#I dunno why this is the one my brain returns to | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sanguineterrain · 2 years ago

Text

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say.

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?"

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again.

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks.

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face.

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly.

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone.

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you.

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you.

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.”

You nod and lay back on the floaty.

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks.

“Just us?”

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you.

Whoops. Right. You're still at work.

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing.

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink.

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it?

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar.

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?”

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort.

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you.

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.”

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add.

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway.

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight.

“You’re awesome, Y/N!"

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?”

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot.

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again."

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young.

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town.

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered."

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family.

"Who do I ask for?"

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck.

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says.

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?"

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler.

She nods in realization.

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince.

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit.

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say.

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree.

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand.

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod.

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest.

"How come?" she asks.

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically.

"They're jerks," she says.

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore.

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans.

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from.

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass.

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on.

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures.

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter.

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font.

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles.

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye.

"No," you manage.

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?"

He doesn't remember you.

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve.

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say.

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin.

Her brows rise.

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away.

Only there do you stop to catch your breath.

And then you cry.

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?"

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table.

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah."

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it.

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute."

"I guess so," you say.

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase.

"Shit, here. Take mine."

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?"

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before.

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now.

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates.

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple.

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?"

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention.

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched.

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words."

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack.

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says.

You nearly swallow your tongue.

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do.

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair.

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back.

"Just us?" you check.

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together.

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?"

You check your watch and close your book.

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later."

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.)

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends.

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?"

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs.

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though.

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses.

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look.

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile.

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation.

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always.

You lean your elbows on the countertop.

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes.

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument.

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that.

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking.

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say.

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?"

Lucas nods.

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey.

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you.

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains.

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone.

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie.

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort.

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared.

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector."

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly.

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that.

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?"

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change.

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty.

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business."

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional.

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew.

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool.

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy.

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy.

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason.

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little.

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck.

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.”

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area.

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share.

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!”

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm.

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying.

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded.

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror.

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket.

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you.

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it.

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again.

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting.

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth.

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese.

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?"

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too.

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava.

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none.

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head.

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile.

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble.

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met."

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot.

"This town is so shit," you say.

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?"

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle.

You look at the tape in your hand.

"Does Steve like John Hughes?"

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved.

"I did want to watch this one," you say.

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises.

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on.

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap.

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't.

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself.

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been.

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie.

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not.

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy.

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life.

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault.

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him.

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital.

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it.

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you.

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck.

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships.

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that.

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it.

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand.

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open.

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine.

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you.

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask.

“Always.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

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wlntrsldler · 10 months ago

Note

Hiiiiii!!!! I love Apple Pie by Lizzy McAlpine!! Can I get Jamie Tartt to apple pie?

apple pie | jamie tartt

based on the song apple pie by lizzy mcalpine

description: jamie gets insecure sometimes, but having you with him helps.

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (f!reader she/her)

warnings: lots of kissing, self-doubt, insecurities, mention of jamie's dad

word count: 2631

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When Jamie first got into a relationship with you, he knew that both of your busy schedules would pose a problem down the road. With his football career seemingly reaching new peaks every season and your acting career taking off after being cast in what is being called “the film that revived the dying genre of romantic comedies,” the amount of time you get to spend with each other decreased significantly since the start of your relationship.

You first met Jamie halfway through his returning season at AFC Richmond. You met him at a birthday dinner party for a friend of a friend where you relentlessly teased him for his ridiculous, but outstanding performance, on Lust Conquers All. You had originally praised him for it when you were fully under the impression that he was putting on an act. You didn’t find out that he was just being his prick-ish self, albeit his younger prick-ish self, until about four months into your relationship when he embarrassedly admitted it to you. That’s how you found yourself rewatching the entire season together on his couch until 2 hours before Roy knocked on his door for his training session.

At first, Jamie thought you were making fun of him. His insecurities would still peek in here and there and sometimes he couldn’t help but worry that you’d see him as nothing more than a dumb footballer like everyone else does. He quickly realized, though, that while you were losing your mind laughing at how he acted in the show, making fun of him was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Why’d ya wanna watch this shit anyways?” he grumbled, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him. “It’s just poopy. ‘M not even like that anymore.”

“I know,” you sat up, pausing the show when you heard his voice crack. You knew the tone of Jamie’s voice when he was cracking jokes and when he was happy, and this voice wasn’t one or the other. You turned your body to face him, “I know you aren’t like this anymore, I just thought it would be funny.”

“I dunno, I suppose it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?” you questioned. “Why I want to watch it?”

“Yeah,” Jamie replied. His eyes were looking at everything but at you. He was playing with the threads of the blanket loosely draped over his legs. He rubbed his nose with his balled-up fist. “Why does it matter how I was before you? I’m better now, yeah? Unless you don’t think so...”

“Oh, love,” you grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you. You were so engrossed in the episode on the TV that you didn’t realize how uncomfortable Jamie was feeling about the whole situation. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention to how you were feeling about this. We can stop watching it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He hummed, tugging on your hoodie to pull you closer to him. “I just don’t want you to see how I used to be and realize you don’t want to be with a prick like that, even if I have changed, you know? I don’t know… I just thought that with ya, I’d have a fresh start.”

“Jamie Tartt, enough of that now,” You took over being the big spoon, which made Jamie nuzzle into your neck contently, “You have changed. You’re an amazing man and the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. I only wanted to watch this show because it’s such a shitty show that it’s nice to just unwind. When I watch this Jamie on the screen, my brain can’t even comprehend that it’s you.”

“You don’t think I’m a prick anymore, yeah?” Jamie asked again, hoping that he’d get a confirmation, “Like you wouldn’t leave me over that?”

You’ve learned over the past few months things about Jamie– one of which is that he needs to be told positive things or else he’d spiral. The thing is, if you could go into his mind and turn off that control box that spews self-doubt and insecurities to him, you would do it in a heartbeat. But since you can’t, you were more than happy to shower him with love and adoration in hopes that your voice can drown the rest of them out.

“Never,” you placed your lips on his in a soft kiss. “You’d have to work a hell of a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“I’m working double overtime just so you’d keep me, love,” he murmured, pulling you in for another kiss. His hand reached for the remote to turn the TV off to leave you both in the glow of the floor lamp in his living room.

“You don’t have to work hard for that.”

Jamie had gotten used to having you around his flat. He would leave for 4 AM training with Roy with you on his bed, often naked, then return at around 6:30 AM to shower and join you back in bed for another hour before you woke up. He’d wake up for the second time that day with you drawing patterns on his chest and a soft smile on your face. He’d lean over and place a loving kiss on your lips and he’d feel prepared to start the day.

You were filming a show in London for three months, which meant that for three months, this was Jamie’s life. In between projects, you stayed at his place. For two weeks after the wrap party, you came home to him, visited him at the facility, and went to all the team outings, home games, and away games with him. He was with you 24/7 and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He didn’t realize how he took it for granted until filming ended.

Three weeks ago, you flew to New York City to begin filming another movie. With training and games, Jamie hasn’t been able to take time off to visit you, and with filming just starting, you couldn’t fly back to Richmond either.

Jamie was doing fine– as fine as someone can be when their daily routine was abruptly disrupted. He was proud of you. The premise of the movie seemed perfect for you and was a seamless continuation of the romantic comedy trend you were on. People were buzzing for your next project, especially after your last one was so well received. He was so proud of you…. But he also missed you.

During the three weeks that you were gone, you and Jamie still texted each other constantly and FaceTimed everyday, despite the crazy time difference. He wanted to make it work, and so did you, so you did what you could to stay in touch. While not being able to hold you and kiss you for three weeks was killing Jamie, he was glad he was still able to spend time with you. Things didn’t get to Jamie until Jan Maas made an off-handed comment about it.

All of them were packing up after training, feeling extremely antsy with the Man City match on the horizon, Jamie especially. There were a lot of things on his mind, including the possibility of seeing his father, who he hadn’t seen since Wembley, and playing against his old team was always a trip. In short, he wasn’t feeling his best and the fact that you weren’t nearby made it worse.

“Jamie, we have not seen Y/N in a while,” Sam noted, “Is everything okay with you two?”

“She’s filming a movie in New York, bruv,” Isaac replied before Jamie could speak, “Right, Tartt?”

Jamie nodded, putting his shirt over his head, “Yeah. She’ll be gone for a few months, at least.”

“I do not know how you’re gonna survive, Jamie,” Jan Maas said. “You are so clingy when it comes to her. I don’t think you can make it all those months.”

The rest of the team chuckled at Jan’s teasing tone, but Jamie furrowed his eyebrows in thought. Was he clingy? He frowned as he continued to put his things away. He picked up his phone from his cubby, smiling when he received a few messages from you while he was at training. As he was about to respond, Jan’s comment made him stop in his tracks.

Maybe it would be best to let you have a night to yourself. You had a life outside of him and you deserve to be able to live it without having him cling to you all the time. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, slipping his phone in his back pocket, before walking out of the locker room to head to his place.

When you woke up to no text from Jamie, you assumed that he was just worn out from training and didn’t have the energy to reply. You’ve seen the intense training he went through, so you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. But as the day went on and there was still no word from Jamie– you’d even checked the timezone clock on your phone to make sure you weren’t being unreasonable– you began to worry. FaceTime calls went unanswered and instead, you were met with the Apple automated response, “Sorry, can’t talk right now.”

To: lover boy <3

“Hi, love. Got some exciting news, you free to chat? Xx”

By the time you were boarding the plane to Manchester, Jamie still hadn’t texted you back. After begging the producers to give you a week off filming, they finally agreed. You asked for this week in particular, knowing that you wanted to be there for Jamie for the Man City match. There was a lot on the line for Jamie and you wanted to be there for him no matter what happened.

The entire plane ride back to England was filled with dread and anxiety. It wasn’t like Jamie to not respond. Unless he was at a game, training, or sleeping, but even then he had a special ringtone for you that wakes him up whenever you called, he always replied to your messages as soon as possible. When you landed, everything that could go wrong went wrong. Your plane was stuck on the tarmac for an hour because there were problems with the gate. Your luggage got delayed which left you sitting at baggage claim for another 45 minutes. When you finally arrived at the hotel the team was staying at– shoutout to Ted for being yours and Jamie’s number one supporter and telling you where they were staying– Jamie was nowhere to be found.

You dragged your luggage to Jamie’s room, plopping on the bed tiredly. You glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 9:28 PM. Ted mentioned that there was a 10 PM curfew so you hoped that tonight was not one of the nights where Jamie decided to break the rules. Ted also mentioned that Jamie has not been himself lately, which did nothing to soothe your panic. You hopped in the shower to rinse yourself from the long day you’ve had. You did your night routine and dug into Jamie’s bag to retrieve his AFC Richmond hoodie. Before putting it on, you held it up to your nose, sighing as your senses were filled with Jamie. You missed him.

It was 9:57 PM when you heard the door unlock. You were on his bed, scrolling aimlessly on social media, when you saw him. You sat up, shutting your phone off. He walked in with his head low. His shoulders were hunched over a bit, but he looked okay. He looked better than how Ted described him.

He kicked off his shoes, before looking at you on his bed, startled. His eyes widened, first in fear that there was someone in his room, then in surprise that it was you in his room. His lips curved down in a frown, eyebrows furrowed in sadness.

“Baby,” you whispered, moving to the side of the bed to make room for him.

Jamie knew that he needed to not be clingy. He didn’t want to bother you too much. He was trying to be cool. But when you called him “baby,” with that voice, in his hoodie on his bed, his resolve crumbled to pieces.

He ran to you, nearly tackling you off the bed when he engulfed you in his arms. He buried his face in your neck, a mix of your lotion and the cologne he sprays on his clothes surrounding him. You cradled the back of his head, mumbling how much you missed him into his shoulder. Jamie could cry. He hasn’t seen you in so long, but here you are now.

“What are you doing here?” He asked when he finally pulled away from you. He couldn’t stray too far though. His arm was still wrapped around you while you cuddled into his side. “I thought you were in New York.”

“Well, if you bothered to answer my texts,” you trailed off, faking a voice of sadness. You poked his side, “You would’ve seen that I had exciting news. The producers gave me a week off after begging them since I first got to New York and this week is perfect because I know tomorrow’s match is gonna be a lot for you. I wanted to be here for you, whatever the outcome is.”

“Oh.” Jamie was speechless. Here he was ignoring you like a prick while you were planning to come back just to be here for him. He didn’t deserve you.

“Yeah,” you continued, “If tomorrow we celebrate, I’ll be here making sure that you drink enough water so that your hangover the next day won’t be too much. If tomorrow we try to never think about it again, I’ll sit next to you on the bus in silence holding your hand and when we get home we can do the same thing.”

Home. You were here and he felt like he was home.

“I missed you so much,” Jamie sighed. He kissed you all over your face, giving your lips extra attention. “‘M sorry if I was bothering you by texting and calling so much over the last few weeks… I just missed you loads and I wanted to talk to you.”

“Baby, you didn’t text and call me enough,” you played with his hair, running your fingers through the strands. “If it was possible, I would stay on a call with you all day, everyday. Can’t get enough of ya.”

He smiled, his worries disappearing with every word you said, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, I love you, Jamie Tartt.” You kissed him deeply. “Couldn’t get tired of you even after a million years. Now, catch me up! Tell me everything.”

Jamie, feeling like himself again, began to tell you everything you missed over the last few weeks– meeting Sam’s father, meeting Ted’s mum, Roy and Keeley, and seeing his mum earlier that night, which is why he came home late. He talked about how a visit to Georgie and Simon helped lift his spirits, and how Georgie was gushing about you and asking him when you’ll come to visit again.

Then he talked about his fears for tomorrow and everything that’s been piling up on him ever since you left. As he spoke, you rubbed his back comfortingly, a small reminder that you’ll always be here no matter what.

Jamie knew that he still had a lot of work to do. He knew that his insecurities could get the best of him sometimes and it can cause him to push back on people who love and care about him, but he was trying. You believed in him and that’s all he needed.

#ted lasso fics #ted lasso #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x yn #jamie tartt oneshot #frances writes #frances song fics

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heavenlyvision · 1 year ago

Text

While hell freezes over

Word count: 10.4k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is a part three to my 'When hell freezes over' series, parts linked in order below :3

part one, part two

A/N: Even longer fic this time guys! I got carried away :3 thank you all for the continued support, kind words and patience! I hope this is satisfactory and lives up to expectations. And well… if you thought Bi-Han went off in the last one, then, I dunno what to tell you about this one. I have a few requests I’d like to get through before I start the next part, if you’ve sent me one and think I’ve been ignoring it, I haven’t, I see it! I have plans and ideas for them. I’ve just been writing 10k words of Bi-Han brain rot but trust me, I’m on it :)

Summary: Someone heard you last night, an embarrassing conversation ensues, and the day doesn’t get better from there. You find yourself in a compromising position and Bi-Han does not appreciate it, he finds himself needing to remind you of who you belong to.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, inappropriate use of Bi-Han’s ice powers, possessive!Bi-Han, jealous!Bi-Han, pussy slapping (more like tapping), inappropriate use of Bi-Hans official title, return of mean Bi-Han, slight Soft!Bi-Han, no use of y/n

It’s early when you wake up wrapped up in Bi-Han’s arms, he never gave you the chance to leave last night and now you have to figure out how to get out of the room without anyone seeing you. Carefully, you try to wiggle yourself free from his large arms.

“Trying to sneak away?” Bi-Han’s voice is deeper than usual, thick with sleep.

Looking at him, you can see both of his eyes are still closed. Too tired to be bothered to open them.

“Not really… I mean… kind of?” You reply bashfully at getting caught.

He grumbles softly, too tired to answer you properly.

Waking up in his arms has you feeling some kind of way, he’s surprisingly warm, he makes you feel safe, and the low timbre of his voice is making you feel fuzzy. It all feels so domestic, and it makes you feel like your heart is about ten times too big for your ribcage, threatening to spill out of your chest.

The feeling is foreign, you’ve never cared so deeply for someone, it’s frightening in all honesty. You have no idea what to do with the sheer force of your feelings, so you settle for leaning up slightly and pressing a chaste kiss to Bi-Han’s lips.

His reaction is another soft grumble, before he pulls you closer. Your face resting under his chin. You allow the moment to last, never wanting to leave it but knowing the longer you wait the harder sneaking back to your own room will be.

“I have to leave; someone will catch me if I wait any longer.” You’re trying to convince him to release you from his firm grip.

“Don’t care,” either he really doesn’t care or he’s too tired to try.

“Bi-Han, I came over last night in nothing but my robe.”

He lets out a long groan, an internal battle exiting through it, sharing his disdain for you having to leave but also disliking the possibility of someone seeing you wearing only a robe.

“Jus wear some of my clothes.” He shrugs, rustling you a bit as he does.

“I’m like nowhere near your size and people will be able to tell I am wearing your clothes.” You feel like this back and forth will never end.

He’s smiling, “why are you smiling?” You ask him, this isn’t funny.

“Like the idea of someone seeing you in my clothes.” He’s still not opened his eyes for this conversation, still in the same position, holding you close.

It’s your turn to let out a grumble, “you are the one who initially said no one could know we were sleeping together.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Is his simple, smart-ass reply.

Best bet of getting out of this situation is to distract him, you lean up again and kiss him. He kisses you back, moving his hand down to rest on your bare hip. He pulls your lower half towards his, he’s already hard and that surprises you slightly. It shouldn’t, you swear he could look at you fully clothed and get hard.

Your thoughts are abruptly distracted when the hand on your hip skates down to your leg, pulling it over his hip. His cock slides through your folds, the light contact of it gliding over your clit has you gasping into his mouth. He lets out an appreciative hum at your reaction, this is bad, you think he might be distracting you now.

Pulling your lips from his you tell him, “Bi-han, I really do need to leave.”

He pulls another gasp from you as he continues to rock his hips, eyes open now and heavy with sleep and lust.

“Hmm, that’s funny, I don’t think you need to leave.”

And then suddenly, there’s a knock on his door. Bi-Han’s face immediately scrunches up in annoyance, his distaste at the intrusion makes you smile before you purse your lips; trying to hide your amusement.

He holds a finger up to your mouth, before he whispers to you, “Be quiet.”

You nod your head in response to him before licking the length of his finger, he gives you a heated gaze. Equally annoyed and turned on.

“Bi-Han, hurry up, I know you are in there,” It’s Kuai-Liang’s voice.

He grunts at his brother, “Give me a moment.” He rolls his eyes as he moves to let you go and get himself out of bed. You’re still smiling at his annoyance, he’s a bit of a drama queen, you think.

After he’s out of the bed you flip onto your stomach, pulling the blanket to properly cover your bottom half. Your arms slide under the pillow, pulling it closer, you press the side of your face into it. Facing Bi-Han as he pulls his robe from last night back on, tying it in the front quickly.

You can’t help but watch as he moves to the door, he stands in the way of you before opening the door a crack, shielding your form from Kuai’s sight. From where you are laying you can only see Bi-Han’s back, a very nice view indeed. You flop your head back onto the pillows, neck sore from craning it to watch him walk across the room.

“What do you want?” Bi-Han is straight to the point.

“Good morning to you too, Bi-Han.” Comes Kuai Liang’s unbothered response.

Bi-Han says nothing further but you’re guessing it’s more than likely he’s pinned him with an annoyed look.

Your theory gains more merit when Kuai Liang continues speaking, “It is getting later in the morning, Lui Kang asked to see us today, remember?”

“I remember.” Bi-Han is also unbothered.

You roll your eyes a bit, he has a meeting with the Fire God, defender of Earthrealm, Lord Lui Kang and he’s wasting his time in bed with you. Like meeting with Lui Kang is the least important thing he has to do today. It makes you feel soft and gooey inside, like you’re special and you’re suddenly struck with the realisation that, perhaps, to him you are special.

Kuai lets out an exasperated sigh, already sick of this conversation, “also, Bi-Han, if you’re going to have…” there’s a palpable silence before he continues on, “…guests you should at least try to be more discrete.”

You feel lightening go through you, you shoot up from your position on the bed; now sitting with your knees tucked under you. Eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Bi-Han grunts a little at his brother, he doesn’t get to ask Kuai Liang how he knows, he’s already telling you both, “You were both, not quiet, and my room is close.” He’s a little bashful as he informs you both.

“Does anyone else know?” You ask Kuai.

“As far as I know, no, I don’t imagine they would. The others rooms are further away.” He considers his words for a moment, not looking you in the eyes, which confuses you. He continues, “Tomas might have heard, but he is usually a heavy sleeper.”

You ruminate on the layout of the quarters for a moment, Bi-Han and his brothers are clumped together, yours are further away from all the men, hence the sneaking through the temple to get here, and the rest of the guys are further from Bi-Han’s room. They’re still in the same area but not as close, which you are grateful for right this moment. You think if Johnny were the one to hear you both, you’d die of embarrassment on the spot, he would not be able to keep it a secret and if he did, it would only be to torture you for his own amusement.

Bi-Han turns around to look at you, his eyes go wide, “cover yourself!”

You look down at yourself and realise the blanket is around your waist, you’re shocked but you also find Bi-Han’s reaction funny.

Giggling nervously, you pull it up over your chest, “Sorry, Kuai Liang.” You’re holding back a smile as you apologise.

“It’s fine.” Kuai brushes you off, a slight pink tinge visible on his cheeks.

“No, it is not,” Bi-Han groans out, “You’re gonna kill me I swear.”

You smile at him, “Sorry, Bi-Han.”

He grunts at you before facing his brother again, “Is that all?”

“Don’t be rude, invite him in.”

You imagine Bi-Han has made a disgruntled face at your words but invites his brother in all the same.

You’re certain Kuai has some questions and considering he was forced to listen to you both last night, answers are the least you can do for him at the moment. Bi-Han shuts the door behind his brother before picking up your robe and moving to face you. He slips your arms through it and closes it over you properly, dressing you while hiding your frame from his brother. Not that it would matter, Kuai Liang is being very polite and looking up at the ceiling as Bi-Han dresses you.

“You can look now,” you tell Kuai gently.

Bi-Han cuts in, “It would be preferable if you stayed staring at the ceiling though.”

“Ignore him,” you lightly poke Bi-Han in the side, and he slaps your hand away gently.

Kuai Liang answers you and ignores Bi-Han’s comment, “I normally do.”

You chuckle at his response, very much brothers, you think. Kuai finds a chair and pulls it up for himself to sit in, both Bi-Han and yourself stay sitting side by side on the bed.

With the way things are going you suspect they would both just stare at each other all morning, engaged in an unspoken staring contest.

You decide to interrupt their wordless conversation, “I am sure you must have questions, Kuai. We will answer any you may have.”

“No, we won’t.” Bi-Han deadpans.

You give him a side eye, but he stays staring at his brother, trying to tell him it is not okay to ask questions.

Kuai Liang carries on anyways, having mastered the art of ignoring his brother, “This is… not the first time you both have…?” He trails off but you know what he is asking.

Bi-Han is quick to hit him with, “None of your business–”

“–It is not the first time, no.” You cut off Bi-Han, answering the question.

“When did it start?” He carries on.

You think on it for a second, it feels like so much longer, but it’s only been, “about a week.”

Kuai considers his next question carefully, “is it just… do you two like each other?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that, you know you like Bi-Han, and he likes you, but you’ve not actually spoken about what this is between you both, or how you would define it to others.

Surprisingly and thankfully, Bi-Han answers that, “yes.”

His admission of liking you to a third party makes your insides giddy and you smile softly to yourself.

Kuai Liang looks a little shocked by his brother, whether it be his admission or just liking someone in general you aren’t sure, but he says, “I guess that explains why you were staring at her.”

You laugh a little at that, but Bi-Han predictably replies with, “I don’t stare.” You say it in tandem with him, much to his chagrin. “I don’t like when you do that.” Bi-Han directs at you.

You’re still amused, “I don’t like when you don’t admit to obvious truths.”

He rolls his eyes at you, something you’ve found yourself growing fond of. Now enjoying annoying him just to see him either roll his eyes or raise an eyebrow at you.

“We are trying to keep this from everyone else, so it would be appreciated if you didn’t tell the others.” You tell Kuai Liang.

“What she means is, I will hurt you.” Bi-Han threatens.

You jab him lightly in his ribs with your elbow, he is unphased, your action not even moving him.

Kuai nods his head anyways, once again paying his brother no mind, “I will not tell anyone, but it would be better if you both tried… keeping it down.”

You look as guilty as you feel, Bi-Han has no shame though, “Don’t listen, then.”

“It was not intentional!” Kuai looks annoyed and flustered.

“Bi-Han, we should’ve been more aware of those around us.” You tell him quietly.

His face is pulled up in a scowl, he shoots you a dark look, one that tells you something you already know. He likes when you’re loud in bed, and he isn’t going to stop fucking you till you scream. He does not care that others will hear, and knowing someone did hear, changes nothing for him.

You determine that you will have to talk with him privately because you would really rather the others not hearing you getting your brains fucked stupid.

“He can buy some ear plugs,” Bi-Han shrugs.

“Not the issue right now,” you’re incensed with him, he’s being intentionally dense again.

Kuai looks between the both of you, he seems lightly amused by you both. He goes to talk again, “In any case, those are my most burning questions, we have to meet with Lui Kang.”

He makes a move to stand up, “Now, or we will be late, Bi-Han.”

Bi-Han looks irritated, he closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh, “I know, I will be with you both shortly.”

Kuai goes to complain about him being late again, but you stop him, “It’s okay Kuai, I’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” he replies before slipping back out the room, on his way to meet with Lui Kang.

You turn to face Bi-Han on the bed properly, “We were not careful, that is our fault.”

“He should have minded his own business.”

“He did us a favour by informing us, now, get changed properly, you apparently have a meeting today.” You smile up at him, that whole conversation was beyond embarrassing, but you can’t seem to mind right now. The morning had been perfect otherwise and considering the alternatives, Kuai being the one who overheard you both is a blessing in disguise.

He flops back on the bed, “I do not want to go to the meeting, I wanted to stay here, in bed with you.”

“You know I have training today anyways; I would’ve had to leave.” You’re trying to reason with him.

But Bi-Han knows no reason when it comes to you, “fairly certain I could have convinced you to stay in bed with me.” He props himself up by his forearm, the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

Leaning down you quickly peck his lips before getting off his bed, stretching your sore muscles. “You have the biggest ego I have ever seen on someone.”

“Not just my ego that is big,” he retorts.

You ignore his cockiness; it will somehow end up with you back in his arms if you do. Instead, you walk into his bathroom, rinsing your face and using the toilet.

When you emerge, he is half dressed, wearing his pants. He looks up at you when you exit, “I will walk you back to your room,” he offers.

“It isn’t on the way to Lui Kang, you will be late.”

“It will be fine; I’d rather see you get back unseen and safe.” He says as he walks into the bathroom himself.

When he’s back in your view you watch him finish dressing himself, pulling his hair back quickly into his signature bun. He looked breathtaking with his hair down, remembering last night makes you blush. Mindlessly you continue to watch Bi-Han get himself ready.

His eyes catch yours and he walks towards you, leaning down to you he asks, “Why are you blushing?”

“No reason,” you smile at him, kissing him on the nose.

He hums softly, “I’m sure.”

He turns to put his boots on, when they’re on he looks back at you, reaching his hand out. You take it and he pulls you to him, he gives you a heated kiss. The kind he gives you just to take your breath away and leave you wanting more.

When he pulls back, he says to you, “Come on, sweet girl.”

You pull him in for a hug, feeling the need to hold him close for a moment. He allows it, rubbing his hands up and down your back. Soothing you, it’s another intimate moment that has you feeling warm.

When you pull back you say, “okay, I’m ready now.”

He smiles at you curiously but you both walk out of his room and head toward your own, you are grateful for the company on the walk back. You are also grateful that he shows you a path less crowded, avoiding anyone who might be up and around.

Both of you remain unseen, but Bi-Han is particularly alert to your surroundings as you walk back regardless. It makes you feel safe, having him keep a watchful eye. For the first time in a while, you don’t feel like you have to be attuned to everything around you and you’re thankful for it.

Now that you are both alone you broach the topic of being more alert of your volumes while in the throes of passion, “we should be more careful Bi-Han, it’s embarrassing to me that Kuai heard us last night.”

He sighs, “Mmm, you may try to be quieter, but I doubt you will be successful.”

“I will be quieter, next time.” You feel determined now, as if he issued you a challenge.

He hums thoughtfully, “we will see.”

The rest of the walk is pleasant, albeit electric. You want him badly, but you’re aware of what is important right now. He has a meeting, and you have training, you kept repeating this to yourself as a reminder.

In front of your room, you look both ways before leaning up and kissing him, you go to pull away, but his mouth follows yours. He groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before ultimately pulling back himself.

You’re a touch out of breath as you say, “thank you, for walking me back to my room.”

“You are most welcome, sweet girl.” His hand reaches to your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheekbone. He double checks the area and then leans in again, pressing a quick peck to your lips that you return.

“I will see you later.”

And then he’s gone, walking back the way you came. Yes, this morning had been perfect indeed.

❆˖°

Lucky for you, you are not late to training. Even though you had to spend extra time finding a shirt with a neck high enough to cover the hickey’s you had forgotten Bi-Han had given you. The very orange training outfit sits on top of the borderline turtleneck you’re wearing under it.

As you walk through the Fire Temple, you realise that Kuai would have seen your skin littered with marks earlier and that makes you feel so fucking embarrassed. It’s bad enough that he heard you last night, it’s worse that he saw obvious evidence of it. You try to push it out of your mind, the damage is done now anyways.

Though when you walk into the training area, you are praying that no one asks you questions about the turtleneck, it’s sleeveless so it’s just the neck poking out from under your shirt. You aren’t sure if that’s more suspicious though, maybe you should’ve just worn make up, or are you overthinking again? Probably the last option.

If you’re being honest, this orange outfit is very bright. Not your personal tastes, you feel like a large, well… orange. Or maybe a traffic cone. If you had your own pick, you would be wearing something else, but you also find it cute how you’re all matching.

“Happy morning, boys!” You call out to everyone, is that a phrase people use? Are you too chipper? Do you usually behave like this? You’re very self-conscious after Kuai Liang heard everything last night.

You’ve been taking it like a champ but if you find out one more person heard you, you might cry on the spot.

“Happy morning?” Kenshi asks.

“Yeah, it’s the same as good morning, I don’t understand your confusion.” It’s not something you’ve said or heard other people say before, so you do understand his confusion actually, your nervousness is turning you into a gas lighter.

They all stand there looking at you like you’re boo boo the fool, Raiden breaks the awkward silence, “…happy morning to you too.”

You are going to explode into a shower of blood rain, you need to get it together. You’d think it’s your first day on Earth.

Thankfully, Johnny also brushes right past your weirdness, “you ready to face me today, darlin?”

Ah, you’re sparring against each other today, you had forgotten. Sparring against Johnny isn’t necessarily something you’re worried about, it’s the fact that you got fucked into next week and your muscles are yelling at you. Today is gonna be one bitch of a day.

You don’t falter though, “you know it, I’ll be taking you down, Hollywood.” That felt more normal, pats on the back for you.

You guess Johnny just signed you both up for going first. A new problem has formed of this situation though, if you let him get the upper hand you can bow out while he spars with the next person, which means you could take it easy for the first half of training. However, you are competitive and don’t want to throw the round. Which, if you manage to out manoeuvre him, will mean you continue to spar with the next person.

This exercise is meant to be light-hearted, hand to hand sparring. Learning to get a feel against a real opponent. You’re going to have to make a real attempt to not be so competitive. Afterall, this isn’t a competition. It’s a sparring exercise.

Both you and Johnny move over to a clear area and position yourselves in the official defensive stances you’ve been taught. Something that does not come naturally to you, you’ve had previous fighting experience, and it contradicts the methods you’re being taught while here.

He moves at you first, kicking out and aiming at your side, very predictable of him. You move back at the kick, dodging it. He continues to move closer towards you, a right hook coming at you, you duck down and punch his side, throwing off his centre of balance slightly. You move, rounding him until you’re facing his back. You kick the back of his knee, and he goes down.

His palms stop him from faceplanting into the ground, you step on his back pushing him down further. You drop on him and bring your arms around his neck, putting him in a chokehold. His arms come up to yours wrapped around his neck and try pulling you off. You’re being careful not to actually apply any pressure to his neck but you’re holding firm in your position. Pulling back on him slightly, his back bends.

His hands give up on trying to pull out of the choke hold and instead he flops to the ground properly. He rolls taking you with him, you imagine it’s quite the scene to watch. Laying all of his weight on you manages to loosen your grip around his neck and he takes the opportunity to quickly switch around so he’s facing you.

He has the upper hand now and he’s pinning your arms to the ground by your wrists, “Wanna tap out, sugar?”

Such a flirt, you think, “I don’t think so, sugar.”

It hurts a bit as you do it, due to the fact you were in this kind of position under very different circumstances last night. You reach your legs up, and knee his stomach slightly as you do, giving yourself more room to move. They continue up and through his arms that are pinning you down. Manoeuvring them around his neck and clamping down. Using the momentum, you’ve gained to sway him to the side.

Once you’re on top again, your thighs are by his head, or more accurately, squeezing his neck. You lean your upper half back slightly and grab his wrists in both of your hands, pulling his arms back behind you to pin him to the spot. Thighs holding him in place.

The position is unorthodox, something that you were not taught during your time here, but you didn’t want him to win. Not that you’re being competitive or anything.

You look down at him and he wiggles his eyebrows, “I don’t mind this position.” He has a shit eating grin on his face.

You shake your head at him, “Does that mean you’re tapping out?”

“If I do, can we stay like this?” His question filled with suggestion; he is very bold.

“I am not releasing you until you tap out.” Your gaze filled with nothing but the desire to win.

His grin gets wider, a full-blown smile now, “then I don’t tap out.”

“Johnny, c’mon,” your voice is laced with a pleading annoyance.

He tries to supress his smile but fails, you can hear the guys off to the side groaning too. You look to them for support. “Guys, help?”

Kung Lao looks at you with an apologetic albeit amused face, “I don’t know what you want me to do here, just let him up.”

You make an unhappy face at Kung Lao and look back down at Johnny, “just tap out man, I need to hear you say you concede.”

“I don’t.” He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes at him but then you feel it, the tell-tale sign that Bi-Han is staring at you. A shiver running down your spine, one that you’ve learnt to suppress the outward signs of.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Bi-Han, he’s off to the side, Lui Kang, Kuai Liang, and Tomas with him. He’s giving you angry eyes; you aren’t really concerned with why right now though. You are concerned with winning.

You continue to pin Johnny, unwilling to let him up until he admits defeat, but it’s almost like an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

“Johnny, just say you tap out.” You ask him again.

“He does,” comes Bi-Han’s booming voice from above, cutting off anything Johnny was about to say. He had moved closer surprisingly quick.

“Hey man, I can speak for myself,” he looks up to Bi-Han.

This whole situation is ridiculous, you look over to Kuai and he looks very on edge. Bi-Han’s eyes look like he’s considering various way to commit murder right now.

Johnny looks up at you, ignoring Bi-Han, “I concede.” He smiles at you.

“Thank you,” you sigh, moving to unpin him and get up.

He keeps smiling at you, laying on the floor, “you can stay where you are though if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes at him, “In your dreams, Hollywood.”

When you’re off him, you lean down and offer him your hand, helping him off the floor. You found it all quite funny if you’re honest, but by the look on Bi-Han’s face, he did not. Not by a long shot.

“Alright, who do you want to spar against next, sugar?” Johnny asks.

You laugh, “that’s all you, I need a break after putting up with you.”

He chuckles at your response but points at Kenshi, “C’mon tattoo, you’re up.”

Kenshi lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes at Johnny, already reaching his limit for putting up with him for today. That’s a new record, Kenshi can normally put up with him until lunch.

You walk off to the side and move to stand beside Kuai Liang, Bi-Han follows behind you, and he stops when you do. You’re sandwiched between the two of them right now, you feel nervous, like you’re in trouble with the principle or something. Lui Kang and Tomas are next to Kuai Liang on his other side.

The position you had Johnny in was compromising, sure, you can see that. But on the other hand, you literally had him in a choke hold. You were sparring with him and trying to win, you’re missing something that would make Bi-Han’s borderline repressed rage make sense for you.

Lui Kang breaks the tension, “very impressive, how you took him down, I am sorry to have missed most of it.”

“Thank you, if only he didn’t enjoy it so much, I’d take more pride in it.” You tell Lui Kang, though you’re grateful for the compliment.

You had felt pretty proud of yourself at the takedown of a man larger than yourself, especially when your muscles are sore and achy today, but that was a little undone when Bi-Han was emitting murderous vibes.

“I don’t think he can help himself,” Lui Kang says in reference to Johnny.

You snicker a bit at Lui Kang’s statement, you don’t think Johnny can help himself either, but he seems kind-hearted. The friendships you’ve created amongst everyone here are very important to you, and most important to you is Bi-Han.

Your hand is itching to reach out for him, but you feel like he’s cross with you, and you aren’t up for the embarrassment of him possibly pulling away from you right now. Not after such a good morning with him, waking up in his arms is what has kept you so positive today.

Looking up at him you try and decipher what he’s thinking right now, his face has fallen back into his usual stoic look. Though he is staring at Johnny, eyes alight with thinly veiled anger.

You turn to your other side and look at Kuai Liang, he meets your eyes and leans down to whisper to you, “he has never been good at sharing.”

Oh. Oh.

It’s clicked for you; you knew he was angry, but you didn’t know exactly why. It was just a training exercise, one you were trying to win however you could, but to Bi-Han it might have looked different.

You whisper back to Kuai, “thanks.”

He nods once at you before looking forward again, watching Kenshi and Johnny spar. It is quite the sight, they’re a bit less restrained than what your round with Johnny was. You don’t know if that’s because Kenshi is actually trying to harm Johnny or because you’re a woman and they go easy on you. That stings a little if it’s the latter, you deserve the respect of a proper fight.

You go to move closer to Raiden and Kung Lao, planning to re-join the training but Bi-Han’s hand grabs onto your wrist. Keeping you in place beside him, it makes your heart flutter. He pulls away fairly quickly, not lingering for too long, for fear of the others seeing. But the small action makes you feel a little better, he’s pissed but he still wants you near him.

Johnny loses to Kenshi; you think if he hadn’t fought you first, they might have ended up in a stalemate.

Kenshi points to you from where he’s standing, “you’re up again, sugar.”

You laugh, apparently that’s catching on amongst the group. You can feel Bi-Han stiffen beside you. Not enjoying any of this.

“Gimmie a sec,” you call out to him. Turning to Bi-Han you say, “calm down, please.” You say it softly enough so to anyone else it’s inaudible.

You walk over to Kenshi, ready to spar again. Bi-Han lets you go this time, knowing he can’t make a scene but really wanting to.

You beat Kenshi but only barely, you’re tired and sore. Which you do complain about, but after Kenshi, you stop trying to go so hard. You spar against Raiden and Kung Lao, but you are stuck on defensive, attack isn’t your strong suit and with how tired you are the most you can do is hope to out manoeuvre them, not able to pull anything like what you did with Johnny in the first round. Not unless you want to injure yourself.

If you were using a weapon, you would fare better but alas, you are but a woman who got fucked silly last night and already sparred against two men. And two out of two, is a pretty good score. You take your losses like a champ and take your wins like a champ too.

The rest of training was hell for Bi-Han, you could tell by the way his eyes never left your form. His anger increasing with every hand that was on your waist or flirtatious remark made, ones you did not return. Ones that had him pissed anyways.

He normally wouldn’t stay for this, finding it a waste of his time to watch armatures train but he stayed today. The whole time, he stayed, and he watched you.

❆˖°

There wasn’t a second of the day where you were alone, and not a second you could slip away either. You probably could’ve made an excuse, but you feel that might have been too obvious, mostly because if you had managed a moment to yourself Bi-Han would’ve followed you wherever you went. Meaning any attempt, you made to be inconspicuous would have gone out the window.

Either way, the result was your whole day being spent with everyone, while a very watchful Bi-Han never strayed too far from you. You have only just now been released from the company of everyone, and it’s already evening.

Finally, back in your own room and able to shower, enjoying the hot water running over your body. It’s been a long day, and the heat of the shower is helping to cleanse the hard day off your skin. Muscles completely relaxing under the stream, you’ve been tense all day, partly because of training but mostly because of the eyes watching you.

Your mind drifts to Bi-Han, jealousy looked hot on him, it also looked… deadly. You might have to sneak back over to his room again tonight, to talk with him. Assure him that you want no one else, maybe talk to him about what exactly is happening between the two of you.

Spending the night in Bi-Han’s bed sounds inviting, waking up in his arms tomorrow would be nice. The urge to be domestic with him is growing, something simple, like breakfast together or maybe a date? You think you’d like that, being asked on a date, taken somewhere and doted on. The idea makes your cheeks blush softly, not that it’s noticeable, the water is running hot; your skin already flush. Turning off the water, you exit the shower. Pulling the fresh towel off the sinks basin, you dry yourself off and then wrap it around your body.

When you leave the bathroom the last thing you expect to see is Bi-Han waiting for you, standing in the middle of your quarters; arms crossed over his chest and an angry look in his eyes. It isn’t what you expected to see but if you’re honest with yourself, you could have predicted it. He looked like he wanted to speak with you all day, it’s not shocking that he didn’t wait for you to go to him. He is not patient; you already know this about him.

He just stares at you, like he has been doing all day, so you speak first, “Hello?”

You probably could have picked something more eloquent to say but you aren’t sure of yourself right now. Plus, you feel exposed, he’s fully dressed and you’re in a towel, and you’re damp. Really, he could’ve waited an extra minute or something and you would’ve been more prepared for whatever he’s about to say.

“I am not… pleased,” he’s straining himself trying to express how he honestly feels. It would be amusing if you didn’t feel so self-conscious right now.

“I noticed.” You don’t really know where he’s going with this, so you don’t have anything else to offer in response.

He takes a breath, “Today was a challenge, for me, watching others touch you, flirt with you.” His words come out with empty space between them, empty but filled with his bitten back rage.

You feel bad, honestly but you felt like no lines were seriously crossed, not for you anyways.

“Bi-Han, it was harmless, they are harmless. I am not interested in any of them.”

You can tell he is trying so hard for you, trying so hard not to lose his cool, “That may be true, but they are certainly interested in you.”

“They’re my friends, they are not interested in me.” You tell him because you genuinely believe it.

“They want you.” His upper lip pulls into a scowl.

You shake your head at him, “What makes you think that?”

“The way they look at you,” he says, his arms straining against his chest.

You don’t really know what he means, “they… look, at me?”

“They look at you how I look at you.” His eyes squint at you, adding emphasis to his statement.

You smile a little, “and how do you look at me?”

His head lowers to his chest, eyes harsh as he pins you with a look “with want.”

You don’t really know what to offer him right now, “What would make you feel better?”

“Their deaths,” he shoots back quickly.

You roll your eyes at him, “you aren’t killing them.”

“Then, I want them to know you’re taken.”

You exhale sharply, “But you said–”

“–I know what I said,” he cuts you off abruptly, his eyes emotive.

The room is quiet, you’re giving him time to pull his thoughts together. It’s obvious he has more to say, he just doesn’t know how to. Your gaze wanders over him, his arms, his chest, his neck, lips, eyes, his very pretty eyes.

You go to speak, not able to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Bi-Han, I like you, and I only want you. I don’t know how much that helps, but it’s what I’ve wanted to say to you all day.”

His gaze softens slightly at your words, you’ve offered him at least some solace, “It helps.”

You’re glad it does, “now, I need to change, could you turn around, please?” You ask. Preferring to continue this conversation fully clothed.

He makes a face, like he’s deep in thought, “why would I? I’ve seen you naked before.”

You look at him, unamused. To get dressed in front of someone is a very vulnerable display, you’d rather he just turns around for a minute. Especially since his eyes have a way of devouring you.

He shrugs his shoulders at you, “I wouldn’t bother dressing.”

“And why is that?” You ask.

“Cause I’m ‘bout to fuck you.” He stalks toward you, placing a hand on your hip and the other on your face; his thumb traces your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck you right, enough so you can’t train tomorrow.”

“Should I be concerned?” You ask, mostly to tease but he’s also got the look of a beast hunting its prey. It sends chills through your body, his words making you buzz with excitement.

“Yes.” His eyes look over your neck and collarbones, the marks he left last night still there. They’ve bloomed into dark purples, the softer ones a yellow.

His hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, touching the marks he had left. His eyes have fire in them, pleased with the hickeys he’s left on you. His expression is making your body temperature rise. You don’t know what he’s going to do to you but it’s thrilling, the way he takes you in.

“It’s a shame you hid these today, left them to be seen.” His eyes don’t leave the marks on your skin.

“It was embarrassing enough for Kuai to see them.”

He smiles and looks into your eyes, his smile is humourless, “I don’t care.”

You pout at him, you wish he would, he’s completely shameless. The one who brought up keeping this entanglement a secret but not doing anything to keep it that way.

“Mmm, you’re at my mercy tonight, completely.” He informs you.

That surprises you, “I wasn’t last night?”

His smile turns ravenous, “not even close, sugar.” He spits out the nickname, like it’s burnt him. Showing his disdain for your newly ordained nickname amongst the guys, courtesy of Johnny.

“Don’t call me that.” You don’t wanna be called that, not by him.

“Why not? Don’t like it?”

You shake your head at him.

“Like when I call you sweet girl?” He asks, gently.

Nodding your head at him, you say, “prefer it.”

“’Course you do.”

He leans down to you, lips catching yours, this kiss is languid at first. Searching, he takes his time, working you open slowly. His thumb eventually pulls your jaw down, opening your mouth for him, tongue entering it. He hums against you, always pleased at how pliant and willing you are.

Pulling back from your lips, he says as much, “the virtue of politeness, sometimes think you’d let me do whatever I want.”

“I would.” It’s honest, your words. You don’t mean for them to come out at all, let alone that quickly.

It should concern you, how willing you are. But the man has such an odd effect on you. Nothing has ever felt like this, you’ve had very few relationships, and they don’t even hold a candle to the way you feel for Bi-Han. The vulnerability you display with him makes you feel… well, vulnerable.

His eyes are bright at your admission, loving the way you agreed, “good, sweet girl.”

His face leans into your neck, inhaling your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him more room and he hums appreciatively. He lays gentle kisses against your skin, at least, at first he does, then he bites you. In the crook of where your neck meets your shoulder, he bites down hard enough to leave a mark.

The pain makes jump slightly, a strangled noise coming from you. His tongue laves over the spot, soothing it. His lips kiss up your neck and jaw, before taking yours in a heated kiss. Fervent, filled with need. His kiss deep and long, it pulls a whine from you, a noise you were trying to conceal. You haven’t forgotten you want to try and be quieter.

Bi-Han keeps kissing you, tongue borderline reverent, worshipping your mouth. Swallowing the noises you make against him. Your arms clutching the fabric of his shirt, holding on. Feeling as though, if you were to let go, you’d fall into an invisible pit below you. Your grip on him grounding you, barely.

When he pulls back, it’s to let you catch your breath for a moment. Huffing against his mouth faintly, he takes the opportunity of your mouth being open to lean in again and place more full kisses on your lips, pulling back after each one but they’re all filled with the desire he carries for you.

His kisses are overwhelming you, your eyes wet with need, he’s done nothing but kiss you and it’s setting you on fire. Using the hands on his chest you push him back slightly.

His hands move to cradle your face, one of them brushing your damp hair back, “what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“Devastating, your kisses… are devastating.” Eyes big as you look up at him.

He smiles down at you, “good, they’re meant to be.” His eyes, always his eyes, so much depth, yearning, “I want you needy, want you overcome by me, want you to think of nothing but me, consumed by your own cravings.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, “want you to feel, how I feel about you.”

Heart pounding at his words, you need him to know, “I already do feel that way.”

“No, you don’t… but you will, when I’m finished with you.”

He kisses you again, holding your head in his hands; moving you so your mouth slots against his, the cruel kiss a contrast to the gentle cradle he's holding you in. Sliding his hands down to your hips he guides you to your bed, removing his mouth from yours to push you back on the bed.

Holding your towel as you fall, you flop against the mattress, bouncing a bit as your back hits it. You adjust yourself, so you’re resting on your forearms, Bi-Han is watching you from above deliberating his next move. He settles on undressing his upper half and removing his boots, leaving his pants on. The process takes a bit, the man wears far too many layers, but you enjoy the show anyways.

Then his hands are reaching for you, he pulls at your towel. You go to hold onto it and his eyes move to yours, “off.”

“I’m shy,” you sulk at him.

He scoffs in return, “too bad.” And then he’s pulling it off and out from under you, your back lying flat on the bed again. The display of his strength making your pussy throb.

Your hands move to cover your chest, legs closed together. Being completely bare in front of someone is always a little nerve-wracking at first. Especially when he’s making you feel like you’re about to be eaten whole. That and because he’s still wearing pants, it’s making you feel overexposed compared to him, you guess, at least he took off his shirt.

He shakes his head at you, he crawls onto the bed and over top of you, knees resting either side your thighs. He nods towards your hands covering your chest, “c’mon, sweet girl, be good for me.”

Damn, well now you have to, you want to be good for him. Bastard. You move your arms away, dropping them beside your head.

“Thas a good girl.” He smiles at you; he has a pretty smile.

His praise goes straight to your core, your thighs rub together mindlessly in response. Seeking friction on their own accord. He’s dragging this out, not touching you anywhere, not with his hands anyways.

Moving closer to you, his lips peck yours, and then the side of your face, down to your neck again. He licks over the bite mark he left, before moving further down, marks being left in his wake. More hickeys will be blooming on you tomorrow morning. He’s trailed down between your breasts, sucking a mark between them both before catching one of your nipples in his mouth.

The feeling has your back arching off the bed, his tongue flicks at it. He bites it softly as he pulls away, switching to the other and giving it the same attention as the first.

His mouth moves back up your body, sucking more marks into you as he goes. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, this needy, you didn’t think you could get this wet.

Slick spread over your inner thighs, leaking from you as he presses his wet mouth against your skin. It’s the longest he’s teased you with his mouth without speaking. You, yourself are breathless, not able to string together a coherent sentence. Actively avoiding it too, biting at your own lips to keep your sounds from reaching the air.

He leans back to marvel at your skin, shiny from the wet marks his mouth has left, already beginning to bloom pinks and reds. He looks unbelievably pleased with himself and his handy work.

“Mm, perfect, look fucken perfect all marked up by my mouth.” His eyes look back into yours. Eyes thrilled at the need in your own.

“Bi-Han, please.” You aren’t quite sure what exactly you’re asking for, but he seems to know.

He shushes you as he shuffles a bit, slipping one of his legs between yours to spread them open. When he can see your pussy, he sees how wet you are, and he lets out a wolf whistle at it, grin enthusiastic as he looks at the evidence of your arousal.

“Fucken, look at you, sweet girl, sweet, needy girl.” His gaze is greedy, “haven’t even fucken, touched you.” He’s sincerely astonished by your bodies reaction to him.

Both his hands go to pull your legs apart properly, moving them to the outside of his thighs. Manoeuvring you how he pleases, your mind numbed and agreeable. Having forgotten your previous shyness.

“Gonna touch you now,” he warns you; you aren’t really sure why.

His thumbs pull your lips apart, and then he moves a finger through your slit; you understand his warning now. He has used his powers to make his hand ice, the cold a shock to your system. Both of your hands shoot up to cover your mouth.

The glide of his finger on your pussy is smooth, the wetness coming from you making it slick. He notches two of his fingers at your hole and then he’s pushing in, stilling them when they’re in as far as they’ll go, the freezing cold a shock, a whiny gasp coming muffled behind your hands. Your pussy hole flutters around his fingers, Bi-Han is awestruck, watching your cunt react to his cold fingers.

“Look at you, mmm, so wet, so messy, perfection.” He’s mumbling it more to himself than you, wouldn’t matter if he was talking to you, you’re a bit preoccupied right now.

His thumb reaches up to your clit, the sudden cold feels like a lot, feels devastating. He doesn’t move his thumb, just holds it there, adding pressure. Your hips rise marginally, seeking friction, wanting more. Wanting his fingers to move.

Taking the hint, his fingers start moving, pace increasing slowly, sliding in and out of you, then back into you, crooking to rub against something cataclysmic. The cold of his fingers a deep contrast to the hugging heat of your walls. Your cunt clenches down on his fingers harshly, the wet of your arousal and his ice fingers too slick to slow down his movements.

Your hands stay covering your mouth, muffling your whimpers but not stopping them. He’s finger fucking you in full earnest now, eyes never leaving the way your pussy pulls his fingers back in. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment, enjoying the shudders and clenches of your cunt against his fingers. The thumb on your clit starts moving, rubbing controlled circles into it.

It doesn’t take you long to cum at all. Your back bows off the bed, toward him, your eyes roll back in your head and a silent cry is pulled from you. Bi-Han groans, enjoying the sight of you blissed out.

“Mmm, thas it, perfect, just like that, sweet girl…” He continues babbling praises to you as you cum all over his ice-cold fingers.

The pleasure is foreign, never having experienced an orgasm this strong from just someone’s fingers. A statement that also was previously said about Bi-Han’s ability to finger fuck you into next year, he’s now bested his prior record. The introduction of his ice powers having an incredibly overwhelming effect on your pussy.

“Always so fucken sensitive,” it’s a compliment, he means it as one anyways.

He moves to press soft kisses onto your face, giving you a second to catch your breath and come back to Earth, having levitated to a higher plane temporarily.

When you can think coherently again you look him in the eyes, they feel foggy. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray tear from your cheek, one you hadn’t realised fell.

“Not even close to being done with you yet, sweet girl. Need you to fucken, pull it together.”

You nod your head at him, “I’m here.”

“Good.” He replies simply.

He hops off you for a moment, removing his pants before coming back into your view. Back between your legs, positioning them on his hips again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds, he taps it against your clit a couple times, each tap sending a small shock through your body.

“Fuuuck, I’ve got an idea.” The smile on his face is downright diabolical. It sends a rush through you.

He puts the tip of his dick at your pussy hole, having used your arousal to coat his cock, easing the stretch and helping the slide as he presses into you. You let out small, contained whimpers, biting your lip again, hoping to remain quiet.

Bi-Han groans at the feel of you wrapped around him, closing his eyes, trying to control himself as he sinks deeper into you. Both his hands have an iron clad grip on your thighs, holding you open and grounding himself.

“I fffucked you last night and you’re still this – ngh – goddamntight.” He huffs out.

He pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath and then pushes all the way into you. The way he suddenly fucks into you taking you off guard.

“Bi-Hannnn” you moan out his name.

“Ah, there she is, my sweet, whiny, girl.” He has a cocky smirk on his face, “told you, you couldn’t be quiet.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he grinds down into you in response, unhappy at your response. “Don’t be rude, I’m being nice.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you retort.

The smile on his face is amused, “trust me, I’m being downright chivalrous right now.”

He readjusts his gaze down to your cunt, a hand coming off your thigh and moving to your clit. His fingers begin thrumming against it, the first orgasm lingering in your veins. The taps serve your overstimulation, body and pussy jumping at each tap.

He smiles wide at your bodies reaction, groaning lightly at each jump of your cunt. Your hands move back to your mouth to conceal your moans again, he allows it, for now.

He starts tapping his fingers against your clit harder and faster, the pleasure sending you over the edge far quicker than your first orgasm. You clench down on his cock and cum all over it. Bi-Han lets out a repressed grunt at your orgasm.

“Haah – thas what I fucken wanted,” He’s satisfied with himself, hypothesis being proven correct, he can slap your pussy into an orgasm. “Tight little – do you think you can do that again?” He asks you.

You shake your head no at him and he tuts in response, “I think you can.”

He continues slapping your clit, the force he uses increasing. Speeding up once again, slapping your clit, forcing another orgasm from you. You cum with a yelp, the overstimulation becoming too much on your clit. Reaching your hands down you hold the hand that was slapping it still.

Looking up into your eyes, you can see a devious smile on his face, “you really are sensitive.”

His dick is twitching inside you, his own arousal evident. Rock hard and wanting but not giving himself anything more than kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. He lets you hold his hand back, enjoying the way you’re squirming under and around him. Letting you have a moment to come down before he does whatever he has planned next.

“I want you to know, this is me reminding you who you belong to.” He’s removing your hand from his, placing both his hands back on your thighs and grinding his dick into you.

“I don’t – mmph – need a reminder – hah.” You never forgot.

“Seems like you do, gonna have to mark you up, have you cum around me so much that anyone else is completely ruined for you, by me.” He’s huffing softly, “Gonna fill you with my cum, leave marks on your body, have your muscles aching and sore, just so you can never forget who fucks you this good.”

You whine, cunt clenching down on him, you bite your lip again halfway through your whine, remembering to keep the volume down. Something not overtly necessary since your quarters are furthest from everyone else’s but not willing to take the chance anyhow.

He chuckles cruelly at you, “mine now, sweet girl. Can’t even leave if you tried.”

“Okay,” is your simple response because you are okay with it.

You gasp, “you can’t either though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He begins to draw his hips back, fucking back into you unforgivingly, beginning a rough pace.

His cock bullies its way into you, over and over and over again. Fucking you stupid, making you dizzy, the previous orgasms furthering the euphoric, fucked out look on your face. Bi-Han lets out a wry laugh at the expression you’re making, only to be cut off by his own moan.

His hands move your thighs up, folding you in half, positioning himself up slightly and fucking directly down into you. Using your thighs as leverage.

His eyes watch the way your cunt swallows him, loving the way you take all of him. His head moves forward and bites the part of your thigh just about your knee. The pain sending pleasure rolling down your spine, hips rising to grind into his thrusts, pussy clenching down onto him.

“Gods, the way you let me do whatever – ngh – I want to you, gonna blow my load thinking about it.” He gasps melodiously.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, your supressed whimpers and Bi-Hans bitten back gasps. You clamp down onto him so tightly his pace falters for a second, you’re cumming around him again.

He stops thrusting immediately when he realises you are, he rubs at your clit to help it along but won’t continue thrusting into you. You ride out your high, waves of pleasure crashing over you, eyes dazed and unseeing as you spasm around his length. Soft groans and whimpers are coming from Bi-Han as you cum around him for the third time.

When you’re back in your body, Bi-Han looks feral from holding back, holding off on his own orgasm. Wanting you to cum on his dick an undetermined number of times.

Once he’s calmed down and is sure he isn’t going to cum prematurely, he starts fucking back into you, same burning pace. He moves your legs over the crook in each of his arms, cradling your legs and holding onto your hips.

Including the three he coaxed from you, it’s another additional two orgasms before he says, “last one, last one and then – nghhhh – I’m cumming inside you so – mphh – deep, I’ll be leaking from you tomorrow.”

You blush at his words, babbling nonsense, having given up on repressing the noises you make an orgasm ago, “mmmkay, I – ngh – want it Grandmasterrr…”

“And you’ll – fffffucken take it – nghhh–”

He fucks into you, hitting something deep, it feels different from all the other orgasms, you try to warn him, “fffeels different, Bi-Hannnn, is too much – I can’t –”

“You can and you – mphh – will,” he bites back.

You’re shaking your head at him, eyes large and wet, “nooo, mm feels like I’m gonna pee–”

His face lights up excited, “you aren’t going to pee.”

You’re still shaking your head at him, but his hand reaches up, off your hip and grabs onto your face, squishing your cheeks between is large fingers.

“Look atme – ngh – let. it. happen.” His tone is demanding.

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

His smile is large and beautiful, his pace never stopping. Now dedicating his full attention back to fucking you. The tip of his cock bullying the spot that’s responsible for the foreign feeling. Specifically angling his thrusts to drive into the spot.

His hand slides from your face down to your tits, grabbing one of them and twisting your nipple, sending a sharp pleasurable feeling through you, before continuing the move down and landing on your hip again. Using his grip to encourage the force of his thrusts.

And then suddenly, you’re cumming, hard, Bi-Han’s eyes watch, fucked out, as you cum around him. Cunt tight, vice like grip on his cock. The sight of you cumming and the feeling driving him over the edge. A sharp biting sensation at your hips, you’re too fucked out to register what caused it at the moment.

His cum fills you up, spilling out around his dick, leaking out onto the bed between your bodies.

You’re gasping as you begin registering the things around you again, first noticing the thin layer of ice on your hips, evidence of Bi-Han completely losing control for a moment. And then noticing how wet Bi-Han’s pelvis is, all down his thighs, all down your thighs.

You stumble over your words, “I – I’ve never, I didn’t think–”

“–You fucken, squirted all over me, hottest thing I’ve ever seen, my sweet, sweet, sensitive girl.”

He drops your legs from where they’re resting on his arms, untangling you from him and then leaning down and kissing you deeply. You return his kiss and whimper into his mouth. When he pulls back, he kisses away the tears you shed from the devastating force of the orgasm he just gave you.

His pride is practically blinding you, his ego massively inflated right now, “you’ve got such a creamy little cunt, I thought you’d be able to squirt for me–”

Your hands shoot up and cover his mouth to stop him from talking, his words that serve as compliments to him always embarrass you. He’s too blunt, it makes your skin hot.

“Too descriptive.” You tell him.

He mumbles against your hands, “what?” You ask him and pull your hands back.

He smirks at you, “you like it, I can be even more descriptive, if you’d like.”

You shake your head at him, “that was embarrassing.” Your words are all slurred right now. No energy to talk properly.

“Shouldn’t be, it was hot, means I fucked you right,” he whispers into your ear, “means I’ve ruined all other men for you.”

And he has, but “that was true before,” you turn your head to the side and press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls his cock out of you, both of you hissing at the feeling, then he rolls off you and lays flat on his back.

“Sweet girl, always trying to kill me.”

You look over to him, eyes glazed, “do you feel better now?”

“Slightly, would feel better if they could all see the marks I left on you.”

You chuckle, “nice try, they’re not seein the light of day.”

He groans out, “we’ll see.” He pats his chest, signalling for you to cuddle into him.

You move over slightly before giving up, too tired and too sore, “can’t move.”

He rolls his eyes at you but gently moves you towards him, also moving closer himself to make it as painless as possible for you.

Your head rests on his chest and you cuddle into his side, “you’re changing my sheets,” you inform him.

He sighs from above you, “fine, but next time, you’re sitting on my face.”

❆˖°

A/N: You guys know the drill; I do not apologise for the horny, we embrace it here! Thank you for reading the whole thing!! I love you all and I hope you enjoyed it, please, if you have any thoughts, feelings, or requests, leave a comment or message me! I love the feedback I have been getting, I added some peoples suggestions into this chapter, I wasn’t super active this week because I tried functioning like a normal human being (I mostly failed) but I saw comments and likes coming in and it keeps me motivated and super grateful to you all. <333

Part four <3

#subzero x reader smut #bi han x reader #bi han x reader smut #bi han x you #mk1 smut #fanfic #subzero #subzero smut #subzero x reader #mk1 2023 #mk1 #smut

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moodymisty · 6 months ago

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I mean you got anything sweet for Blood Angels...

Though my brain keeps jumping to Flesh Tearers but I feel like that's just me trying to get myself to write for Flesh Tearers (and Lamenters)

(Rambling idea below)

I mean lets be honest Blood Angels are ultimate predators for humans... being so handsome I mean Sanguinius was often called ethereal and other worldly with his beauty. So of course his sons are handsome and all so well bred for the arts... easy to lure in many humans to just listen to their prose or see their paintings.

Just don't show up during your period because suddenly a lot of the poetry is about blood or blood adjacent... they can't seem to find the right red paint... and why do so many of them look at you like they are dying of thirst?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Do I have something for Blood Angels- BOY DO I! Enjoy! I didn't exactly do your idea but I've had this plot in my head for weeks and wanted to use it and you're ask was the only one that let me /sob Not my best work by far, but I hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angel/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral, Period blood kink/menstrual kink that type of stuff, Is this too weird? maybe I dunno you guys all seem like freaks so hopefully this will go over well? If not I can just return to my dungeon

"Why are we going this way?"

This is a long way around, though some of the Red Tear's maintenance areas. He doesn't answer you however, and with disgruntlement you let the question lie as you return to more civilized parts of the Red Tear.

This whole interaction has been odd, since he had picked you up to escort you back from your duties. Normally he doesn’t act like this; He's stoic and lacks a good bit of emotion yes, but you almost feel as if now he’s taking you to your execution.

"I thought you were missing,"

You had jokingly said, walking closer to him. This planet had been pleasant enough after the Blood Angels brought it under the Imperium, but you're quite eager to return to Terra. Or at least the Red Tear.

He ignored your little comment and stepped closer, but you noticed his face change when he got close enough to touch you. His body became more rigid, and you furrowed your brow as you looked up at him.

"Are you ok?" You say as he clears his throat and nods stiffly. "Yes. We should return to the Red Tear. Our work here is done."

You look up at him again try and get any sort of hint as to how he's feeling, but he only has that same, stiff expression; Though slightly more irritated than usual.

You round yet another corner to see a group of freshly armored Blood Angels leaving one of the armoring rooms. They all perk up at the sight of you, staring at you like something fierce. You get more than a bit uncomfortable under their gaze, until your supposed guardian grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you down the hall past them. He glares at them to keep their distance, and you grab at his gauntlet to try and relieve some of the pressure. You're arm is in pain from how tight he's pulling you along, until you stop in front of a room he opens.

It's not your own, so you presume it's his. He shoves you inside.

"Stay here."

As a diplomat you technically reside outside the command structure of the Blood Angels, but no one in their right mind would disobey an astartes. Especially one that is looking at you with such fire in his eyes. He turns to leave, but your sudden question makes him turn towards you again.

"What is all this? Why are you-" He grabs you tight at the shoulder, and you gasp in pain as the force of it pins you to the wall.

"Why do you smell like blood?"

You pull at his hand and grimace in pain, and at his oddly specific question.

"What? It's just normal, It's that time of the-" He lightly shakes your shoulder and despite speaking relatively quiet, his voice still hits you in the chest with out seething it sounds.

"Every one of my brothers on this ship can smell you. You're lucky I got to you before one of them did."

Even if they did, why does he speak of it like something would happen? Like he avoided it for a reason? He's talking as if you would be in danger if they found you, for something seemingly so simple.

“What would happen if they did?”

You quietly question, watching the expression on his face instantly change. He looks conflicted, like he’s nearly lost in thought. For awhile you think you may not even get an answer from him, until you finally see his lips shift.

“I, assume you’ve heard mutterings of a curse in your time here.”

You have vaguely- even he had cursed it once. At the time you'd assumed it some sort of unfamiliar swear or perhaps just an odd phase adopted by Blood Angels, and so you'd paid it little mind other than the initial confusion. When you hesitantly nod, he continues.

“The curse is real. It has changed our legion. And,” You figure he’s about to speak a secret he shouldn’t to someone like you, so you stay quiet.

“It makes the smell of blood, tempting.” He continues. “It sates a hunger only we Blood Angels possess, and keeps us from going raving mad.”

He quiets, and you feels his gauntlets shift on your shoulders. He changes the subject to something adjacent; You assume he probably feels guilt for confessing a chapter secret to you.

“You’re not hurt?” He says confusedly. You aren’t particularly surprised he knows little about such things, though explaining it to him in this state would take far too long and be far too unfruitful.

“No. I'm fine.” He hums. You think you hear him mumble about hearing such a thing from somewhere, a woman's illness, and the comment would make you laugh if he wasn't looming down on you so intensely.

“Very well.” He shifts his jaw a bit, the scars along it shifting. He seems to have run out of things to say, though it also seems like he can't pull himself away from you. His throat and jaw are tightly wound, like he's holding something back.

“You want some… Don’t you?”

He seems surprised oddly enough; Perhaps by your bluntness and stupidity. Many legions would not take kindly to you assuming things about them, but Blood Angels are remarkably kinder. He is remarkably kinder.

“I," He grimaces. "I would owe you a great deal. Our superiors look at those with the Red Thirst as little more than a danger.”

The Blood Angels have been nothing but kind to you, in their own way. To even just be on the Red Tear is a safety and security you couldn’t repay.

It helps that it's him; You haven't ventured far around the Blood Angels ship alone, and you shamefully feel yourself beginning to get attached. If this curse can be sated by something so seemingly menial to you, then you have no reason to refuse.

“Ok.”

You move to take off your pants hands shaking just barely in nervousness, as he drops to his knee with one heavy thud. The sound startles you, just as your pants fall to the floor.

Once they’re off, and just your underwear remains, you hesitate for a moment. His stare is so intense, and you don't know how to describe it other than hungry. Given what he's told you, it makes perfect sense.

After what feels like and eternity of you being frozen, you finally manage to regain enough control to peel your underwear away. He viscerally reacts to the presumably iron filled scent, and the sight of blood against your now bare skin.

You see the way the knot in his throat bobs just above the black skinsuit beneath his armor.

With a speed that has you almost letting out a scream he grips your hips pulls them forward enough that the angle feels precarious, but he has a solid enough grip that leaves no chance of you falling. He throws your right leg over his shoulder next to open your thighs, your foot pressing against the front of his jetpack.

He hesitates for a moment, and you look away from the sheer intensity of his expression before you feel his hot breath on your skin.

You feel the moment he finally takes a taste and you can barely hold in a whimper, it coming out a tiny squeak as you feel the way his hands shift and tighten against your hips. Any hesitation he had is gone near instantly, as he presses his mouth against your cunt.

His armored hands grip at your hips with a strength that makes you ache and fear bruises, easily keeping your legs spread with minimal effort as his tongue laps at your folds. You can see the blood smear across his face, though he pays no mind. He acts as if this is the first meal he's had in ages, or the last he'll ever have.

But while perhaps your pleasure might not be at the forefront of his mind in his quite literal bloodlust, the way his tongue slips between your folds and teases you still makes shivers go up your spine. Your hands grip his hair and attempt to steady yourself, as his strength pushes you around. It's impossible to stop the way your hips push forward trying to get closer to him, gasping as he briefly brushes around your clit.

Suddenly however he pulls himself away, mouth stained much the same as your cunt and upper thighs are. You can see his eyes are glassy his throat bobs.

"I should stop."

He mumbles something to himself about loosing himself further to the Thirst, as if he's treading a line between sating his hunger or falling victim to it. You, perhaps stupidly, encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"No, no just, just a bit more,"

You breathlessly whisper and attempt to pull him closer. He silently resists for a moment, before the knot in his throat bobs and he returns his mouth to between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan you let out into the barren room, damning the consequences of anyone hearing you.

You're so close to that peak you only need a bit more, and the way his teeth scrape against your skin and nose presses against your clit gets you there. Your hands tighter in his hair and you inhale, trying not to cry out. But even after you start to come down he continues, his mouth overstimulating so many little nerves you feel on the edge of tears. Your face is hot as your fingers grip at his armor, desperately whining for him to simultaneously stop, and never stop.

He pulls away again, and gently emoves your leg from his shoulder to let you stand and wobbly attempt to yourself. Your knees feel weak and so many of your muscles are sore, even though he was exceedingly gentle with you.

Realizing his face is a mess, he uses the fabric of his cape to wipe it; How fortuitous the fabric is red.

"You should still keep clear of my brothers until this, passes. You never know how close one of them is to loosing themselves and hurting you." You'll heed the warning. If they're anything more than what gusto he already displayed, you wouldn't be surprised angels more lost to the thirst would be dangerous to you. He displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, you could tell.

Though, a curious part of your mind wonders what he'd be like if he hadn't.

"Do you at least feel better? I don't know how the Thirst works but," He nods.

"Yes. It is nice to not have my head so clouded. I... Thank you."

You smile, before accidentally letting more words tumble out of your lips that you should've allowed. It seems his presence always seems to makes you accidentally forget how to not act a fool.

"Always happy to help." He takes your phase at face value, though you suppose you wouldn't refuse him if he asked again. It wasn't as if this ended badly for you.

"You are kind, offering yourself to a Blood Angel. Not many would."

Beyond their sophisticated veneer they are still dangerous predators more than capable of killing you with the slightest motion, you understand why any few who learn about their supposed defect would fear them.

Maybe something is clouding your judgement, but you don't fear him; At least not yet.

Adjusting your clothing you watch as he rises to his full height, his cape flowing behind him. You grip your own fingers nervously and look around.

"But, would you mind bringing my back to my own quarters? I'll admit I have no idea where on the ship you brought me, and I'm still a bit woozy." He offers a gentle but stoic smile.

"Of course."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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pullhisteeth · 1 year ago

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Hi, lovely! Just wanted to drop by and say that I miss you and your amazing writing 🥹🧡 I understand if you're taking a break or stepping away from the app, but if you're up for it, I was wondering if I could drop in a request? No pressure at all! I REALLY love the way you write fluffy and angsty fics so I was wondering if you could write about a besties-to-lovers with Eddie where he asks the reader for help with asking a different girl out, without knowing about reader's feelings for him...and then along the way he realizes his feelings for the reader hehe and maybe a lil sprinkle of jealous!Eddie too 😎 Ily and I hope you're doing okay! 🩷🩷🩷

hi my love! this is the sweetest message thank you - not taking an intentional break, just busy as anything. work’s been my whole life the past couple weeks (today is actually my first day off in like a month) and what with that and trying to eat/sleep/speak to other human beings I am …… deceased

it’s so kind of you to say hello! I loved writing your request, it was a nice break for my brain and it felt good to get back into it. ♡ love you!

contains hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. tried to get some jealous!eddie in there for you :-)

3.4k

Eddie looks pretty like this.

He’s sitting at your desk in the library. You’re not sure why he’s here, though that wasn’t your first thought when you spotted him on your way over. He’s hunched over slightly, unruly hair keeping his face hidden, but it’s catching the light of the afternoon sun just right and it’s glowing a blushing golden and the flutters in your gut are relentless.

“Hey,” you murmur, wary of both startling him, and the strict Hawkins Library warden who likes to shush people like it’s a sport. Regardless he starts, shoulders jumping and face whipping up and around to look at you with wide, surprised eyes that soften when he realises who you are.

“Hi, sugar,” he says, voice ebbing as he notices how loud he’s being. He looks around quickly, just in case he’s about to get scolded, before looking back up at you and beaming. It doesn’t fool you, though; his presence here coupled with the sheen of anxiety behind his eyes gives him away.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, setting your backpack down on the table and taking the seat opposite him.

He begins fiddling with his ring again and diverts his eye. He’s nervous and you want to know how to fix it more than you wish to let on.

You hum an encouraging noise when he says nothing, sliding textbooks out of your bag along with your pens.

“I, uh… I need your help,” he says warily.

“Oh? With what?”

“I want to, uh… I wanna ask Tara out,” he says, and the words come out in one quick breath, his eyes still on his hands. “But I dunno how.”

You’re quiet, busy hands halting with a book halfway open. You look at him, mouth agape, for a second too long - he looks up after a beat and catches you before you have the sense to close it.

“Please?” he begs, those eyes like a puppy dog, wide and brown and far too lovable. “I’d take her to the Hawk but she’s- Man, she’s way too cool, it’s intimidating, and I really wanna impress her, you know? And I think the Hawk’ll be too busy on Friday ‘cause I know that new movie’s out that all the kids wanna see, so what if-”

“Okay,” you say. You’re sharp, voice like a whip, cutting him off before he derails.

He looks at you blankly for a second before saying, “Really? Shit, thank you.”

You look down at the books in front of you, eyes on the printed pages but taking nothing in. “Take her to the Garage,” you tell him quietly.

“What?”

“The Garage,” you repeat, closing the textbook and piling it on top of the others to return them to your bag. “It’s on the east side, on the road out.”

“Yeah, I know where the Garage is, but- Wait, are you headin’ out already? You just got here.”

“Don’t feel like studying,” you say flatly. “The Garage is cool. Rob took me there once. Tara’d love it.”

“Hey, hey-” His restless hands reach over to grip your wrist, to stop you moving, but you’re slippery and quick and far too determined on leaving. “You don’t have to leave, I’ll leave you alone. Your exam’s next week, I don’t wanna-”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’ll study tomorrow.”

“But-”

“See you around,” you say quickly, tugging on the zipper on your bag and standing so fast it makes your head spin. You can hear him protesting behind you but it’s no use - the only place you want to be right now is home.

Eddie doesn’t call that evening. He doesn’t call the next day either, or the two following that. You float between your bed, the fridge and various shifts at work without so much as daring to call him yourself, though you lie awake at night and worry you’ve done something terrible, something earth-shatteringly cruel by leaving him like you did. Something so bad that twelve years of friendship is lost forever.

“Maybe it’s better like this,” you tell Nancy over the phone. It’s Thursday night, four days until your exam, and you haven’t spoken to Eddie since Sunday. “I was gonna spend forever like that. Maybe now I can move on or somethin’.”

“We both know you’re not going to move on,” she tells you. You groan, turning over onto your back to stare at your bedroom ceiling. Your bed is like a rotten pit, unmade for nearly a week and the past five days’ dirty (and clean) laundry is littered all over the top of the comforter. “And you shouldn’t. You’d just be hiding from your feelings.”

“I hate you,” you tell her, though the way your voice comes out through your smile deceives you. “You always sound so wise, how is that?”

“I am wise,” she says, smiling too. “And I’m wise enough to know that Eddie feels the same, even if he doesn’t realise it yet. Apparently I’ve got the brains for both of us, ‘cause he’s a bit dumb like that sometimes.”

“I wish he wasn’t,” you whine, “I can’t get the image of him and Tara outta my head.”

“I can go, if you want,” she says.

“Huh?”

“I can take Rob to the Garage on Friday, keep an eye on stuff.”

“Shit, would you?”

“Yeah, why not? What’re you doing that night anyway?”

“Dunno,” you say, morose, “Probably heading to the library again.”

“Okay,” she says sympathetically. “You’re gonna smash this exam, you know that, right?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you grumble.”

“Well I know you will. And then Indiana State’ll have the best biologist known to man on their campus.”

“Funny,” you say.

“I’m wise and funny? You’re kind tonight.”

“I’m gonna go, Nance.”

“Okay,” she says, laughing. “I’ll call on Saturday, okay? And please eat some dinner.”

“Okay,” you reply, hanging up. You balance the receiver back on its stand and roll back over, willing the tears back when you feel them roll down your temples.

Friday nights are your favourite nights at the library.

Who else spends the one designated social evening of the week in a room designed for quiet? You, apparently, alongside two old ladies knitting in the comfy corner, and a kid who looks like he might be home from college for the holidays. You’re settled at your usual desk with textbooks and papers scattered everywhere - the tabletop, the chair next to you, the floor. You’ve been here for hours, pouring over all of your work, oblivious to most of the minimal movement and chatter happening in the room.

You’ve got a tape in your Walkman - classical, one your dad found at the record store downtown - so you feel Eddie before you see him. He startles you, his wide hand on your shoulder, and you jump, pulling your headphones down.

“Fucking hell,” you breathe, your heart beating a mile a minute. You twist in your seat and put your pen down, looking up at him. You couldn't worry about the warden if you tried, far too enamoured by him despite everything. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He’s hovering over you, his hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink. You notice he has his nice shirt on - a deep blue, so dark it’s almost black - and his lips are rosy.

“Tara needed the bathroom on the way home, this was the closest place. How’s it going?”

There’s a lilt to his voice that churns your stomach. It’s the one he gets at parties, or that night just before your birthday when the two of you drank wine in his living room and didn’t sleep until six in the morning.

He’s been drinking and, judging by the smell lingering on his clothes, smoking, too, and his smile and the pink blooming over his cheeks only makes the churning worse.

“Fine,” you tell him. “Was in the zone, sorry.”

“No,” he breathes, finally backing away. You fill your lungs and watch him as he rounds the table. His eyes keep moving from you to the door across the room, presumably watching for her. “I interrupted you, ‘m’sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Gotta run,” he says, face brightening in a way that makes you want to vomit. You turn back around and see Tara in the doorway, waving, beaming. “Don’t work too hard, please? Get some sleep. And eat something- Have you eaten at all today?”

He’s standing a foot or two from the table now, but he stops as he asks you this.

“Uh,” you look down at your watch. 12:07am. “I had lunch.”

“Shit, you need’ta eat something. Please.”

“Okay, Eds. I’ll have some toast when I get home. Have a nice night.”

“You’ve got this,” he says, and it’s here that the silly smile on his face falters. He still hasn’t moved, and you can see Tara looking over, watching. He’s looking at you and something breaks - his smile drops completely and his eyes go all sad and weird.

“What?” you ask, unamused.

“Nothing,” he says. “Nothing. Get some sleep okay? See you later.”

He turns and walks across to the exit, and you watch him leave. He’s slow and slumped, like someone’s just delivered bad news.

You head out fifteen minutes later, and chew unhappily on three slices of toast before you get to bed.

Studying until late is never a good idea.

You’re hopping around your bedroom, pulling stockings up your legs and praying to anything holy that the traffic on your way into work isn’t too bad.

“I know this isn’t really what you wanted to hear,” Nancy’s saying sadly. You’ve got the receiver propped between your cheek and your shoulder as you stumble around and stretch the cord within an inch of its life. “They just… It really did look like they were having fun.”

“He came to see me at the library,” you tell her breathlessly, desperate to think of anything but Eddie and Tara playing pool and laughing like lovedrunk teenagers

“What? When? Last night?”

“Yeah, said she needed a piss on the way home.” You stop hopping, both stockings finally in place, and take the phone in your hand. “He was really weird, actually.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno. He seemed happy, but then he got all sad.”

“Did you tell him off?” she asks, faux-stern.

“No,” you tell her, “just told him I’d have dinner, and to have a good night.”

She hums, and you look at the clock.

“Shit, Nance, I’m sorry, I really gotta go, I’m gonna be so late-”

“No, no, you go, I’ll see you soon. And good luck on Monday, yeah? I know you’ll ace it.” -

Your body takes you to the library like it’s on auto-pilot or something. You finished the entrance exam three hours ago, and though it seemed to go okay, you daren’t be too optimistic. You’d hovered around town for a while, eating ice cream and watching birds, before your feet walked you right here: your desk on the first floor of Hawkins Library.

It’s here that you’ve been sitting for an hour or so, flicking through novels but finding no interest in the words on the page. Your brain is melted from a near-fatal combination overworking and overthinking, and without an exam to worry about, the latter is now the one clocking overtime.

You can’t get the picture of Eddie’s face out of your head. His eyes had been so sad, his face drooping like the dawning of some cruel realisation. The way he’d walked out of the room had matched it, sorrowful and curled over.

Worst of all, he hasn’t called.

There’s only two reasons you can think of. Firstly, he’s busy calling Tara instead of you. He’s telling her about his day, spinning new inside jokes and letting her hear his pretty laugh.

Or second: he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore. You’re too cold, flat, uninteresting. Tara is cool.

There is a third possibility that you daren’t think about for the sake of your own heart: that both are true.

You slam the hardback in your hands shut and place it roughly on the table.

“Woah, was it that bad?”

You look up and find Eddie standing across from you, precisely where he’d been that moment something had changed on Friday. He’s far less put together now, dressed in his usual bedraggled jacket and jeans.

He laughs as you stare at him. After a minute, he takes the seat opposite and pulls the book towards himself.

“Weird choice for you, sugar.”

“Quiet,” you tell him in a whisper, nodding to your right where the warden is circling.

“Sorry,” he whispers back with a smile. “What’re you still doing here? Wasn’t the exam this morning?”

“I like it here,” you tell him. A half-truth - you do, but you’d really rather be anywhere else right now.

“Right,” he says, clearly not buying it. “And how’d it go?”

You shrug. “Okay, I think. I hope.”

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do great.”

“I wish people would stop saying that,” you say, looking out of the window to your left.

“What? That you’re smart?”

“That I’ll ace it. I have no idea.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. “But you’ve definitely got a better idea than me.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, turning back to look at him.

“I just… You’ve got more brains than me, that’s all.”

He’s fiddling with his rings again, eyes trained on the tentative movements of his fingers rather than you. It gives you a chance to take in his face properly: tired, sallow, unhappy.

“How was Friday?” you chance. He shrugs. “Just okay?”

“Fine, yeah,” he says, voice flat and unfeeling. “Had fun, ‘til we came here.”

Your instinct is to be offended. You didn’t say anything cruel or unwarranted; in fact you barely said a thing at all. How could you have ruined the evening?

“What?”

“Tara, she, uh… She said bye when we left. I was walkin’ her home, only stopped here for the can, I mean- You know we’re miles from the park, took me forever to get back to mine. Thought, y’know…” You hum so he doesn’t have to utter the inevitable and break your heart.

“What happened?” you ask softly, hands on the table in front of you like an offering.

He looks troubled, truly, and it hurts - you may have gone a week without contact, the longest since he went on a fishing trip with Wayne when you were both 18, but he’s your best friend, and his pain is your pain.

He closes his eyes tight and sucks in a breath.

“When we left, she said… She told me I need to ‘really think about things’, which made no sense to me at the time, I guess ‘cause I was, like, 4 whiskey sours in and we’d smoked on the way over, and then she used the payphone outside to call a cab so I waited with her and walked home, and the next morning I realised what she meant.”

You look at him with nothing to say. He takes another deep breath.

“She probably saw me over here with you, y’know, and I’m sure to other people we seem pretty… Comfortable. And then you said you hadn’t eaten, and you looked so tired, I- All I wanted to do was take you home and make you dinner. And then the next morning, and, like, all weekend, all I could think was that one day some other guy’d be doin’ that for you, some college guy or somethin’, and I’d have to watch, ‘cause you’re my friend.”

“Eddie, I don’t understand.”

You’re genuinely bewildered. He’s still whispering, or at least talking in a low voice, and at multiple points during the past five minutes you thought you’d completely misheard him. It’s definitely your Eddie sitting opposite you - he has a tendency to be a little dramatic, and this is certainly that - but he’s never been so brashly honest like this with you before.

“I had fun with Tara, really, but… I realised I’d spent all night thinking about how much better it’d have been if you’d been there.”

You can feel the flush like fire up your neck and across your cheeks. Your palms are clammy so you pull them inwards, back towards yourself, to save yourself the embarrassment.

“I think I need to get some air,” you say, standing and leaving without waiting for him.

You hear him behind you as you descend the stairs and push the clunky glass door open. You’re met with a wall of cold air and you breathe a heaving sigh as you stand in its frost.

The door opens again only a few seconds later, and you turn to face your friend.

“Eddie,” you begin, “I need to know that you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me.”

“You left your coat,” is all he says, handing you the jacket. You don’t move, too stunned, so he steps behind you and you let him manipulate your arms into the sleeves like a sullen child.

“Eddie,” you bite, impatient and frustrated.

“Yeah,” he breathes behind you. When the coat’s on, he squeezes your shoulders, and you round on him.

“Please just tell me what the fuck is going-”

“I think I love you,” he says, louder than you. It’s a declaration, said without hesitation or subtlety. It’s so confidently loud that a couple of people leaving the library turn to look.

“It shouldn’t have taken me taking someone else out to realise it, but fuck, once I did I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I guess ‘cause we see each other all the time I never really questioned why I think about you so often, or whatever, but… I wanted to take you home and make you dinner on Friday, make sure you got some sleep, fuckin’ look after you. Made me feel dumb as hell because you’re not a kid or anythin’, but I just want you to be okay.”

You’re not sure when you started crying. Maybe it was as early as the declaration itself, but you know that by the time he told you he wants to take care of you, tears were rolling over your cheeks, unstoppable and filled with elation.

“Shit,” Eddie whispers, stepping toward you without thinking, reaching out to hold you somehow. He settles for a hand on your upper arm, almost at your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry, please don’t cry, I-”

“It’s fine, I’m okay, I’m, uh- I’m happy,” you say, giggling, your tears making it wetter, thicker. “They’re happy tears.”

“Oh, good,” he breathes, shoulders sloping. You spot the beginning of a grin through cloudy vision. “Thank god.”

While you wipe your face with the sleeve of your jumper, Eddie’s hand moves from your shoulder and to your neck. You feel the heavy weight of him pressing there, not threatening but a comfort. It forces you closer, until you’re both looking at each other and laughing.

“The exam went really well,” you tell him. “Honest.”

“I knew it would,” he says, curling a finger behind your ear to move a piece of hair from your face. “You’re gonna kill it at college.”

“I’ll miss you. And everyone else.”

“We’re not going anywhere any time soon,” he says softly, fingers dancing until he’s cradling your face. His other hand is stuffed in his pocket, and you’re close enough that you can reach in and grasp it, pulling it out so you can wind your fingers between his. He looks down and smiles.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper and you almost miss it - almost. “For the exam, I mean. You did well, y’deserve a kiss.”

“Sure,” you say, laughing again. “For the exam, yeah.”

He chuckles before dipping his head just enough. You lift up to meet him halfway and he presses his lips to yours, firm but quick.

“Again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t ask questions. He bows again and kisses you, his force solid and homely. You kiss him back, breathless and keening.He’s warm and you want to take, take, take. You only stop when the door opens behind you again, creaking and followed by quick footsteps as someone else leaves.

Eddie kisses your nose and says, “Shit, you’re cold.”

“Can we go home?”

“No,” he says, and before you can finish protesting, he adds, “We have to celebrate. You’re done with studying! Let’s go get milkshakes or something.”

You wrinkle your nose, determined that you won’t be going to the diner you work in. “How about pizza?”

“Whatever you want, smartie pants.”

You physically bristle at the petname, cheeks flushing again despite the chill. Eddie’s arm settles around your shoulders and squeezes as he kisses your temple.

You stop walking once you reach the end of the block. He stops with you and turns to look at you without dropping your hand.

"I think I love you too, by the way," you tell him. "I didn't say- Back there, I should've said it. I- Well, I know I love you."

He smiles - beams - at your return of his declaration. He squeezes your hand in his and tugs.

"C'mon, pretty girl. Let's go."

#thank you !!!#request #honestly my life is a nightmare rn I promise u I would rather be doing this #I hope you like it x #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson request #stranger things 4 #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader fluff

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mysteriesmuse · 1 year ago

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“SLEEPING BEAUTY ME” [verb] Bakugo's having some dream, one that’s really more of a memory of something really sweet you did for him recently and he’s waking up with the urge to thank you — with a big fat whipped kiss. Anyways he’s patting the bed and looking over at your form all curled up next to his shoulder, blissfully asleep and he can hear the swish of your foot moving underneath the covers. Bakugou rising up halfway with his strong forearm and raising his other arm to gently cup your bare shoulder and try and shake you away from your dream. massive sigh when you scrunch your nose and curl your fingers like a little kitten just underneath your chin. Has his heart squeeze even while you’re asleep, and even while he’s asleep apparently, and he gently grabs your chin with his hand. Warm calloused fingers encapsulating as you puff little snoozy breaths onto that space between his nose and lips. He’s got a big thumb gently lifting your eyebrow and pulling up your eyelid to see your pupil do absolutely nothing in return and he’s just so torn. Feels the need to kiss you, but doesn’t wanna do it without your consent. Ya know? All frowny faced and pouty bc It’s just too early in your relationship for that. And like what’s a man to do?? Well Katsuki decides to place his hand across your forehead and places his pseudo-smacker’ there on the back of his hand. And yes, smacker that sucker was LOUD. he’d be embarrassed if you were awake to hear how loud and cheesy that big fat kiss he gave you was. but first thing in the morning when you stretch out across his chest like a lap dog he’s asking you, “hey baby, is it okay if I kiss you while you’re asleep? Like on the forehead or sumthin’ - i dunno know.” And you’re blinking up at him with hazy unfocused eyes that are already sliding closed. Arms staying still where they are hands absent mindedly grabbing and twirling at his hair. And you hum out a “why?” Bakugou can feel the wind coming out of him as he tries to explain, you snort as his hands find your sides as he sucks in another deep breath and steadies you, “something came up last night. wanted to kiss you, but you were asleep. Didn’t know if you’d be okay with it — thought I’d ask.” You start to stir more awake at this admission. Awkwardly pulling yourself up with the hands on his head, but Bakugou just lets you slide yourself up his body like that. Tiny hands pushing at his head until yours is level with his. “Like a prince? You wanna sleeping beauty me?” And he’s staring at your face blissfully still grasping onto sleep as he nods, your hands gently bonking again his fluffy locks as he rubs his nose against yours, the verbiage you’re making up has him wrinkling his nose in dislike, mumbling, “something like that, baby.” And you’re pulling back a little cooing, “yes, you can give me a kiss! Suki’ that’s so sweet you’re asking — no, I don’t mind.” Got him sighing and rolling his eyes as your hand slide down his temple and your little fingers poke over the smile he’s biting back. A small smile on your own, “well now that that’s settled I’m going back to sleep. Too early for me,” you mumble. And he smiles kissing at your fingertips, “ok then, princess.” And Katsuki watches you sigh, sliding your eyes closed as you let him continue playing with his fingers. A normal breath or two before a big one that would probably suck at your baby hairs — like a vacuum in a cartoon, before Katsuki’s placing that big fat smackeroo’ he’s been dying to give you all morning. RIGHT on your forehead with so much passion and love, and light shoved against your skull. Like he’s trying to pound it right into your brain itself and — oh my god you might have a headache later today because of it.

And your eyes shoot wide open. And Katsuki’s staring at you with such affection as he brushes back that hair he’s so violently disturbed by his nostrils and you’re oh so wide awake now and the first thing you do is whine. You whine, a mewling noise — out of adoration and pain. Your boyfriend is watching with keen interest and slight suspect at you, you shove again his chest lightly, “on second thought you have those privileges revoked. Can’t believe what I’d be missing out on. And, seriously,” you rub at your forehead. — is that gonna form a bruise?! “— that hurt.” You groan with a grin. Katsuki’s now sheepishly burrying half of his face into his pillow as you continue rubbing the gonna be hard to explain bruise on your forehead. And he’s grabbing your hands again and feverishly pressing chaste kisses all over them, and he grunts out, “sorry, don’t know the strength of m’ love for you just yet.” your heart skitters like a fawn, or a foul, or anything fast and on 4-legs. And your legs absent mindedly kick a little under the covers, “really?” you whisper. Because this might just be the single most romantic thing that has ever happened to you. And it’s coming from a notoriously emotional stunted man who’s made every effort in your currently short relationship to tell you otherwise. He nods, whincing as he prods your forehead with a big fat finger. Katsuki hisses as he continues your examination, “sometimes it’s hard to keep it in check.” you wanna melt. And not just because the heat around him has turned up because he’s nervous and embarrassed — The thing you first picked up on after your first date with him. His nerves coating you both like a stove on the holidays.

Katsuki prods at your forehead bruise with another finger. Brows wrinkled in full restraint and rebellion against the natural strength he’s built up over the years. He frowns, “yeah maybe I shouldn’t do that again.” you hum, an unhelpfully and purposefully non-comittal sound as Katsuki stares at you, “m’ sorry Honeybunch.” Honey. bunch. — an echoing of a pet name you told him you like once. ONCE. One that doesn’t match anything about his gruff personality, but should rightfully be applied to him every single second of the day. you grin again. it’s not even 6am yet. stupid hero work schedule. “it’s okay, but maybe let’s hold off on those super-power packed kisses of yours, — for now,” you add, watching the way his red eyes glimmer with relief and satisfaction. And like everything else he’s learning to do he nods eagerly, quickly grunting out a “I’ll work on it.”

you smile again, gently pulling his hand that’s poking at your forehead to your lips where you press the kind of permanently stamped love in his palm — the kind you imagine he was going for. Katsuki’s mouth trembles, an action that means he’s a little overwhelmed. You grin self-satisfied at the expression, you bring his palm to cup your cheek, “you can always make it up to me — by kissing it better.” Katsuki practically swoops, darts in eagerly. “— gently!” you playfully chastise as you grab his face, lips pursed as he holds one hand against the back of your head which would suggest this next one may only be a little less strong and slightly less painful. — and that it is, his apology kiss. And the moment he slips out of bed to go take a shower you’re already grabbing your phone off the nightstand and zooming in to take a video of your face. Bc this is a narratable moment if you’ve ever seen one and you ought to capture it with its full fresh bruising glory for your friend and most importantly your future selves, and maybe future kids . . . bc if you weren’t sure he was the one before you are now.

#mysteriesmusing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou drabble #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #Bruh the way he loves you so much he can’t control it just yet bc he’s just so in LOVE and SO emotionally constipated #I wanna a “Katsuki loves me” bruise on my forehead!! 😭#i’m so proud #Also the narrative video evidence is so fr like you have to show everyone this. You just do 👏

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albatris · 6 months ago

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rentalcar update!

it's been a hot minute since I did one of these!

today's word count is 75,595...... uh oh! "but it was over 100k a few weeks ago, monday!" yes my process is mysterious and unknowable

today I got a lot of work done due to the being at my friend's house where we just sit around and vibe together. I'm really happy with my progress!

today's mood is a severe lack of sleep and today's jam is "little lies you're told" by joywave

taglist and today's excerpt under the cut! it's jumbly and unedited sowwy

She settled on the couch and immediately sprawled herself out, bringing her legs up onto the cushions and cuddling right up to him, her head nestling down on his shoulder. Nat’s heart pounded in his chest in a rhythm he was certain she could hear. Was she coming onto him? What was this? Why was she so close?

The movie seemed to be about a zombie invasion of a small town in Pennsylvania, but Nat was finding it hard to pay attention. Partially tiredness from his night of work and the emotional stress he was under. Partially his hyper-awareness of Ripley’s presence. The longer the movie wound on, though, and the longer Ripley stayed like that, leaning herself against him all cosy, the more Nat suspected that she was simply just more physically affectionate than he was. What had the care package said about vampires and physical contact? They liked it, right?

Did he like this?

Maybe she would think his pounding heart was just exhilaration from the jump-scares, from watching so many zombie heads get blown off, so many entrails get ripped out. The movie was exceptionally gory. He was—uncomfortable. But he was almost always uncomfortable. He found himself wishing he was home cuddling his cat instead, but he almost always wished he was home instead of out. Even when he was enjoying himself, he was never truly enjoying himself.

Did he like this?

Nat tried to untangle his emotions. Fear, shame, guilt, stress, paranoia—oh, there was relief here, too. Relief and affection. Small flutterings of it. Nat exhaled and tried to release all his tension. He did like this. He hated it, but he liked it.

“What—what’s that thing called?” he asked during one of the movie’s lulls in action. “That thing that gets all up in your brain. The Greeble. The Gerbil.”

Ripley wheezed, laughing. “The Garble?”

“That’s the bastard.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you believe in it?”

“I don’t… not believe in it… I guess.” Ripley reached up to pat Nat’s face, ruffle his hair, playfully. “I mean, do I believe there’s something alive in vampire bodies? Like, wriggling around in the blood and stuff? Something that gives us our power and demands life force in return? Abso-fucking-lutely. Do I believe in—in some big spiritual vampire hivemind god that connects us all? Not really. I think it’s just—a way certain people have of wrapping their heads around the physical. It’s like a comforting delusion, maybe." She stopped for a breath. "Do you believe in the Garble?”

“I don’t know,” Nat said. “I haven’t decided yet. It talks to me. I can feel a presence sometimes. It could be something alive in me, like a parasite. Or it could be a big hivemind god.”

Ripley nodded thoughtfully.

“My friend Alex thinks it’s a spiritual thing, I think,” Nat said. “I wouldn’t call it a delusion exactly. I’ve been delusional. Religion is different.”

“Does your friend think it has, like, a purpose?” Ripley asked. “That’s what I always ask that trips people up. If it’s a religion, if it’s spiritual, what’s the point? What does it all mean? What’s the higher purpose?”

“I dunno. I’ll ask next time I see him, maybe.”

“Here’s a hint: there isn’t a higher purpose,” Ripley said. “It’s all just—just a fucked up medical condition.”

“If it’s a medical condition, why is no one working towards a cure?”

“You think vampires are running around offering themselves up for medical research? We’re not human anymore. If we told people what we really are, that we’re monsters, we’d get cut up into teeny tiny pieces by the government for sure.”

To emphasise Ripley’s point, the lead of the movie ran a chainsaw through a zombie’s decaying chest.

“Yeah,” Nat agreed. “Best not.”

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @somealienquill @cannivalisms @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat

#a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #rental car updates #hiiiiiiiiii #the tags work on my end but i heard tumblr is limiting them to six to a line or sthn? so lemme know if they don't work ig

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aealzx · 1 year ago

Text

“Hey…. How’s he doing?”

Leo’s soft voice caused Raph to look up, the concerned furrow in his brow growing when he noticed the red edges of Leo’s eyes despite the big smile. It was enough to get Raph’s brain churning about how to switch places with him, even as he answered. “I got him to eat some crackers earlier. After he watched the video he had of what happened.”

Leo’s grin turned into a grimace, and he hobbled over to climb back on the bed. “Ouf. That’s one way to do it I guess. Makes the text make sense too.” Crawling over, Leo rested the back of his hand on Donnie’s forehead, then cheek, and grimaced again. Using the tablet resting on the heart monitor stand he double checked the last time Donnie was given medication, and what, before using his portals to fetch other medication to give him.

“What text?” Raph asked, not knowing anything about texts anyone had gotten.

“A little bit ago I got a text from your phone saying ‘sorry for crushing your ankle’. Which was really confusing considering you didn’t do anything to it. So I’m guessing Donnie took your phone for a bit?” Leo responded, slightly absent as he was still checking up on Donnie’s current state.

Raph could only chuckle. “Ah, yeah. He was pretty insistent.” And after a short pause with Leo only humming in answer, Raph hunched over slightly. “Hey Leo? Can I ask for full time Nurse Nardo?”

“What?” Leo blinked, looking up in surprise. “What are you talking about? You’re doing great!” he protested, giving Raph a reassuring smile.

“But you’re not,” Raph pointed out, internally wincing since he hadn’t wanted to mention it since he knew it would make Leo retreat.

“I’m fine.”

There it was. An automatic response that was too quick as Leo deliberately moved to do something that would make him face away from who was looking at him. Raph just reached a hand over to squish Leo’s cheek and pull his gaze back over. Then just gave him a sad smile while rubbing his thumb under Leo’s rosy eye, like he’d done for Donnie just a few hours before. “No you’re not. And that’s okay.”

“It’s nothing. Dad just-... I was…,” Leo faltered, the smile finally fading as he reached up to hug Raph’s arm. “...I can do both,” he insisted weakly.

“I know you can,” Raph assured. “But I don’t want you to do both. And I would feel better if you were always the one looking after Donnie. You know he likes you best.”

Leo had to snort, but it did bring a faint smile back. “C’mon. Nothing beats Raph hugs.”

“Eh, you’ll have to bring that up with him,” Raph shrugged. He could definitely get all of his brothers to fall asleep on his own. But it was only when he was flattened by Leo that Donnie slept the longest, and best.

Leo seemed to be considering it, no longer feeling like he was failing or giving up. But Raph needed him to come to a conclusion a bit faster, so leaned over to hush blurt out. “Plus Raph really needs to pee. Please take him, quickly.”

Leo’s laugh crashed into his nose first before bursting from his mouth, and he reached his arms out while adjusting to get comfortable. “Alright, okay. Give him here before you wet the bed,” he snickered, pulling Donnie over to lean against him instead, and laughing more as Raph gave their sleeping brother a quick kiss on the temple before scurrying out of the room.

Settling back into the bed pillows, Leo dabbed Donnie’s face with the clean water Casey had left before he wrapped a cooling patch in a thin cloth so the adhesive wouldn’t touch Donnie’s skin. It actually did feel nice to be off his feet and relaxing, and he pulled his phone out to finish watching some of the surgery videos he’d started. “Dunno why you like me. You don’t have to…” he mumbled absently, knowing that Donnie wouldn’t hear him.

He was shocked when instead of silence his comment was returned by Donnie signing back to him while his eyes were still closed. [I know. Want to. My choice. Dum dum.]

Leo choked out a surprised noise, pulling his head halfway into his shell for a moment to hide his embarrassment. “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” he muttered quickly, peeking a glance at his twin and catching a sleepy gaze and subtle smile looking back at him. Huffing, Leo squirmed unnecessarily to get more comfortable. “Go back to sleep. I’m watching open heart surgery.”

As expected, Donnie gave a disgusted snort and quickly reached up to pull the rag on his head down far enough to cover his eyes, even though it ended up wedged against the pillow when he turned his head. No thank you. No disgusting, horrid human torture for him.

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Previous Next

____________________

Little bit of fluff =7=

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #disaster twins #donnie #leo #platonic fluff #family fluff #writing

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pandorascripts · 2 years ago

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I absolutely love your writing. I can ask for a yandere wednesday with a fem reader who is innocent and doesn't realize wednesday obsession, and when the reader try goes on date wednesday stops her

Ruins

warnings: yandere, obsession, mention of xavier thrope (I hate that man sm).

pairing: yandere!wednesdayaddams x reader

summary: wednesday cant stand the thought of someone tainting you before her, so when xavier tries to do it before she can, wednesday snaps. note: this is one the shorter side, maybe more of a drabble, but it’s one am and I’m a wee bit tired :^)

——————

Love. It was a truly odd thing when putting it out of context. If Wednesday told someone that she’d like to ruin you, taint you, break you down until you were as dark and deprived as herself, Wednesday would find herself in quite the unfortunate predicament. But if she was to say she loved you, wanted to show you everything she could do to you that would take away what most men find attractive in a woman — that being her virginity — people would surely agree, maybe event applaud her for the behavior. After all, it was similar to a man’s desire to ruin whatever he could get his hands on.

Then again, there was something about your naiveness that had Wednesday melting like butter for you. The way you simply didn’t understand that her love for you was brutal, and dark, and completely wrong in the minds of normal people. Although, Wednesday never was truly normal, was she?

As she held your hand in hers, her mind raced with many different possibilities of how tonight could go. She could destroy you, make it so you could only ever dream of her touch, but she could also simply enjoy your innocence. Wednesday chose the latter, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t test it. She thought of ways to ask you on a date, to finally let you know of her love for you, but that all flew out the window at your next words.

“Xavier asked me out,” you stated, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal.

Wednesday tensed, every part of her body trembled as she gritted her teeth. Why was Xavier nearing you? You were hers, Xavier had no right to touch her property. God, how she hated thieves.

“You okay, Wednesday?” you asked, gently squeezing her hand.

She shuddered. “Don’t go out with him. He’s a waste of your valuable time and simply a waste of space.”

You frowned, gaze returning to the packed halls of Nevermore. “Well, I dunno, he’s got some good traits, right? Like, he’s cool at art, and he’s not a total jerk —“

Wednesday cut you off, practically seething. “You will not be going on a date with him. My decision is final.”

She felt your hand slipping out of hers, a confused look plastered on your face. Wednesday scanned your features, realizing it wasn’t confusion at all. It was fear. Wednesday had made you scared of her.

Desperate to save herself, she muttered some half-assed excuse. “Xavier’s only using you to get over Bianca. They have always had an on and off thing, and I just cant bear to see you hurt.”

You gulped sadly, nodding your head. Wednesday sighed, your hand was back in hers, right where it should be.

A moment of silence passed between you two before you broke it. “Thanks, Wednesday.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

Wednesday looked down in shock, her shoulder gaining extra weight. There laid your head perfectly on her. She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed. Wednesday took in the smell of your vanilla perfume, the scent completely intoxicating her and making her even more mad. She let out a heavy breath once more, moments like these were amazing. Just the peacefulness, and her desire growing along with her insanity. Not a single worry slipped through Wednesday’s mind. Only love for you, and everything you loved, swirled around her brain.

Wednesday sighed. She’d played with the naïve part of you for too long. People were starting to get bold, and she couldn’t have thieves ruining you. Not when she so desperately needed to do it first. Wednesday was going to absolutely destroy you, and she decided that it was going to be very soon.

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carpenterswife · 8 months ago

Text

ALL MY GHOSTS (ii)

series masterlist

- summary: A normal, relaxing day with Beau turns into something quite the opposite, when a mysterious delivery of flowers shakes up your day. With Beau’s insistence that there’s nothing to worry about, you seek Denise and Cassie’s help to figure out the source of the strange gift.

- word count: 2601

- warnings: none

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“Beau, I swear to god—“ Your head lifted to glare at the sheriff, as he cackled at you for the 10th time since you’d sat down in his office. Like he’d predicted, the hangover from your drinking last night was bad, and he was very much enjoying the pained expression on your face.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’.” He defended himself, watching you with a lazy smirk. He toyed with his pen, elbows on his desk. Your glare deepened, and he chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He relented, finally ceasing his teasing. “You got anythin’?” He motioned to the case file you were looking over.

With a sigh, your attention returned to the words that seemed to be blurring together with your hangover. “It’s a weird one, that’s for sure.” You hummed, flipping through the pages of the file. You scratched your cheek as you thought, trying to put together what on Earth was going on with this case.

When Beau said he was struggling, you hadn’t been anticipating the case to literally make zero sense. But, the evidence was all over the place, and none of the witness statements seemed to match up. Honestly, it all just seemed like one big headache.

The Texan watched you for a few beats, clicking the pen in his hands. Finally, he hummed and sighed softly. ““Why don’t y’take it wit’ ya?” He suggested, dropping his pen down onto the desk with a soft clatter. “I could do with a break anyway. You wan’ come?”

You glanced up at him and began to smile. “A break sounds good.” You set the file down, watching as Beau stood up, stretching his arms over his head. Your eyes twinkled with amusement, holding back a teasing comment about him being an old man.

He hummed as he stretched. “Coffee?” He offered, grabbing his jacket from where it hung in the back of his chair. He glanced at you as he slid it on, already knowing what your answer would be. You never turned down coffee; especially not when you knew Beau would be paying for it.

“Mmm, I like coffee.” You joined him on your feet, smiling at the idea of a coffee on the cold day. He led the way out of the office, shutting and locking the door behind the pair of you. You waited patiently as he kicked the door. “I could use one with this damn headache. It’s like there’s a drill in my brain.”

He chuckled, amused by your complaining, pocketing his key. “That’s what happens when you down six shots in five minutes.” He teases, dodging the smack you tried to deliver to his shoulder, with a boyish grin on his face. Putting a gentle hand on the small of your back, he led you towards the door of the station. “I’m just sayin’… you wanna drink like that, you can’t complain ‘bout the hangover.”

“Whatever, Arlen. I remember you complaining about your hangover last week.” You reminded him, much to his dismay. He chuckled, muttering some sort of retaliation, that you met with a giggle.

A beat of silence passed as your giggles began to quieten.

Beau cleared his throat. “Hey.” The tone of his voice, suddenly serious, immediately caught your attention. You sent him a curious look. He held the door to the station open for you, waiting until you were both outside to continue. “Last night, when I went to help you stand, you… you, kind of, I guess, flinched.” Cold washed over you. “I was just wonderin’— I mean… is everythin’ alright?”

You plastered on a smile. “I’m jumpy.” Beau rose his brows, and you laughed softly. “Always have been. I’m good, Beau. Just easily startled, tha’s all.”

“Really?” He sounded doubtful. “‘Cause I’ve never seen you do somethin’ like that before.”

You just shrugged, nonchalant. “Dunno what to say, Arlen.” Once again, you laughed quietly, brushing the whole thing off. “Like I said, I’m just a jumpy person.” It was a shit lie.

God, you fucking hated lying to Beau.

Pulling open the passenger side door, he hummed, still looking like he didn’t quite believe you. “M’kay, darlin’.” He conceded. “You know you can talk to me, yeah?” His eyes travelled your face, taking in your expression, his concern clear.

You settled down on the passenger seat and smiled in reassurance. “I know.”

“And you will?” He gripped the door tightly. “If somethin’ is wrong, you’d come to me, yeah?” His worry was obvious, looking for anything in your expression that might give away what was wrong.

Your brows furrowed. “Of course I would, Beau.”

Pleased, he nodded once, shutting the door gently.

You leaned back in your seat, and took a deep, calming breath.

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“It’s illegal to feed wild animals in Montana.” Beau watched you toss food towards a couple of squirrels, amused by the (quite cute) sight. He held both of your coffees, breath coming out in white puffs of air.

“Everyone does it.” You defended yourself, standing straight. Turning back to him, you took your coffee back, smiling brightly. “Look at ‘em, Beau. They’re cute.” You motioned to the squirrels scampering up the tree.

He hummed. “And you just committed a crime in front of the Sheriff.” You rolled your eyes, and he chuckled. “You’re lucky I like ya.” He bumped your shoulder with his own.

The pair of you had gotten bored in the bustling coffee shop, and had decided a walk through the park would be more exciting than sitting around. It’d definitely proven to be, when you came across an elk, and Beau spent five whole minutes laughing hysterically as you yelped in terror and hid behind him.

How you’d survived in Montana for this long was beyond him.

“So,” you peeked up at him over your coffee, “you’re really staying in Helena, huh?”

He looked down at you, and began to smile. “Yeah.” He nodded, sipping on his coffee with a little shrug. “Texas is home,” he gazed around the park as they walked side-by-side, “but… Helena’s been feelin’ like home too recently.” He murmured thoughtfully.

You grinned and elbow his ribs gently. “It’s ‘cause you like me so much.”

He rolled his eyes, though there was evident fondness in his gaze. “I’m sure that’s it.” You scowled at his sarcasm, and his smile grew larger. He nudged you gently with his elbow. “You never told me why you stayed in Helena, y’know?”

“It’s ‘cause I don’t really have a reason.” You cradled your coffee and sighed, watching the white cloud of your breath dissipate. You shrugged loosely. “Came to town when my car broke down. It was the only place I could tow my car too. Met Jenny and Cassie, and ended up staying.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” He blew out a breathy chuckle. “I expected something far more… fantastical.” He smirked as he looked down at you, and continued his line of questioning. “Why’d you become a cop?”

You hesitated, and he caught it.

His expression became far more interested.

And then a lie slipped past your lips. “My dad was a cop.” You drank your coffee to swallow down your regret. Lying to Beau sucked. Mostly because he could always figure out you were lying. He could you like an open book, the utter asshole. “Guess it just runs in the family.”

Beau saw straight through your bullshit. It was obvious by the way his expression dimmed, lips thinning into a line. He just hummed in response and sipped his coffee. “I thought your dad was a criminal defense lawyer.” There was obvious disappointment in his voice, and it made your heart constrict.

This man was going to be the damn death of you.

You took another gulp of your coffee, willing your heart rate to slow. “Nah.” You shrugged. “Dunno where you got that from. Must be the old age.” You attempted a joke to distract him from the way you were lying to his face.

He faked a laugh, rolling his eyes at you. “Very funny, L/N.”

Beaming, you sipped your coffee and continued walking. Your shoes occasionally scuffed the ground. “It’s supposed to snow soon.” Your gaze turned to the cloudy sky.

Beau caught the change of subject, but went along with it, with the sole purpose of not wanting to push your boundaries. “Yeah.” He sipped his now-lukewarm coffee. “Supposed t’be bad this year, too. We’re gon’ have a hell of a time melting up snow an’ helping folks with digging out their cars.”

Looking up at him, you laughed alongside his chuckle. “More like digging up your crappy Jeep.”

He gasped as if he’d been personally offended. “Don’t talk about Pedro like that.” You giggled, and Beau’s eyes narrowed into a playful glare. “Pedro has been with me through tough times. He deserves respect.”

You snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh, okay.”

“Don’t give me that ‘uh-huh’ shit.” You burst into laughter at Beau’s reply. He huffed, lips curling into a scowl, like you’d disrespected his heritage. “I’m serious ‘bout this! This ain’t no laughin’ matter.”

“You’re treating your shitty old truck like it’s sentient.” You struggled to bite back your laughter. “It’s definitely a laughing matter.”

“Don’t you go calling Pedro shitty!”

You merely laughed at Beau, and he scowled, muttering unhappily to himself. He sipped his coffee, with an adorably grumpy look on his face. As you continued to laugh, Beau just bit back a smile, playing up his whole bit of being offended.

He admired the way you looked up at the sky as you laughed, cheeks dimpling. You peeked at him through amused eyes, and Beau smirked back at you, pleased with the way he’d made you laugh.

Snorting, you smacked his arm with your palm. “Cocky bastard.”

He chuckled, low and rumbly in his throat. “For good reason.” He side-stepped your next whack, amused, eyes crinkled as he stared at you. “Maybe you should start treating your sheriff with more respect.”

You merely snickered at his sarcasm, lips curling into a wide grin. “Y’know what, Beau?” You tapped his bicep. “When you start acting professional, I’ll start treating you with respect.”

He gasped in mock offence. “I am a damn professional! I got no idea what you’re yappin’ on about!”

Your only response was more laughter.

Beau complained the whole way back to the station, obviously not happy with your accusation of him being ‘not professional’.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“Thank you very much, kind sir.” You dramatically thanked Beau as he held open the door to the station, giggling as you walked through the door.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You’re welcome, ma’am.” Came his, as dramatic, reply. He took a few long strides to catch up with you, hands tucking deep into his pockets. “You ready to get back t’work?”

“Thrilled.” You huffed sarcastically.

The quiet call of your name made you spin on your heels. The receptionist had stepped out of the office and was swiftly approaching you. “These were left for you.” She handed over a bouquet of flowers, smiling kindly.

Bewildered, you accepted the bouquet on autopilot. They were pretty. Red tulips. Your favourites. “Who— sorry, who left these?”

“Some man.” She shrugged, glancing between you and the bouquet.

You frowned, confused and wary. “Thank you.” You turned and grabbed Beau’s wrist, dragging him to his office. He spluttered and stumbled after you, not resisting the pull, despite his confusion. You shut the door and threw the flowers onto his desk like they were poisoned.

“What?” He stared at you in confusion. “They’re just flowers. Maybe you got an admirer.”

“What’s my favourite flower?”

Beau blinked at you, searching the depths of his brain. “I… don’t know.” He finally answered after a few beats.

“Red tulips.” Your eyes turned to him.

Beau’s gaze snapped to the flowers, realisation striking him. He grabbed the flowers, inspecting them closely. “Red tulips.” He muttered, and set the bouquet down again. His confused eyes turned up to look at you again. “Okay. So, what does that mean?”

You stared at him, clueless. But, there was something heavy in your gut. A warning that something was very, very wrong. You didn’t know what, but there was definitely something wrong.

He sighed heavily, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s coinci—“ your sharp glare cut him off. “Or not. Okay, not a coincidence.” He quickly corrected himself, his words hurried. Beau sighed and picked up the flowers, spinning them in his hands. “Listen, darlin’, it’s probably nothing.”

Your doubtful eyes stared back at him.

Beau cracked a reassuring smile. “You’re overthinkin’ it. It’s just some flowers, mm?” He delicately handed you the bouquet. “It’s nothin’. Don’t you go worrying yourself over somethin’ so silly.”

The smile on your lips was weak, but you nodded anyways. “Yeah.” You stared at the flowers. “Probably nothing.”

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

Despite Beau’s insistence, the flowers seemed to be taunting you. You’d set them up by your kitchen window, the vibrant red a harrowing contrast to the subtlety of your apartment. You hated them. Something about these damn flowers made your stomach churn.

The sheriff had assured you, many times, that the flowers had meant nothing. That someone had likely figured out your favourite flower, and sent them to the station as a ‘thank you’ for a case you’d done.

As much as you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t.

Your gut screamed like an alarm going off every time you saw them.

Finally, you decided enough was enough, sick of your gut feeling end anxiousness, and you took yourself and the flowers to Dewell & Hoyt — greeted by Denise and Cassie in the office.

Cassie smiled the moment you walked in, leant up against the desk that had once belonged to Emily. “Hey.” You flashed her a smile in return, though it was strained, and she quickly took notice. “What’s wrong?”

“One, don’t tell Beau I’m here.” They both stared suspiciously. You sighed and stepped further into the room. “These flowers turned up at the station for me.” You put them down in front of Denise, watching their reactions with bated breath.

She picked them up, and Cassie breezed across the room to get a closer look.

“Red tulips.” Denise noted. “Aren’t those your favourite?”

You nodded, relieved they’d understood what you were saying. “Yeah. That’s the problem.” You sighed, scratching your forehead. You chewed your cheek and contemplated your next words. “Listen, maybe I’m just being dramatic. Beau thinks I am. But… I just— I guess I have a bad feeling.” You tried your best to explain your thought process.

Cassie nodded in understanding, taking the flowers from Denise to examine them.

“I know its… likely useless. But, can you try and figure out where the fuck they came from?” You requested, rather embarrassed to be asking for something like this. You knew it was a long-shot. And that were you probably just being dramatic, making a big deal out of something that didn’t need to be worried about. “It’s just freaking me out.”

“Sure can.” Cassie reassured you, putting them down on her desk. Her casual attitude towards your ask made you relax. “No problem.” Thank God for Cassie Dewell.

“And—“

“Don’t tell Beau?” Cassie finished for you, amused. At your sheepish smile and nod, she just offered you a laugh. “He won’t know.”

You smiled in relief. “Thank you.”

She nodded, flashing you a friendly, reassuring smile. “We’ll figure out where they came from in no time.”

You could only hope she was right, for your own damn sanity.

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taglist - @yvonneeeee

#beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x you #big sky #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #all my ghosts

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