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princessbrunette · 7 months ago

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conversing with the kook drug dealer wasn’t exactly how you’d expected to spend your time at this party — but here you were, stood outside a locked bathroom door as the party ensues downstairs, waiting for your friend to finish throwing up all of her shots whilst none other than rafe cameron kept you company.

the older boy leans against the wall as you make small talk — his demeanour oddly chill. infact, more chill than you’d seen him before. you were guessing it was more of a weed night than it was coke.

you fix your hoop earring, tilting your head as you stare up at him in intrigue.

“so what do you do, rafe?” you converse sweetly and he inhales, reaching up to scratch behind his head like he was struggling with an answer.

“i told you. deal that yayo. someone’s gotta get the good shit round here—”

“no like what else do you do? for fun?”

rafe stops in his tracks for a moment, a smirk biting at the corner of his mouth at the innocent nature of your question. it wasn’t often someone asked him something like that — so whilst he wasn’t usually a fan of small talk, you were cute, and he couldn’t help but want to entertain the conversation. rafe leans against the wall some more, blowing out air and shaking his head.

“i uh, i’m boring baby i smoke, i deal i make money n’that’s about it. not much to it i’m uh… i’m afraid.”

you get all clammy and adorable over the ‘baby’ nickname, smiling and clasping your hands together like a little doll before he’d even finished talking. “oh okay!” you respond, seeming happy enough with his non-answer, and there’s even a pause — you seeming completely unphased by the gap in conversation as you continue to gaze up at him with giddy smile before the moment is interrupted by the door flying open and your friend bolting out— back towards the party.

your head whips round to watch her, probably about to ask her where on earth she was going — but your wonder is quickly remedied by her yelling out an incoherent confession regarding her heading back to grab more shots.

you let her go, deciding someone will get to her first — before you turn back and watch rafe swagger into the bathroom, quickly checking himself in the mirror before turning his body round to look back at you.

“you wanna… you wanna see how i do it?” he licks his lips, not too sure where this was going — but he knew he wasn’t ready for the interaction to end.

being the easy going person you are, you shrug with a happy smile — following him in and shutting the door. “sure!”

the two of you stand at the sink, and you watch the way the taller cameron boy fishes in his pocket, pulling out a baggie of white powder.

“i thought dealers weren’t supposed to get high on their own supply?” you pout questioningly through the mirror and he lets out a quiet chuckle at the use of the cliche saying.

“yeah uh, they’re not. but i gotta wake the hell up… n’plus i’ve got my hands on some of the best shit this side of the island. would be a crime not to sample my own goods, right?” he drawls as he prepares the line on the white marble, the movements almost second nature to him like he’d done it a bazillion times. you watch in intrigue, tilting your head. “smoked a shit tonne of weed before this so… not sure it’s gonna cancel out that mellow high. we’ll see.” he glances up at you through the mirror, talking in a knowledgable manner, leaving with you but no choice but to nod along in interest. your curiosity always did lead you to odd situations.

you watch as he cuts the powder into a thin line with his credit card before leaning over the sink and snorting it up. in the most nonjudgmental way one could muster, you blink up at him as he draws back, sniffing and wiping his nose like it pained him.

“woo, shit.” he coughs a little, shaking himself off before clearing up the residue and pocketing the baggie, moving around you to wash his hands and push his hair back in the mirror. “your friends don’t do coke?” he chats, seeming a little more amped than before, pupils dilated in his reflection.

“they do. just not around me. i dunno why.” you shrug a shoulder and he chuckles a little harder than necessary at the comment.

“yeah… you’re the innocent one huh?” he turns back to you, and you eye his pocket in interest with a hum.

“maybe i could change that. can i try some?”

surprisingly, rafe winces — wiping his hands on his pants, eyeing you.

“uh… nah, kid. you wouldn’t like it. trust me, shits not good for you.” he walks to the door, opening it and holding it open for you to walk through. you’re quickly distracted by the gentlemanly act and smile, though he mainly did it to get a look at your ass as you walk through. “why don’t you run along n’get another drink though, a’ight? you’ll know where to find me.” he briefly passes a hand over your lower back as he scooches past you in the slim hallway, looking over his shoulder as he heads off to find some clients to sell to.

you pout for a moment, feeling dismissed — but little did you know, rafe had listened to that quiet voice in his head that he usually ignores. the one that told him ‘leave that girl alone.’

#divider by me pls credit if u use ♡#hey so i hate this!#dealer!rafe #rafe cameron prompt #tw drug use

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kjsfandoms · 6 months ago

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Lust and Love

Eddie Munson x Reader

Description: Eddie is dating the girl he's been pinning over for years- Chrissy Cunningham. What happens when a new girl enters his life?

Word Count: 3k

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Chrissy and Eddie have been dating for a good few months now and they both truly are happy. Eddie had been crushing on her since their middle school talent show and was insanely surprised when she came to him to buy drugs. The Chrissy Cunningham High buying drugs from him? He couldn’t believe it.

Not long after their first deal, Chrissy started to realize that she really enjoyed Eddie’s company. One thing led to another and soon enough the freak of Hawkins High was dating the queen of Hawkins High.

Though they were dating and loved spending time together they still always made sure to have time for their friends. Hence why Eddie still sits at the hellfire table for lunch (also totally not because the majority of the popular kids hate him).

One day during lunch as Eddie is sitting at the front of the table, munching on his pretzels, Dustin, Lucas, and Mike join him. “Hey, fellas.” Eddie says as the boys start eating their unpleasantly looking school lunch. They talk about DND for a good minute until Dustin turns around mid-conversation when he notices Y/N sit down at the table next to theirs.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey there, Dustin.” Y/N replies as she takes off her headphones and gives him a friendly smile. Mike and Lucas then notice her as well and say their hellos. Eddie looks back and forth between the boys and this girl, Y/N. He takes in her appearance and notices the eyeliner, dark denim jeans, and the loosely hung Black Sabbath t-shirt. How the hell did these boys know this girl and why has he never seen her around?

She turns back to her own table and puts her headphones back on. He can briefly hear Judas Priest coming through them before being interrupted by Gareth sharing some more DND ideas.

—

After school he walks Chrissy to her cheer practice before heading over to the drama room to set up for the upcoming hellfire session tonight. In there he spots Dustin who is also usually there sometimes to help Eddie set up. “Hey, man.” Eddie greets. “Hey, Eddie. I already set up everyone’s character sheets.” “Thanks, Henderson.”

As Eddie and Dustin continue to set up, the question from earlier still lingers on Eddie’s mind. Who was that girl? ‘Might as well ask’, he thinks to himself.

“Henderson, who was that girl you guys were saying hi to at lunch?”

“Oh, Y/N? We’ve known her for a few years now. She’s friends with Jonathan Byers so we met her by association. She’s really cool though. I’m surprised you guys have never met considering you have a lot in common. But why do you ask?” Dustin says as he pulls out some dice.

“Was just curious. Never seen her around.”

“Yeah, she can be more on the quiet and loner side, but she’s great when you get to know her.”

—

Hellfire went pretty good as Eddie had been playing that campaign for weeks now. The boys and Erica have already left by now, but he stayed back to clean up. As he’s putting away their chairs he hears the drama room doors open. In walks her. Y/N.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, didn’t know you guys were doing hellfire today. I’m just setting some things up for the talent show this weekend.” She says. That’s when Eddie notices her carrying two guitars and an amp. “Don’t worry, you’re all good. Just cleaning up. You want some help with that?” “Please,” she says with a breathy laugh, “carrying these all at once is not easy.” “Oh, trust me I know. I play in a band.” He says as he walks over to take the amp out of her arm.

They walk to the stage and as Eddie plugs in the amp Y/N sets up the guitars. Wanting to break the silence, Y/N asks, “So, you’re in a band. What do you play?” “Guitar. I also help write some of our songs.” Y/N looks up at him with a smile and says, “No way! I also play guitar and write songs. Though, it’s just for fun. I’m not in a band or anything.” Eddie looks shocked at this. He’s never met a girl that’s been into music like this, not to mention music that he likes. “That’s sick! Think I could hear one of your songs one day?” “Only if I get to hear one of yours.”

Continuing their conversation, they’re eventually interrupted when the drama doors open once again, this time revealing Chrissy. “Hey, babe!” Chrissy cheers and she walks over to give Eddie a hug. “Hey, Chris. How was practice?” Y/N watches as the obvious couple interact, slightly disappointed in the fact that he has a girlfriend. But Y/N isn’t the one to overstep boundaries and disrespect someone’s relationship, so she pushes those thoughts to the back of her mind.

“Bye, Eddie, it was nice meeting you.” Y/N says with a smile as she starts to leave.

“You too, Y/N.”

—

It's been a few weeks since the first interaction, but over those few weeks the two have created a friendship. They hang out every now and then, Eddie sharing his time between Y/N, Chrissy, and his hellfire friends.

This day in particular, Y/N and Eddie finally decided to act upon the deal they made when they first met, which was to hear each other's music. Eddie invited her over, but Y/N declined. She thought it’d be rude to hang out one on one with a man who is in a relationship inside his own home. Eddie understood where she was coming from, but assured her Chrissy knew. Still, she stuck to her word and the two agreed to meet up in the drama room after school instead.

“So, you wanna go first?” Y/N asks as the both of them sit criss cross on the stage floor, both holding guitars in their lap. “Why not.” Eddie replies as he takes his guitar pick off his neck and starts strumming. He opted to playing a more simple rock song of his rather than metal as he thought it’d be way too extra. When it came down to Y/N’s turn, she stuck to more of one of her indie-rock songs.

“You’re better than I thought you’d be.” Eddie says with a playful grin.

“Same for you, Munson.”

“I’d like to state for the record, that was an easy song I played. I’m usually ten times more metal.” He says with a slight smirk, “You should really come watch me and my band play some time. We perform at the Hideout on Tuesdays. Maybe you could even perform one of your songs.”

“I’d love to watch you guys play, but as for me performing, hard pass. I’d rather stick to putting on a show for my stuffed animals rather than real people.” Y/N replies with a smile and small laugh.

“Oh, come on! I’ll be there to cheer you on. I bet your stuffed animals can’t do that.”

Y/N let out a dramatic playful gasp and jokingly says, “What?! Peter the pig always makes sure to give me a round-of-applause.” The two share a laugh and Eddie replies, “Fine. You can stick to your stuffed animal crowd. As for me, I can pick you up around seven after I pick up Chrissy, if that’s fine with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

—

Tuesday comes around and Y/N is patiently waiting on her couch for Eddie. She eventually hears loud heavy rock music coming from outside and takes that as her cue to grab her things, not forgetting her guitar. Even though she said she didn't want to perform, she decided she wanted to surprise Eddie tonight by performing a new song of hers.

She runs outside and slides open the van door and greets Eddie and Chrissy as she goes to sit in the back. Soon enough they’re there and Eddie is parking the van. “I’m just gonna go help the boys set up. Are you guys good with waiting inside for a few minutes?” Eddie asks as they all start getting out of the van. “Yeah, that’s fine, Eds.” Chrissy replies back with a smile. Y/N had a few interactions with Chrissy since becoming friends with Eddie and from what she can tell, she’s the sweetest girl Y/N ever met. Eddie is a real lucky man, she must say.

As Y/N and Chrissy start walking inside, Chrissy notices the guitar case. “Oh, you’re playing too?!” Chrissy cheerfully asks. “Yeah, but don’t tell Eddie. Was gonna surprise him.” Y/N happily replies back, hoping that that didn’t upset Chrissy. Thankfully, Chrissy saw no problem with it and the two headed inside.

Chrissy takes a seat at one of the tables while Y/N places her guitar case next to the stage. They patiently wait and talk for a little bit as they wait for Eddie’s band. Soon enough, they hear the name ‘Corroded Coffin’ being announced on stage.

You watch as Eddie pours his heart and soul into his performance as his passion for guitar shines through. Chrissy wishes she could watch as deeply as you are, but she can’t help but pay attention to how whenever Eddie looks down at their table, his eyes travel to Y/N.

—

The band finished up their last song and then walked off stage. As Eddie is putting his guitar back in his case, he hears the bar owner announce, “We have one more performance tonight! Please welcome, Y/N!”. Eddie perks up at this and immediately his attention is on the stage. Chrissy sees this. She nervously plays with the ribbon in her hair and looks at how Eddie’s eyes never left you as you walk onto the stage with your guitar.

Chrissy knows Eddie loves her, no doubt about it, but seeing the way Y/N and Eddie have bonded over the past few weeks, she knew his love for her was slowly decaying. They had so much in common, she should have seen it coming sooner. And Chrissy being the sweet girl that she is, couldn’t bring herself to be mad at it. She’s had her fair experiences with love and is well aware that you can’t choose who you fall for.

She brings her focus back to the stage as Y/N starts playing guitar and eventually singing her most recent lyrics. ‘They even have similar writing styles’, Chrissy thinks to herself. She sighs and looks down at her hands. She loves Eddie, but this isn’t right. Chrissy isn’t the girl he wants anymore. Those years he spent pinning over her have gone to waste, which hurts Chrissy to admit.

She looked over at Eddie and that’s all it took for her to accept what was going to have to happen. His eyes were so full of admiration, lust, and love. The same way he used to look at her.

Y/N walks off stage and Eddie immediately runs to her and gives her a hug so big he’s picking her off the ground. Y/N is first to break it as she knows Chrissy is right behind them. Chrissy notices this and sadly smiles to herself. She can’t even blame Y/N. She could tell how Y/N always made sure to respect their relationship and set boundaries. Y/N always made sure Eddie was spending more time with Chrissy than he was with her, she always made sure Eddie still walked Chrissy to practice after school even when he would offer to walk Y/N to her car, and she always made sure Eddie never stopped showing his love to Chrissy.

Chrissy feels a tear slide down her face but quickly wipes it when the two of them start making their way over.

“You guys were great!”, Chrissy cheers.

“Thank you.” Both Eddie and Y/N say, almost in sync.

They finish up their night at the hideout with some fries and drinks then eventually head back out to Eddie’s van. Y/N is first to be dropped off which leaves the couple alone.

“Eddie?”, Chrissy says sadly.

“Yeah, Chris?” Eddie replies as he head bops to the music playing on the car radio.

“We need to talk.”

—

Eddie pulls up to Chrissy's house and stops the van in her driveway. “So, what did you want to talk about?” He asks.

“I think we should break up.”

Eddie sits in shock for a few moments before turning to face Chrissy and asks why. “Eddie, you know I love you and I know you have love for me. But you’re no longer in love with me.”, Chrissy says with watery eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah. What makes you think that, Chris?” Eddie says as he reaches for Chrissy’s hand, only for her to pull it away. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Eds. You like her, don’t you?”

At her words, Eddie looks down, refusing to make eye contact. His silence confirms Chrissy’s question.

“It’s okay, Eddie.” “No, it’s not. It wasn’t supposed to go this way.” Eddie’s eyes start to gather tears as he still has yet to look up at Chrissy. “What do you mean?” Chrissy asks with furrowed eyebrows. “I mean,” he sighs before continuing, “I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. Never once have I ever felt that way towards another girl, so when me and you got together, I was the happiest man in the world. I truly started to believe that opposites do attract,” He finally looks up at Chrissy as he says, “but I think that’s only because I thought there was no other girl out there that was like me. But then I met Y/N.” Chrissy looks at him with sad eyes, but a soft smile. Eddie returns a sad smile back. “I really am sorry, Chris. This isn’t how I meant for things to go. But I do want you to know I truly was happy with you and I enjoyed our time together.” “It’s okay, Eddie. And me too. I don’t want to trap you in a relationship that you don’t want to be in.”

They sit in awkward, yet somewhat comforting silence for a moment before Chrissy asks one last question, “When did you know you fell for her?” “Today, actually. At the hideout.” This somewhat shocked Chrissy as she would've thought it’d be way earlier, though she lets Eddie continue, “Sure, these past few weeks my crush for her did start to develop, but it felt wrong considering I’m with- or well, I was with you, so I pushed the thought of being with her to the back of my mind. But seeing her today on that stage, I couldn’t hide it from myself anymore.” Eddie says, looking at his lap, somewhat disappointed at himself. He had been chasing Chrissy for years, and once he finally got the girl his heart decides to do a whole u-turn on him.

“Again, Chrissy, I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, Eddie. It’s okay. Go get her.” Chrissy says with a happier smile this time. Even though the smile was definitely forced, Eddie smiled back and gave Chrissy one last hug as a goodbye.

Eddie pulls out of Chrissy’s driveway and heads straight for Y/N’s house.

—

He climbs to her bedroom window and knocks. Y/N opens her curtains, not surprised to see Eddie as he surprised her with a similar visit a week ago for a quick smoke sesh. She opens the window and welcomes him in.

“Hey, Y/N.” He pants out, slightly out of breath from climbing through your window.

“What’s up, Eddie?” Y/N asks. She notices Eddie is fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, a habit of his she recently noticed.

“I wanted to talk to you about something. About us.” He says, head down as he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. He notices the shift in Y/N’s stance, sensing that she probably has an idea of what he’s about to say.

“I like you.”

She sighs before saying, “Eddie-”

“I know,” Eddie cuts her off, “I know, I know, me and Chrissy. But we broke up.” Y/N looks up at him with shocked eyes and says, “What?! Why would you dump her for me?” Eddie grabs both of Y/N’s hands into his and looks her in the eye as he says, “She dumped me, Y/N.” Y/N takes her hands from his and puts them in her hair, slightly panicking. “No, no, no, no, I feel like a homewrecker, Eddie. This is wrong.” “I know it is, but I can’t control my feelings, Y/N.”

He sits on the edge of her bed. She takes a seat next to him and deeply sighs. “I don’t even know what to say, Eddie.” He looks down at her and puts her hand in his once again. “Just say how you feel. If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. I can get up and leave and pretend this conversation didn’t even happen.” Y/N sighs once again as she responds, “Eddie, I like you too. But this feels so wrong.”

Eddie’s heart lightens at her confession. He smiles to himself before saying, “It’s all up to you, love. If it makes you feel any better, this was all Chrissy’s idea. I don’t want you to think she hates you for taking me away from her. None of this is your fault, okay?” He places a finger under her chin and lifts her face up to meet him eye to eye. He can tell how her eyes are full of so many different emotions right now, but he gives her a reassuring look.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I want to be with you, Eddie.”

“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He replies with a smile, slowly bringing her face to his and letting their lips connect.

Y/N feels the guilt seep into her gut as she kisses Eddie, but can’t bring herself to stop. She had been crushing on this boy the moment she laid eyes on him. Sitting at the table next to his was totally not on purpose. She of course feels for Chrissy, but when Eddie and Y/N walked into school the next day hand in hand, she saw Chrissy give her a genuine smile and a thumbs up, and all of a sudden the guilt slowly started to disappear.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #joseph quinn

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hannieehaee · 1 year ago

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hi good morning! (or afternoon or evening)

how about a svt scenario thing where you’re an idol (and dating them) and you get injured by a crazy saesang that’s obsessed with your s/o?

basically, y/n is an idol in a popular group and at a fansign event, a saesang rushes towards her and attacks her, injuring her with smth (there’s blood) and vroom hospital etc etc. how would svt react?

idk this has been my brain-worm for the past few days

thank you 😊 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

a sasaeng attacking their idol!reader gf

content: mentions of stalking, mentions of being attacked, mentions of injuries, mentions of hospitalization, reader is an idol, a lil angsty, etc.

wc: 1559

a/n: thank u so much for ur request! sorry for the delay hehe (these scenarios are assuming ur relationship is public knowledge btw <3)

masterlist

seungcheol -

no one had ever seen him this angry. even his members kept away from him upon noticing his furious demeanor after getting a call from your manager informing him that you had been taken to the hospital to tend to some bruises and scratches you had undergone after one of his stalker fans had quite literally jumped at you from across the table, having made themselves pass as your fan. would not comment on it publicly, simply choosing to cut his promotions short and taking a quick break to tend to you. the only thing to alleviate his anger would be your presence and knowing that you were now safe. would demand both pledis and your own company enforce better security, incredibly frustrated that you even got a single scratch on you due to their negligence.

jeonghan -

not being one to hide his emotions from fans, he would express frustration at it, mentioning it on live when consistently questioned about it. would state his disappointment, but would make it clear this was directed at fans who knew their actions were morally wrong. he would probably not do much about it other than make sure your security amped up, not wanting to get in the way of your own idol career or draw more attention to this, but having your security as top priority. would put extra focus in babying you and tending to you at any and every moment he was off work.

joshua -

he'd be very emotionally affected by it. you'd be able to tell by his quieted down demeanor after the incident that he felt put off by any public appearance, thinking that anyone around him could be a crazed fan who wanted to inflict pain on his loved ones. would continue schedules as normal, but his personality would remain tame for a while, while he recovered emotionally from the guilt he felt at indirectly putting you in danger. he'd feel extremely apologetic towards you, even if you told him you were fine and did not blame him for any of it.

jun -

his lighthearted demeanor would shift immediately. he would take a hiatus, taking you with him to china so he could have you to himself for a month or so. would not care about any repercussions to his idol career, considering your safety the top priority. would become serious for a while, only bringing back his loving and playful personality when interacting with you or any of his other loved ones. would never speak about this publicly once he came back from break, simply acting as if nothing happened. he would've had to demand both your company and pledis amp up any and all security for you the moment you came back from your own hiatus.

soonyoung -

the usually lighthearted and silly boy would turn stoic for a while. he'd never express his frustrations outwardly, but would now feel a constant sense of disappointment at both himself and at any crazed fan who would ever dare even think of putting their hands on you. would be super apologetic to you, begging you to not end it because of this incident. the only thing that would calm him down would be your reassurance that it'd take far more than one obsessed fan to drive you away from him. would dedicate all his free time to you and take on a more protective attitude towards you.

wonwoo -

would probably go on a short hiatus. you were one of the most important people in his life. he had kept the relationship secret as much as he could, but after dispatch outed you two as a couple, you had begun to receive more threats than usual. now not only from your own stalker fans but from his too. would be absolutely devastated he was the cause of your pain. he could never leave you out of his sight again, feeling an innate need to protect you. would stay gone and just be with you for a few months before returning to his idol duties, never speaking publicly about what happened.

jihoon -

pure disgust and annoyance. the same way he calls out sasaengs on live for pestering him with calls, he would bring this up too. saying that he's tried to ignore it but that some things go too far. would feel bad if any other carats felt uncomfortable by his scolding, but would feel so incredibly frustrated the love of his life was put in danger due to someone liking him way too much for safety. scared you might feel like this is too much to deal with, but would respect if you decided the relationship was just not worth the pain. would thank you immensely the moment you told him he's worth all hurdles, that you simply needed better security.

seokmin -

it was rare to see seokmin angry, and he had never been this angry. fans would be able to tell after the incident that his demeanor had shifted completely. would take him about a week or so to go back to his bubbly self while in public, having gotten the scare of his life when he got a call from your manager claiming that an obsessed dk fan had launched at you at a fansign, makeshift weapon in hand as they managed to mangle some of the skin of your arm before being swiftly taken away by security. he wouldn't go on hiatus, but he'd spend every passing minute with you as he apologized and reassured you no one would ever hurt a hair off your head ever again.

mingyu -

would also go on a quick hiatus. he hates calling out crazed fans, knowing it only incites them to do deranged things like this even more, being aware that they'll do anything to get a reaction out of him. so he wouldn't give them one. he would simply step back from idol duties for a while, joining you in your own hiatus as you emotionally (and physically) recovered from the attack. would try and give you an out, telling you that if dating him put you in danger then maybe you should reconsider your options, he would always love you but he would understand. would feel instant relief the moment you cursed him out, telling him a few injuries were not enough to drive you away. he'd swear to never let you out of his sight again.

minghao -

another member who would be extremely angry. would do his best to stand by you and show his support towards you even if it meant putting your relationship even more into the public eye. you would be his one and only priority. he would bring it up at some point in an interview or statement, airing out his frustrations at sasaengs who thought of him as anything more than an idol. would put a brake on fan-idol interactions even more now, now even toning down most of his fanservice to avoid fans getting the wrong idea that he'd ever look their way when he had you.

seungkwan -

just absolutely terrified. he'd never felt more fear in his life than the moment his manager informed him of the news that you were in the hospital due to one of his stalker fans attacking you. would feel incredibly guilty and beg you for forgiveness as he visited you at the hospital. the only relief he felt at the situation would be your insistence in telling him you were fine and that this would not break your relationship. he'd become overly attached and protective of you, demanding his own company to provide security for you, claiming that this was a personal issue and that he would not rest unless you were as protected as possible.

vernon -

would be brooding and cold for a while. he would've dealt with the situation behind the scenes, not wanting anyone to see his reaction, knowing that acknowledging the situation publicly would only cause more crazed fans to try and do the same. he'd back away from the public for a while, only participating in any mandatory schedules and even then he would keep himself hidden in the back as much as possible. would feel a little guilty for technically punishing all fans when it was only a few who acted like this, but would need some time to recover from having put the love of his life in danger.

chan -

this was brand new territory for him, so he would feel absolutely taken by surprise. he never would have imagined someone to try and come after the love of his life, much less under the claim that it was for his own good. no words could describe the guilt he felt at seeing you at the hospital, scratches in your face showing the damage the fan was able to inflict before security pulled them away. would curse at your security team, claiming this couldve been way worse, and that they risked your life. would also apologize for his part in it, knowing that if he was out of the picture this never wouldve happened. would take a short break from idol activities to spend a week with you holed up at a safe location, spending the entire time showing you how much he cared for you and how he would protect you from now on.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen scenarios #seventeen reactions #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt reactions #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #svt angst

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directdogman · 6 months ago

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random DSaF thing I'm not sure if people picked up on.

Something significant about the DSaF 3 phones that popped into my head while I was writing the last post comparing Peter's DSaF 2 and DT incarnations that I didn't bother mentioning bc it was long enough

Harry and Jake are actually parallels to Steven + Peter respectively with a few major differences applied. (warning a LOT of text:)

Both Harry + Steven are generation 1 phones. They're both shown to be fairly by the book and are able to completely turn off their empathy when situations call for it. Both are completely disconnected from their former identities in a way that the other phones aren't. To further cement this connection, Harry is even shown to be the one that sent Steven to the factory. If an employee dies in your restaurant, Harry's response to it is pretty much what Steven's would've been.

Ultimately, he is a company man, like Steven. Just like Steven trying to save himself by any means necessary in DSaF 1, his confrontation in DSaF 3's evil route specifically talks about how much you've cost him and while he clearly feels disgust with you, he more so drills the futility and sheer callousness of what you're doing in rather than really tries to make you feel bad for the bad things you do. He speaks to you like you're more of a failure than anything else. You're not HIS employee, but as the former head of the franchise, speaking to the person who just killed it for the final time. He focuses on what you specifically took away from him, turning the conversation back to himself. His final words are a cold goodbye. His response to your actions is close to what Steven's could've been in this situation.

Ultimately, he's even more of an insider than Steven and someone with more of a direct connection to the cycle of misery that occurred at Freddy's. Basically, several of Steven's defining qualities are amped up in different ways.

Peter on the other hand, is not a company man. He's a gen 2 phoney, more in touch with his personal identity and in the good ending of 2, even escapes in order to reunite with his old lost family. He's generally a chiller boss than Steven, clearly caring more about the well-being of staff/customers than making the company happy.

Jake, similarly, also is in touch with his personal identity. Like Peter, he escaped in order to find his family, but as his backstory scene in 3 points out, this didn't go to plan. Jake, on the surface, seems like a polar opposite to Peter in how overtly cynical he is, a word he deliberately uses to describe himself in his DSaF 3 callout. However, this actually masks something that's more evident if you listen to him in certain key scenes.

Jake cares about others. A LOT. I based his characterization on a George Carlin quote: 'Scratch [the surface of] a cynic and you'll find a disappointed idealist'. It shows what Peter could've been if he'd never reconnected with his family or been able to correct any of the ills he came across. Someone who was worn down by life and put up walls as a result. But, the underlying care is still there and affects his decisions/words at key moments.

If you read his equivalent callout in 3 very carefully, there's some pretty strong parallels to Peter's callout in 2. He notably drills home the fact that you abused the trust of customers so you could feed like a monster. He mentions having higher hopes for you, hoping you were going to be someone better. Even after all Jack's done, he still expresses shock that he feels no remorse at all. His scene ends with a much harsher line, commanding Jack to never contact him again, akin to Peter's closing line in the equivalent 2 scene.

Also, notably, he breaks the no cursing Phone Guy rule in the scene. His reaction if an employee gets springlocked at your location is also noticeably more Peter-esque, remembering what he went through and not wanting another person to turn out the same, in contrast to Harry deciding to just go by the book, a decision that directly led to the creation of Steven pre-DSaF 1.

Okay, that's about it. I bet there's people out there who caught this (knowing me, I've said all of this before and forgot about it) but I figured a few people might find it interesting regardless. thanks, everyone!

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steddieasitgoes · 8 months ago

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he can't sit with us (or maybe he can?)

written for @steddie-week Day 4 prompt: Trade Rating: T | wc: 2651 | no cw thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this one for me!! Read on ao3

Eddie is amped up.

Lunch has always been his favorite part of the school day, but today is going to be an especially good one. Not because of his lunch — he forgot to grab the sandwich he made last night so he wouldn’t forget, and he’s been out of lunch credit for weeks now, so he’s shit out of luck on that front — but because today’s the day he unleashes his latest rant on the hivemind that is the Hawkins High student body.

It’s taken him weeks to work out everything he wants to say about the giant mall they’re building a few blocks from Main Street that everyone and their workaholic fathers are excited about. The one that led to the demolishment of Hawkins' second-best trailer park — Forest Hills being the best, obviously. He even asked Wayne’s advice on what he should say since his uncle has way more experience going against The Man™ and The Man’s™ People.

He’s pretty proud of what he’s come up with. Sure, it’s a typical Munson rant that goes on a personal tangent in the middle about how Sam Goody and Tape World are probably going to put Jet’s Jams out of music. And okay, yeah, Jet’s Jams is the fucking worst most of the time and only ever has the top 40s bullshit in stock, but at least Eddie has some pull with good ole’ Jet and can bargain with the dude to order a metal record or two every once in a while. You think Sam Goody is going to take his advice? Not a chance in hell!

But then he’ll get back on track and get into the educational stuff that Wayne talked to him about. At least, that’s the plan; all he has to do is stick to the bullet point list he scribbled out in Ms. O’Donnell’s class thirty minutes ago, ignoring whatever the fuck she was going on about at the front of the room.

It’s going to be great. Definitely one of his best lunchtime soapbox speeches. Hell, maybe this will be the one to actually wake some of his peers up. Capitalism is the real devil here. Not him.

He’s bouncing with adrenaline and nerves as he saunters into the crowded cafeteria, ready for his moment, ready for—

What the hell?

Eddie stops midstride when he spots Gareth and Jeff waving at him from a table in the middle of the room. Again, what the hell? That’s not their table. Not even fucking close.

Eddie doesn’t believe in the social hierarchy of high school cliques, but he does respect the lunch table distribution system Hawkins’ operates under. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that tables in the middle are destined for the so-called elite. Not his Dungeons & Dragons club and the other lost sheep stragglers he’s accumulated over his extended high school career.

They’re supposed to be sitting at a table on the outskirts of the room. The one by the windows, with the art kids to his right and the drama kids to his left. The weirdo, outcast corner.

And yet, there they are in the middle of the room at a table usually occupied by the so-called elites and anyone else they’ve deemed worthy of their company.

“This isn’t our table,” Eddie says, slamming his hands down with enough force to knock Gareth’s brown paper bag over, taking his unopened Dr. Pepper can with it.

Gareth scowls, righting the can. “Now I see why you’re a super senior. Of course, it’s not our fucking table!”

Eddie intertwines his fingers before pillowing his chin against them. “Okay then, Gareth the Great, tell me why we are sitting here.”

“Our table is occupied,” Jeff supplies.

“Occupied? Everyone knows that’s our table! Is this person new? Have they recently had a lobotomy?”

This time, it’s Freak who speaks up. “No. He knows. He probably just doesn’t give a shit. A table’s a table or whatever.”

Or whatever? Fat chance. A table hasn’t ever been just a table in the hellscape that is Hawkins High. Still, Eddie can’t help but be curious. There aren’t many people who would willingly sit at a new table this late into the school year. It’s a ballsy move.

He figures it’s a scorned drama kid or drumline member — there’s always drama in those groups; someone is always fucking someone they shouldn’t be, horny assholes. But when he turns to get a glance at this intruder, it’s not a butthurt outcast taking up court at the table, but rather Hawkins' very own Fallen King, Steve Harrington.

For the third time, what the hell?

“Did you tell him it’s our table?”

“No! He’s Steve Harrington! I don’t think he’ll appreciate a couple of nerds telling him to move.”

“And we value our lives too much to mess with upperclassmen,” Gareth says, mumbling something about learning his lesson the last time he tried something stupid like that.

Eddie rolls his eyes before scoffing loud enough to startle the nearby table of cheerleaders. He wiggles his fingers in an innocent wave before focusing his attention back on his friends.

“Please, Steve is all bark and no bite. And he hasn’t been Steve Harrington in a while.” Eddie raises his voice several octaves, batting his eyelashes as he says Steve’s name. “Now he’s just Steve Harrington,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalance he never would have expected to use for someone of Steve’s former status. “He’s just some guy whose girlfriend dumped him for an artsy loner.”

“It doesn’t matter, man! You don’t mess with people like Harrington,” Jeff says, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just like a one-time thing or something. It’s not like any of his friends are sitting with him. Maybe he’s just fighting with them.”

Jeff has a point. Steve is alone. Sitting at the table all be himself, poking disinterestedly at an apple sauce cup. He’s not cowering or trying to make himself smaller like most people would do if they were stuck eating lunch alone, but he’s not making a show of it either. He’s just there. Minding his own business, staring out the windows Eddie has spent all five years of his high school career looking out off.

“Those sounds like quitting words, Jefferson,” Eddie taunts, turning his attention back to the group. He makes a show of looking each and every Hellfire member in the eyes when he speaks again. “Are we quitters?”

The entire table groans, a few shake their heads. Gareth, always the brave one, throws a chip at Eddie’s head that he manages to catch in his mouth. And people say he’s not athletic!

“Since we’re not quitters, what should we do about this unlawful infiltration?”

“I don’t know if it's an infiltration,” Freak says. “We just like traded tables without a verbal agreement.”

“That’s worse than a seize!”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one that’s all fired up about it. Why don’t you go over there and ask Harrington to give it back to us.”

“You know what,” Eddie says, pushing off the table until he’s standing. “I will.”

With the same gravitas he entered the cafeteria with, Eddie saunters over to Steve. The sooner he gets this table thing handled, the sooner he can get on with his lunchtime diatribe — see Mr. Vance, I do listen in English class, old bat.

Eddie’s not a quiet walker by any means — he’s had enough pillows thrown at his head from Wayne for the way he stomps around the trailer in the mornings — but he manages to sneak up on Steve. Maybe it’s because his eyes are trained on a squirrel running up a tree in the distance, mumbling encouragements as the poor thing struggles to make it up.

Huh, Harrington’s a squirrel fan? Who knew?

Eddie’s watch chirps, a reminder that there are only ten minutes left of lunch. Jesus H. Christ! He’ll have to do an abridged version of his speech now, but it should still be enough to get his point across. That is if he manages to get Steve to trade tables with them without a fight.

“Fancy seeing you here, Steve,” Eddie says, loud enough to startle Steve out of the squirrel watching. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Steve glances up at him with a look of disinterest he seems to have perfected in his fall from grace. And honestly, as much as Eddie hates to admit it and would never say it out loud unless he was being waterboarded or some shit, this new version of Steve really works for him.

“Your humble what?” Steve asks, dropping his disinterest to look up confused instead.

His brows pull together, scrunching up his forehead in a way that should be unflattering but is honestly sort of endearing. And his head is tilted to the side like a confused animal — something Eddie has a lot of experience with, given his unofficial status as a trailer park animal rescuer. Eddie’s so lost in studying Steve’s confusion that he forgets to actually respond, which like, is new territory for Eddie. He’s never one not to talk.

“Look, man, I don’t know what you want, but could you just spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my lunch?”

Eddie’s personality returns to his body in an instant. “Enjoying your lunch, you say?” He takes a second to glance at Steve’s lunch tray. A measly bite has been taken out of the cardboard the school passes off as pizza. The side of congealed mac and cheese sits untouch and his apple sauce cup is open but still perfectly intact. “Doesn’t look like you ate at all, Steve.”

“Seriously, Munson, what do you want?”

Eddie tsks and yanks the seat next to Steve away from the table before not-so-gracefully falling into it. He kicks his feet up on the table a moment later, the toe of his boot knocking against the carton of milk he’s willing to bet Steve also hasn’t touched. Though he can’t really blame him for that one. Milk is not a lunchtime beverage, and no amount of dairy propaganda is ever going to change that.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Harrington, this is my table.”

“I didn’t know the cafeteria had assigned seats.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t,” Eddie growls, throwing his hands up in the air. The move forces him to lose his balance, chair wobbling on two legs under him, threatening to give out and dump him on his ass. Definitely not the lunchtime show he was hoping to give today. But before he meets his demise, Steve extends his hand, steadying the chair long enough for Eddie to drop his feet and reclaim his balance. “Thanks.”

Steve grunts in response and goes back to staring out the window.

Fucking squirrel.

“Look, Steve,” Eddie says, getting straight to the point this time. “I don’t know why you decided to switch tables today or why you decided my table was the one you suddenly wanted, but can we please just switch back?”

“I’m good here.”

He tears his eyes away from the window for long enough to glance at his former table, where Gareth and Jeff are using straws as lightsabers without a care in the world. Steve snorts, and Eddie stiffens; he really, really doesn’t want to have to fight anyone today, but if Steve’s willing to be a dick about his friends in front of his face, well, fight, he will. But then Steve’s face softens, and he shakes his head in amusement.

“Looks like your friends are good where they’re at, too. Though the lightsaber skills could use some work,” Steve teases. “Are we good then?”

“No, we’re not good!” Eddie shouts, trying his best to keep his brain on task. We’re here to get our table back, not ponder why Steve Harrington suddenly has a soft spot for nerds because what? “That’s your table, man, and this is ours. You’re going to upset the fragile balance of this place.”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me or something? I thought upsetting the balance was your life goal.”

How dare Steve Harrington read him like that.

Since his dramatics haven’t worked, Eddie opts for the truth this time. “I have no interest in sitting in the middle of the damn cafeteria where everyone can see me and my friends just to cause a little societal unrest.”

“And I have no interest in being forced to sit in the middle so everyone can stare at me while judging me and my mistakes.”

Oh.

The truth shouldn’t be all that shocking. Anyone who has eyes has witnessed Steve’s fall from King too well; Eddie’s not sure there is a word for what Steve is now. He’s not a pariah or an outcast, not smart enough to be a nerd, and the rumor is he quit basketball, so he’s not a jock. He’s just… lost?

Steve groans, running a hand over his face for a second before his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Look, Eddie, I’m not going to trade tables with you, but if this one means that much to you, I don’t mind sharing.”

“I thought you said you don’t want people staring at you?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, sitting with the Freaks of Hawkins is definitely going to get people staring and talking, and honestly, you might even have to dodge a punch or two just for being in our vicinity.”

“I’ll survive.”

For the first time in his life, Eddie has no idea what to say. On one hand the idea of sharing a table is so preposterous he’s convinced he might be dreaming right now. But after a quick pinch to confirm that he is awake, he goes back to weighing his options. Sharing a table with Steve isn’t ideal, but sitting in the middle of the fucking cafeteria is a death sentence. He might be able to hold his own with the upper echelon of Hawkins High, but his ragtag group of friends isn’t so scrappy.

And then there’s the lost sheep of it all.

Eddie’s spent most of his high school career looking after lonely high schoolers. Whisking them under his wing, giving them a safe space to eat lunch or a club to hang out at after school to avoid having to walk back home alone. He thought he’d become somewhat of an expert at it, but it seems Steve Harrington has managed to slip through his cracks.

Eddie would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t at least try with Steve. It’s not like he has to join Hellfire or anything. All he’s really asking for his a spot at their lunch table.

“I have one condition.”

“Of course you do,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

“Actually, I have two.” Steve chuckles and motions for Eddie to get on with it already. “One, you can’t make fun of anything that happens at the table. We’re weird. You know it, we know it. We’re allowed to tease each other about it. You are not.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.”

Eddie nods. “And two, you have to give me your dessert every day.”

“Every day?” Steve balks. “You can have my applesauce and pudding cups, but I’m not giving you Friday’s chocolate cake.”

“Guess you’re going to have to go back to sitting at the fishbowl table then.”

Eddie watches as Steve considers this for a moment before his shoulders heave the world’s biggest sigh. “Fine.”

Without warning, Eddie pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. His lips twitch at the corners, pulling into a genuine smile as he stands and offers Steve his hand. “Welcome to the Freak table, Steve.”

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie week #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes #gareth #jeff #freak #corroded coffin

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rootedinrevisions · 6 months ago

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One of Them Girls

SUMMARY: After a long day of Tornado chasing, Tyler Owens and his crew head to a local bar to unwind. At the end of the bar sits a woman who sparks Tyler's interest. Despite her initial reluctance, Tyler's persistence leads to a playful evening of banter, pool games, and dancing. As the night progresses, the barriers between them begin to fall. INSPIRED AND LOOSELY BASED ON THE SONG "ONE OF THEM GIRLS" BY LEE BRICE.

You were sitting on the patio of the local bar, enjoying the evening air and the company of your friends, when the sound of a truck engine caught your attention. Turning your head, you saw a red Dodge pickup truck pull into the parking lot, its exterior covered in gear and storm-chasing equipment. The truck's driver, a familiar face.

It was Tyler Owens, the charismatic storm chaser who had dubbed himself the Tornado Wrangler with over a million followers on his YouTube channel. You'd seen his videos, filled with thrilling footage of him chasing down tornadoes and navigating wild weather. He exuded confidence and energy, and he clearly thrived on the attention.

Behind him, an older RV rolled up, its loudspeaker system blaring country music that added to the lively ambiance of the bar. The driver honked the horn, grabbing the attention of everyone on the patio. Conversations paused around you, and heads turned to watch the crew make their entrance. It wasn't every day that a storm-chasing team rolled into town, and the buzz of excitement in the air was contagious.

You watched as Tyler got out of his truck, a crowd of excited fans already gathering around him. The man who appeared to be the cameraman of the operation jumped out of the passenger seat and ran around the front of the truck just as Tyler exited. Tyler opened the driver's door and stood up, bracing himself with one hand on the bars surrounding the truck and raising the other hand in the air to acknowledge his fans. A bright white smile spread across his face as he placed a cowboy hat on top of his head.

"Hey T, tell the folks how you're feeling?" The cameraman, Boone, called out, pointing the camera at Tyler.

Tyler looked directly at the camera and said "I'm feeling pretty good, Boone." He then turned to the crowd, his energy infectious, and called out his catchphrase, "And if you feel it..." he paused, letting the crowd finish the line with a loud, "Chase it!"

Tyler, clearly enjoying the moment, amped up the crowd even more. "I said if you feel it, chase it!" The crowd responded with even more enthusiasm, their voices echoing around the patio.

"Oh, it was a beautiful day," Tyler declared, his smile widening as the cameraman stopped recording. With that, Tyler and his crew began to make their way into the bar, being slowed by fans trying to get an autograph or picture with Tyler.

Back inside the bar, you and your friends had returned to your usual spot at the end of the bar. It had been five or ten minutes since Tyler's crew had pulled up, and they were just now making their way inside after taking photos and signing autographs. You were mindlessly peeling the label off your Bud Light bottle as your friend talked about her most recent breakup. Though you nodded occasionally, your mind began to wander, tuning out the conversation.

Your gaze drifted across the room, landing on Tyler as he made his way towards the bar. You took in his appearance, noting every detail. His dirty and worn boots and his blue Wrangler jeans fit better than should be legal. His button-up shirt was damp from a day spent in the rain, clinging to his frame in a way that only accentuated his rugged charm. The signature cowboy hat atop his head and that ever-present beautiful smile completed the picture.

As you continued to watch, Tyler's eyes met yours from where he stood about halfway down the bar. His grin widened slightly, and he shot you a playful wink. You raised an eyebrow, unfazed, and turned back to your beer bottle, peeling the label with renewed focus. One of your friends, having caught the exchange, nudged you with a teasing grin.

"Really? Not even a blush for THE Tyler Owens?" she whispered, loud enough for your little group to hear.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "He's just a guy, right?" you replied, playing it cool despite the flutter in your chest.

Your friend's eyes widened in disbelief. "Just a guy? Have you seen his YouTube channel? He's a legend!"

"A legend for making jeans look that good," another one of your friends added.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Legend or not, he's still just a guy."

Your friends laughed, and the conversation continued, but you couldn't help sneaking another glance at Tyler, wondering if he was used to getting such a non-reaction.

About half an hour had passed since Tyler and his crew had settled into the bar. You were perched on a bar stool, peeling the label off your second Bud Light bottle of the night. Your friends had migrated over to the jukebox, dancing on the makeshift dance floor the bar owners had put together, leaving you alone at the bar.

You glanced up and saw Tyler walking towards you, that ever-present grin on his face. He approached casually, stopping in front of the stool next to you. "Is anyone sitting here?" he asked, his tone light.

Tyler took a seat, his charm turned up to the full volume. "I'm Tyler," he said, as if you didn't already know.

You played along, giving him a slight smile. "Nice to meet you, Tyler. I'm (Your Name)."

"It's a pleasure to meet a real-life angel," he said, eyes twinkling with amusement.

You laughed out loud, rolling your eyes. "Wow, that's original."

He chuckled, unphased by your reaction. "Can I get you to dance with me?" he asked, nodding towards the dance floor.

You shook your head immediately. "No, thanks."

Tyler leaned back slightly, still smiling. "Come on, just one dance."

"Nope," you replied, your voice firm but still amused.

He tried one last time, his persistence evident but not overbearing. "Are you sure? I promise I won't step on your toes."

You shook your head again, and Tyler finally raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Maybe another time then," he said with a wink. "Enjoy your night, (Your Name)."

He stood up and headed back to where his friends were, leaving you with a curious mix of amusement and intrigue about the lengths he'd go to win you over.

As soon as Tyler walked away, your friends quickly made their way back to you, their faces lit with excitement and curiosity.

"So, what did he say?" One of them asked, practically bouncing on her toes. "What did he want?"

You took a sip of your beer, trying to play it cool. "He just wanted to chat and asked me to dance."

Your friends' eyes widened in shock. "He asked you to dance? And you said no?"

You nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Yep, I told him no."

They stared at you as if you'd just revealed you were a secret agent. "Are you serious? Tyler Owens? Most women would kill for a chance to dance with him!"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "He's just a guy, remember?"

Your friends shook their heads, laughing and exchanging incredulous looks. "You're unbelievable. But hey, at least you got his attention!"

You chuckled, enjoying the playful banter, and took another sip of your beer. Despite what you had said earlier, you were secretly hoping Tyler would make another move. Or at least try to.

You were leaning against the wall near the pool tables, watching your friends play a game. The bar's dim lighting cast a warm glow over the tables, creating a cozy yet competitive atmosphere. Tyler spotted you from across the room and made his way over, his grin still firmly in place.

"Hey," Tyler said as he approached.

"Hey Tyler," you said returning his smile.

"Looks like you aren't too busy, how about a game of pool?"

You glanced at the open table and raised an eyebrow at him. "Sure...but what's the wager?"

Tyler looked intrigued. "Wager?"

"Yeah," you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. If I win, you pay for my next drink, whatever I want."

Tyler's grin widened. "And if I win?"

"You get that dance you were asking for earlier," you said with a smirk.

He extended his hand, and you shook on it. "Deal."

You started the game by playing the role of a novice, pretending not to know the rules or how to handle the cue stick. Tyler, ever confident, offered you the opportunity to break.

"Want to take the first shot?" Tyler asked with a grin.

You picked up the white cue ball and placed it in the center of the table. Looking over at Tyler, you asked, "Is this where it's supposed to go? I've only played once or twice."

Tyler's grin widened. "You're doing perfect so far. Just hit it towards the other balls with a good hit."

You took a deep breath and struck the cue ball. It cracked again the racked balls with a satisfying thud, scattering them across the table. Tyler's eyebrows shot up as he watched them spread, clearly impressed.

"Well, that was a good break," he admitted, though he assumed it was just a stroke of luck.

You lined up for your first shot, aiming carefully. As you sent one of the balls rolling smoothly into a pocket, you looked over at Tyler with a playful smile. "Am I doing this right?:

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not just doing it right - you're making me look bad."

With each shot, you continued to maneuver the balls with impressive skill, all the while maintaining your guise of a casual player. Tyler's initial confidence slowly gave way to a mix of admiration and mock frustration as he realized you were far more adept than you'd let on.

In the end, you won decisively, with a victorious smile on your face. Tyler threw up his hands in mock frustration."Alright, you got me. Guess I owe you a drink."

You laughed, returning the cue sticks to the rack. Tyler led you back towards the bar. "A man's nothing if not true to his word," he said guiding you to the counter.

He flagged down the bartender and ordered a drink for himself before turning to you, "And for the lady, what'll it be?"

You made your choice, and as Tyler paid for it, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction. The playful banter and easy chemistry between you were quickly becoming one of the highlights of your night.

As the night wore on, the bar began to clear out. People slowly paid their tabs and headed home, leaving the once bustling room quieter and more intimate. The music had softened, creating a relaxed atmosphere that almost felt private.

All your friends had left by now. One of them had offered to stay so you wouldn't be alone, but you insisted she go home. "I'll let you know when I get home safe," you promised.

Before she left, she teased you, nudging you with a grin. "You better tell us if anything happens with Tyler!"

You rolled your eyes, amused. "He's just a guy, you know. And we are roommates, so you'd definitely find out if anything happened."

"Should I leave a blanket and pillow on the couch for him, then?" She teased before giving you a quick hug and making her way out of the bar.

Your attention shifted to Tyler, who was now alone at the bar. His crew had left, and he seemed to be enjoying a rare moment of solitude.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to him. As you approached, you asked, "Is anyone sitting here?" Gesturing to the stool next to him.

Tyler looked up, surprised by your move. "No, go ahead," he said, his smile returning as he gestured for you to take a seat.

You sat down next to him, feeling the subtle shift in the night's energy. The bar's quiet hum and the soft light made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

As you settled onto the stool next to Tyler, the soft lighting and the quiet hum of the bar created a cozy atmosphere.

"So, how were the storms today?" You asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Tyler leaned back, taking a sip of his drink. "Eh, they were okay. Nothing too dramatic. No big tornadoes or close calls like the viewers love. Just a regular chase day."

You nodded, intrigued. "That's too bad. I guess those big moments are what makes the videos so exciting."

"Yeah, they definitely get the adrenaline pumping," Tyler agreed, his gaze shifting from the bar to you. "But enough about me. What's your story? What are you doing in a small town like this?"

You considered his question for a moment before answering. "Actually, this is where I grew up. I graduated a while ago and didn't really know what I wanted to do next, so I stayed on the farm to help my parents out while I figured things out."

"That sounds pretty grounded," Tyler said, his tone genuinely interested. "So, what's next for you? Any big plans?"

You shrugged. "I'm still figuring that out. For now, I'm just here, helping out."

Tyler nodded thoughtfully before turning the conversation back to himself. "And what about me? How did I end up wrangling tornadoes?"

"Yeah, I was curious about that," you said. "How did you get into storm chasing?"

Tyler's eyes lit up with a mix of nostalgia and passion. "Well, I've always loved storms. Ever since I was a kid, they fascinated me. But it wasn't until a few years ago, after a really bad close call during a bull ride, that I decided to make a change. That bull ride nearly ended my life, and I figured if I was going to be on the edge, I might as well do it in a way I love. So I put together a crew of close friends and started recording our chases, and one viral video led to another. Before I knew it, 'Tornado Wrangler' just stuck."

You listened, captivated by his story. "That's pretty amazing. It sounds like it's been quite the journey for you."

Tyler chuckled, a hint of humility in his voice. "Yeah, it's been a wild ride. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."

The conversation flowed effortlessly, and soon you found yourself delving into more personal topics.

"So, do you have a girlfriend or anything?" you asked, trying to keep the tone light but curious.

Tyler let out a thoughtful sigh. "Not at the moment. I get a lot of attention from fans, but being on the road all the time makes it hard to really connect with anyone."

You nodded sympathetically. "That sounds rough. It must be hard to balance everything."

"Yeah, it's a challenge sometimes," Tyler agreed, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "What about you? Any interesting stories from your love life?"

You laughed softly, a hint of self-depreciation in your tone. "Oh, my love life - or lack thereof - is pretty sad, to be honest. It's hard to find anyone in a town this small, especially when you've known most of the guys your age since preschool."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? So you've never met anyone that you were interested in? That sounds like a tough situation."

"It is," you admitted with a shrug. "And I'm not exactly the type of girl guys usually choose first. I'm a little quiet and shy, and a lot of guys think I'm stubborn and hard to break through to."

Tyler chuckled softly. "I'm sure that's not entirely true. Everyone's got their own charm, even if it's not always obvious at first."

You smiled, appreciating his attempt to reassure you. "Thanks, Tyler. I guess we all have our own struggles."

"Definitely," Tyler agreed. "But it's nice to have someone to talk to who gets it."

The conversation continued, with both of you letting down your guards a bit more, enjoying the rare moment of honest connection amidst the bar's quiet backdrop.

The night was winding down, and the bar was now a quiet sanctuary with only a few patrons scattered around. The soft music playing created an almost magical atmosphere. You felt a sense of calm settle over you as you looked over at Tyler, who was leaning against the bar, eyes catching yours.

With a mix of anticipation and nerves, you softly said, "You know, I think I'd like to take you up on that dance," you said, surprising him with your decision.

Tyler's eyes widened, and a genuine smile spread across his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice laced with excitement.

You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves and excitement. Tyler slid off his bar stool and extended his hand towards you. With a deep breath, you took his hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving you a look as if seeking confirmation. You returned the gesture with a gentle squeeze, letting him know you were comfortable with the contact.

Tyler led you towards the dance floor, his steps confident but gentle. As you reached the floor, he carefully placed one hand on yours and moved his other hand to your waist. The touch was light but firm, and he drew you closer, though your chests didn't quite touch yet.

The two of you began to sway side to side in time with the music, the silence between you punctuated only by the soft melody playing in the background. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

As the song moved into the second verse, Tyler's hand slid from your waist to your lower back. With a careful and deliberate motion, he pulled you gently into him, closing the distance until your chests were touching. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, and the rhythm of the music guided your movements.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart, and as you swayed together, the intimacy of the moment grew. Tyler's grip was tender yet secure, and you found yourself relaxing into his embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as you both moved in sync.

The dance was slow and tender, each movement a soft conversation between your bodies. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in a dance that spoke volumes without needing words.

As the dance continued, Tyler's touch grew more confident. His hand on your lower back slid up to your waist, and you instinctively wrapped both of your arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to him. The move felt natural as if you were meant to be in this close embrace.

Tyler's hat, which had been perched atop his head, was suddenly tossed aside with a casual flick of his wrist. It landed somewhere out of sight, but you didn't notice. All your focus was on him and the closeness you shared. His forehead gently pressed against yours, and you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The sensation was intimate, his breath soft and warm against your skin.

The world around you seemed to dissolve as you both maintained this closeness. Tyler's eyes, now only inches from yours, were soft and focused. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours synchronized with the rhythm of the music, creating a soothing, rhythmic dance that was more than just physical.

The space between you was filled with unspoken words, a quiet intensity that neither of you needed to voice. Every subtle movement, every shift of his body, seemed to deepen the connection you both felt, making the dance a private exchange that was as much about the closeness and shared warmth as it was about the music.

As you swayed together, the intimacy between you deepened. Tyler's movements became slower, more deliberate, and he began to lean in just a little closer, his face coming nearer to yours. The moment felt charged, his intention clear as he seemed to be inching towards a kiss.

Your heart raced with anticipation, the closeness and warmth of his breath mixing with a subtle thrill of excitement. Tyler's lips were almost close enough to brush against yours when suddenly, the bartender's voice cut through the intimate silence.

"Last call, folks!" the bartender announced loudly. "Everyone needs to pay their tabs and head on out!"

The interruption was jarring, and Tyler halted his movement, his breath now mingling with yours in a mix of warmth and surprise. He straightened up, giving you a sheepish grin. "Well, I guess that's our cue," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You both laughed softly, the tension of the moment dissipating as the reality of the bar closing in on you settled. Tyler gently released his hold on you, and you reluctantly began to move away from the dance floor, the spell of the moment broken but not forgotten.

As you made your way back to your barstool, you reached into your purse to retrieve your wallet, only to realize with a sinking feeling that your roommate must have grabbed your bag by mistake when she left earlier. You had hoped to settle your tab without any trouble, but now you faced the awkward situation of having the wrong purse.

You turned to the bartender, who had been a friendly face during your many visits. "Hey, I think I've got the wrong purse," you said, trying to hide your embarrassment. "Is there any chance I could come back tomorrow to pay for my tab?"

Before the bartender could respond, Tyler stepped in with a grin. "Hey, don't sweat it," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "I'll take care of it."

You started to protest, but Tyler gently cut you off. He slid his card across the bar and gestured to the bartender. "Put both tabs on this," he said with a wink.

The bartender raised an eyebrow but nodded, taking Tyler's card and beginning to process the payment. You looked at Tyler, a mix of gratitude and surprise in your eyes. "You really don't have to—"

Tyler just shrugged, his smile playful. "Consider it a token of appreciation for the dance. And hey, I owe you a drink, remember?"

You chuckled, touched by his gesture. You and Tyler stood outside the bar, the rain starting to pick up around you. You exchanged numbers with a smile, your fingers brushing against his as you typed in your contact details. He gave you a quick, friendly hug before pulling away, saying, "Goodnight," and heading towards his truck.

You watched him get into his truck, then pulled out your phone to call a taxi, only to realize you had no signal. You sighed, glancing around the deserted street, the dark and the rain making the thought of walking home less appealing. The house you shared with your roommate was only a ten-minute walk away, but the weather was less than ideal.

As you began to make your way towards the street, the sound of a horn blared through the night. You turned to see Tyler's truck pulling up beside you. He rolled down the window, his concerned eyes finding yours. "Hey, what are you doing out here?"

You explained the situation, your voice a mix of frustration and resignation. "My roommate took the car home, and I can't get any signal to call a ride. I was just going to walk—it's not far."

Tyler shook his head, a firm yet gentle tone in his voice. "No way. Get in, I'll give you a ride." His expression made it clear that he wasn't giving you a choice, and you knew better than to argue.

You climbed into the passenger seat, shivering from the cold rain that had soaked through your clothes. Tyler noticed and reached into the back seat, pulling out a hoodie. He offered it to you, but you started to decline.

"It's fine, really—" you began, but he cut you off, insisting as he pulled the hoodie over your head.

"Just put it on," he said gently but firmly, ensuring you were snug and warm. The hoodie smelled faintly of him, a comforting mix of cologne and the outdoors.

You settled into the seat, the warmth of the truck's interior a stark contrast to the chilly rain outside. Tyler glanced at you, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips as drove off into the night.

#Tyler Owens #Twisters #Twisters 2024 #fanfiction #fanfic

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wheneverfeasible · 7 months ago

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A random plot idea that came to me suddenly. Please feel free to use this idea, just credit me if it inspires you and send a link with any story written!

I’ve read a few fics with the premise but it’s like a She’s All That AU where King Steve is bet to make The Freak, Eddie Munson, fall in love with him, or make him popular, or get him to prom so that they can Carrie him. And of course Steve goes along with it because he’s still trying to be what people want him to be or whatever and he doesn’t like it but he does it, only to end up catching feelings for Eddie.

And okay yeah. Cue that heartbreak angst when Eddie finds out. But…BUT…

Imagine that AU but Eddie knows about the bet. They don’t know he knows, but he discovers it quickly. He’s King Freak after all; the gossip gets back to him before the popular jocks even get to putting the plan in motion, or he overhears it himself, or whatever. But he knows.

He knows and he plays along. He lets Steve woo him, acts first like he’s wary and annoyed about the guy, makes him work for it, but he lets himself pretend to fold and accept the dates. Accepts the kissing. Accepts the more.

Because yeah, he knows it’s fake, knows Steve could never actually want him, but he still has King Steve’s mouth around his dick, and he honestly has to congratulate the guy for going so far for a bet. And hell, he’s not going to pass up the chance to see just how good the fabled King is with his dick either.

Eddie figures he’ll have some fantastic sex, eat good food and get some dope gifts like a new amp for his sweetheart all courtesy of Harrington money, and…yeah, okay, even if it’s fake, Steve’s actually pretty good company. And Eddie even makes friends with one of the cheerleaders and isn’t that fucking bizarre but she’s sweet even if her boyfriend is an ass.

And Steve is still friends with his ex and through that he knows some dweeb kids, and damn is Harrington actually kind of good with kids, kind of…nice? And he’s funny in a bitchy kind of way, and his family life actually kind of (a lot of) sucks. And he helps this band geek who was being bullied by one of his teammates, and…and maybe, in another life, Eddie might have thought King Steve was actually a good dude instead of the douchebag he knew he was.

Because this was fake. It’s all just a bet. And Eddie is going to laugh when, after all of this, he gets to pull the final prank on Harrington and all his court. Because he knows it’s fake. He knows Steve doesn’t actually like him. He knows that, even when he laughs in all their faces at the end because he got to fuck King Steve in the ass, he’s going to be leaving it all alone and…and without Steve.

And that’s fine. It’s fake. It’s fine. Steve could and would never actually like him. The King and The Freak. And it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.

And the truth is revealed, and Eddie laughs at them because he’s known all along, and Eddie pretends his heart isn’t breaking while Steve does the same. And it’s okay and it’s fine.

Except it isn’t.

But it is fine, because Steve’s ex? That band geeked he helped? Eddie’s cheerleader friend?

By god they’re going to get these two idiots to realize what’s been right in front of their eyes this whole time.

And this is only the beginning of the royal love story of King Hair and King Freak and how they turned Hawkins High upside down.

I guess you could say they really are all that.

Tagged: @derythcorvinus

#she’s all that au #she’s all that au adjacent at least #no upside down au #king steve #king freak eddie #eddie the freak munson #steve the hair harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie au #stranger things #modern au #if you squint #plot thots

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puckleberryfinnie · 7 months ago

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ok so ik my req might seem a bit weird butttttt.. i have been dyingggg for ray. like his body tea, i loveeee his lil accent and smile so i just wanna see like host!reader get nervous when he gets injured, him giving reader his jersey, and a lil post-game smooch 🫶🏾🫶🏾.

girll you don't understand how glad I am that someone else feels this way about him like I feel so wrong about it but?? he's such a cutie?? thank you soso much for sending this in, love this idea <33 so sorry this took so long, life took hold of meee

Beautiful Little Fools

You being a friend of Kai's, and being in several of his streams as an internet personality yourself. Of course, you meet several of his friends, including Ray. He's just using his cheesy "rizz" with Kai's encouragement, and you're laughing on to all his funny tactics.

When the Beta Squad and AMP decide to have the match, there's almost immediately an invitation for you to join in as a host, that you accept gratefully!

The days leading up to the event, you spend a lot of time hanging out with the American group, as well as meeting new people that you become fast friends with.

Ray, however, stays close to either you or Kai at most points, finding himself most comfortable with people he knows pretty well already. Everyone (thought mostly Kai) loves the relationship you two have, and joke around about it a LOT.

You, of course, enjoy his company and help him with training that they have set up for those participating the day before the real match. It's mostly just simple things, though, like returning the balls to him or mock-guarding him.

At some point during the practice, he gets slightly injured, tripping over a ball or something like that. It really isn't that bad, but you find it concerning, especially considering the big match is the following day.

He, however, reassures you, comforting you by patting your head and giving you a brief hug. He doesn't like you being worried about it, so he tried to make sure you understand he's okay.

The next day is obviously intense, and you spend a lot of time making sure Ray is safe, keeping an eye on him throughout the game. You interview him at halftime momentarily, joking around together before he has to go. You also remind him to be safe out there, yelling after him.

He clearly doesn't follow this advice too closely, however, and ends up getting tackled by some larger player (probs Niko lets be so fr) You, of course, feel incredibly scared, watching him from the sidelines all while trying to keep composure as a host.

As he gets guided to the bench to rest, you move yourself over there to talk to him, frantically making sure he's ok. You end up in his arms, him holding you tightly.

After that interaction and him assuring you plenty that he's alright, you go back to doing your job as a host, interviewing other players and such.

Post game, he comes back to see you, striding over to you with intent. It startles you for a moment, when you suddenly see him standing so close to you. He give a short hug followed by a even shorter, nervous kiss.

After a moment of staring at each other, he takes off his jersey, handing it to you with a smile. He doesn't even say anything, just holds it out for you to take.

You end up wearing that jersey on your flight back and on many occasions afterwards. <3

guys I legit don't know why but I really can't tell if I like this style of writing or not. let me know what you think, I'm soso sorry this isn't very good, I truly hope you still enjoy <33

title is a song from great gatsby the musical ofc

anyways, thank you sososo much for being my first ever request, I love you to the moon and back tbh!!

I definitely want to do more of these before school starts to make everything crazy again, so if anyone wants to send something in feel completely free and wanted within my inbox! I'll take requests about pretty much anyone (check out the list of things I love for some reference!!) or I'm for sure here to chat <33

MUAH LOVE YA!!

#ray #kai cenat #amp x reader #amp #beta squad #beta squad x reader #ray x reader

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sephines · 4 days ago

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Declan O'Hara x Reader: you say you wanna go slow

Declan O'Hara x cis woman reader

Summary: Takes place after Maud has left for London. You're working for Corinium, and you and Declan have been secretly sleeping together for a while now. After a long day of pent up sexual tension shared between the two of you at a garden party at the Priory, you're finally alone together, and desperate to get your hands and mouth on him.

Word count: 3.8k

Content: pure smut, 18+, reader age not mentioned so can be whatever you want, mostly reader pov w small instances of Declan pov, swearing, infidelity (sort of), smoking, alcohol, lots of teasing, dirty talk, relatively fluid power dynamic (both Declan & reader alternating between being a little more submissive or a little more dominant), slight instances of inflicting pain, blowjob (inc face fucking), not enough here to constitute a praise kink but definitely praise, basically all about my oral fixation

Author's note: This is the first time I've ever written smut so I'm a little apprehensive to post but I really enjoyed writing it! Not me saying 'I'm only going to write little snapshots' and then writing almost 4k words of achingly slow, drawn-out foreplay culminating in a blow job. This is essentially a long, slow, sensual tease. Not sure if it'll be everyone's cup of tea but I tried to just write from a place of my own fantasy. Bc of the slow pace I imagine it would be best read slowly and taking time to imagine everything if possible!

There are probably some inconsistencies wrt what Declan's study looks like. I also initially played around with writing in an Irish dialect for him but wasn't sure about it so scrapped that - so imagine him speaking in his gorgeous accent.

Title is from the Haim song Gasoline.

If you enjoy it I would really appreciate feedback/reblogs/likes! Thank you 🌹

It’s dusk on a hot July day. You and Declan are in his study, the taste of cool whiskey and melted dark chocolate on your tongues. You’ve been at a garden party for Corinium at the O’Haras all day, and the grounds had only cleared out about half an hour ago. The two of you have spent the day teasing one another from afar - a stolen glance here, long, lingering eye contact there. About two hours into the sweltering afternoon, knowing how much it turns you on to see his chest hair peeking out, Declan had caught your eye over the buffet and loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, smirking at you before turning around to speak to someone you didn’t recognise. Forty five minutes later, when you noticed him watching you from across the dancefloor, you rested your hand on the bicep of the good-looking man chatting to you and leant forward to whisper something in his ear, knowing that seeing you flirt with someone else would amp up Declan’s desire for you. The day was littered with moments like this: loaded looks, subtly suggestive comments in company, finding small ways to push each other’s buttons.

You’ve been alone in the Priory, having encamped in Declan’s study armed with a leftover bottle of whiskey and slabs of dark chocolate from the party, for thirty minutes now, and still neither of you have made a move. You’re relaxing in the sunshine streaming in through the glass doors, but the tension in the air is thick - it’s like you’re each silently daring the other to give in first, neither wanting to buckle.

Declan’s sitting in his chair, legs splayed, head tilted back over the headrest as he takes drags from a cigarette, letting the low evening sun fall over his cheekbones, his mouth, his neck. In the heat, he’s taken off his shirt, and his bare chest rises and falls slowly, luxuriously, in front of you. You take in the coils of dark hair - thick up top and leading down his stomach to the top of his belt - and the light sheen of sweat glistening atop it. Your breath hitches and you feel your own head tilt back in desire, your teeth biting down on your lower lip.

Declan’s eyes are closed. He can’t see you drinking him in like this - it adds a thrill to the experience, almost lends him a little vulnerability, you a sense of getting to indulge in your own desires unwatched, unseen. The thin gold chain draped across his collarbones catches the sunlight, and there’s something about the delicacy of it against his strong, muscled shoulders and torso that you find impossibly sexy. Declan doesn’t usually put an enormous amount of effort into his appearance, and imagining him taking the time to clasp the chain around his neck feels so deliciously at odds with how unbothered he comes across.

He slowly lets his head fall back down to center, and opens his eyes lazily. He sees you looking at him intently, and immediately clocks the look in your eye. A smirk spreads across his face as he stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray beside him, not once taking his eyes off of yours’. He knows the effect he has on you. It’s enough to make your pulse quicken.

Involuntarily, you bite down harder on your lower lip. You feel exposed now - it’s an entirely different experience to watching him without his knowledge. You feel suddenly as though you’re the one under inspection. You’re sitting on your knees on the hardwood floor across from him, dressed in a low-cut crop top and flowing mini skirt, palms on your thighs. Your hair is pulled into a claw clip at the back of your head, and you can feel beads of sweat across your neck and your cleavage. Declan might be shirtless, but you feel just as naked, achingly aware of how little fabric covers your body, of how little Declan would need to do to have his hands on your bare skin.

He tilts his head at you, raises his eyebrow almost imperceptibly, exhaling the last plume of smoke from his cigarette. You know what he’s saying: I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of telling you, “c’mere.” I need you to act. I need to see how much you want me. You meet his gaze, frustrated and turned on in equal measure, and smirk at him in return. You love the little games you play, the way he teases you, the way you can communicate without words.

You crawl forward until you’re kneeling between his thighs, letting your eyes drink in the swell of his chest and the slope of his stomach. His body is muscular, but there’s a slight softness to it, too. There’s something about this that feels rawer, more primal, more sensual to you than if he were incredibly chiselled. You let out a sigh. You’re so heady with want for him. You let your palms slide down his pecs, move to follow them with your mouth. Before you can feel the touch of your lips against him, he reaches down and cups your chin in a strong hand, lifting your jaw gently but firmly, to look up at him. You let out a whimper of frustration. He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, your mouth opening slightly in response to his touch.

Desire glows in his eyes - it’s intoxicating to see how much you want him. He wants your mouth all over him just as much as you do, but he wants to tease you, too, to build the suspense for both of you. Your big eyes look up at him intensely, heavy lidded with lust. Both of you are breathing heavily, letting the moment of anticipation stretch out.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says.

You moan and take his thumb into your mouth. He lets out a groan and grasps the other side of your face, pulling you up towards him. His thumb slides across your bottom lip as your mouths meet. The kiss is hard and messy, your lust for each other spilling over. You clasp one hand across his throat, feeling the cold metal of that delicate chain under your thumb. The other is tangled up in his hair, pulling sharply on his dark curls. He removes the claw clip from your hair and tosses it to the side, allowing loose tendrils to fall down around your shoulders. You feel as though you’re melting into one another.

Declan breaks away to murmur, amidst ragged breaths, against your mouth, ‘I’ve wanted you like this all day.’ The kisses you share become urgent, fervent, hard. ‘Needed you like this.’

Hearing him say this makes you moan. You pull away from his mouth just slightly, catching his eye and murmuring, ‘I know,’ a smirk spreading across your face.

He chuckles and shakes his head. ‘You’re such a fucking tease.’

You smile at him, smug, before he pulls you into another kiss.

His hands travel down your shoulders and over your tits, your waist, until he reaches the waistband of your skirt and slides it down your hips along with your white lace underwear. You feel a little thrill at being so exposed.

Declan positions you gently away so he can look at you, taking in the swell of your breasts in your crop top and the curve of your hips, your lush pussy and swollen clit. You’re so gorgeous. He feels his cock straining against his trousers. He sighs and shakes his head at you, ever so slightly, as if in wonder. His thumb circles your nipple, causing you to sigh in pleasure, before his hand travels down your waist and to the soft swell of your ass, squeezing hard.

You reach up to kiss him again, your touch firm yet caressing on his jawbone and neck, and this time it’s deeper, more languorous. Your tongues slide against each other and you moan into one another’s mouths.

Moving one hand to those dark curls, you tug gently at the nape of his neck until he tips his head backwards, letting you kiss lightly across his jaw, then deeper down the soft skin of his exposed throat, feeling the vibrations of his low moans against your lips. This is what you’ve wanted all day: to put your mouth on every inch of him, to feel his hot, strong body against your lips, under your tongue. You’re so hungry for him.

You pepper your kisses with little bites, and he responds by tightening his grasp on your hair, making you moan in turn. Your kisses meet his collarbone, and then you sink onto your knees, moving down to his chest. You’re just melting into the moment, into him, into the swell of his pecs against your lips, finally, when he uses his grasp on your hair to tilt your head back and away from his torso. His thumb brushes against your jaw. You look up at him, whimpering in frustration.

He returns your gaze intently. You’re breathing heavily, dizzy with desire. The moment unfurls out in the silence between the two of you, in the eye contact you share. The anticipation feels delicious - so overwhelming you almost can’t bear it, and yet somehow satiating in itself.

‘Declan….’, you breathe, ‘...please..’

You can see his breath quicken in the way his chest moves. He moves his thumb gently from where it rests on your jawbone to stroke your lower lip. ‘I just want to hear you say it. How much you want me.’

You let out a sigh. The desire you feel for him, the frustration in not being able to fulfill it, has you weak. You want to tell him just how much he drives you crazy, how incredibly sexy you find him, but you can’t find the words - they swim in your mind untethered from one another.

‘Declan…I…’ you begin in between ragged breaths, looking up at him, ‘...I don’t even…have words for how much I want you.’ Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. He’s brushing his thumb ever so lightly, ever so gently, back and forth over the center of your bottom lip. You let your gaze drift down to where his muscled chest rises and falls in front of you. ‘You’re so fucking…sexy to me…’ You shake your head slightly in wonder. ‘I can hardly stand it…’

He lets your words hang for a moment, his eyes growing heavy with lust, his pupils widening.

You’re wondering how long he’s going to keep you waiting, if he's going to make you say more, when a softness fills his eyes.

‘Open your mouth,’ he says, gently. It’s more like a suggestion than a command, and you feel safe following his instructions - Declan knows your desires so well, knows what you want and need. You can trust him to give it to you.

As you do so, he reaches to the bronze side table beside him and curls his fist around his glass of whiskey, lifting it towards the two of you. Drops of perspiration coat the outside of the glass.

Catching his eye and realising what he’s doing, you offer up your tongue to him. Slowly, one hand still wrapped up in your hair, pulling your head back, he tips the glass downwards, pouring the cool, strong whiskey onto your outstretched tongue. The feeling of the cool liquid hitting your tastebuds, the rest of your body so hot in the evening sun streaming through the windows, sends a shock down your spine. Declan continues pouring, so the whiskey flows onto your collarbones and down to your breasts, soaking through the white cotton of your crop top and coating your nipples. It feels luxurious.

It feels like he’s touching you without touching you.

Declan watches intently as the whiskey drips down your body. Your hair is messy, your lips swollen. Your cheeks are flushed, and a slight tan has formed after a day spent in the sunshine - across your forehead, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose. Across the swell of your cleavage, which rises and falls heavily, droplets scattered atop your bare skin. His gaze gets stuck there - the now wet, whiskey-soaked cotton of your white top clings to your breasts, revealing the full curve of their shape. Your nipples peek through your lacy white lingerie, even harder now, having been drenched in the cold liquid. Seeing you like this has his cock aching for your touch. He lets out a sigh, the hand in your hair softening slightly.

Slowly, deliberately, you reach up and take the glass from his hand. His eyes follow your movements. After a moment’s pause, you position the glass just below his jaw, and pour the remainder of the whiskey onto his chest. He tips his head back in pleasure as the amber liquid flows down his pecs and onto his stomach.

Without thinking, you lean forward and lick, slowly, from the soft skin of Declan’s stomach upwards to his chest. The taste of the cool, strong whiskey mingles with the salt of his sweat on your tastebuds. Feeling him hot against your tongue like this, finally, makes you moan. He lets out a groan simultaneously, the hand in your hair tightening its grip. Finally, you have him where you want him. You begin kissing the soft flesh of his throat again; bite down hard on his earlobe.

‘Fuck,’ he whispers.

‘I love it when you swear for me,’ you whisper, almost inaudibly, into his ear. You know the feeling of your breath against those sensitive nerve endings will send shivers down his spine.

He lets out a small noise - half moan, half chuckle - and then tightens the grip on your hair, hard. The movement sends a sharp sting through your scalp. You gasp in both pain and pleasure, just as he had intended.

Moving down, you pepper his collarbones with light kisses, before placing a deep kiss on his chest. Your hands roam across his strong shoulders and arms, and you let your desire overtake you. You’re guided less by what Declan might want, now, and more by what you need - where your mouth wants to go, the sensations you want to feel against your lips, against your palms. You’re barely even thinking at all. You want to taste all of him. You let your mouth roam, kissing deeply across his pecs - the taste of his sweat and of the whiskey, the texture of the dark coils of hair coating his chest, the hardness of his muscles against your lips and tongue all make you moan into him. You kiss down his stomach slowly, luxuriously, taking your time.

As you inch closer to the waistband of his boxers peeking out from over his belt, you feel his breathing quicken, and feel achingly aware of the rock hard bulge just centimetres from your face. You let your lips brush delicately against the soft skin of his lower stomach, looking up at him as you do so. He’s gazing intensely down at you in anticipation.

You undo Declan’s belt and the button of his trousers, unzip his fly. He lifts his hips, watching you, so you can slide his trousers down to his ankles. As you do so you sigh at the sight of his hard cock constrained in tight grey boxer shorts, at his thick, strong thighs, covered in those same dark coils of hair. You sit back for a moment, taking him in, and stroke him from his stomach to his inner thighs. You squeeze slightly, feeling the strength of his muscles, then use just the lightest touch of your fingernails to stroke the sensitive skin there. His breathing quickens more still. He can’t keep his eyes off of you.

Hungrily, you lean down to kiss deeply along his inner thighs. You can hardly control yourself now - you want to be full of him. Pausing once you reach the edge of his boxer shorts, you look up at him, lift his hand to your mouth and suck his index and ring fingers in one motion, deep and slow.

Declan can’t help but let out a deep moan. Seeing you like this - your face mere centimetres from his throbbing cock, your lips wrapped around his fingers - and feeling your hot, soft mouth around him, so close to where he wants it, is almost too much for him to bear. The look in your big eyes only adds to the intoxication: there’s a mixture of mischief and innocence there. He knows you know what you’re doing to him, and at the same time, you’re surrendering to your desire for him.

Desperate now, impatient, you slide down his boxer shorts and let out a sigh at the sight of his thick, hard cock breaking free from its restraints. You feel a pleasurable tightening in your lower stomach, in your pussy. You hover above him, letting your heavy breaths tease him, before brushing your lips gently up his length. You moan softly at the feeling of him hard against your lips, at the feeling of finally getting what you’ve been aching for all day.

Declan bites his lower lip, breathes in hard. He doesn’t want to let himself go, not just yet, but it’s taking every ounce of his willpower not to moan. He reaches a hand down and brushes the side of your cheek and jaw gently, before using his fingers to pull those messy waves away from your face, keeping them clasped in a fist at the back of your head. He wants to see you, and he wants to make things easier for you.

Unable to hold back any longer, with your hands on his hips, you take Declan into your mouth in one swift motion, both of you moaning loudly at the sensation. You don’t have the patience to tease him any longer - you’re greedy for him. You take him deeper, sliding him in and out, sucking him deeply. His moans drift down to you, consistent now - he can’t stop himself. Neither can you. It feels so fucking good to have him hard and aching in your mouth, finally. His grasp on your hair tightens, and you pause for just a moment at the tip of his cock, looking up at him. His eyes are glazed over, and an expression of frustration overtakes his face as you let the seconds pass, unmoving. Needy, he begins to thrust, slowly, into your mouth. You feel your own eyes glaze over as he does so, let them close as you begin sucking him again.

Your hands are clasped on his hips, feeling the soft flesh of his stomach and the hard muscles beneath, your thumbs circling around the dark hair. The feeling of your hands on him like this; of his hot, thick, throbbing cock thrusting slowly in and out of your mouth, against your tongue, filling you, his fist bunched up tightly in your hair, is bliss. You feel entirely in the present moment, lost to anything but the sensations overtaking you.

Declan is the same. His head is thrown back now, eyes closed too, overcome with pleasure.

A sudden cool breeze floats through the ajar glass door, caressing your bare clit, your wet opening, your nipples still coated in whiskey. Your moans deepen in response to the new stimulus. The cool air against your naked skin only highlights your arousal, how exposed you are.

The same sensation is enough to break Declan out of his dazed state for a second. He dips his head down in your direction, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. He lets his thumb trace down your jaw. The sight of you on your knees, flushed lips wrapped around his cock, eyes closed, blissed out, makes him dizzy.

‘You feel so fucking good,’ he murmurs, through ragged breaths. ‘You’re so fucking good to me.’

You whimper at the sound of his praise in that thick irish accent, and his grasp on your hair tightens again, sending sharp stabs of pleasure through your scalp. Declan leans back again, giving way to his pleasure. His fist clenches in your hair, his breaths quicken, his groans deepen. You muster up the energy to open your eyes and look up at him, and see his head tipped back, mouth open, strong chest heaving. The hand not clasped in your hair is digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of his thigh. That delicate golden chain glints against his throat in the soft sunlight. God, he’s gorgeous.

There’s something about being in the position you’re in that allows you to feel submissive and dominant all at once: on your knees below him, your pussy slick, exposed and aching for him, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, you desperate to take him. And at the same time, seeing him come undone before you, unravelling, entirely at your mercy. Exactly where you want him.

You move your arms down to his thighs and hold them down, sending a signal to him to stop thrusting. He follows your lead, sighing as he looks down at you for a second before tipping his head back. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock and begin pumping, working in tandem with your lips and tongue.

Declan lets out a loud moan, his fist curled around your hair even tighter now. As you work him harder and faster, his breaths become quicker still and your name begins to float down from his mouth to you repeatedly, peppered with the occasional ‘fuck’ and ‘Christ’.

Suddenly, he stiffens, moaning loudly, and you work him fast through his orgasm, his release filling your mouth. You swallow deeply, and feel the hand in your hair soften, his body going slack.

You kiss up his stomach and chest lazily, before positioning yourself flush against him and placing gentle kisses on his neck, caressing his collarbones. His head is still tipped back, chest heaving, spent. He brings a strong arm up to your head and strokes your hair, the other on your waist.

‘You’re amazing,’ he murmurs, finally lifting his head to look at you. He tucks your messy waves behind your ear and brushes his thumb across your cheekbone, before pulling you in for a long, deep kiss.

When you break apart, you lift your top and bra over your head, needing to feel your bare skin against his. He sighs at the sight of your bare tits and gives you a lazy smile. You let yourself drape over him, your nipples brushing up against the hair on his chest, your arms wrapped around his neck, lips brushing against the soft skin of his throat. Declan moves his strong hand through your hair tenderly. Both of you catch your breath, spent, the rest of the evening laying luxuriously ahead of you.

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