs, nuzzling the bridge of his nose into you. A fever passes on to the sweet softness of your lower belly, fluttering like the wings on the other side of this maroon curtain.

In retaliation, you roll your eyes and your hips, hard. Cooper groans, his other hand sliding upward toward the curve of your swathed breast.

“‘Sides, y’weren’t mousy. Jus’ selective. I felt pretty damn lucky y’chose t’have me in your winner’s circle. You were always someone I wanted t’impress.”

You sigh contentedly: charmed, transported, as the third picture snaps.

“Coop,” you breathe, lips ghosting his. He lifts the hem of your dress, its airy texture silken against the heat dampening your skin. “You’re a naturally impressive person. Never had t’try so hard.”

He roams the length of your body, squeezing you, dipping lithe fingers between your clenched thighs. Your underwear is like a glistening veneer of dew blanketing early morning grass. His dull nails split your supple folds through the white fabric, stroking you lovingly.

The gaze you’re met with is rife with affection, adoration, ardor. Witnessing how you unfurl within its grove; how alluring you appear, how beautiful he is; causes your stomach to seize. It clamps down around everything and nothing and suddenly thaws.

The tranquility of winter, then the newness of spring.

You moan quietly, tenderly. All for him.

He stiffens underneath the pressure you provide, solidifying the more noise you make, the more you squirm.

“I wanted to.” Cooper’s voice echoes that smoker’s rasp, an amorous break. “I already told y’that. I want to. For you- ain’t that what you want? A fella who aims for your sky an’ doesn’t miss a single speck?”

Instinctively, you swallow him whole with your outstretched pupils. He lulls and stimulates you, grip on his pant leg firm, yielding, firm, yielding.

He finds specks you neglected to name. Reaches somewhere beyond the pines and hits the overwhelming enormity of space. Somehow, he makes it seem attainable.

“I want you, no matter what sky you’re aimin’ for.”

The fourth and final still is as intimate as a carnation fastened to the lapel of a school boy’s jacket, restless as he waits for his prom date at the bottom of the stairs. Dodging scrutinizing glances from her parents. Complexion reflecting streaks of sunlight as he follows her descent, standing straighter, shoulders pinned behind him.

There’s no one else in the room.

You have your arms around Cooper, drawing him closer until whatever gap remains is filled entirely with avid mouths and Elysian Fields. You live and die as many times as you devour and bring him back, returning hungrily to the parting of his lips while he delves between yours.

“Well, right now,” he grunts against you, accelerating, shifting, sneaking digits inside your panties. “I’m fixin’ for you t’cum. All over this pretty, pretty dress.”

He slots a finger beneath one of your straps, eluding the shawl decorating your shoulders, and playfully snaps it against your kindled flesh.

“All over me.”

Words are trapped in your chest as you nod. Anticipation and longing hang in the expanse of tongue and cheek, lingering like a raw scratch in the throat.

You whimper, almost wounded, as he massages your panty line, pinching and fondling the elastic like he hasn’t already made an incredible mess of you. Like you aren’t about to be ravaged inside a very small, very public photo-booth.

You are his sole focus as he ultimately succumbs to your shared desire, jaw clenching and pointing toward the ceiling while staring you down the heavy lids of his eyes.

Panting, you spread as wide as limited room allows, scuffing one of your kitten heels on the ground below. It scrapes along solid surface, sending tremors up your calf toward the tingling of your scalp, pulled by the roots.

He nods out of encouragement, mouthing whispered praises of that’s it, baby, that’s it, dulcet tones making you wetter, your release steadily building.

Like he’s aiming for.

Holding you stable, Cooper’s opposite palm fastens to your lower back, clutching you, feeling the rigidity of your spine bump into his fingertips. Added weight shoots directly to your cunt, squeezing his middle and ring finger, coaxing a breathless moan from his lungs.

“Fuck. Yes. Gettin’ close. C’mon, sugar. Gimme somethin’ sweet t’taste.”

He throbs beneath you, undulating, thrusting the littlest bit upward. You salivate at the mere imprint of his intoxicating arousal, giving him friction as you rock back and forth.

Driving him deeper inside, his thumb swirls your clit and you dip backward, exposing the slender column of your throat.

Seizing the opportunity, he sinks his head into your open, thrumming chest, cleavage cushioning and hardening him further. Fingers work faster, applying ample pressure that gathers in your belly and blossoms, stemming to each and every inaccessible part.

Your strangled gasps, both of you attempting to keep these matters private, blend and bleed together as your orgasm plunges outside of you, gushing all over the digits that gradually still.

Cooper doesn’t wait for your heart to cease its racket. He leans away and leaves you empty, a stream of restrained essence draining from you and onto his lap.

He pops fingers into his mouth, one by one, including his thumb. Humming satisfactorily, he samples them like he’s on his fourth course. Then he offers you to yourself.

You observe him past a rose-colored haze, cotton-candy film. Gripping his wrist, you bring his center digit to your lips first, wrapping your tongue around its length, moaning as the salty summer air of you brushes your senses. Tar from his cigarettes mingle with what you originally picked up on, easing in like banter on a date.

Cooper reminds you that he loves you. Loves watching you enjoy yourself. Loves being the cause of it.

You return the sentiment, reluctant to untangle your body from his. You’ve already tangled up this booth much longer than necessary.

You are, however, excited to see how the pictures turned out.

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul #ghoul #fallout #walton goggins #my writing #oneshot #curled smoke and gossamer clouds #SCREAMING INTO THE VOID #dexter’s mom from dexter’s lab voice MY PRE WAR COOP FIC IS COMPLETED!!!#god i hope i got his voice i hope you like it #feedback is always appreciated 🥹 tysm!!!

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teapartyprincess4two · 10 months ago

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I need a jealous matt fic from you. like actuallyyyy

Urban Cowboy- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Cowgirl!reader x CityBoy!Matt

classification: fluff, angst

warnings: use of y/n, mentions of jealousy, slight cursing, mentions of alcohol and alcohol use, set in the county/ a ranch

inspiration: request^^, Urban Cowboy (the movie) but with a twist & none of the abuse. Also, we’re taking a different route with jealousy hehehe

summary: Matt, a city boy, tries one upping you, the best bull rider in town, only to be met with a painful outcome.

—

Every summer the triplets were shipped away to their grandparents ranch out in the country. For a couple of months, they left their busy city life behind in favor of days plowing the field, tending to livestock, and helping their grandparents out.

Since they were kids, Matt and his brothers have always loved summers out in the country. They spent their days swimming in the river, attending the state fair, running across acres of land, and riding their bikes down dirt roads. So many of their core memories were made during these summer trips, the change of pace allowing them to unwind and relax.

But, as the boys grew older, they began practicing less innocent hobbies. Days playing in the sun were replaced with long, drunk nights at local bars. They danced with attractive people, got into bar fights, and most importantly, they traded in their bikes for mechanical bulls.

Nick and Chris were experts on the mechanical bull, easily outlasting everyone else, but everyone knew that they were just the warmup. The real show started once Matt mounted that bull, his firm grip on the leather rope enough to hold him for longer than anyone else. He had an unmatched strength that helped him too, and he quickly became cocky about it.

Crowds of drunk people would gather just to watch Matt, cheering him on with each passing minute. They would bet on how long he’d last, each time surprised that he was able to hang on for so long. The mechanical bull thrashed and bucked, but Matt’s firm grip held him steadily in place.

No one could ever outlast Matt, until you came along at least. Unlike Matt, you weren’t a city transplant. No, you were born and raised in the country, spending more than just summers doing manual labor. So, where he had natural strength, you had muscles built from years of hard work. There was also another distinguishable difference; he was bull riding as a serious hobby, but you were only doing it for fun.

Bull riding is a past time you’ve practiced your whole life, you didn’t see the point in showing off, but the second you mounted that bull and beat Matt’s time, he couldn’t help but feel like you were. It felt like you were kicking dirt in his face.

Matt, Nick, and Chris watch from the bar. They’re sitting on the stools, facing the crowd that has piled up around you. The conductor, who sits just behind the bull setup, is jolting the remote aggressively from side to side, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t knock you off. Matt feels the jealousy stir in his stomach as the crowd cheers for you, they were only supposed to cheer for him!

“Who the fuck is that?” Matt grumbles mostly to his brothers, but loud enough for the bartender to hear.

Nick and Chris shrug, how were they supposed to know who you were? Chris calls the bartender over with a tilt of his head, silently ordering three beers with his hands.

The bartender immediately fills up three glasses, the alcohol fizzing and frothing at the top. “That’s Y/n… Her dad owns the mill on the outskirts of town, biggest flour company in the west. I heard they made enough money to buy another ranch last year… Shit, they own just about every business this side of town. Pretty sure they own this damn bar,” the bartender chimes in his deep country accent catching the boys off guard as he slides the glasses to them.

Matt, who’s leaning against the bar counter, crooks his neck to look at the bartender, looking him up and down before quickly averting his gaze back to you.

Matt can’t believe anyone could ever outlast his record time of 10 minutes, but as he watches the clock he notices that you were nearing 15. “She’s fucking beating you, dude,” Chris laughs, taking a sip of his beer before slapping Matt’s chest enthusiastically. The neon clock numbers are taunting Matt, causing him to clench his jaw as his pride gets the best of him.

His whole shtick was that he was the city boy who easily outlasted all these country kids, what good did that do if he was beat by a girl?

The mechanical bull thrashes violently as the conductor tries knocking you off, but you’re using your momentum to push you past the 15 minute mark. You don’t even look like you’re struggling either, a big smile plastered on your face as you grip onto the leather rope with one hand and your hat with the other. Everyone is watching excitedly, suddenly erupting into a loud cheer as you create a new record.

“I’ve never seen anyone last that long,” Nick comments, a look of awe and shock on his face. “Then you must not be from ‘round here. That girl is a natural on that thing, she wins the bull riding contest at the state fair every year,” the bartender replies, butting into the conversation once again before shaking his head and walking away.

Matt waits until he’s out of earshot to say, “What the fuck does that mean? ‘You must not be from ‘round here?’” He puts on a dramatic, exaggerated country accent as he says the last part, an annoyed look written all over his face.

You’re standing on the bull now, riding it like a surfer rides a wave. The crowd is going crazy, cheering you on as you continue putting on a show. A smile is spread across your face as you gently sit back down, laying on your back and propping your feet on the horns, your hands weaved between your thighs as you hold onto the leather rope. Everything about your performance was effortless, and it angered Matt.

Matt decides he’s seen enough when you throw both legs to one side, casually holding yourself up with your hands on either side of your hips. He snatches his beer from the bar violently, practically chugging it before throwing it back in the counter. He sucks in through his teeth shortly after at the strong sensation, following it with a burp before throwing his hat back on and stomping over to the crowd.

“I’ll show you who ain’t from ‘round here,” Matt mutters, pushing his way through the crowd until he’s directly in front of the inflatable foundation of the bull machine. You walk right past him as you dismount, making brief eye contact as you drunkenly giggle and laugh your way to your friends. He watches as you stumble, dizzy steps guiding you through the crowd. For some reason this only further upsets Matt, causing him to mount the bull haphazardly.

He sends the conductor a look, signifying that he’s ready to start, before gripping the leather rope so tightly that his knuckles turn white. The machine starts off slowly, rocking back and forth at a pace that gives Matt enough time to properly adjust himself.

But, before he knows it, the bull is gyrating, twisting, and turning so aggressively that he’s struggling to hold on. Matt’s mind is racing with thoughts, the fear of embarrassment causing the anxiety to build up. It feels like the conductor is purposefully trying to knock him off with enough force to hurt him, and it doesn’t help that no one in the crowd is cheering.

After the show you just gave, Matt’s performance was sub par in comparison. He was stiff as a board from the nerves, making it harder to keep his balance. By this point his his hat flew off, bouncing on the inflatable floor beneath him, and he was holding onto the rope for dear life.

“Look at this guy, showing off because he got beat by a girl,” someone snickers from the crowd, the comment being followed by a roar of laughter. That’s when the conductor bucks the machine forward, quickly knocking Matt onto his stomach before pulling the remote and forcing Matt to straighten his back to stay mounted.

Just as he’s gaining confidence in himself, the bull tilts to the right sharply enough to send Matt flying. The inflatable cushion beneath him does nothing to break his fall, the sheer force at which he was thrown being enough to break his arm. The crowd immediately groans as they watch Matt’s body ricochet when it comes in contact with the edge of the ring.

You were facing away from the crowd, engaged in a conversation with your friends, but as soon as you hear the crowd groaning and yelling you turn towards the scene. Matt is laying on the ground, clutching his arm as he tries to breathe through the pain. Everyone watches, but nobody helps, they just stand there either laughing or wincing at the idea of being in that much pain.

“Move!” you exclaim, pushing your way through the crowd and immediately walking into the ring. The spongy ground makes it harder to walk to Matt, who’s looking at you with wide eyes. This was the most embarrassing moment of his life.

You crouch in front of him, using all your force to pull him up from the ground while still being careful not to hurt him.

He lets you pick him up and guide him to a secluded area. His cheeks are burning hot with embarrassment and his eyes sting, the tears threatening to spill from the build up of anxiety and pain.

But he sucks it up and follows you, avoiding everyone’s wandering eyes.

—

“It don’t look broken, just sprained,” you comment, wrapping a bandage around Matt’s limp wrist. He hums in response, avoiding eye contact with you and you can’t figure out why.

“Sorry if I’m oversteppin’. just thought you could use some help,” your country accent is thick, and for the first time since the night started Matt isn’t completely jealous of you. He’s silently grateful that you evacuated him from the embarrassing situation, immediately feeling guilt for trying to one up you and show off.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, wincing as you accidentally pull his wrist. Once the pain subsides he continues, “you were pretty great out there.” The compliment hurts his ego, but you’re being so kind to him that he puts his own jealousies to the side. Matt’s sitting on a bar stool, the both of you in a secluded corner of the bar as you continue tending to his injury.

“Thanks, weren’t too bad yourself,” you offer him a genuine smile, gently placing his arm onto his lap. It was evident, just by looking at him, that Matt wasn’t from here and that made him more alluring. You stand in between his legs, the close proximity building a tension that neither of you know what to do with.

“Can I be honest?” he asks, once again avoiding eye contact and looking into the distance. His eyes train on the mechanical bull, watching as someone else takes a turn on it. You hum in response, trying to move in front of his line of vision to catch his attention.

“I only got on that bull because I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” His statement caught you off guard, what did he have to be jealous of?

“Yeah, jealous. It sounds childish, but I really wanted to beat your time… all I ended up with was a sprained wrist,” he chuckles, fiddling with his fingers. If he wasn’t being so vulnerable, and if he wasn’t injured, you might’ve gotten upset.

“Well, I’ve seen you ride before. You’re better than everyone here,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation uplifting.

“Not better than you.”

“Yeah, not better than me,” you reply seriously, waiting for him to face you before smiling. “I’m kidding,” you laugh, punching his shoulder slightly. He winces before joining you with a chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I can teach you a few moves,” you continue, your eyes wrinkling from how hard you were smiling. Matt’s smiling too, he felt silly for feeling jealous earlier.

“I’d like that,” he chuckles, opening his legs wider for you to scoot in closer. You take the invitation, your hats bumping together slightly. The smile on your face is engulfed by Matt’s lips as he moves in for a kiss, his uninjured wrist resting on your waist.

“Easy there, cowboy,” you murmur as you feel his hands inch down towards your ass. He laughs in response, going in for another kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n:

Cowboy Matt is my favorite. I might make a part two that’s much more angsty bc we need that full Urban Cowboy moment, but for now enjoy this 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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ghoulsbounty · 7 months ago

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Hii! What's your headcanons about relationship with Otis Driftwood? Nothing too violent towards reader after they became a s/o, if you could, without going into ooc <3

Otis Driftwood In a Relationship

Warnings: smut (18+), control, possessiveness, gaslighting, mentions of sex work (not reader), canon-typical violence, aggression, narcissism, it's otis - he is a warning!

Words: 1.1K

A/N: Thank you for my first Otis request! I've been in love with this man for going on twenty years so I have lots of headcanons for him. I feel like this is realistically (to me) how he would have a relationship with someone who wasn't either a victim or murderer while still keeping him in character (I hope!) Also yes I had to get the quote in the last bullet, I was watching the film as I wrote this. I hope you enjoy it. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

→ It's widely known that Otis harbours some unconventional interests. In the small town of Ruggsville, the Firefly family's prominence, especially their ties to local celebrity Captain Spaulding, is undeniable. In this backwater community, everyone has their own shades of darkness when it comes to entertainment or survival, so you don't bat an eyelash at the rumours circulating about the family.

→ Otis charms you with his quick wit and sharp tongue, an aura of danger enveloping him and lingering in his presence. He frequents the local watering hole where you work, spending quiet summer evenings regaling you with stories of travelling the country with his younger sister, moving from one stolen car to the next. When you ask why he returned to the dead-end town, he nonchalantly declares that family is the most important thing to him. And then, with a mischievous grin, he casually mentions his involvement in a Satanic cult.

→ Otis thinks that perhaps what draws him to you is your refusal to flinch at his unsavoury stories or the sly smirk you offer when he alludes to the sweet taste of your skin. He enjoys the recoil from others, welcomes it even because it's what he's known since he was a child and means he's got the upper hand. You give him pause, a dangerous thing indeed. In you, he sees a kindred spirit equally disillusioned with societal norms, and he wonders how long it will take to break you.

→ With every aspect seemingly covered, there's no obvious place for you in his life. Yet, thoughts of you intrude on his mind during the day, distracting him from his tasks. The persistent idea that you might offer something different to his routine gradually consumes him, eroding all other thoughts until only you remain.

→ His carnal needs are met by the bottom feeders he keeps around for a quick release. Sometimes, when their pleading becomes bothersome and he wants the peace and quiet, he will end it fast because it's easier when they're cold. He pulls them into his cot and curls into them until they have festered and rotten to the point that Tiny has to dispose of them. If it's a willing body he seeks, a trip to the whorehouse suffices.

→ It's a few months before you meet the family. Otis doesn't need to tell you the importance of the moment, you can sense it in his tense demeanour, permeating the lounge as Mama parades you around the room like a prize pig at the county fair. You sense his eyes upon you, observing your reactions to each member, particularly noting your response to Tiny's imposing presence and your handling of Grandpa's vulgarity. In his mind, he rationalizes that you'll need a strong stomach if you are going to be with him.

→ You are under no illusion that you're not the only person from whom Otis seeks comfort. He isn't shy about the fact that he needs more than what you can give him, says as much when he insists on you leaving him be for a few days to exorcise his darker urges. He doesn't approach the subject of you joining him sometimes until he is certain that you won't spring like a scared rabbit. When he finally does ask, you accept with a morbid curiosity.

→ Otis certainly has his private indulgences, but he takes great pleasure in involving you in some of his less solitary activities. Whatever the pursuit may be, it often concludes with him inside of you, his teeth leaving raw marks on your skin as he draws out multiple orgasms from your pliable body.

→ In these moments, he alternates between showering you with praise and delivering sharp, cutting remarks, his rough fingers encircling your throat as he thrusts into you with relentless force, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy until you're cock drunk and screaming his name. He relishes in the intensity of the experience, breaking you down only to rebuild you according to his desires, sculpting you into his perfect masterpiece.

→ Over time, Otis's possessiveness and control puts an end to your employment, your independence dwindling in the face of your need to be with him and his need for your servitude. His affection is conditional upon your compliance and submission, and when you prove yourself to him is when you get your reward of a tender kiss to your nose, or being pulled into his lap for a warm embrace. His love is a privilege to be earned, and he is fast to take it away if he deems you unworthy of it.

→ Otis perceives you as an extension of himself, expecting you to conform to his desires and interests. He finds pleasure in your engagement with his world, he likes when you lounge on his stained mattress in nothing but his shirt listening to his musings on the complexities of human nature. He encourages you to challenge his viewpoints, igniting debates that fuel his passion.

→ However, you soon discover that venturing into this territory can be perilous. It often results in Otis's eyes blazing with fury, his hands trembling with conviction as he towers over you, unleashing a torrent of berating and belittling words until you find yourself on your knees before him. It's a volatile dance of intellectual stimulation intertwined with the raw intensity of his dominance.

→ It falls to you to navigate these moments, gently guide him back to a sense of equilibrium with a steady stream of apologies and affirmations, trail open mouthed kisses down his body until you feel him relax under your touch. Sometimes his tumultuous thoughts wouldn't waver and he'd either take his frustrations out on your cunt or push you away until you are begging at his door. For Otis, isolation becomes a test of your loyalty—will you stay, or run?

→ And time and again, you choose to stay, receiving no verbal apology afterward because that is Otis' way. However, when he deems fit, he leaves small tokens on the bedside table for you to find in the morning—a small sculpture, a painting—his non-verbal way of acknowledging his feelings about his actions. You know better than to draw attention to these gestures. Instead, you offer a kiss to his lips as a silent acknowledgment of his effort to make amends. His response is typically playful yet affectionate, a light smack on your behind accompanied by an eye roll, never one to dwell on sentimentality.

→ Overall, Otis is content with you, would dare say happy. You fit into his life with ease, don't give him much grief when you're not busy bitching a song about nothing. However, the devil makes work for idle hands, and there's still work to be done in fully acclimating you to his ways. He does love watching you break.

#otis driftwood x reader #otis driftwood headcanons #otis driftwood imagines #otis driftwood smut #otis driftwood x you #otis driftwood #otis b driftwood #bill moseley #house of 1000 corpses #the devils rejects #3 from hell #slasher imagines #slasher fandom #slashers preference #slash fanfiction #slashers x reader #slashers headcanon #slasher preference #slashers

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

Text

august: a no good at waiting one-shot

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins. You and your enemy-turned-friend-turned-love-of-your-life Steve Harrington are feeling a little restless as summer passes. Your anxieties will not leave you alone: Are you going to move in together? Does Steve want to leave Hawkins? What will you do if he goes somewhere else? It all comes to a head on a day spent at Lover's Lake.

fluff, angst, miscommunication, musings about making choices, and lots of love! [5.4k]

this is a one-shot set after the events of no good at waiting, a farmer's market au, so it's best if you read that first! | au masterlist

Everything is perfect.

Well, not exactly. But you're happy.

Okay, again, not the whole truth. You're mostly happy. You love living in Hawkins, you love working at New-Bee's and the library, and you love Steve. Your boyfriend, your short-lived enemy, your favorite person. Who is kind of pissing you off right now.

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins not knowing what you wanted or who you were or how things were going to go. This summer has been fantastic -- dates with Steve and nights with your friends, drives to amusement parks and county fairs and visiting Robin's campus. It feels right to be here and you're glad that you decided to stay. You think that maybe you've finally figured out how life is supposed to feel: like this. Like love.

But at the moment, Steve has you in a bit of a rut. A few months ago he told you he really wanted to go on a trip this summer. Something just the two of you, a week or two, exploring a new place. You loved the idea because you love doing anything with Steve, but for some reason he's hardly mentioned it since then. And with the end of summer fast approaching, you know your chances at getting away are running out. As far as you can tell, he hasn't planned anything secret. Sure, things have been busy: El broke her arm last month so Steve took on extra shifts, there was a huge storm that flooded some of the fields, you got a promotion and the library and thus more hours, his car needed new breaks. The stars haven't aligned but there also hasn't been any...effort.

And that's just one thing.

The other thing, which is maybe bigger and actually makes you a bit mad, is you've been focused on figuring out how to move in together. You live at Bob's still and while you spend a lot of time at Steve's loft you've talked about finding a place of your own and your loose goal was to have it sorted by the fall. But he talks about both the move and the trip like they're just dreams, far away things that will never actually happen. He's vague whenever you bring up the new apartments going up on the old mall property, about the for sale signs you sometimes see around town. He tells you that it'll work out, that he wants to be sure you guys have enough money to be comfortable.

Does he not want to move in with you? It's a silly thought, sure, but what else are you supposed to think? He's spending every minute he's not with you at the farm or on errands he's been calling "Hopper Missions" on some property just outside of town. It's like he's filling the time so there's no room to discuss the future, like he wants to pretend it'll be summer forever.

Being in an adult relationship is hard. It's lots of decisions and compromise and learning how to talk to each other even when you don't want to and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You know it'll all work out, you just wish that it was worked out already, so you could enjoy the end of the summer and stop worrying that your boyfriend doesn't want to live with you. You know that you should just tell him how you're feeling, but that's easier said than done. Every time you try you wonder if you're being oversensitive or ungrateful or reading into things too much and you back out. Feelings are hard, okay?

You're mulling over the weight of all of these thoughts at the market on one warm Saturday morning in August. Market day is routine by now. It was fun to be here for the start of the season back in May, but you prefer the high summer days when there are endless fruits and veggies to buy and everyone is full of energy and excitement at another day. By now you run the stand practically alone -- local kids free for the summer help you stock in the morning and unload and cover when you're otherwise occupied. You've expanded to four standard candle scents and try out a seasonal one every month or so and the soaps were a very popular graduation gift. You've just tried your hand at chapsticks and they're doing really well.

Most people in town call you by your name when they come say hi. It's a little slow this month, with seasonal allergy honey sticks being less and less popular as the season winds down. So you feel okay retreating into your thoughts until someone clears their throat. You snap out of it and find El standing in front of you with a paper bag. There's a crease between her brows as she watches you.

"Hi," you say. "Is that for me?"

She nods. "I said that you looked sad so Steve told me to bring you something because he's 'up to his ears in husk'. He said you didn't eat breakfast." She uses air quotes. You soften.

"Thank you," you tell her. She keeps looking at you for a few moments before giving you a smile and trotting back to the Sara's tent. Inside the bag is one of her newer experiments -- peach scones. It's fantastic. You munch on it and keep smiling at anyone who comes by, though it's maybe not as effusive as you'd like. You really want to talk to someone about how you're feeling (a voice in your head says that person should be your boyfriend but you ignore it) but you're not sure who to go to. Robin is in Boston visiting Nancy at her hot-shot job at the paper, Eddie and Wayne are on a fishing trip somewhere in Michigan, and you're not about to chat to high schoolers about your love life, no matter how much you like them. You're not sure anyone around here notices your mood like your friends do.

"Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?"

Well, anyone but your friends and...Murray, it seems. The guy is a little weird, sure, but he's friends with Hopper and Joyce and he really buys "a fuck ton" from the market every week, as Steve once said.

"Hi Mr. Bauman," you say. He frowns.

"Cut that Mr. shit out," he says, though it's not harsh. You do this dance every time he comes to buy an alarming amount of honey. "Your mood is going to ruin the honey."

"I...don't think that's how it works," you say. He levels you with a stare that you think must have served him well when he was a journalist in Chicago, as you've learned he was. "I'm thinking about a place to live?"

"You sure?" he says, poking fun at your uncertainty. "You can live anywhere. Trust me. Cars aren't great, but they'll do. I'd avoid tents. Very damp."

"I guess I was thinking a house," you admit, looking at your fingers. You've never put this into words before and you're not sure why you're doing it now. "Somewhere not too big, maybe with some land so I could get a dog. Not in town but not too far from town." You sigh. "It's a dumb dream."

Murray doesn't say anything. You look up at him and he looks confused. His gaze darts between you and the Sara's stand where you can see the back of Steve's head. "Not the dumbest I've heard."

He slaps down a bill and picks up his usual jar and walks away without another word. Whatever, he's a weird guy.

The day winds down and you're a little too warm to be comfortable and you're just sweaty enough that you want to take a shower and you've stewed in your feelings for too long. Of course this is when Steve comes over. Handsome as ever in his work jeans despite the heat and a Sara's t-shirt he's cut the arms off of, he looks like the lead in a teen movie.

You're loading up the crates to take back to the truck. He squeezes your hip in hello before he starts to help. "How did New-Bee's do today?" he asks.

You shrug. "Average. You?"

"Every damn person in this town wanted corn," he says. "I swear it felt like we sold more than we did for the fourth!"

You hum. It's unfair that your mood has plummeted just as he's shown up and you don't want to take it out on him, even if you consider it a little bit his fault. Steve, for his part, is being a typical boy and doesn't notice. "Hey, listen," he says.

"Listening," you mutter.

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow." That gets you to look at him. He wipes his forehead with his pocket bandana.

"The lake? Why?"

"Everyone says it'll be hotter than today and I think we deserve a day to relax, don't you think?" He squints at the sky, shading his eyes. His arms look lovely like this. "I know we haven't gone on that trip so this is like, a mini trip! Staycation? I think that's what it's called."

"I don't know if a day at the lake in town counts as a vacation, Steve," you say. But even as the words come out you find yourself wanting to go because its something to do. You haven't been swimming in the lake despite Steve's summer bucket list item of skinny dipping. You've actually only been to the lake in general a few times, which is a bit strange since it's such a big place in your relationship. You kissed for the first time at the bonfire on the shore, you told him you loved him in the cab of your truck on a cold night.

"So, is that a no?" He's looking at you with a confused expression.

"It's a yes. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just us. We can have a picnic or some cute shit, yeah?" He rests his hand on your lower back and maybe it's a combination of the heat and your mood and the universe but you don't want him to touch you right then so you pull away from it. You don't look at him.

"Are you sure you don't have super secret Hopper shit to do?" Silence behind you.

"No," Steve says, dragging the word out. "Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?"

You ignore his question. "Are you going to come get me in the morning?" Usually, you'd go home, shower, and then stay over at Steve's place. This is a clear line in the sand that you're not sure is fair to draw.

"Sure," he says. "But, seriously, what's going on?" You do look at him then. He's got a frustrated set to his shoulders and his brows are drawn like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

You chew on your lip, hands in fists at your sides. "Nothing," you say. He gives you an incredulous look. "Okay, I just don't want to talk about it right now." The last thing you need is to not talk about it but you can feel that you're getting actually bothered about this and you don't want to have a discussion that gets taken over by your mood.

"Okaaaaay," he says. It annoys you even more. Your own shoulders creep up to your ears. "I'll help you pack up and then --"

"No," you say sharply. "I can do it myself."

"Woah, woah, woah," he says. "Okay, alright!" He holds his hands up in the air and the fight wooshes out of you.

"I don't want to fight with you, Steve."

"Who said we were fighting? Do we have something to fight about?"

You close your eyes and tip your head back. It all comes out in a rush. "Steve, I love you and we spend so much time together and I keep trying to get you to talk about looking for a place and you just won't and you want to go on a trip but you won't actually plan it and you want to go to the fucking lake tomorrow and it's like you want to do anything except talk about this stuff and I don't really want to be around you right now."

You don't feel any better for having said all of it. In fact, your chest aches and your nose stings. You don't know if you can look at him.

"I didn't know you were that upset about it," he says finally. It sounds frosty.

"I didn't tell you."

"I can see that," he says. You still don't look at him.

The market is really closing up around you, fewer voices and commotion. You wonder if anyone heard this argument. "I can pack the rest. I'll see you tomorrow." You could have told him you don't want to go but maybe the lake is where you can squash this once and for all.

Steve seems to take the dismissal at face value because you hear him sigh. Part of you wants him to fight you on it right here right now, to sort it out so you can stop feeling so worried all the time. But he doesn't. Instead, you hear his steps and then feel the heat of him as he gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Okay," he says. "See you tomorrow."

And then he's gone.

"Fuck," you say to yourself. You shake yourself out of it and try to pack away the rest of the stall with as much speed as you can muster without breaking anything. The scar across your palm is faint by now but you aren't eager to get another one.

You're almost done bringing the crates to the truck when you hear your name. Will stands in front of your stall, a hesitant smile on his face. He's a sweet kid -- 18, soon, you think, so hardly a kid at all -- and you've gotten to know him a little more since you asked if he wanted to draw the labels for the chapsticks.

"Hi, Will," you say. "Sorry I didn't see you."

He's holding a single sunflower. "Sorry to bother you," he says. "This guy is the only one left today and El said you looked a little down earlier so I thought maybe you'd like it?"

You blink a few times. "Did you, uh, hear all of...that?" You vaguely gesture behind you as if the ghost of Steve is standing there with his arms crossed.

Will looks at you for a second, considering something. Then he holds the flower out and says, "Hear what?" Tactful kid.

"Thanks, Will." He tells you to have a good day and goes back to the flower stand. The sunflower stem is velvet-soft in your hand and the petals are a brilliant yellow. It's a bit lonely on it's own but you will put it in a wine bottle and keep it on your windowsill.

Imagining it there, the only stem, standing as tall as it can in the sunshine in your bedroom, makes you want to cry.

The thing you're most scared of is Steve wanting to leave Hawkins after all. You knew it was a genuine possibility when you started dating, knew that he wanted to explore the world just as you started to make yours here. You told him you'd go with him anywhere he wanted and you meant it then. But now you're not so sure. You love Hawkins and you love Steve. You don't know what you're going to do if one of them demands you leave the other.

Your mind churns as you go to bed and as soon as you wake up. Maybe he doesn't want to plan a trip because he's afraid he won't want to come back. Maybe he's afraid to move in together because he doesn't want to invest time and money into something he'll leave behind. Maybe he's already got plans and he's trying to figure out how to tell you.

"Stop it," you tell yourself in the bathroom mirror. You're prone to this kind of overthinking; it's why you made the huge mistake of running from him last fall. And while you know him so much better, know yourself so much better, sometimes it's hard to believe that you not only deserve nice things and a nice life full of love but that you already have them. And that's why you don't know if you can leave even if you told him you could.

You sit at the kitchen table in your swimsuit under shorts and a wax-stained New-Bee's t-shirt and feel a bit sick about yesterday. You know that Steve will come get you -- he would have called if he didn't want to go anymore. You don't leave each other in a lurch like that, even if you've fought. But you're worried that you've ruined the chance of a fun day that hasn't even happened yet.

The frustration with Steve still simmers under your skin. But you want to table it to have a bit of fun, if you can. You hear the crunch of his tires in the driveway and you grab your stuffed bag and head for the door. You're greeted with the sight of Steve getting out of the car and smiling at you a little hesitantly. He's in bright red swim trunks and a ratty Hawkins High t-shirt and sunglasses.

"What is this, Baywatch?" you ask him, breaking the tension. He laughs and meets you on the porch stairs to give you a quick kiss. You chase his lips a little but he doesn't call you on it.

"Well, I was a lifeguard," he says.

"Which I bet you did just so you could look hot in the chair."

"Obviously," Steve says. He takes your bag from you. "Actually, I taught kids to swim, too. Jesus, what's in here, a watermelon?"

You roll your eyes. "Just the essentials. Sunscreen, a book, some sandwiches, grapes, a water bottle, spare clothes, a towel, a hat --"

"Okay, okay, damn," he laughs, putting it in the back seat. You get in the car and he heads for the lake, windows down. He was right about the weather -- it's much hotter than yesterday already. It could be a nice day. You want it to be a nice day. But the churning your gut demands you address the elephant in the room.

When Steve reaches for the radio you catch his hand in yours.

"Steve," you say. "I do want to talk about yesterday." He doesn't look at you, chewing on his cheek and tapping the wheel in what you know is a nervous habit.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably should. But I also want today to be nice, okay?" He kisses the back of your hand.

"I do, too."

It's not much but it's enough for now. It doesn't take long to get to the lake. Steve takes you to a different part than where you had the bonfire and where you told him you love him. This area has a dock and some grass and a shore of sand and rocks that you can see from where he parks the car.

"There's no one here," you say, unloading the backseat. "Are we even allowed to swim?"

Steve grabs the blanket from his trunk and you spread it out on the grass. "Yeah," he says. "Five years ago or something they finished a project with some scientists or some shit to make sure the lake was good for swimming. They built this but honestly I don't think a ton of people come here." He shrugs. "Or they knew we were coming and left it to us."

"Lucky us," you smirk. You spread out your items on the grass before shimmying out of your shorts and t-shirt. Steve wolf whistles. "Gross!" you tell him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking sorry at all. "That's a nice color on you. Have I seen this before?" His eyes rake over you and you plant your hands on your hips instead of crossing your arms.

"Have we been swimming before?" you ask him.

He grins. "Good point." He pulls off his shirt in one motion from the collar like boys do and without another word sprints down the small hill and onto the dock, jumping off the end and into the water with a yelp and a splash.

"Such a child," you mutter, but you're endeared. He surfaces and shakes out his head like a dog.

"Okay," he says. "It's kind of really fucking cold."

You stop in your tracks, feet just on the edge of the dock. "Really?"

"No," he says. "It's only a little cold. Nice, though." You look skeptical.

"Did you put on sunscreen?" you ask, stalling.

"Yeah." Steve swims in slow circle. "Did you? I'll do your back," he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I did it already," you say primly. You knew that if you ended up touching too much on this date, you'd never get to talk about the stuff you need to talk about. "So no back rub necessary." Steve shoots a stream of water at you with his mouth. It gets your knees.

"It is cold!" you squeal. Steve looks too pleased with himself. "It's on, Harrington." You take a few running steps and cannonball into the water.

Honestly, once you've been under for a few seconds it's not so bad. You surface and find Steve grinning at you. "That was cute," he says. You splash him.

After acting like children for a little you both float on your backs, hands clasped, watching the sky. Your conversation and teasing fades and in its place returns your anxiety and frustration from yesterday.

Steve seems to think you're hungry. "Let's eat something," he says. "And put on some more sunscreen."

He gets up on the dock first and runs to get your towels. He wraps yours around your dripping shoulders and you stand in his arms for a second, hand pressed to his heart to feel it beat. You love him. You will work this out. You wonder if it's possible for something to go wrong not because you don't love each other enough but because you love each other too much.

"I made you a great sandwich," you say, pulling away. "And you need more sunscreen, too. Your nose is getting red."

"Wait, really?"

You settle on the blanket and lay out your lunch. Steve pulls berries from his own bag and you eat in a silence that is only a little tense until he tosses a strawberry top into the grass and sighs.

"So, I'm guessing now is the time to talk about it?" he asks.

"Do you not want to?" You don't want this to be a fight but you don't know what else it's going to be.

"No, of course I do," he says. "We need to, clearly." He crosses his legs, his tanned stomach rolling in the way you adore over the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you love him. That's why you have to figure this out.

"We do," you say, squaring your shoulders. "I'll start." The frustration returns full force. "What the hell have you been up to, Steve? You're busy all the time and I don't need to know what you're doing because I do trust you. I just don't get why you can't tell me what you're doing on these weird errands and you won't talk to me about going on a trip or moving and I thought those were both things we wanted."

"I do want those things --"

"I've been looking into what we can afford in Hawkins and thinking about places we could go and I'm busy busting my ass at the library when I'm not at New-bee's so that we can live somewhere nice. And it just seems like you don't actually care that much about moving in together because --"

"I do, care," he says over you. "I just don't want to live in Hawkins."

Time slows down. Your heart thunders in your ears. "What did you say?"

Steve looks stressed. He reaches for you but you don't want to touch him so you cross your arms. A look of hurt crosses his face but it fades quickly.

"Let me explain," he says. "I can explain it all. If I had known you were feeling this way I would have much earlier. Why didn't you tell me?"

You shake your head to clear it. He doesn't want to live in Hawkins? Well, what does he want? Does he want you, still? "Because I didn't think you'd make me feel this way," you say hoarsely.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to go on a trip this summer, yeah. I thought it would be fun. And then, like, two months ago, I started thinking about how I didn't actually want to leave Hawkins, but I also don't want to keep living the same life in Hawkins, if that makes sense."

Two months? Two months? The timeline rolls around in your mind. He's been thinking about this for two months and he didn't tell you?

Steve is still talking, apparantly not noticing your distress. "And we talked about looking for a place so I realized that maybe a trip wasn't a good use of our money even though I know we both work hard and are doing fine. And then I was on a drive the weekend you went to visit your family, remember?"

You nod. You'd gone home for a weekend and missed him terribly the entire time. Steve taps your ankle and you realize he wants you to reply. His eyes are wide like he's scared and he runs a hand through his hair. What is he scared of? "Yeah," you say hollowly. "I called you every night."

"You did," he says. "The first night you left I went for a drive all around the county, basically. Just to get out of town but not go too far. To do anything other than mope at my place after we hung up. And that's when I found it."

You aren't following. He leans forward and taps your cheek with his knuckle. "The most perfect damn place in the world."

"Don't tell me you bought a piece of land, Steve," you say. It doesn't seem like a thing he'd do and wouldn't make sense if he's just going to leave.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you. "No," he says. "I didn't buy it. Well, not really."

"Not really?" you say, incredulous. What the fuck is going on?

"I'm almost done explaining, I swear, honey." He runs a hand through his damp hair again. "It's maybe half an hour out of Hawkins proper. It's a real nice little farmhouse with lots of open space around it and I saw it and it felt like I'd been struck by lightning, or something."

The pieces start to fall into place but you don't dare hope. "Dramatic," you say.

"Hey, don't make fun of me!" Your joke seems to encourage him. "It looked like no one lived there so I figured out what the address was and turns out that weird guy Murray owns it."

Murray? Who you say yesterday at the farmer's market and who listened to you tell him about your dream property? That he, apparently, happens to own?

"He's not that weird," you mumble.

"He is weird but I don't give a shit because he doesn't use it and after talked to me he agreed to rent it to us for barely anything if I fixed it up a little first. So that's what I've been doing."

Steve looks at you, eyes wide and waiting. You blink a few times and try to take it all in.

"So let me get this right," you say. "When you haven't been working at Sara's or spending time with me, you've been fixing up a house that you're going to rent from Murray? And you told me none of this? For two months?"

Steve frowns. "When you say it like that I sound like the bad guy. Also, we're going to rent it." He seems to realize you haven't agreed to anything by the way his face falls and okay, maybe you're being a little unfair. Yes, he lied, a little bit, but it wasn't anything harmful. You just got in your head about it.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me," you say, feeling small. "I was starting to think that you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Steve reaches for you and you let him take your hands this time.

"Didn't actually want to live together. Didn't want to go on a trip. I don't know." You sigh.

Steve looks genuinely upset at that you've thought this. "Honey," he says, voice rough. "All I want is to live with you. This house is for us. Now that I'm saying it out loud I'm realizing I probably should have told you that at the start."

A whole house. You've imagined your first place together to be a dinky apartment on the edge of town. But a house? It's a dream come true. You bring Steve's palm to your cheek and lean into it.

"I thought we were good at communicating," you say softly.

"Apparantly not," he says wryly. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just...wanted to make it nice and official first, I guess." His thumb strokes your cheek. "But you should have told me how you were feeling a long time ago."

"Yeah," you agree. "I'm sorry. Would have saved me some heartache and you some hard work. I could have helped!"

"You still can," he says, eyes lighting up. "It's not quite done. I still need to paint the outside."

You scoot forward so you're almost in his lap. "Where did you learn to fix up a house, Steve?"

"Hopper," he says. He fiddles with the strap of your bathing suit. "He's been helping. So I really was doing Hopper stuff, kind of?" He licks his lips. Another nervous tell. "So, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the house. I know it's a lot and we're still kind of young but renting means we can change our minds and --"

You put your head in your hands. "Steve," you say, voice thick. "I'm still getting over the fact that I thought you didn't want to move win with me and finding out that instead you've found us a house."

His hands circle your wrists. "Only to rent!" he says a little desperately. "I mean, you might not even like it!" You allow him to pull your palms away. Your nose starts to sting.

"I will," you say.

"Oh no," Steve says. "You look like you're going to cry." He pulls you fully into his arms and flops onto his back on the blanket, taking you with him. You land on his chest with an oof.

"I've been really scared," you say into his bare chest. "That you were going to leave and I don't know if I can follow you because I love it here even though I love you, too."

"I know," he says. "But I think this is perfect. It's close but not the place we've been. It's ours until we want something different. And I don't think I want to leave because I want to be wherever you are."

"It's so grown up." You sniffle and he rubs your back.

"I know," he sighs. You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," you echo and laugh wetly. "Is the yard big enough for a dog?"

"Sure is," he says. "Do you want to drive by when we head home?"

"I do." He hums.

You sit in silence for a few breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, but please tell me things next time, okay?" He looks down at you through long lashes.

"Deal," he says. "I love you back, but please tell me how you're feeling, okay?"

"Deal." You roll off of him and sit up. "Can we go see our house now?"

He grins toothily. "Hell yes we can," he says. "Well, it's not ours yet. Seriously, we have to work that out with Murray. I think we need a lawyer to draw something up? I don't really know how all that works --"

You kiss him in the middle of his sentence. "We'll figure it out."

"You're right," he says. He kisses you again. "We will."

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#no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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