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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago

Note

How about 141 taking care of reader who has painful cramps/ periods👁️👁️

Get this: within about six hours of me posting the first of these double drabbles to ao3, I started my period. Clearly, it was meant to be. All of these are fluffy and sweet, but Soap's a little...flirty. I had a lot of fun with this one! Thanks for sending it in!!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, brief suggestive themes, flirting, forehead kisses, all comfort no hurt

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You need to eat something.”

“I’d rather not,” you mutter, turning your face into the pillow beneath your head.

John places his hands on his hips. He’s not annoyed with you, but you can tell from his facial expression that he’s unhappy with your answer.

“I know your stomach hurts, love,” he says sympathetically. “I know you’re in pain.”

“Do you?” you counter, wanting to be stubborn just for the sake of it.

“But you’re losing iron. And you haven’t eaten,” he checks his watch, “in almost twenty-four hours.”

You scoff. “Keeping tabs on me?”

“Always,” he replies.

It’s not a lie. John almost knows your habits and routine better than you do. He’s the one constantly reminding you about one thing or another.

“Bleeding from your vagina will do that,” you reply sarcastically.

John’s response is a deep sigh. It almost—almost—makes you laugh.

With a groan, John goes down on one knee, bringing himself to your level. “Dove,” he murmurs.

“Don’t,” you warn. John never calls you “dove” unless he’s about to tell you to do something.

“You can stay here. On the sofa. But you’re going to eat.”

“Am I?”

“You need to fuel that body.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“That can’t be comfortable, love.” Simon’s voice is gruff, but laced with tenderness.

You’re face down on the living room floor, curled up in a fetal position. With both fists clenched, you press them sharply into your abdomen. It’s dulling the pain a bit.

“I’m perfectly fine on the floor,” you mutter, voice muffled by the carpet.

Simon sighs. You aren’t sure what he’s doing until you see movement in your peripheral. Simon gets down on your level. He’s flat on his stomach, arms crossed with chin resting on top.

“You mind if I join you down here?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, turning your head to look at him.

"How is this not hurting your back?"

“It does. But the cramps are worse.”

He starts rattling off options. “Ice pack? The heating pad? Tylenol? A shot of vodka? Your favorite takeaway?”

“All of the above,” you answer with a deep sigh.

“Aces,” groans Simon, rolling onto his side.

Simon disappears. Returning, he places a chilled bottle of vodka with a shot glass next to your head along with extra strength pain relievers, an ice pack, the heating pad, and a glass of water.

“Takeaway will be here in thirty.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You want cuddles?”

“No.”

“Kisses?”

“I’m fine.”

Johnny scoots a little closer on the bed. He lays on his side, one hand propping up his head as he stares down at you. You are on your back in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. The hood is up, strings pulled taut. Even with pain relievers, the ache continues.

“I read somewhere on the internet—”

“Johnny,” you warn.

“—having an orgasm or two can help.”

“Oh my God,” you mutter, closing your eyes, breathing through your nose.

He shrugs. “Don’t mind a bit of blood.” You side-eye him but Johnny continues to talk.

“Not on my face.” He gives you his best smile. “Or my dick.”

“If you touch me, I might punch you,” you deadpan.

Johnny nods slowly and then flops onto his back. “I’ll bring you the heating pad.”

“That would be great,” you murmur, staring up at the ceiling.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, simply lingering in the silence. You try to focus your breathing, to inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. It’s almost relaxing.

“So,” begins Johnny. “You want that orgasm?”

“Please shut up.”

“Heard.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You are cocooned in soft blankets, wrapped up like an overstuffed Chipotle burrito. Everything hurts from your abdomen to your lower back. The pain and discomfort radiate outward. Your head throbs.

A pair of legs step into your line of sight. You glance upward and find Kyle. He stares down at you a moment before slowly sinking to the floor, taking a seat next to the couch.

“Brought you a hot water bottle,” he murmurs, presenting it. You open the blanket just enough for him to slide it in. “I’ve got the kettle on. I’ll bring you a cuppa once it’s done.”

“Thank you,” you reply, voice a little scratchy.

Kyle places a plastic bag in his lap and opens it up. “Bought you some of your favorites.” Reaching in, Kyle takes snack after snack out, lining them up on the coffee table. “I also picked up some pain medicine. Not sure which you prefer so I got one of each.”

Balling up the bag, Kyle rests his chin on the edge of the sofa. “Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you, too,” you say, just as softly.

Kyle lightly kisses your forehead. “I’ll come check on you in a few.”

taglist:

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

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ynbabe · 7 months ago

Text

Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2. part 2

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

PT-1 w/Charles, Carlos, Lando, Oscar, George, Lewis, Lance & Fernando

Max

You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, so obviously tears were stinging your eyes and the urge to punch a wall was getting stronger by the minute. Unfortunately, you weren't the only one dealing with less-than-loving parents.

"But that's not fair, no one's perfect, I've won five out of eight races," He yelled into the phone to a louder voice responding from the other end. Max looked defeated, with red under his eyes and hair sticking up where he dragged his hands through it.

"No, I didn't fucking let them win, it's their job too," he stood right by the door, slamming it behind him, "Whatever, bye," he cut the call, standing still for a few seconds, glaring at his phone, knowing him debating between throwing it at a wall or stomping on it.

"Wanna nap?" You asked him, setting your phone on the coffee table and letting yourself fall face first on to the hotel bed. Max followed suit, one arm over your waist.

“Damn, can you imagine if we swapped places as kids?” You thought out loud as sleep neared making Max scoff.

He turned to you and in a dead serious tone replied, “Y/n/n, you’d be a serial killer and I’d probably be in jail, now let me sleep, you’re warm,” The man’s response was screech worthy, making you want to smack him but for once, he was right, you were very warm and cuddly and so was he, a fight could wait, sleep was now.

Logan

“LOGAN!” You screamed, knocking on his hotel room door, hoping the man would hurry to answer.

You couldn’t believe the man had launched an entire app without even giving you a hint! You were so proud of him and you couldn’t wait to celebrate. You waited to see his smiling face, knowing you were going to shower him with praises and way too many hugs but when he opened the door, his demeanour was nothing like you had expected.

“Dude didn’t you just launch an app? Why the no good sad face?” You asked as you walked in past him.

He sighed as he sat on his bed, working away at his laptop and a hundred pages spread out. You couldn’t help but frown.

“Logan, Logan,” you called out, ultimately pulling the boys head to face yours, “what the fuck mate, you should be happy right now, what’s wrong?” You asked, disturbed that your happy go lucky, it is what it is friend was so sullen.

“The cars fucked, I have no future, my team fucking hates me, my best and only friend literally never talks to me and I feel like a fucking failure,” he went of on you, slamming his laptop shut making you flinch.

You stared unimpressed at his little charade to keep you away, unfortunately you had grown up with the man and knew his tantrums and breakdowns, “First of all, your only friend? What am I chopped liver? Secondly, James Vowles can fuck off for all I care, you deserve so much better then that ratchet ass team, thirdly you just launch your own app, need I go on?” You presented embodying your inner George Russell as you picked Logan’s laptop and papers off his bed.

“But still-” his face was still down and he continued to doubt himself.

“Look,” you say next to him, holding his hand in yours, “it’s been a tough few years, not gonna lie, but you’re going to pull through cause you are one of the most talented people I know,” you squeezed his hand, “also you can’t give up because you promised you’d get rich and pay for everything.” You shrugged and pulled him to lay on the bed.

He huffed, smacking a pillow on your face, “so that’s why you’re friends with me? Not my dazzling personality? How could you? This is a betrayal, I’m betrayed,” he joked, finally getting back to his normal self, but you were still worried about him.

You turned to the man enveloping him in your arms, the man immediately returning the favour immediately. You let yourself fall into a comfortable sleep, telling yourself to do this more often.

Daniel

“Hey, are you busy?” Daniel had said softly as he entered your room immediately raising red flags in your mind, never once hand the man been so quiet. You quickly put away your stuff on the night stand patting the spot on the bed next to you to let him sit.

“Yeah, is everything okay? You look tired, Danny,” you asked to nothing but silence from the man. A few seconds passed and you could see how wet his eyes were.

“Dan-”

“I’m so tired y/n/n,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, scaring you, what did he mean by that? “I’m just, I can’t, I’m doing everything I can and it isn’t enough, I- I,” he tried speaking but he couldn’t without choking.

You tired not to cry with him, the only man you’d always known to be laughing and happy even in the worst of circumstances, keeping everyone’s spirits up was sitting here in front of you, so hopeless.

You didn’t think twice before pulling him in a hug, cradling him as you both sank into a laying position. “You’re tired, mate, let’s take a nap, it’ll be okay Danny, I promise, it’s going to be fine,” you whispered into his hair making him nod.

You felt him drift off as the tears slowed down and you couldn’t help passing out in the warmth either knowing when you wake up you’d find a way to make the man himself again.

Yuki

“Can I please marry you?” You begged for what seemed the tenth time that day much to Yuki’s irritation.

“I am never cooking for you ever again,” he complained falling onto the sofa next to you, watching the sitcom tv rather than paying attention to you.

“Please, you know you loved the tiramisu I made,” you boasted, opening up a button on your shirt to allow you to breath. The amount of food you and Yuki had consumed for individuals of your sizes were seriously guiness worthy.

He whined knowing you had won that argument, “fine but I want the recipe as a wedding gift,” he joked making the both of you laugh.

“Dude I’m ready to go into a food coma for the next ten fucking years,” you confessed, making the man nod in agreement.

“I’ve eaten enough for the next damn week.”

“We should nap,” you spoke out loud, turning to the man next to you, “wanna nap?”

“Yup,” he immediately answered to which you both pounced on either ends of the sofa, shifting into comfortable positions, making sure neither was kicking the other, his legs on the coffee table pulled close to the sofa and yours curled up closed to you.

Pierre

“Fuck me,” you groaned as another one of your projects fell through. You threw your phone on the table in front of you, sighing as you did.

“Do mind if I do,” joked an irritating grating voice from behind you, from your bed, you had honestly forgotten your friend had been there after another pissy fight with his sweetheart teammate.

“Keep talking Gasly, I’ll call Ocon over make it a threesome,” you laughed as you joined him, pushing him to one side to make space.

The man looked honestly disgusted, “I can’t believe you’d stoop low enough to even joke about that, standards babe, standards,” he scoffed looking at you judgementally to which you rolled your eyes.

“Damn I guess we won’t be making love, sad, I was actually going to agree for once, I’ll just ask Estie then” you fake sighed, feigning disappointment, much to the other man’s horror.

“Shut up, Y/n,” he knocked your shoulder with his after he saw your grin, fighting a yawn as you pushed him back.

“Do you wanna nap?” You asked, equally tired and dejected about your failed project, he nodded and pulled the both of you into a more comfortable position, turning in to face you, burying his face in your neck and you let your hand play with his silky blonde locks, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Esteban

“BITCH, YOU WILL NOT BELIVE THE SHIT I’VE JUST SEEN-” you yelled as you ran into Esteban’s driver room, seeing him lying on the makeshift bed.

You immediately jumped in next to him, waking him up in a startle, “MERDE! Y/n?” He yelled in fear and then confusion, looking around as if a swat team had burst in, “what is wrong with you?” He screeched as he pulled his hands over his face in exhaustion, “you’re a worse gossip than Pierre,” he grunted lying back down.

You animatedly threw yourself down next to him, using his arm as a pillow. “I abhor that accusation, actually,” you grumbled but gave in nonetheless, “okay so look at this photo and tell me what you see,” you showed his your phone, a photo you’d gotten out of a greedy paparazzi’s hand as a media control agent in Mercedes.

The man next to you suddenly seemed much more awake, “Is that Nico fucking Rosberg?” He whisper- yelled into your ears, snatching the phone out your hands.

“Yup,” you grinned popping the p, “bought that shit for eleven thousand dollars,” he whistled, “that was taken at 4 am at Lewis’s hotel,” you whispered, turning your body to face his.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “I thought these were rumours?” He asked gleefully.

“Nope, this isn’t even the first time I’ve had to do damage control,” you sighed, trying to get your phone back but it was pulled away by the taller man.

“You mean there’s gossip you haven’t told me? Your best friend, whose room you’re currently hiding in? Interrupting my nap time?”

“You, Estie, are such a drama queen,” you teased him, pulling your phone out of his hand. “And we can definitely nap, I spent all night trying to convince that asshole to drop the story,” you kept you phone in your pocket as Esteban made himself comfortable, both of you letting yourselves rest after the tiring day you had.

Zhou

“How are you not broke?” The man yelled in astonishment as he saw at the amount of bags in the Prada assistants hands, choosing to ignore his own in another’s, he was allowed to spend he technically was a millionaire, even without his family and sponsors.

You looked at him with raised brows as you opened the doors your apartment building, you and Zhou both owning the penthouses, yours above his.

You let the men drop the bags off on your floor, keeping Zhou waiting, making him annoyed to your amusement. When the men finally left you simply answered, “Samsung shares.”

Zhou groaned “Spoilt child,” and headed into the guest suite as you headed into your room, “look whose talking I have my own assistant at the mall,” you called out behind you. That had been funny, the man followed Zhou to every shop, holding the bags you both collected till you needed another.

You both walked out and showed each other the clothes and accessories you had bought, occasionally swapping one or two. As the day progressed into late evening you called for food, tired from the little fashion show you had.

“I need a nap,” you groaned, folding your feet as you sat on the dinning table chair.

“My legs are killing me,” Zhou agreed, not only had he had a terrible work out in the morning but you both had covered way more than 10,000 steps in that mall.

“Want to nap?” You offered, knowing very well he could just go a floor below to his own home.

“Sure, turn on screen mirroring on your tv, I’ll show you the drivers chat,” he said heading into your room and you ran behind him with glee.

The gossip was the best part of being friends with Zhou, that and the really warm cuddles he gave, “oh my god, Charles and Max again?” You laughed and leaned on his shoulders as he relayed all the details to you, his voice slowly softening as you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

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kiss-inthekitchen · 9 months ago

Text

favorite insomniac | spencer reid

a little warm-up exercise i just finished <3 you can't sleep, so you decide to call the only other person you know who would be awake at this hour. ~500 words

You don’t get insomnia. Usually, you fall asleep quickly and easily, and then devolve into any number of nightmares or vivid dreams or somethings that cause to you wake up feeling like you hadn’t slept at all.

Obviously not great. But not insomnia.

Tonight, however, is not a usual night.

You roll over once again, after what feels like hours but is probably only twenty minutes of lying as still as possible and trying to will your body to be tired. You check the time on your phone; 3:14 AM.

Ugh. You have to be at work in less than 6 hours, awake in less than 5. Closer to 4, if you want to actually look presentable.

You groan, scrubbing your hands over your face and barely resisting the urge to start punching your pillows.

And then you give up.

There’s one insomniac you know who’s got a pretty good chance of being awake right now. You've dialed the number before you can even think about it. The line rings once, and you realize what an inappropriate, quite possibly disrespectful choice this had been. You’re about to hang up, hovering over the red button, when you hear him.

“Hey,” he says, voice raspy.

Oh god, oh god. “Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.”

“No,” Spencer chuckles bitterly, “You didn’t. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep?”

His eyebrows raise halfway to his hairline. “So you called me?”

You and Spencer are coworkers. You’re friends. You just don’t really hang out much outside of work and work-related events. Not that you haven’t wanted to, you just… don’t really know how. Or if you should. Or if it would be particularly smart.

“I’m so sorry. I figured if anyone was liable to be awake right now, it’d be… I wasn’t thinking. I’ll let you go, I’m–”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says, amused. You’re the only person he ever gets the opportunity to calm down; he’s usually the most nervous person in the room. “This doesn’t usually happen to you though, does it?”

“No,” you huff, flopping back against your pillows. “I’d ask you for tips, but whatever you’re doing clearly isn’t working.”

“That’s nice.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.”

You make a self-satisfied little “hmph” sound.

“What did you call me for then?”

Something in the timbre of his voice makes your heart speed up. “I don’t know, human connection across the ether that is 3 AM?” The sense that you’re the only two people in the universe. The sound of his voice. Not that you could say that part out loud.

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Huh? “Wh– We have work in, like, 5 hours.”

“Oh, you haven’t been counting, have you?”

“You mean like thinking ‘if I fall asleep right now at this moment I could get 5 hours of sleep’ but then I still don’t fall asleep and I watch the minutes go by until it’s only 4 and a half hours and then I get angry at myself for being awake and then I’m somehow even more awake?”

He chuckles, dark and rich through the phone. “The classic trap. Never count the hours.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Alright,” he grunts, and you hear him shuffling around, “I’m picking you up.”

“You're what?!"

"I'm picking you up," his voice lilts up, almost like a question. But not like he's asking for permission, more like he's teasing you. Like he knows your answer anyway.

"Now? You have a car?”

“Yes, now. And yes, I have a car,” you hear jingling on the other end. “You’re gonna like it.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds drabble #my fics #couldn't find a cuter pic of spencer on a phone so its payphone image u have to suspend ur disbelief

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hazbinwhoree · 11 months ago

Text

Come Inside

Part 2/2

A/N: The heavily requested part two.

“Well you fucking did it,” (Name) announced, storming into the living room where Adam was watching TV. “Did what,” he asked, mouth full of the ribs he was eating. (Name) threw something at him.

“Hey!” he yelped, the small object bouncing off his shoulder. He picked it up and the world stopped for a moment. It was a pregnancy test. And it was positive.

“Are you fucking with me?” Adam asked after a moment. “Does that look like I am fucking with you?” She had a point. (Name) was watching him anxiously. Adam looked back at her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I… I don’t know. How do you feel?” “Like I made good on a promise,” Adam smirked. (Name) threw a pillow at his head. “This is serious!” “I am serious!” Adam protested. “I said I’d put a baby in you and I did. You had no fuckin’ objections when we were doing it.”

(Name) groaned, flopping onto the couch next to him. “You’re telling me that you are ready to be a dad?” Adam placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You say that like it’s an insane notion. I knew the risks, I knew this was a possibility. I wouldn’t have taken the chance if I wasn’t ready for it.”

(Name) teared up.

“Oh, shit, do you not want this?”

(Name) shook her head. “No, it’s just the hormones and the fact you actually want to have a baby with me.”

Adam laughed, pulling her into his lap. “Of course I want to have a baby with you. I wouldn’t have a baby with anyone else. Well, Eve, but I never raised Cain and Abel. In fact I was a completely absent dad–” “Babe.” Adam laughed, thinking about it. “I don’t know if that’s funny,” (Name) said.

Adam cleared his throat. “Point is, you make me want to be a father so long as you’re the mother.”

“You’re not gonna leave me and the baby like you left Cain and Abel?”

“Babe, Eve had Cain and Abel like right before she cheated on me. I wasn’t fuckin’ sticking around. Those kids are a mess too–” he laughed. “One killed the other!”

(Name) rolled her eyes, punching his shoulder. “The things you find funny are so fucked.” “Yeah but you love me,” Adam cooed, licking her cheek. (Name) squealed. “I hate when you do that! Just kiss me like a normal person, asshole!” Adam cackled.

The first trimester, it still hadn’t become a permanent thought in Adam’s head that he was going to be a father.

The second trimester, it became much more real and they started considering baby names and preparing a nursery.

The third trimster, was really bad for (Name). She was constantly exhausted, sore, hungry but sick to her stomach. The baby really did a number on her. By the time nine months rolls around, (Name) is more than ready to get this child out of her.

“GET IT OUT OF ME!” She screamed after pushing once. “Push again!” the midwife encouraged. (Name) screamed as she did.

Adam watched on in horror. He wasn’t there to witness Cain and Abel’s births, so he had no idea how brutal and scary childbirth was. He stroked back hair off her sweaty forehead, letting her squeeze the life out of his other hand.

Every time she screamed, Adam lost his shit a little bit.

“And push!” With one final push and a pained yell, (Name) delivered their baby.

It was a baby girl.

Adam had been reconsidering his eligibility for fatherhood. But when the nurse cleaned their baby off and placed her on (Name)’s chest, Adam was determined not to ruin a good thing. He may not be looking forward to the responsibilities of a father, but he would take them on for her sake.

In the following weeks, he really tries to help with the baby equally, but he’s pretty bad at it. He’d offered to take a few night shifts but would sleep straight through the baby’s crying, leaving (Name) to go soothe her. But he learned how to prepare a bottle of milk, and he learned how to change dirty diapers.

To his surprise, he actually didn’t find it all that difficult to bond with his child. (Name) even caught him baby talking once, which he fervently denies.

Months go by, and their daughter surprises them with her very first word… “Fuck!”

(Name) is appalled, Adam thinks it’s hilarious. She berates Adam for setting a bad example for the baby, when she shocks them with her second word. “Bitch.” Clear as day. Adam picks their daughter up and praises her. (Name) hits Adam’s arm.

Adam does his best to be a good husband and father, and while he’s not great at it, he is a present father and a loving husband.

#hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #hazbin valentino #hazbin lucifer #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty

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ghost-proofbaby · 11 months ago

Text

fictional boyfriends (e.m.)

summary: eddie gets jealous of your newest fictional boyfriend from a game he got you into.

warnings: kinda sweet. kinda cringe. eddie is jealous of astarion. twilight reference jumpscare. not edited. biting and vague mentions of sex at the end.

wc: 2.5k+

a/n: this is the dumbest, cringiest thing i have ever written. but on this side of town, we embrace the cringe <3 happy valentine's day, enjoy me combining my current favorite fictional men (astarion and eddie) for my own personal delight. maybe one day i'll write a serious fic regarding the biting kink

It’s not that biting had ever been off the table with Eddie, per se.

Nips between kisses, using a little more teeth when he’d kiss across your neck, a joking sinking of your teeth into his shoulder when you were vying for his attention — they were all normal occurrences between the two of you. There was just never much discussion about it. No conversation explicitly had in which the two of you said, “Why, yes. This is something I’d like to bring into the bedroom.”

Until that damn game.

When Eddie introduced you to Baldur’s Gate 3, the last thing he expected was to watch all your free time you used to spend pestering him suddenly handed over to some fictional vampire. He thought it’d be a game you tried, grew tired of, lost interest in, and that was that. Nothing more, nothing less. He didn’t expect a sudden competition for your goddamn affections.

“Baby, please come to bed,” he all but whines as he drapes himself over your shoulders, trying to nudge off your headphones. He could feel just how warm your ears had grown beneath them. He swears he can feel your back crack from the slightest bit of his weight on your shoulders. And, sue him — he was tired and he wanted to cuddle.

“One more minute,” you mumble the same phrase to him that he has used a million times on you; he instantly knows it’ll be far more than just sixty more seconds if he agrees, “Let me just finish this-“

“No,” he’s still whining, but it’s more stern now as he properly removes your headset, earning a glare from your bloodshot eyes, “You’ve been playing this game all afternoon, sweetheart. I think I might die if you don’t offer me some immediate attention. Truly.”

For emphasis, he lays more of his body weight on you, your chair creaking from holding up both of you now.

“Eddie,” you moan out, wiggling beneath his dead-weight, “I swear to God, get off of me-“

“I’ll get off of you if you come to bed.”

You pause. Your hands hover near your keyboard and mouse, but you’re no longer walking your avatar across the world of Baldur’s Gate, and he knows he has you considering it.

More weight. More groans. At this rate, he’s questioning if your chair won’t break from his outrageous method to get your attention.

“Fine.”

The small yes he lets out only earns him a punch to the shoulder. But it gets you off the game, and that’s still a win for him.

He doesn’t even care about appearing over eager as you follow him back to the bedroom. He’s gone as far as preparing the bed, pillows fluffed and comforted pulled back while awaiting your arrival. He’s already washed his face and brushed his teeth (something he usually fights you on as you nag him before bed), and the moment he’s got you in the room with him, he’s dragging you right onto the mattress with him.

“You’re gonna hurt us!” you yelp as he wraps his arms around you and flops down, dragging you with him, but it’s through a laugh. He knows you really couldn’t care less — he’d never deliberately injure you, irritated about your newest fictional boyfriend or not.

“Oh, no,” he mocks, rolling so you’re laying on top of him, “What ever will you do if I injure one of your precious wrists, and you can’t use it to flirt with your new boy toy tomorrow?”

“Astarion would be devastated,” you giggle into his chest, not moving off of him despite all your protests. It’s nice — to feel the full weight of you, to just get to bury his nose in the crown of your head as he shamelessly inhales the sweet lingering scent of your coconut shampoo, “He’s even needier than you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you serve as his functional juice box.”

“I do not!” you wiggle against him, and it only makes him tighten his arms, “He’s needy because he loves me.”

“Well that makes one of us.”

Your head lifts off his chest in an instant, faux offense shadowing your features, “You tryin’ to say you don’t love me, Munson?”

He smirks, pressing his lips together tightly, making you huff in frustration.

Of course he loves you. There wouldn’t be a ring in his sock drawer that he’s terrified of you finding if he didn’t.

You pout, subtly and adorably so, starting to lift off of him, “If you’re going to be mean, I’m just going to go back to someone who appreciates me-“

“Mean?” he scoffs, enjoying himself far too much. He’s missed your attention, your affection. The effect it has on him is similar to a high, making him dizzy on serotonin as he rolls over and pins you between him and the mattress, “Oh, baby, that’s not me being mean. I can show you mean, if you want.”

He’s always thought you looked prettiest like this. Under him, eyes wide as you look up at him as if he’s the only thing in this room worth looking at. Worth more than your prized bookshelf, more interesting than all the various posters the two of you have hung on the walls. You look at him as though he’s the greatest thing to exist in these four walls, and he doesn’t take it lightly when your favorite albums and candles are right there.

“You don’t have a mean bone in your body, Munson,” you whisper softly, face going soft for him. The two of you are still surely joking around, the playfulness of it all thick in the air, but there’s something genuine in your words that makes him even more enamored with you.

He should have predicted you’d fall for Astarion when he showed you the game. You had a thing for people who put up the tough front, but who really just needed a little extra softness and patience under the surface. He was living proof of it.

Unlike your fictional vampire boyfriend.

“Yeah?” he taunts, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushes yours. His hair works like a curtain, messy as ever as he shields the two of you from the outside world. One of your hands have crept up so that you palm rests against his cheek, and he can hardly remember that flare of jealousy that had gnawed at him when you’d spent your entire afternoon absorbed in the game instead of him, “I bet I could be meaner than Astarion. Although, I’m not sure just how mean that man has ever been to you, given all the war crimes you commit for his approval-“

He’s cut off when the thumb of the hand cradling his face trails up, pressing on his bottom lip. It only makes him grow even closer to you, pressing in, drawn by your touch.

You squint your eyes at him jokingly before cooing, “Someone sounds jealous.”

“Damn right,” he doesn’t even try to deny it, caught in the web of your trap with ease, “Does your pixelated lover even know what a catch he’s got?”

You snort adorably at that. He pulls away to see the full force of your laughter, lifting up into his elbows to admire how your face scrunches with your smile. He bets Astarion would make some sarcastic comment about it — about the crinkles by your eyes that he aches to pepper with kisses, about the indents in your cheeks when you smile this wide, about the sound of your genuine laughter when you unrestrained and entirely comfortable like this. But there’s not a single joke forming on Eddie’s tongue. He’s all but hypnotized.

God, he fucking loves you. So much so he’s jealous of a video game character.

“I’m not sure I’d consider this,” you lift the hand not holding him carefully still to motion at your current state of being, “A catch, my love.”

He has to disagree. Messy hair or not, wrinkled pajamas or not. You’re the greatest catch of this entire existence; not just Eddie’s, but the Universe’s. Nothing you could say or point out would deter him from this belief. He loves you, mess and all.

“My love?” he chooses to tease instead, all the words of affection threatening to choke him if he so much as considers letting them pour out, “I like the sound of that. If that’s the Astarion effect, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.”

His elbows are sinking deeper into the mattress. With every passing second, his face is dropping closer to yours, and he’s not sure if it’s by instinct or choice. But when his lips finally brush yours, he decides it’s all the same — it doesn’t really matter what sort of gravity is at work here, as long as it keeps bringing him down closer to you.

“Shut up about the game and kiss me, Eddie.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

The kiss is as sweet as ever. A comfortable dance that still sends shivers down his spine. If either of you looked closer at his arms bracketing your shoulders, you’d see the goosebumps raising as you eagerly returned all his affection.

You taste like the chocolates you’d been snacking on during your gaming. You taste like the greatest gift ever given, and he doesn’t care if he’s exaggerating or not. You’re divine — his favorite good morning and his only goodnight.

And he’d say all that, but you’d probably accuse him of trying too hard to be like Astarion. Probably bring up that ridiculous line the character once said about you being made by the Gods, just to ruin him.

You were, though. Made by the Gods, specifically to ruin Eddie. Fuck the game.

“You know,” he whispers against your lips, breaking for air as he adjusts positions. Your thighs open up and welcome him home, letting him slot right between your legs comfortably. He’s not trying to seduce you, but he can’t even be mad about it. He feels like a starved man now that your attention has been divided as of late, “If you wanted a lover who bites, all you had to do was ask, darling.”

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the kisses he was pressing down your jaw and along your neck, you would have ripped him to shreds for the awful impersonation.

But you’re already far gone, lost in his touches and his adorations. You let the half-assed attempt at a British accent slide, and you even bare your neck to him at the minute threat.

Biting had never been off the table, per se, and Eddie was really fucking glad for it.

When he presses one, two, three greedy kisses to that sweet spot just below your ear, he has one intention in mind. Not his usual sucking and nipping and soothing, not leaving behind one of his ordinary love bites. No, he lets himself get caught up in the moment, and when he catches that quiver of excitement the moment he drags his teeth over your neck carefully, he’s fully committed to his decision.

He bites.

Not hard enough to draw blood, or even be terribly painful. He knows it’s nothing like the game or any of your subsequent fantasies you might have had from it. His canines are fairly dull, even as they dig carefully into the skin of your neck, holding for a moment for effect. But your legs tighten around his hips, and he almost wishes he was a damn vampire, able to actually pierce your skin in the moment. Drink your blood. Whatever the allure was with the origin companion.

You let out a soft gasp which has him keeping your skin between his teeth a few extra seconds, and then he’s letting go. Lifting his head and looking into your eyes, a silent exchange of is this okay?

If the glazed over look is anything to go off of, it’s more than okay.

He returns with reckless abandon, switching between his usual desperate kisses and the newer, sharper ones. He has one goal in mind: to mark you up as his, to the point in which you’ll be scolding him in the morning. It’s like a drug, to feel you writhe beneath him as he paints the picture.

Love notes of freshly born bruises, the imprints of his teeth – a letter across your delicate skin that reads, he was here, and he loved you, more than anyone else in this Universe may ever be capable of.

“If I had known how much biting would rile you up, I would’ve started doing it ages ago,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, finally pausing his assault.

He settles for softer presses of his lip, peppering the affection where he had been a bit more violent.

Your hands that had taken to tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck have gone more relaxed, no longer tugging but instead just lingering. Pulling him closer. Touching him with softer hands than he’s ever felt deserving of.

“Guess you’ve got a certain vampire to thank for that,” you tease, but he can hear just how breathless he’s left you. He had sworn he could feel the pulse of your facing heart beneath his lips, even if just for a moment. Even if he just imagined it.

“Please. Astarion is not getting the credit for that,” he scoffs, lifting up onto his elbows again to just look at you. His lover, his favorite person. It’s nice to see your face when it’s not washed over with the cast of a computer screen. “That was all me. And even if it wasn’t, I won’t forget that you had a Twilight phase.”

Your hand quickly drops between the two of you, only to smack at his chest. The thump holds no weight as you whine, “I told you that in confidence.”

He dips down, capturing one last kiss, “It’s okay, baby. It’s good to know that you have a type.”

“I do not-”

He cuts you off with a more playful bite to your neck. Less about marking you, and more just to make a point.

“Just,” another nip, “admit,” another graze of his teeth, “it.”

You’re fighting a smile when he looks down at you again, impossible to hide behind your mask of annoyance. “I am not admitting that I have a thing for broody, pathetic vampires.”

“Well, I’ve got broody and pathetic down-”

“Eddie,” your thighs still bracket him, one hand still clinging to the back of his neck. When you say his name, the game is over. “We can spend all night bickering over the fictional men I love, or you can give me a reason to forget their names. It’s up to you.”

His eyebrows jump up his forehead, and he’s just about to give up the bit, but not before one last snide remark.

“Kind of hard to do that when I share a name with one of them, but as you wish, sweetheart.”

Another bout of beautiful laughter from him. Another smack on the chest from you. It’s good – it’s everything Eddie has ever wanted, and it is good.

He does, of course, make you forget their names. And if you find it difficult to get out of bed the next moment, dramatically unable to make the walk to your gaming computer, well – he won’t try to hide his smug smile in between the soft rays of morning light.

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#my writing #ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #this is truly the dumbest thing i've ever written #i almost made it into proper smut but couldn't take the end seriously i'm sorry

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dancingtotuyo · 10 months ago

Text

Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is.

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.” Joel hangs up.

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain.

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy.

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight.

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely.

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time.

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup.

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around.

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes.

“And?”

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat.

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall.

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer.

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place.

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good.

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul.

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over.

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well.

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you.

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual.

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.”

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips.

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart.

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen.

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles.

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells.

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

“You hate pancakes.”

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock.

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake.

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you.

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together.

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do.

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes.

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips.

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant.

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit.

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again?

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation.

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting.

“What’s going on?” You ask.

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says.

“About?” You press.

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight.

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now.

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply.

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod.

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question.

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say.

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again.

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart.

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy.

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons.

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements.

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.”

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands.

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours.

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with.

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?”

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that.

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you.

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands.

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision.

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer.

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones.

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all.

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding.

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you.

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit.

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night.

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

#the last of us #joel miller #tommy miller #tlou hbo #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader #pedro boys #ppcu fanfiction #pedrostories #pedro stories #high infidelity (joel miller)

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petitemistletoe · 2 years ago

Text

Tutor

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst

Word Count: 3.2K+

“Mr. Potter, I’d like to talk to you about something,” Professor McGonagall called from her desk as everyone was filing out. James had to stifle a groan as he exchanged a look with Sirius before making his way to the professor’s desk. It was his last class before dinner on a Friday and he was starving and wanting to get pissed with the marauders.

“Yes Professor?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too eager to leave.

“Your grades this past year have slipped, Mr. Potter. You’re a very talented wizard but I’m afraid this year you’ve become more focused on Quidditch than your studies.” Professor McGonagall gave James a disapproving look over her glasses.

“Oh yes, it’s been a bit of adjustment now that I’m captain but I’m confident we’ll crush Slytherin in the tournament.” James said eagerly.

“Mr. Potter you are not listening. If you do not get your grades up you will not be allowed to play.” McGonagall sighed and took off her glasses. “You know there is nothing more I would enjoy than watching my house win the Quidditch cup. Now, I’ve found a tutor for you to help you in your area of weakness: potions.”

“Moony? Evans?” James asked hopefully.

“No.” McGonagall shook her head. “You have a potions exam in two weeks. If you are able to get an A or above you will be permitted to play.”

“I can’t believe you have to have a tutor! It’s inhumane!” Sirius protested after James explained everything over dinner.

“It’s just tutoring, Sirius,” Remus said with an eyeroll, “Who’s tutoring you anyway? Evans?”

“I wish. McGonagall didn’t mention who. I’m supposed to be in the library tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

“Ten! On a Saturday? Inhumane!” Sirius repeated. Then he looked down the table and called, “Oi! Evans! Why aren’t you tutoring Prongs in potions?”

“Tell the whole hall why don’t you?” James grumbled, laying his down on the table.

“What?” Lily looked over at the boys with an already bewildered expression. “I’m tutoring a second year Hufflepuff in Transfiguration tomorrow.”

“Are you failing potions, James?” Mary chuckled. “Not failing,” James said, not moving his head from the table, “but I need to be doing better.”

“Who’s tutoring you?” Marlene asked.

“Don’t know.”

“What if it’s Snape?” Peter asked, a little fearful.

“Oh that would be perfect.” James hit his head on the table.

“Oh god, I’m so hungover.” James said, hitting his alarm with his eyes shut.

“Shut up!” Peter groaned, curling his pillow around his head.

“Both of you be quiet! I can’t get hard with you both talking.” Sirius yelled from Remus’s bed.

“Sirius!” It sounded like Remus had punched Sirius as Sirius groaned and then fell through the curtain, holding his nose.

“Why is your alarm going off anyway?” Sirius asked, standing up and covering his dick with one hand and his other hand still on his nose as he shuffled to the bathroom.

“Put some clothes on!” Peter groaned, turning so his face was pressed into his mattress and his pillow was over his head.

“I have tutoring today,” James groaned, putting on his glasses and trying to see how long he had until his tutoring session started. It was ten fifteen and James felt like his brain was pulsating inside his head.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” Remus called from his bed.

“No, no. I still have a quarter of an hour before I have to go.” James let his head hit the pillow again.

“I thought you said your session was at 10?” Remus stuck his head out between the curtains of his bed.

“No, 10:30. Right?” James started to feel a pit of dread form in his stomach.

“You said 10.” Peter shook from underneath his blanket.

“10!” Sirius called from the bathroom.

“Fuck!” James shot out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. “Padfoot!” He slammed his fist against the bathroom door, “Get out! I need to brush my teeth!”

At 10:25 James was stumbling into the library and staring around. He was sure that his hair was sticking up every which way as he looked to see where his tutor was.

He saw you, Sirius’s cousin who the marauders all affectionately called Baby Black, much to your chagrin, sitting at a table in the library, looking over a piece of parchment with a red quill as you twirled a spoon in a cup of tea.

“Hey! Baby Black,” James said, slamming his hands down on the table where you were, “are you my tutor?”

“You’re late,” you said, “and don’t call me that,” not even looking up from the parchment. You were the same year as the marauders but you had about as much to do with them as you did with the other Black cousins: Regulus, Narcissa, and Bellatrix. You preferred to forge your own path at a school that was seemingly bursting at the seams with your family. Sirius often talked about how you had been the luckiest of all the Black children as your parents, while a little wicked as was Black nature, were the calmest and kindest Blacks aside from any Blacks who had been ex-communicated. Needless to say, even though you were in Slytherin you were nothing like anyone in your family.

“Sorry, sorry. I have a wicked hangover because I was super drunk last night and-”

“Just sit down,” you cut him off, “I’m finishing up grading a quiz from one of my other students in Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Sure, sure. Sorry.” James said, sitting down and taking off his glasses. He had a terrible headache and felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

“Alright, so potions? What do you need to brew amortentia?” you asked after setting the parchment aside. James took a second to look you. He couldn’t help thinking you were gorgeous: the way your lips were slightly parted as you read, the way you twirled your ring on your finger as you spoke, the brightness in your eyes. He was sure you had a great smile too, but he had yet to see it.

“Uh, right, love potion. Rose thorns and petals, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, ashwinder eggs, uh chocolate?” James looked at you as your eyes narrowed.

“Chocolate? God really doesn’t give with both hands, does he?” You shook your head.

“Tulip nectar! Pinecones! Fairy dust?”

“Stop guessing. It’s peppermint. You’re more behind than I thought.”

“Why are you asking about love potions anyway? Got a crush?” James asked, leaning in and looking up at you seductively.

“First,” you said, pushing James back with your two pointer fingers, “you have to brew amortentia for your potions exam. Second, you smell like whiskey and vomit.”

“You love it, Baby Black.”

“I will get Regulus to hex you, Potter.” You said with a light shake of your head. You worked with James for the next hour and a half before assigning him some homework.

“Thanks for all your help, Baby Black. I’ll see you Tuesday?” James tried to send you another winning smile and you shook your head at him.

“Monday.” You said, pushing your books into your bag.

“I have quidditch on Monday.”

“What are you going to do when you’re done playing for Gryffindor?”

“Play professionally,” James shrugged, “Marlene’s brother said he could arrange a meeting with the Canons.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to play quidditch for the rest of your life?” You weren’t sure why you were getting so upset about the situation but you couldn’t stop yourself.

“What’s wrong with that?” James started to get upset too, raising his voice. “Who doesn’t love quidditch?”

“I don’t.”

“How can’t you? Your cousins Regulus, Narcissa, and Sirius all play or played quidditch. Is the sport of the international wizarding world!”

“It’s beneath you.””

“You don’t even know me. You’re just supposed to be my potions tutor.” James snapped.

“Fine,” you said cooly, “I’ll see you Tuesday, then.” You practically ran from the library. James shook his head and made his way over to the great hall. He tried to search for you at the Slytherin table before he sat at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

“How was the tutoring session?” Lily asked, stabbing at a piece of lettuce on her plate.

“Fine. You’ll never guess who it’s with.” James said, looking at Sirius who had been trying to lick Remus’s neck for the past minute. Every time he got close, Remus would snap his fingers up and grab Sirius’ tongue. Sirius’ tongue was currently lodged between Remus’s fingers as Remus read the book that was in his other hand.

“Who?” Sirius asked, trying to turn but was pulled back by his outstretched tongue, “Let me go!”

“Stop trying to lick me!” Remus said, letting Sirius’ tongue go.

“Anyway,” Sirius stuck his tongue out at Sirius, “who’s your tutor?”

“Your cousin!” James said with an eyebrow raise.

“Regulus?” Peter cocked his head.

“Don’t be stupid,” Remus rolled his eyes, “you mean Baby Black don’t you?”

“My cousin is tutoring you? Why didn’t she tell me?” Sirius asked, looking over at the Slytherin table.

“I have no idea.” James shook his head.

“Oi! Regulus! Where’s the girl?” Sirius asked, tossing a crumpled piece of parchment at Regulus. Regulus couldn’t have given Sirius a more intense glower before rubbing his nose and saying,

“Excuse me?”

“Our cousin, Reg. Have you seen her?” Sirius looked at Regulus like he was an idiot. Regulus looked around for a moment and shrugged,

“No idea. I’ll check on her after dinner.”

“Did you say something to her, James?” Remus asked. Sirius took advantage of this moment of Remus’s distraction to lick him up the neck.

“Ah ha!” Sirius grinned triumphantly.

“I’m going to murder you!” Remus said, pulling out his wand.

“Nevermind,” James rolled his eyes.

Over the course of the next two weeks, you and James met twice a week for tutoring lessons in the library. One Thursday was just one of those days that was rainy and sleepy and the last day in the week before one of those rare gorgeous three day weekends. It wasn’t a true three day weekend, really, there were no classes on Friday due to a set of makeup exams that were offered to students who wanted to improve their winter exam scores. James was one of these choice students who would hopefully be done once and for all with potions tutoring after the Friday exam. After a full set of classes and an early morning Quidditch practice, all James wanted was to eat dinner and crawl into bed before the weekend ahead of him. Of course, you had chosen today of all days to meet for a final tutoring session before the big potions exam on Friday.

He was eating dinner when you stopped by the Gryffindor table and sat down next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, shocked by the presence of another Black at the Gryffindor table.

“I need to talk to James,” you said quickly, “Meet me in the potions classroom in the dungeons for tonight’s lessons.”

“Why the dungeons? What’s wrong with the library?” James asked.

“Slughorn said we could use his classroom so you can fully practice brewing your assigned potions.” You said, getting up from the table, “See you at 8. Don’t be late.” You got up and walked away. James watched you leave the great hall and then sighed,

“I can’t wait for this to be over.”

“Yeah right,” Remus snorted.

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“All you’ve talked about these past two weeks is Baby Black.”

“Well yeah. Complaining. She’s annoying.”

“No, not complaining. You can’t stop talking about her. You like her.” Remus grinned.

“You cannot date my cousin, James.” Sirius said with a hard expression.

“I don’t even like her!” James insisted. Apparently Sirius wasn’t the only Black child that was concerned about you. Regulus stalked over and sat down next to James where you had been only a few moments before.

“Stay away from my cousin. She’s fragile and sensitive and doesn’t need a rat like you sniffing around her.” He snapped at James.

“She’s just my tutor! I don’t like her! She barely even tolerates me!” James cried, ignoring Remus’s shit eating grin.

“I knew it!” Sirius slammed his hand down on the table, “you are trying to fuck my cousin!”

“Oh my god! I’m leaving!” James stood from the table, looking at the Black brothers. “You two are exactly alike. Why I would ever want to get more involved with this family?”

“Hey!” Regulus and Sirius said at the same time as Remus cackled.

“Your cousins are insane,” James said with a head shake as he sat down next to you in the dungeons.

“You’re telling me.” You muttered. Your hair had been pinned up with your wand stuck through and you pulled your wand out letting your hair fall more freely. You worked with James for the next hour and a half and it seemed like James was going to pass his exam.

“Okay, the last thing I need to do is check on your amortentia, but we can do that tomorrow morning before your exam. Meet back here at eight in the morning.” You replied. You were fanning your neck it had gotten hot in the dungeons after James’ heating potion had gotten a little of hand. You took off your sweater so you were just in a pair of trousers and a thin tank top. James watched a bead of sweat make its way down your neck and into your cleavage.

“Thanks with all your help, Baby Black. You really saved my ass.” He smiled.

“You worked hard for it, James. No wonder Sirius loves you so much.” You smiled back at him. You had to admit that James wasn’t bad looking at all. He was a bit annoying, the way the Marauders were, but he had a kind heart and easy smile. Before you could fully process what was happening, James was leaning in and kissing you.

“What are you doing?” You asked, pulling away suddenly.

“I’m sorry! I thought…we were…you aren’t into?” James asked, bewildered.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You scrambled up and ran out of the dungeon. It wasn’t until you were at the portrait in front of the Slytherin dormitory that you took a minute to stop and let your fingers ghost over your lips. You felt a small smile crawl onto your face and thought about how sad it would be to no longer have an excuse to see James.

“Where’s Moony?” James asked as he burst into the dormitory.

“Sucking my dick.” Sirius called from his bed. “Ow! Fuck Moony enough with the teeth!”

“What do you need James?” Remus asked, sticking his head between the curtains.

“Can you talk? Privately?”

“Yeah, just a second. I left my notebook by the charms room today. You can walk with me.” Remus got dressed and walked alongside James to the charms classroom.

“So what’s going on, Prongs?” Remus asked.

“Okay, first, you can’t tell Sirius I told you this.” James started.

“You’re freaking me out, James.”

“I kissed baby Black.” James blurted out. Remus stopped dead in his tracks and looked at James.

“You did what?”

“I know! It’s just…she was so nice. And she’s so warm but still sassy and she hates quidditch and doesn’t worship me or anything. And it was hot in the dungeons and she had her sweater off and I don’t know what happened but I kissed her and she ran from the room. Oh god, Moony what did I do?” James was rambling.

“Okay. Alright. Listen. Did she say she was going to tell anyone?” Remus asked.

“She didn’t say anything.”

“You better hope she doesn’t tell Sirius. Or worse, Regulus. You should talk to her.” Remus shook his head.

“I have to see her tomorrow for her to check my potion before the exam. I’ll talk to her then. Will you come with me?” James felt his stomach flip at the thought.

James felt like his feet were cinderblocks as he made his way to the dungeons with Remus. You were there, in that damn tank top again, looking at the potions.

“Oh good,” you looked up and gave him a shy smile, “you’re here…with Remus.” Your smile faltered.

“I’d like to talk about-” James started but you cut him off.

“Let’s just look at your potion.” Your words were clipped.

“Alright, Remus why don’t you smell it first and let us know what you think and we can make sure it smells different to everyone.” James said. Remus bent down and took a large sniff of the bubbling liquid in the cauldron.

“Smells like chocolate, parchment, leather, vinyl. Sirius. Nice job, James.” Remus sat back a little and smiled. “After you Ms. Black.”

“Alright,” you took a large sniff, “Clean cut grass, butter beer, hot Yorkshire pudding.”

Remus was stifling a smile, “And you James?”

“Firewood, a freshly sliced apple, vanilla, and…the Black estate? That smells like you.” James looked up at you confused.

“I’m going to leave you two alone.” Remus stalked out of the dungeons, sending James a knowing look on his way out.

“You smelled me in the potion,” James grinned.

“You must have brewed it wrong.” You shook your head but you couldn’t hide your smile either.

“You hate quidditch.”

“You’re a stupid jock.”

“You undress me with your eyes every time you see me.”

“You are Sirius’ best friend.”

“You are Sirius’ cousin.”

You grabbed James by the back of the neck and kissed him hard. James’ hands found your waist and started pull at the hem of your tank top. You took the tank top off and laid back on the desk.

“You’re so beautiful.” James muttered, taking his shirt off too. He sunk down his knees and buried his face between your thighs. His tongue was as long as it was sharp and it darted in and out of your opening.

“Fuck,” you murmured, your hands in James’ hair as you practically road his face. You came on his tongue before pulling him back up to kiss you. James unbuckled his belt and pushed himself inside you. You started to move your hips but James stopped you.

“Just,” he sounded strained, “I need to adjust for a moment. I’m so close, already, baby.”

“Oh my god,” you grinned, pulling James closer so his forehead was against yours. James nodded and started to move. He pushed himself in and out of you and you were both moaning, especially when James reached a hand between your bodies to rub your clit. You saw stars as you came with James pulling out and cumming on your stomach soon after. He laid on top of you as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Potter, what the fuck are you doing?” A new voice said. You and James turned to see Regulus and Sirius standing in the doorway of the potions classroom.

“Oh Prongs, we’re going to have to kill you.” Sirius shook his head sadly.

“Oh fuck, you’re Sirius’ cousin.” James could only bow his head.

#James potter #James potter x reader #James potter x reader smut #James potter x reader angst #James potter smut #Aaron Taylor johnson #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #dead gay wizards #marauders #marauders era

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izvmimi · 7 months ago

Text

cw: pillow talk, fluff. mature but no explicit smut. reader is a royal associated with house silva. selfship-coded.

For a man who once swore as a child to marry a nun, Asta isn’t particularly chaste when he handles you, not usually, and definitely not now, as he makes sure to dominate every part of your body physically in your increasingly more frequent trysts while taking the time to move slowly and worship it too, in perfect duality.

And once you’re done, he’s gentle and he is warm - terribly warm, warm where your body clings to his for comfort, warm where he kisses and holds you, warm where he slowly seeps out of your body, warm… you sigh and pull even closer to him, and he presses a kiss to your flushed cheek, before asking, “Are you okay?”

You nod, but Asta reads you easily not just physically but emotionally, turning to press his forehead against yours.

“___,“ he starts, calling your name in the tone that warns you that he’s not unwilling to press until you open your heart, and you swallow hard, your heart pounding again in your chest, no longer from the excitement from lovemaking but from nervousness.

He probably won’t like what you have to tell him, and you blurt it out.

“I haven’t told him yet.”

There’s a short pause, loud in its silence. Asta’s green eyes widen for a moment, and then he inhales deeply through his nose, and you wince, wondering if he’ll finally decide to just let you go, to leave you in your cowardice.

But instead he remains close, letting his arm continue to rest protectively, possessively, about your waist.

“And why not?” He breathes out. His voice is soft, practically a whisper, to put you at ease, even if it’s not an easy question to answer, just as it is not quite that easy for him to ask.

If you tell him, you’re afraid, he’ll immediately storm the estate where you grew up. If you tell him you’re simply hesitant, you’ll break his heart instead, and with these two futures, you remain tongue-tied by your own misgivings.

What really guides you these days? Love does not drive you to Nozel, only to Asta whose arms you lay in comfortably even in this very moment. Loyalty is not it either… fear, you wonder? Admitting you are afraid to Asta will be heard as a plea to defend you, and while you are thankful for his relentless heart, you do not need to complicate things further.

“I need time,” you murmur softly.

Asta stiffens for another moment and your heart feels as though it will slow to a stop, excuses bubbling in your throat and then choking you dry. But he says nothing more than “Okay.”

And he follows it up, just as quickly with the words “I love you.”

You could cry right now but instead, he kisses you then pulls quickly back, looking at you carefully, fire in his eyes.

“If you need me to, I’ll fight anyone, anywhere. Just tell me where to go.”

You are now the one to be caught stiff, but your lips break into a smile, then slowly, surely into a laugh, which catches him by surprise.

“And just why are you laughing? Do you think I’ll lose?” He’s upright like a board now, a scowl on his face, and he repeats himself.

“Do you think I’d lose to that pretty boy!?”

Asta’s so fired up, you can only help but laugh even more heartily which only seems to distress him further.

“___!”

You bring yourself up from a sitting position too, blankets low on your lap, to lean forward and kiss his tummy, still warm, soft even with the hard ridges. He’s cute always, terribly so, you think, despite his immense power, despite his unending responsibilities, despite his lofty dreams. Cute enough to think the answer to your dilemma of a distasteful marriage to your royal “relative” is just to punch him really hard in the face until he understands that your love can’t be bought with power or money.

“You’d win and be my hero, and you’d whisk me away on a white horse,” you tease. Asta eyes you carefully, as though deciding whether or not to be annoyed but must eventually decide against it, as he takes your face in his hands and furrows his eyebrows as he gazes deeply in your eyes for a moment, with soft curiosity as he observes your countenance.

“I would.” he reminds you, then presses his lips to yours again. The kiss deepens, until your arms are wrapped around his neck and shoulders, and you’re backed onto the well-slept bed again, pushed into the plushness of down feathers and soft blankets fit for the unwilling, unworthy royal you are. His kisses, his touch, negate all of that - a commoner who renders class and power distinctions moot and meaningless - and you revel in your desire for him.

Sweet, loving, kind, strong, safe - everything you’ve needed and wanted, and been emboldened to cherish and protect.

#asta x reader #daydreams: black clover #asta black clover x reader #black clover x reader #mimi's notes #mimista

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mattsobvimyfav · 1 month ago

Text

roommates (matthew sturniolo)

pt 16 -

The next morning, I left Chris’s dorm before the sun was fully up. My chest felt heavy, and my thoughts were a tangled mess. I walked back to my dorm noticing Matt wasn't there which allowed me to let my tears fall. I kicked off my shoes, climbed into bed, and pulled the blanket over my head, trying to muffle my sobs.

I didn’t even hear the door open, but soon enough, Matt’s voice broke through the quiet. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

I stiffened, wiping my face quickly, but it was no use—he’d already seen. Matt walked closer, his brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, keeping my face buried in the pillow.

“Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, “I’m not leaving until you tell me.”

I rolled onto my back, my tear-streaked face staring up at him. “It’s Chris,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “He—he said we should put a hold on… us.”

Matt stepped closer, his usual smirk replaced with something colder. “Wait, let me get this straight,” he said, folding his arms. “You’re crying over Chris? Really?”

I sniffled, trying to ignore the edge in his tone. “Matt, I don’t need this right now.”

“No, I think you do,” he shot back. “Because while you’ve been all lovey-dovey over him, guess what? Chris has been fucking with that girl from the volleyball team this whole time.”

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone almost dismissive. “Katie. Blonde, tall, number eleven. She’s been all over him, and he’s been letting her. So, maybe save your tears, dumbass”

I felt my chest tighten, the tears threatening to fall again. “You’re lying,” I said, absolutely taken aback.

“Why would I lie about that?” Matt leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms. “I’ve seen them.”

I sat there, stunned, my mind racing. Chris wouldn’t do that, he had been so sweet.

Matt rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m just saying, maybe stop wasting your time on a guy who clearly doesn’t see you the way you think he does.”

I swallowed hard, anger and hurt bubbling up inside me. “Why are you even saying this, Matt? Why the fuck wouldnt you tell me before?”

He shrugged. “Maybe because I didn't care enough too, figured you would find out yourself”

His words cut deep, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break again. I stood up, slipping on my shoes.

“Thanks Matt, Your a fucking dick” I said coldly, brushing past him.

Chris sat up straighter when I barged into his room, my face streaked with tears and full of anger.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” he asked, but I wasn’t in the mood for his innocent act.

“Don’t bullshit me, Chris,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “Matt told me. About Katie. From the volleyball team.”

His face fell, guilt washing over him in an instant. He didn’t even try to deny it. “Y/N…”

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me,” I cut him off. “How long, Chris? How long were you screwing around with her while you were with me?”

Chris sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, avoiding my gaze. “It didn’t stop when we got together,” he admitted. “I didn't think you’d find out.”

I stared at him, stunned. The air felt like it had been knocked out of my lungs. “So, what? You just decided it wasn’t worth telling me while you paraded around acting like I was the only one?”

“I was scared, okay?” he said, his voice rising. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?!” I snapped. “Chris, you were literally fucking another girl? You couldn't have wanted me that bad.”

He finally looked at me, his face filled with anger. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I know I messed up. But-”

“But what, Chris?” I asked, my voice breaking.

Chris leaned back, running a hand over his face. “I wasn't the only problem in this,” he said. “Let’s be honest, Y/N. You don’t want me. You want Matt. I knew that from the beginning. Why do you think I kept fucking her?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You are such a fucking asshole you know that?”

Chris let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “See? You can’t even argue it. You are just mad you didn't have me all to yourself. You act as if you didnt literally fuck my brother.”

I stood there for a moment, blinking back tears. “If you didnt want me you should’ve left me the fuck alone.” I whispered.

“I could say the same to you.” he said, his voice filled with pure rage.

I turned and left, knowing I couldn’t stay in that room any longer.

I knocked on Charlie’s door, my head spinning from everything that had just happened. When she opened it, the concerned look on her face almost broke me.

“Whoa,” she said, pulling me inside. “What happened? You look like you’ve been through hell.”

I sank down onto her bed, the weight of everything collapsing on me. “Chris and I are done,” I said flatly.

Her eyes widened. “Wait, what? Since when?”

I gave her the whole rundown— Matt telling me everything, the fight, the confession about the volleyball girl. Charlie sat beside me, her face scrunched in disbelief. “That’s fucking insane. And Matt told you all this?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Right? And now I don’t even know where I stand with him, either.”

Charlie crossed her arms, nodding firmly. “Okay, no. This is not how we’re spending Halloweekend. We are not bitching and moaning in this dorm room crying over boys who don’t deserve you.”

“What the fuck do you want me to do then?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Charlie’s face lit up with determination. “We’re going to Spirit Halloween and getting matching costumes.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Matching costumes?”

“Yes!” she said, already grabbing her bag. “Something sexy, something that says “dick me down.””

I stood up, the idea of dressing up and getting out of my head sounding better by the second. “Alright,” I said.

Charlie grinned, hooking her arm through mine. “That’s my bitch.”

We burst through the door to Charlie’s dorm room, bags from Spirit Halloween swinging at our sides as we laughed about the fat man whose face planted in front of us on the way in.

“I can’t believe Spirit is even selling this” I said, holding up the ridiculously short plaid skirt we’d picked out.

“Right?” Charlie grinned, kicking the door shut behind her. “This is bordering on the line of lingerie.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m calling it now, at least seven different people are seeing my tits tonight. And not on purpose.”

Charlie waved me off, already digging through the bags. “Yeah but can you really say your halloweekend was fun if you didn’t flash someone?”

I laughed and we started getting ready, music blasting in the background to keep the mood light. I grabbed the button-down shirt and tied it just under my chest, leaving only two buttons done so that my cleavage was on full display.

“I might as well not even wear a shirt,” I joked, adjusting the knot in front of the mirror.

Charlie laughed, already halfway dressed.

I rolled my eyes, slipping on the plaid skirt and fidgeting with the waistband until it sat just right on my hips. “Both my asscheeks are out right now.”

“Exactly the point,” Charlie said, popping on a pair of big-framed glasses. She put her hair into two pigtails, completing the look. “Now put on your socks and glasses, and you’re good to go.”

I sat down to pull on the knee-high white socks, then slipped into my converse. Once I’d added the oversized glasses and quickly put my hair into two French braids, I turned to Charlie. “What do you think?”

Charlie whistled, spinning me around to look in the mirror. “Girl forget Chris and Matt. Have me.”

We both burst out laughing, the nerves of the day finally starting to melt away. “Alright,” I said, grabbing my lip gloss and shoving it between my boobs.

Charlie grabbed her keys, and with a final check in the mirror, we were ready to take on the night.

The house was packed, music thumping so loudly I could feel the bass in my chest. Red cups were being passed around, and groups of people danced on the makeshift dance floor in the living room. Charlie handed me a shot almost immediately, and we clink glasses before taking our first of the night.

“Here’s to forgetting all the bullshit,” Charlie said, smirking.

“Fuck yes please” I added with a grin.

An hour later, the alcohol was flowing, and Charlie and I were in the middle of the crowd, laughing and dancing to the beat of the music. Our matching schoolgirl outfits were definitely earning attention, but I wasn’t focused on anything other than letting loose.

Charlie spun me around, and we dissolved into laughter when someone in a ghostface mask, and a black outfit, joined in on our dancing. They were playful at first, moving side to side as we all laughed, but then the person slid behind me, hands confidently finding my hips.

I froze for a second, glancing at Charlie, who gave me a wide-eyed look before shrugging and continuing to dance. I figured it was just someone being flirty, so I went with it, moving to the beat. Their hands gripped my waist tighter, and I could feel their presence close behind me.

Then they leaned in, their voice low and familiar. “I’ve been waiting to feel you on me again.”

I stiffened immediately. I knew that voice all too well. “Matt?” I asked, looking over my shoulder at the mask.

He didn’t answer, but the way his hands stayed on my hips and the faint scent of his cologne gave him away. I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, he stepped closer, his chest brushing against my back. “Having fun,” he murmured, his tone teasing. “You were too busy looking like a slut to notice me.”

“Matt, you’re drunk. Go find another bitch to bother. They’re all practically naked anyway; it should be pretty easy.”

“Why would I do that when you’re right here?” He pulled me back so we were flush with each other, his voice dropping lower. “Feel what you do to me?” he whispered, his hands gripping my waist as he grinded his growing erection against my barely covered ass.

I felt heat rise to my face as I felt his imprint on my skin. I turned my head away, my voice sharp. “No, Matt. I just ended things with Chris. You’re only saying this because you’ve been drinking.”

He didn’t let go. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his tone almost bitter.

“Get what, Matthew?” I asked, getting blatantly annoyed.

“God, you’re fucking stupid.” He pushed off of me and walked away.

“Who was that?” Charlie asked obliviously,

I shrugged “I don't know some random”

Charlie laughed, pulling me back towards the kitchen for more drinks.

We stayed for a little longer before we decided to call it a night. We clumsily stumbled back to our dorms and got home safely by the grace of god.

The room was quiet save for the faint rustling of fabric as I got more comfortable. My head spun slightly from the alcohol, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

I got up, stumbled to my dresser and grabbed some pajamas before falling back into my bed and grabbing my phone. I was drunk and unfiltered so I decided texting Chris would be a good idea.“Im so glad you made this so easy bu being afucking whore” I threw my phone over to the couch and let sleep overtake my mind.

tag -

@ch0llies @namelesssav @christmastreecake

@chrisstopherfilmed @mattsturnii @sturnrc @larnieboox88

@tbfaptbfae @2muchofaslvt @sturnioloshottiekay

@rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @realuvrrr

#nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #roommates

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dee-writes-anime · 3 months ago

Text

Aches, Pains, and Futures in Soccer with Yuji Itadori

FEATURING Yuji Itadori x Reader

SUMMARY You weren't sure what you were expecting when you decided to have a baby with Yuji, but it definitely wasn't being his kid's punching bag.

CONTENT WARNINGS play fighting, silly banter, baby's first kicks, pregnancy trope, yuji trying (and failing) to be a couch hog :(

AUTHORS NOTE This was really heartwarming to write and I actually had a lot of fun! I hope you all enjoy it just as much. Yuji is my special boy and he deserves all the love.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The golden afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting soft, warm patterns across the living room. You were tucked into the couch, a rare moment of peace settling over you as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone. But you could hear the telltale sounds of Yuji’s footsteps coming down the hall, and you braced yourself, knowing he was about to enter with his usual whirlwind energy.

Sure enough, Yuji bounded into the room with that signature bounce in his step, looking like he was just waiting to liven things up. He stopped when he saw you comfortably nestled into your corner of the couch, his hands on his hips as he gave you a mock glare.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I leave for, what, five minutes, and you’ve already stolen my spot?”

“Your spot?” you shot back with a grin. “Yuji, I’ve been here all day. I claimed this spot fair and square.”

He squinted at you, dramatically suspicious, like he was sizing up a fierce opponent. “You’re telling me that my half of the couch was suddenly yours the second I got up? Hmm, pretty fishy.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping onto your face as he plopped down beside you. “I mean, if you want the spot so bad, you could just—”

He wiggled in closer, all elbows and knees, not even bothering to give you the chance to finish your sentence as he leaned into you. “Could just… what? Move you over a little?”

You tried to put on a serious face, nudging him with your shoulder. “Yuji, if you wanted to reclaim this side, maybe you should’ve put down a warning sign or something.”

“A warning sign?” he laughed, eyes bright with that mischievous sparkle. “Come on, you know I don’t need warning signs to get what’s mine.”

Your laughter was immediate, filling the room as you swatted him with a throw pillow, which he pretended to dodge. “Oh really? I’d like to see you try! I think you’re underestimating my commitment to this spot.”

His eyes widened in playful shock, and he grabbed a pillow of his own, holding it up like a shield. “I see. So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

And just like that, you were drawn into the gentlest “battle” imaginable. He shifted closer, playfully pretending to push you over as you pushed right back, all while exchanging goofy banter that kept you both laughing. It felt like being kids again, like no one else in the world mattered but the two of you and the laughter echoing through the room.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded after a minute, his cheeks pink from laughter as he dramatically threw his hands up in defeat. “You win. You can have the ‘prime spot,’ but only because I’m feeling generous.”

You gave him a triumphant smirk, snuggling deeper into your claimed cushion, though your victory was short-lived as he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer anyway. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me,” you teased, settling comfortably against him.

He chuckled, resting his chin on top of your head, his arm protectively wrapped around you as if to keep you from slipping away. His other hand found its way to your belly, fingers splaying gently over the small bump. “Well, I mean, you’ve got my kid in there,” he said, his voice softening. “I can’t just not hang out with my favorite people.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest as he shifted to get a better look at you, his expression equal parts adoration and amusement. “Think they know we’re out here bickering over couch space?”

“Oh, definitely,” you replied, glancing down at his hand on your belly. “They’re probably rolling their eyes in there, just waiting to take after their dad and be just as stubborn.”

Yuji grinned, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your belly as he spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “Listen, little one, just so you know, your dad’s never been stubborn in his life. That’s a rumor your mom likes to spread.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he went on, murmuring little reassurances to the baby like he was already trying to win them over.

He settled into a calm silence after a while, his hand still resting on your belly, his touch light yet firm. The sun had shifted lower in the sky by now, and the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow. Yuji’s eyes softened as he gazed down at you, a look of wonder lighting up his face.

“What?” you asked, grinning as he stared.

“Nothing, just…” He shrugged, his cheeks tinged pink. “Just thinking about how strong our kid’s gonna be. And hoping they don’t end up stronger than me by age five.”

“Oh, they absolutely will,” you teased, elbowing him gently. “And then you’ll have to get used to having your spot stolen all over again.”

He feigned a look of horror. “You’re saying… I’m not even safe from my own kid?”

You nodded, patting his shoulder as if to console him. “Exactly. Your days of couch domination are numbered.”

“Oh man,” he groaned, leaning back dramatically before pulling you with him, letting you settle comfortably against his chest. “Well, if that’s the case, I guess I better make the most of it now while I can.”

And for a while, you just stayed there, tucked up against him, both of you savoring the warmth of the moment. The peace, the quiet laughter, the shared anticipation—all of it felt like a glimpse into the future you were building together, a future that already felt so perfectly, messily, you.

But suddenly—bam!

The force that jolted through your belly was so surprising, so powerful, that it knocked the breath right out of you. You felt a solid, undeniable thump, like someone had just launched a mini football inside you. Your hand flew to the spot, your eyes going wide as you tried to process what had just happened. It was nothing like the gentle, butterfly-like flutters you’d read about in those pregnancy books. This felt like a full-blown kickboxing practice.

Yuji was immediately alert, straightening up with a look of alarm. “Whoa, what was that?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uh… I think it was…” you stammered, still catching your breath, “the baby?”

For a split second, Yuji looked almost as stunned as you were. And then, as if a switch flipped, his face broke into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “No way! Are you serious?” He practically threw himself onto his knees, hands gently pressing against your belly like he was afraid he’d miss the next move. “Did they really just kick you that hard? Already?”

“Already?” you laughed breathlessly, still reeling from the force of it. “Yuji, that was like a mule kick. I think they were trying to send me flying off the couch.”

Yuji let out a loud, delighted laugh, his eyes shining as he looked up at you, clearly thrilled. “What can I say? They’ve got my genes.” He leaned in closer, his face only inches from your belly now. “Hey there, little champ,” he cooed, sounding every bit the proud dad. “That was an awesome kick. You’re already a total powerhouse!”

“Oh, fantastic,” you teased, still rubbing the spot where you’d felt the impact. “You’re already egging them on?”

He just grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he placed his ear against your belly, as if he could somehow hear what was going on inside. “I’m just saying, they’ve got the makings of a real legend here. They’re strong and feisty! I mean, that was no ordinary baby kick—that was like, pro-level stuff!”

You shook your head, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face as he continued to praise the baby’s newfound strength. “Please, Yuji, they just kicked once. You’re already planning their career path?”

He sat back, feigning deep thought. “Okay, so they’ve got to be an athlete. Martial arts, maybe? Or, ooh, they could go pro in soccer! Or volleyball!”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as he leaned in closer again. “I don’t think they’ve declared their career ambitions quite yet, Yuji. I’d be happy if they could keep it down to a gentle nudge next time.”

He gave you a playful, sympathetic smile, rubbing your back as he nodded solemnly. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk to them.” He bent down toward your belly, speaking in a gentle but conspiratorial whisper. “Hey, little one, maybe try not to knock the wind out of Mom, okay? I mean, she’s got to catch her breath, too.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, the room filled with warmth and lightness as Yuji kept his hand on your belly, eagerly waiting to feel another kick. He was quiet for a moment, and then he looked up at you, his gaze full of wonder, like he still couldn’t believe it was real. “You know, I think they’re just saying ‘hi.’ Like a little ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, I’m here!’”

You smiled at him, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “Well, they definitely know how to make an entrance.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he chuckled. “Gotta stand out from day one—that’s my kid, alright.”

Just then, there it was again: another solid, unmistakable kick, and this time Yuji felt it, too. His eyes widened, his mouth dropping open in amazement as he looked between you and your belly. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He looked completely captivated, as if he’d just witnessed some incredible, once-in-a-lifetime event.

“Yep,” you replied, managing a half-laugh as you recovered from the second blow. “That’s exactly what it felt like last time.”

Yuji shook his head, clearly in awe. “I just… wow. I mean, I knew they’d be strong, but this is something else.” He looked at your belly with absolute adoration, leaning down again to press a gentle kiss against it. “Alright, I get it—you’re here, and you’re awesome.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling as he continued to talk to the baby, his voice filled with excitement and pride. He was already so attached, so invested, and seeing him like this—so full of love—made your heart swell.

“So,” he said, looking back up at you with a cheeky grin, “how many more karate chops do you think you can handle?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you replied, pretending to think about it. “If they keep this up, I might have to start wearing some kind of body armor.”

Yuji burst into laughter, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the best protection money can buy.” He leaned back, his arm around your shoulders, and gently squeezed. “But for real, I’m so glad I was here for that. It’s like… they were saying hello to both of us. Like they couldn’t wait to let us know they’re already raring to go.”

You looked up at him, feeling a rush of affection as you saw the pure, unfiltered joy on his face. “I’m glad you were here, too.”

He beamed, squeezing your shoulder again as he leaned down to press a playful kiss to your cheek. “Guess we’d better start training for when they get even stronger. I mean, we’re gonna have our hands full with this one.”

You laughed, snuggling closer to him. “Good thing they’ve got a dad who can keep up.”

Yuji grinned, the pride practically radiating off him. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m ready for this. Bring on the kicks, the chaos… I’m here for all of it.”

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #gege when i catch you gege #yuji itadori #itadori #jjk yuji #itadori yuuji #jjk yuuji #yuuji #yuuji x reader #jjk itadori #yuji x reader #yuji x you #yuji x y/n

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bipanicoverthegravessiblings · 1 year ago

Note

We can have Andrew and Ashley (separately) dating reader who is a singer/guitarist in a Punk rock band, who has a somewhat cynical, indifferent personality but is quite kind when you get to know her.

But there is a problem, she is possessed by a demon and needs to kill or drink human blood to survive (just like that movie Jennifer Body feat. Megan Fox)

Friggin love Jennifer’s Body- hell yeah anon!

Ashley and Andrew Graves x Possessed Punk Rock!Reader

Andrew Graves

You met Andrew after he went to watch your band play. He came up to you after the show and started up a conversation with you.

You were the best part of the band in his personal opinion

You’d heard this all before, and like always you went along to get on his good graces

Honestly- you had full intention of eating him until he started some playful banter with you

You both just bounced off of each other so well

“Alright, so- it’s the zombie apocalypse and you have to team up with 2 other people at this bar.” Andrew was leaning against the bar, he phrased it like such a serious question, “Who you picking?”

“Hmmmm…” you hummed, turning your attention to the cluster of people, “Probably that guy-“ you nod towards one muscly frat dude chatting with his equally muscular friends, “He looks like he could punch some zombies. Dumb and fearless, ya know?”

Andrew chuckled, “Ahhh, so you’re into beefy dudes, huh?”

You gave him a deadpan stare before rolling your eyes and smirking a little, “Nah, if anything he’d be a sacrifice to the undead horde. I’m more into sickly looking emo dudes.”

A small blush painted Andrew’s cheeks, he turned to look at the crowd, “Soooo- does that mean I’m on your apocalypse team?”

“Not in the slightest,” you leant back on the bar stool, “It’s about survival, and no offense hun- but you’re usually the first to die in those kinds of movies.”

Andrew dramatically clutched his chest, giving a faux harmed expression. You playfully shove him to wipe the look off his face. He laughed a little as he sat back up in his stool.

“Alright, alright-“ you wave your hand towards him, “You can join my apocalypse team. We’ll team up to sacrifice the big dude.”

“You’re too kind.”

He was fun to talk to, what can ya say?

You ended up feasting on that frat bro after Andrew left- but not without giving you his number

You two hung out a bit after that- and Andrew became a regular at your shows

You even started inviting him to rehearsals to sit and watch

You make him a shirt with the band’s name on it as a joke- but he wears it constantly.

He’s a dork, but soon enough…he becomes your dork <3

Which is why you were nervous to tell him the truth about you

“….I’m sorry you’re what?”

You winced at his words. There- was no easy way of telling him this, but- you don’t know. It feels like the right thing to inform your partner you’re actually possessed by a demon and crave human flesh and blood.

“I’m possessed by a demon,” You turn away from his, rubbing your arm anxiously, “It- happened when I was 17. Some fucks tried to offer me as a sacrifice to a demon to make them famous and- well, now we know the reason virgins are sacrificed for demon deals.”

Andrew blinked, and a silence fell between you two. He turned away from you, his eyes fixed on the ground,

“….you know my sister is friends with a demon.”

You scrunched up your nose in confusion, turning to give him a look of “What the fuck?”

He held his hands up defensively, “Hey I don’t know! What else was I supposed to say?!”

“I don’t know!” You threw a throw pillow at him, “You’re the first person I’ve told!”

Andrew caught the pillow, placing it gingerly on his lap, “Well- I’m not a stranger to this whole…demon stuff. Can’t say I’ve dated one though…”

Your eyes widened. You looked at him in disbelief, “You- still want to date me?”

“Well- yeah.” He shrugged as if it wasn’t obvious, “You’re not gonna eat me- I’d assume at least.”

“Nah,” you gave him a small smirk, “Not enough meat on ya.”

You received a pillow to the face in response to that. You broke out into soft laughter, Andrew shortly joining in. This…went better than you thought it would.

From then on Andrew helped you with finding food. He’d scan for potential meals at your shows and direct you to them after.

He seems way too experienced in this sort of thing

Ashley Graves

That relatable moment when you’re about to feast on this guy, but this cute goth chick was about to sacrifice him to a whole other demon <3

After a show you had planned on following this couple and devouring them both- you were really hungry

Low and behold- the girl led her date into the woods and summoned a whole ass demon to take his soul

She noticed your presence as she was getting ready to move the body and-

“….sup.”

She said that as if trying to move the soulless body of a grown ass man in the middle of the woods was the most normal thing in the world. You were- dumbfounded honestly. Apparently you were staring for too long, as the woman dropped the corpse’s arms and crossed her own,

“You gonna scream- or are we going to be chill about this?” She tapped her foot as she glared at you, “Don’t make me offer another soul to my friend.”

“Ha! Good luck with that-“ you stepped out of the bushes, shaking off any leaves that stuck to your pants, “Your friend would just be confused why you’re offering them their own kind.”

She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yeah- look. I’m possessed- and I was following you and that boy toy of yours to have some dinner.” You pointed to the corpse between you two, “So I’ll do you a favor and get rid of this body for you.”

The woman rubbed her chin, looking down at the body. She then grinned deviously, “Hmmm…you mind if I join you?”

Your eyes widened. Was- she being serious? Did she want to chow down on this guy with you?

Apparently she could notice your confusion and shrugged, “Well I was going to eat him anyway. Was thinking of grilling him- some salt, oregano, paprika as seasoning. Help me carry him and you’ve got yourself a 5 star meal.”

This has to be the most insane woman you’ve ever met. Is this what love feels like?

“Sure thing-“ you reach down, hoisting the man’s arm around your shoulder, “Names Y/N.”

“Ashley Graves.” Ashley made no effort to help you carry the body, just leading you along as your struggled.

And thus started a beautiful friendship!

Ashley sacrifices a soul, you two eat the soulless body. Win-Win!

As you hang out more outside of your hunts, Ashley learns about your band

She’s not happy that you have friends outside of her, but she goes to your show anyway

She claimed that everyone sucked except for you

“We should just eat them,” Ashley suggested, her chin rested on your shoulder.

You glance at her before speaking, “No can do- I’m not eating my band mates.”

“Fine-“ she huffed, shoving you away from her, “Then I will!”

“Ashley- No-“ you groan, turning around to look at the currently pouting woman, “Look, I have a life outside of you ya know- don’t like it, don’t come to the shows. Nothing wrong with keeping things professional between us.”

Ashley went quiet at that. She hugged herself, turning away from you.

“…what if I don’t want to be professional?” She muttered, just loud enough for you to catch.

You blinked down at her, “You- what?”

“We get each other! I want to keep doing this, and I don’t want those ‘bandmates’ getting in the way.” She glared up at you, “You…You like me too, right?”

You did. You’d be lying if you didn’t find her general unhinged-ness hot, but you couldn’t kill your band.

“Hey, look-“ your voice went soft as you took Ashley’s hands into your own, “I…like you too Ashley, but we’re not eating my band. If I’ve been ignoring you for them, I’ll- cancel rehearsal tomorrow so we can go do something. Just us. Sound good?”

A small smile formed on Ashley’s face as she nodded, “Yeah…that’d be great.”

You may be the possessed one here, but Ashley Graves is a whole other level

#the coffin of andy and leyley #ashley graves #andrew graves #andrew graves x reader #ashley graves x reader #x reader

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susiekern · 1 month ago

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7. the one with a challenge

a/n: I've been fighting with tumblr for TWO DAMN DAYS to post it, so I really hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, suggestive ig

word count: 1.227

lyrics from: The Apparition & Jaws - Sleep Token

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“No way.”

“Way.”

The face that Megumi makes rips a laugh from you. It was your classic evening meeting, but since the weather was tragic for the past few days, you’ve ditched the rooftop, settling in your room instead. Lying on your bed with a couple of snacks and a respectful distance between you, you’ve spent the last hour catching up. With how busy Megumi was in the past few weeks, your talks were usually short, and there were fewer of them. Somehow you only now told him about the DM from Zenin, but the amount of strength it took not to scream about it as soon as he stepped into your apartment? You deserve a medal.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘be kind to your lamest fan’ charity event. You know, like make a wish.” He says, and you flip him off.

“Maybe I’m just cool as fuck and someone finally appreciates that?” You counter.

“Nah, I’d bet on the charity.” Fushiguro laughs a little when you groan and shove a pillow towards him. For a moment you close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, something you lacked in the past days. Working on a new collaboration, streaming, and maintaining your life at the same time was a bit tiring and mostly overwhelming. That’s why you appreciate the calm evening more than usual. You and Megumi talking about the events of this week, the room illuminated just by the fairy lights, music playing in the background from your PC… it’s nice and relaxing. Very much needed for probably both of you. Mr. Guitarist was close to being done with recording the songs for his job, so he stopped spending almost every waking hour of the day in the studio. You can clearly see that he’s tired, but when you commented on it, he shrugged and said it was more important for him to create something he’d be proud of than sleep for healthy 8 hours.

“What’s with the aggression?” Sudden question silences the thoughts in your head, but you keep your eyes closed still.

“What do you mean, aggression?”

“That’s the fourth time you hit me with a pillow. I got two kicks to my shins and a mean fist in the arm.” He counts all of your attacks, and you peer at him.

“I’ll never believe that this fist hurt you in the slightest. For someone who barely eats and locks himself in the studio, your biceps are crazy. But okay, I suppose I’m a bit more aggressive than usual.” Megumi looks shocked, although you’re not sure if that’s because of your aggression or how easily you’ve admitted it. “It’s been a busy week, and I have a bit too much energy. And I haven’t gotten my normal dose of annoying you and Yuji.”

“Damn, first of all, I still train even when I’m working, thank you very much. And second... I don’t even know how to comment on that. You should just punch Yuji, not someone who spends time with you, and bring snacks.” With that statement, he lies back, with his arms behind his head. It’s not weird that you looked at his flexed muscles and a sliver of abs revealed by his shirt rolling up, right? God, this man is fine. Does he have to be so fine?

“Yuji just whines when I do that, though. You flex. Easy choice.” You sigh and close your eyes again, pretending like it was just a normal thing. Yes, you both sometimes threw a flirty comment here and there, never directly referring to your night together, but it was a little different.

When you were on the rooftop, it gave you the freedom of saying shit in an open space. Here, in your room, you are almost painfully aware of how close he is lying. You can feel the heat from his body and smell his perfume. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing things to you. But Megumi is no better. You’ve noticed how he eyed you up after coming, taking in your shorts, simple t-shirt, and messy hair. Or how his eyes lingered on your face for a little longer than they should.

“So, you like what you see, huh?” He turns on his side, leaning his head on one hand, his elbow keeping him up. If your eyes were open, you would see how his own trace your body, ending their path on your lips. He just needs to lean forward a little… “That makes sense, I’m the hot neighbor after all.”

“Huh?” That brings you to open your eyes and look at him with shock. Only now do you realize that the snack barrier between you two did close to nothing, given how close his face is to yours. And you do not miss how his gaze moves from your lips, but after another second or two. It’s a dangerous game, but neither of you seemed to care.

“I’ve seen your stream. Well, a part of it. How did you put it? ‘I can’t say he’s bad-looking." You’re blushing at this point. You had no idea he watched any of it, especially since he saw how you answered a question about him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I was just entertaining the chat.” He smirks, knowing very well that’s a lie, and leans a little closer. Your heart seems to be beating to the rhythm of the Fallen song that’s playing in the background, your eyes peeking at his lips on their own.

‘And I'm not here to be

The saviour you long for’

“Sure.” His voice goes down to a whisper. The seconds go by, and you seem to be frozen, both calculating how bad it would be to take the next step.

“Megumi…” You’re whispering too, hypnotized by how intense his gaze is. You want to tell him you shouldn’t. You really do. But the amount of time you’ve spent thinking about him, about his kisses and touch, keeps you from doing it. Would it really be that bad? Doing this one more time?

“Tell me you don’t want it.” There’s a hint of a challenge in how he says it. And since when are you one to hide from a challenge?

You’re the one to kiss him first this time. His reaction is immediate; the hand that was lying on the mattress cups your cheek as Megumi tastes your lips, and you need to hold back a moan. How much you’ve missed that feeling. His touch is gentle, yet reassuring, when he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. He moves to hover over your body, holding his weight on one arm.

‘Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops’

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you stepped on that damn roof.” Whispering, he lowers his lips down to your jaw and neck, and your hands now move to his sides and back.

“You should’ve.” You whisper back. You don’t need to see his face to know he has that irritating smirk on, you can feel it on your skin. His hands make their way under your shirt, and he pulls himself from kissing your neck to look in your eyes. “Just one more time?”

“One more time.”

‘Show me what wounds you've got

Show me love’

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115

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unfinishedslurs · 2 years ago

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matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake.

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray.

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really.

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth.

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face.

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place.

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?”

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks.

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused.

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him.

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse.

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie.

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out.

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over.

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook.

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply.

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.”

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand.

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands.

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips.

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him.

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed.

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it.

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue.

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

#stranger things fanfic #murray bauman #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #implied past murray/hopper because i think it's funny #accidental outing #i like murray matchmaking steddie as much as the rest of them #but occasionally i wonder how it would fit in the time period as two queers instead of 'straight' couples #and my immediate thought was that it would Not Go Well #murray IS obnoxious and i love him for it #matchmaking gone wrong au

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struwberrii · 3 months ago

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chapter 2 : dreamy desserts ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

masterlist

you put your phone down and practically scream into your pillow. so many thoughts were racing through your mind. what if they don’t like your baking? what if they laugh in your face? what if they think your bakery is ugly?

you toss and turn in bed, trying to sleep. all you could think about was that suna. what was he thinking now that osamu had asked him about the whole situation. you know it’s really not a big deal, but you still want to punch osamu in the face for this. after another hour of tossing and turning, you ended up drifting off….

you woke up a bit earlier than your alarm, and the second you entered the land of the living again, all of last nights events hit you again. instead of sitting in your room sulking about it, you decided to get ready, taking extra time to pick out an outfit and to style your hair nicely. then you made your way downstairs and started working on some new pastries for your display case.

you look up after a few minutes after hearing a bang on your door. a bit annoyed you look up ready to shoo the pedestrian away, but instead a familiar face catches your eye. mr onigiri miya himself. a bit confused you make your way over to let him in.

“osamu? what are you doing?” “what’re YOU doing up so early bakin’?” he argues back, pulling up a chair to sit down and watch you head back to the kitchen. “i just figured i’d get up early and fill up some of these display cases” “with your hair and makeup done all nice?” he laughs, making you question your appearance, did you possibly go too far? “what do you mean?” you questioned “nothin’, you look cute though, special occasion or somethin’?” his worlds catch you off guard for a moment but you quickly brushed him off, finishing up some cookie batter. “nothings going on, i just wanted to dress up today” you shrug, still focusing on your baking.

“yer not dressed up for tsumu’ and sunarin visiting’, are ya?” osamu says slyly, catching you off guard. you were so off guard you accidentally dropped your entire container of sugar into your batter. this reaction practically confirmed samus suspicion.

before you even get the chance to argue, osamu speaks up “don’t tell me yet’ tryna impress my brother now, i’m way better than that goof” osamu says light heartedly smirking at you, in response you only scrunch your face up a bit and shake your head no.

“so tsumu was right… for once… ya’ like sunarin, don’t cha?” to this you put down all your baking supplies and give osamu your full attention “no, i do not like ‘sunarin’, i hardly even know the guy” you roll your eyes. you would be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive though, but now doesn’t seem like the best time to admit that to osamu, who’s already been teasing you this entire time.

“geez sorry for askin’” he says defensively throwing his arms up in a surrendering motion. maybe your response was a bit rude. “hey here’s an idea!” osamu exclaimed, catching your attention once again. “let me buy you s’more sugar, since, y’know” he said motioning to the giant mountain of sugar piled in your mixing bowl. “that would be nice, but i buy a certain kind of sugar from a store pretty far from here” you admit, thinking he wouldn’t want to make that journey just for you. “how far, we don’t open fer another 2 hours, i might have time”

“s’ 30 minute drive”

“right, that’s fine, gonna go grab my jacket”

“wait! i’m coming too, just so you buy the right one” you grab your coat from the back room and run after him across the street. he grabs his car key and locks up shop. you make the treacherous journey up the street to the parking garage osamu parks in and slide into the passenger seat next to him.

“what’s so special bout’ this sugar that ya gotta drive 30 minutes to buy it for?” osamu questions. “i buy it in bulk there, also i’ve always bought all my baking equipment from that store, id feel bad betraying them like that” you frown fastening your seatbelt.

the car ride is pretty quiet for the most part, though it’s a comfortable silence. osamu’s radio also fills some of the silence. he gets to the baking supplies store and buys your sugar quickly before you both head back to your respective shops.

“thank you so much osamu! i’m sorry i made you go through all the trouble of driving out and paying” you say apologetically. “if i didn’t want to i wouldna done it for ya” he smiles, hauling the bag of sugar onto your counter for you. “i’ll swing by later with some of the guys, see ya soon, y/n” osamu waves, grabbing a macaroon on his way out.

you almost forgot about that while hanging out with osamu, you were gonna have to see suna again today, and now it looks like you went overboard with the hair and outfit you chose. so many thoughts ran through your head until one of your opening employees walking in snapped you back into reality. “morning, y/n!” she cheered grabbing an apron and making her way behind the counter to clock in. “good morning!” you say back continuing readying the shop for opening.

the day went by surprisingly quick, short conversations with your regulars, your favorite songs playing through the shops speakers, taste testing some of your employees new recipes, same old same old, not that you’re complaining. eventually it hits around 6 pm and you wonder when osamu and his friends were going to show up. you settled on not asking, since you didn’t want to seem desperate to see that guy again, but you were still curious, and honestly at this point a little bored. you decided to text your groupchat and fill them in on the lore they missed.

you put your phone down on the counter and head back to the front of the store. the sun is starting to set and you close in a little over 2 hours. maybe those guys weren’t coming by at all and you just got all worked up and embarrassed for nothing. just as you start to calm down, you hear the door swing open, followed by a familiar laugh.

osamu, atsumu, suna and another guy you hadn’t seen before. all you could do was awkwardly smile at them. this shouldn’t be a big deal, it’s just suna, it’s just like dealing with any other customer, you tell yourself. if it’s just like dealing with any other customer, why are your hands getting all sweaty, and why does your throat feel so dry, why do you feel so… embarrassed?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

tag list :P (comment to be tagged on the next story:)

@iluv-ace

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iinryer · 3 months ago

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a little scene prompt game to get me writing!

from @eddiesgaymustache : prompt 2 cheddy boogaloo: 10, 📚😁🥂

bonus visuals if you want to know how i picture them [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

[now on ao3]

—

[📚😁🥂 + cheddy + 10: spooning at night]

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Teddy looks up from the glass she’s pouring, blinks at Chuck, blinks again, and says, “What,”

Chuck blinks back at her, stalling out like they’re playing back what they said, before suddenly snorting into their drink and having to hold a hand under their chin to save their shirt from falling victim to rogue rosé.

Teddy watches them fondly, raising her brow and waiting for Chuck to try again.

“No, wait, not like—,” Chuck laughs, waving their hand like they’re clearing the question from the record, “I meant like… when you were little, who did you think you were going to be?”

Teddy shakes her head, endeared, and says faux-wistfully, “I dunno. I think as a kid I always envisioned myself getting to go by Teo when I left home,”

Teo, unfortunately, did not fly. Not only was it deemed too boyish by her mom, but it was also her Abuelo’s nickname of choice—who she was named after, by the way. So it was either nothing or Dora—which, to this day, still makes her feel like she’s breaking out in hives. Teddy came later though, when she ran track in high school. One of the girls she got close with that year called out to her with it during practice, and it just stuck. It’s not Teo, but she’s grown quite fond of it.

At the mention of the name, though, Chuck brightens, straightening up from where they’d been trying to set the bottle and nearly empty glass safely on the floor from the bed, and says, so earnestly it’s almost comical, “I call you Teo!”

Teddy barks out a laugh. Okay. So Chuck is maybe a little deeper into the bottle of rosé than she is. She just nods, acquiescing, “You sure do, rockstar,”

Chuck just tips their head—followed by their torso—to the side like it weighs too much, grinning from ear to ear. They end up toppling down the rest of the way, the side of their face smushed into the pillow at Teddy’s hip.

They grin up at Teddy, body folded awkwardly but looking pleased as punch about it, before scrunching up their nose and saying, “Okay, for real this time. What did little Teodora Vásquez want to be when she grew up?”

Teddy makes a face, and flicks Chuck’s forehead, “Don’t government-name me, you ass,”

Laughter bubbles up from their chest, followed by a snort that should really be unflattering, but somehow never is.

“Dunno,” Teddy eventually sighs, wine-heavy in her own way, absently curling her finger through an errant lock of Chuck’s hair, “I think I always thought I’d be a doctor or something like that. Something helpful,”

Chuck’s eyes, glazed and unfocused with alcohol, go wide and adoring, “You are. You are helpful,”

Teddy hums on a smile. Takes a prolonged sip from her glass.

“And! You’ll be even more helpful once you pass your paramedic cert next month,” they add, conspiratorially, nodding over at the textbooks that Teddy abandoned on the nightstand earlier in the evening, like it’s a sure thing. Their confidence always makes Teddy’s heart feel warm and full, “and that’s like, basically a doctor, right? Look at you! Growing up to be the thing you wanted,”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Teddy snorts, then sighs. It is a thought she’s had in the past. That maybe all the time she spent in and out of hospitals growing up would actually land her somewhere good. Somewhere useful. Worthwhile.

“You’re the coolest,” Chuck adds, one uncoordinated finger coming up to poke Teddy in the chin.

Or maybe it just landed her here, who-knows-how-many glasses of wine deep into Chuck’s mattress, during a 48-off. Heavy, slow. Happy.

Maybe, somehow, it’s the same thing.

“Yeah yeah, says the Wunderkind,” Teddy laughs, swatting the hand out of her face before she finally wiggles her way to slide down further against the headboard, getting settled with her cheek in hand and elbow propped up on the pillow next to Chuck, looking down at them, “What about you, huh? What did the little cherub-faced Beverly Charlton want to be when they grew up?”

Between one breath and the next, Chuck gets a faraway look in their eye—almost like they weren’t expecting to have their own question sent back around. Knowing them, they maybe weren’t.

Teddy watches their lashes flutter, something somber pulling across their face like a wave. For a moment, she’s worried she shouldn’t have pulled the full name out, even in jest—but then Chuck is swallowing harshly and taking a breath.

Their eyes stay trained on the ceiling past Teddy’s head when they say, “Loved, I think,”

Teddy feels her own expression collapse, a wounded sound in her throat.

Then, with a with a gasp of a breath through their nose, it’s like Chuck comes back to themself; sitting upright so suddenly they almost collide with Teddy.

Chuckling awkwardly, they clear their throat, “Sorry, sorry, that wasn’t—I didn’t mean… um. Didn’t mean for that to sound so pathetic,”

Teddy doesn’t like that Chuck’s back is to her.

“Chuck,” she says.

Chuck hesitates for a moment before peering sheepishly back over their shoulder.

Teddy gives her best pleading eyes and pout, sets her glass on the nightstand with her coursework, and just reaches her newly freed hand out to Chuck, wiggling her fingers for good measure.

Chuck looks a little watery, but it seems like that’s all the permission they need before they’re collapsing back down at Teddy’s side, letting her arrange the two of them however she pleases.

They’ve done this enough over the years for it to not be too odd, as long as she doesn’t think about it too hard. How much she likes having Chuck close like this. How Chuck lets her, every time. So Teddy tucks them together, back to chest, arms wrapped around Chuck’s middle. Reaches over them to fumble with the lamp to turn out one of the two dim lights they’d had on, and settles.

They lay quietly for a while, just breathing, before Teddy finds the courage to murmur, sleepy and slow to the back of Chuck’s neck, “You did too,”

A beat of quiet. Then Chuck hums in question.

“You said I grew up to be the thing I wanted to be as a kid,” Teddy mumbles, teetering on the edge of sleep, “You did too,”

Chuck doesn’t say anything else, but Teddy feels the sniffle in their chest, and she doesn’t say anything either. Just squeezes a little tighter, and lets sleep come for them both.

#slaps the top of whatever this is. this bad boy can fit so much unexplained lore #’what lore’ well that’s none of my business #anyways. gjgjfjdxh blowing a kiss at em and e this is for u both #mostly i just didn’t want to think about discourse. so. bon apetit!#hotshots on xyz on 911 on abc #iinryer fic

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