#Jim’s open stretched out

[lasanya539]

tuck your head under the covers

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @remedyturtles)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: Insomniac Leo - visiting various brothers when unable to sleep, or managing to fall asleep and his brothers doing anything to PRESERVE that sleep Word Count: 4635

Posted on AO3!

---

The first time it happens, Mikey doesn’t make a big deal out of it. 

It’s four in the morning on a Monday, and he’s thirsty, so he gets up from his train car and walks to the kitchen. Only to find Leo sitting at the table, with a lollipop in his mouth and a Jupiter Jim comic in his hands, legs rested on the surface, humming a tune under his breath.

“Leo?” Mikey mumbles drowsily, rubbing at his eyes. “Bro, what are you doing?”

Leo startles in surprise, and sits up, shooting him a guilty look. “Mikes!” He exclaims, voice pitched low. “Shit, I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no.” He flaps his hand, grabbing a glass. “I was thirsty, wanted water. Why are you awake right now?”

“Eh, you know, same old, same old. Couldn’t sleep.”

Mikey hums, taking a languid sip. His tired eyes catch a giant mug on the table, black as tar coffee peeking from the bottom, a pack of pink Starbursts with wrappers, and what looks like the crumbled remains of the pecan pie April’s mom had lovingly gifted them. If he was a little more awake, he’d be a lot more pissed about that, but for now he just sighs and stretches. 

“Did you at least try to sleep?” He asks, knowing the answer. 

“Yeah, of course.” Leo replies easily enough, turning away to flip another page. “But that’s the problem with insomnia, my friend, it kinda makes the ‘fall asleep’ thing not happen.”

Hm, not good enough. Mikey waddles over closer, physically pushing his brother’s head up so he can study him. Leo’s eyes are just barely bloodshot, cheeks hollower than he’d like to see on him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, bemused. 

“When was the last time you slept?” 

“Somewhere in the evening, I got a cat nap in. Don’t worry, Mikey, you’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep.” He retorts around a yawn. He plops down in a chair next to him, picking up an uneaten Starburst and chomping on it. Leo tsks at that, but he ignores him, folding his arms and resting his head comfortably. 

“You just brushed your teeth and are supposed to be asleep, why are you still here?”

“Moral support.” 

“Moral support from what? I – okay,” Leo stands up, all big brother voice. “C’mon, up.”

Mikey whines, not having enough energy to fight as Leo physically picks him up and throws him over the shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Grk–?” He chokes out in surprise, when the hell did he get so strong?

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me.”

Leo plants him on the bathroom floor, and pointedly stares at him as Mikey brushes, having to actually count each stroke on the rows of teeth under the scrutiny instead of a quick wash. As soon as he rinses his mouth, Leo picks him up again.

“You realize I have feet.” He said, flopping his limbs in defeat and letting himself be carried lifelessly.

“You think I don’t know you were planning on dragging more ass by suggesting a movie night or something? I’ve taught you all my tricks, I know how your brain works.”

Mikey tries to keep in his smile at how well his brother can read him, and gasps dramatically. “Language! I’ll tell on you to Raphie.”

“If you make it to morning asleep like a good turtle, I’ll tell Raphie, how about that?”

Mikey gets tossed on his bed, the springs creaking under his weight. His favorite quilt is thrown over him, and his stuffed crocodile is tucked in between his shoulder and neck, just how he likes it. The warmth immediately makes him even drowsier, but he blinks up at Leo and invitingly opens his arms.

“Sleep?” He suggests, making the motion of scooting over to make room for him.

A few seconds, but Leo eventually sighs, far too susceptible to the prospect of little brother cuddles. He sticks his freezing feet into the tangle of limbs, making him hiss, but settles in comfortably on his pillow. Arms wind around him and squeeze affectionately.

“Better?” Mikey asks. 

Leo hums on top of his head. “Yep, thanks Angelo. You can pass out now.”

It doesn’t take very long for him to do so. Unfortunately for him, when he does wake up to his 9 A.M. alarm, the side of the bed is cold and the corner of the pillow undented. Outside, he sees Leo casually do the crossword puzzle with Dad with a newly filled mug of coffee in his hand, looking like sleep never graced him at all. Mikey sighs, but sets to making breakfast.

–

The second time it happens, Donnie is pulled out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a single hand on his shoulder. 

Naturally, he jumps, not having expected that contact when he’s working in his lab alone, smack-dab in the middle of the night. He’s too scientific and logic-driven to ever assume the existence of ghosts (which are different from spirits, thank you very much Michael), but the sudden touch makes him doubt that fact for a second.

Leo backs up with his hands up apologetically, and Donnie realizes with some amount of mortification he actually hissed at him. The mortification lasts for all of two seconds before he scowls at his twin with all the irritation in the world as he turns off his loud music. 

“What the hell do you want?” He groans at Leo, rubbing his sore eyes. 

“Just checking in.” Leo says, sounding normal enough, though Donnie picks up a strange note in his voice. He peeks at him between his fingers and catches his eyes look up from his torso just in time.

Looking down, he sees his other hand gripped into a fist, sharp claws extended, held right to the middle of his chest. Shit, he was scratching at his plastron again, the dull ache finally registering in his brain. 

It’s a nasty habit he’s had since he was very young, all the complicated feelings of the big, bad world too much for him to handle. His family has been trying for years to help him work through his emotions instead of immediately resorting to this, but apparently all the effort goes to shit the second it gets to debugging, the devil’s favorite method of torture. Donnie turns away, embarrassed but not willing to admit it. 

Leo thankfully doesn’t make a big deal out of it, and flops onto the back of his chair, resting his head at the top. “What are you working on?”

“Setting up face identification in the scanners in the Hidden City.” Donnie replies tiredly. “The mystic orbs they use as cameras are advanced enough to pick up magical signatures, but somehow not enough to track facial features of their various species of mutants and Yōkai. So, I’m doing it for them.”

Leo snorts. “Wow, how altruistic of you.” He leans in further, presumably to try to read the strange symbols that make up their programming language, before Donnie swats at his face. 

“Stop, you’re ruining my concentration.” 

“Shut up.” He swats back. Annoying

Donnie’s eyes flick over to the corner of the monitor, looking at the time. Wonderful, it’s another night of no sleep for his insomniac twin brother. 

He sighs. “I’m assuming getting bored to death from Papa’s speech on the various opera singers of the 20th century somehow didn’t lure you to sleep?”

“What, are you telling me you don’t care about the 1950s Maria Callas and Renata Tebaldi drama about their different vocal techniques? It’s the hottest tea from that side of the century, Don-Don, I’m disappointed in you.” He dodges the swat from him this time.

Donnie turns up to look at him, noticing his brother’s heavy eyelids blinking over his sharp eyes, far too awake for someone who hasn’t slept in Gaga knows how long. He’s wearing his soft blue hoodie, the big one that he makes sure is always washed with the rose scent beads for the comforting smell. 

“Is there anything specific that is keeping you up?” He asks, worried. 

“Nah, not really. Unless you count my dumb brain as a whole, nope.”

“Don’t call yourself dumb.” Donnie says, practiced. He stands up and stretches, hearing some impressive cracks from his neck that Leo whistles at.

“Is there anything I can say that will make you try to sleep again?” 

“Probably not, if I’m being honest.”

“Okay, then.” He doesn’t argue. If there’s one thing he knows about his twin is that badgering him about his sleep intake, no matter how worrying, is the best way to get completely shut out by him. And as annoying as he finds Leo on a day-to-day basis, he’s rather fond of the time he gets to spend with him in the middle of the night when it's just the two of them, the disaster twins. “Do you wanna play some Mario Kart instead?”

Leo brightens up. “Snacks?”

“Of course we’ll have snacks. I may be crazy, but I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh yeah, sorry, you’re a civilized demon-possessed genius, right?”

“Exactly right, my dear brother.”

The twins grab enough popcorn and candy from the pantry to send a tiny child into a coma, but as soon as Leo’s hand moves to the coffee machine, Donnie whacks it with a box of Nerds. “Dude, ow?”

“No more caffeine.” He says sternly.

“Oho, that is rich coming from you—”

“Yeah, well, deal with it. Otherwise I’m switching the kitchen permanently to decaf and making myself a secret password protected machine with the good coffee, the extra dark-roasted one.” That shuts Leo up fast. 

They play and bicker loudly in the soundproof lab, up until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, Donnie falls asleep with the controller in his hand, only to wake up in the afternoon and find himself resting on the cot with his favorite blanket, battle shell and mask off. His sleepless twin nowhere to be found. 

–

The third time it happens, Raph is having a nightmare about the Krang. 

It’s par for the course, really. In the morning, he happens to overhear one of Mikey’s favorite YouTubers talk about their grief over their late friend who was lost to the bubblegum aliens, so he spends the most of the day in a haze, keeping to himself in the dojo, training, and eating his dinner alone while reading news articles about the reconstruction in New York to repair the damage from their fight. 

One trigger after another. So it’s no surprise that his dreams are filled with sick pink flesh and yellow eyes, tentacles worming over his body, digging into his brain, sadistic voices of the hive mind overpowering his screams, the feel of a lithe figure in his clutch, nails scratching onto his hand as he tightens his grip on his victim, his brother—

The part that’s surprising, however, is the other presence in his room, comforting, safe. Soft words spoken over his whimpers, warm hands smoothing over his shell as he regains consciousness. “Deep breaths, big bro, you’re okay, you’re safe, I promise you. Try to breathe, please.”

He breathes, turning away from the damp pillow, lifting his head up by his elbows to blink the sleep away. Blood pools back into his body, bones creaking in protest. All four limbs, whole, green, normal. 

Raph takes in one deep breath, and lets it out with meditative precision. His vision finally clears. Leo is sitting on the corner of his bed, hands anxiously rubbing together but giving him space to get up on his own. Worried eyes ticking over his face before latching onto his, relieved. 

“Hiya, Raphie.” He says with remarkable poise. “Okay?”

Raph slowly scoots up to sit properly, picking up one of his stuffed bears and hugging him. Embarrassment keeps him from meeting Leo’s eyes, burying his face in the soft fake fur. “Mhm.”

A hand gently strokes his leg, a comforting, involuntary motion. “Long day?”

“...You could say that.” He agrees. He clears his throat. “What time is it?”

“Just after 2.” Leo squeezes his knee. “Do you want me to wake Dad?”

Raph scoffs. “What is Dad going to do in the middle of the night? Let him sleep.” 

“Okay, how about the other guys? We could turtle pile.”

He shakes his head before Leo finishes. “No, no, it’s not important, Leo. Let them all sleep.”

“It is important.” He replies sharply, and Raph blinks up at him. Leo’s sporting his own version of a Raph Chasm, eye-ridges pulled together in a gut-wrenching frown, lips turned down. “You are important.”

A lump rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He’s had enough of Leo stubbornly insisting that he stop dismissing his own emotions over the years, so he says nothing, instead lifting up an arm. Leo immediately snuggles in next to him, shell fitting perfectly under his arm. 

The tension falls off his frame as his little brother wiggles to get comfortable. Raph sighs, the dregs of his nightmare-fueled dread seeping away with Leo right next to him, the scent of roses in his nose. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers. 

“Pizza Supreme, no.” Raph snorts, making Leo huff. 

“Okay.” He agrees easily. Then, “Oh, I almost forgot!”

From the pocket of his hoodie he pulls out his phone, tapping at it for a couple of seconds before holding out the camera. “Snap streak.”

Raph snorts again but obliges his younger brother, putting on some version of a smile as he takes the picture, adding a bunch of unicorn emojis in the corner before showing it to him for approval. 

He takes the phone, but immediately frowns, zooming in to study Leo’s face. Even though he’s grinning, the exhaustion is practically radiating off him. The red stripes under his eyes are marred with purple bags, eyes squinting with the effort of staying up. He looks like he’s about to pass out almost any second.

Raph sends off the streak, and starts arranging the pillows and stuffed animals around him to make space for two sleeping turtles. He pulls his blanket over Leo’s head, which he, of course, shoves back. “What are you doing?”

“Tucking you in.” He informs him, dragging him down. “We’re going to sleep for a very long time.”

“Sure, Raphie, whatever you say.” Leo says too easily, and he immediately calls bullshit. 

“No, we’re really going to sleep. No more pretending.” He glares at him with one eye open. “Promise?”

Leo hesitates, but then forcibly relaxes himself, nuzzling closer. “I’ll try, promise.”

As good as he’s going to get, Raph thinks. He squeezes his brother tight enough for him to wheeze and laugh, wishing him goodnight and eventually falling asleep, nightmares far away. When he wakes up, Leo is on the floor next to the bed, face illuminated by the glow of his phone screen, playing a game of chess. The eye bags seem heavier than ever. 

–

The fourth time it happens, April is trying to catch up on physics homework. 

It’s actually ridiculous how she, a journalism major, has to study physics at all, even as a gen-ed. She’s a sophomore now, for god’s sake, she’s supposed to be interning at CNN and MSNBC, or at least spearheading some kind of journaling initiative with a bunch of her classmates. But no, Eastlaird is forcing her to calculate angular momentum and torque for a homework that is apparently not due on Monday, but in the morning on Friday, which is tomorrow. Or more accurately, today, she thinks, warily eyeing the clock on the table that reads 3:35 A.M.

She has maybe one more problem left before she can finally get some sleep, and hopefully get to stay over at the lair for the weekend. She hasn’t seen her boys and her Pops in over a month, and the joy of destroying Donnie in the Just Dance competition of their lives is the only motivation getting her through this. 

April sighs and stretches, cracking her back, before she hears a notification from her phone. Picking it up she sees, ‘nardo💙 sent an Instagram reel.’

She sits up in surprise. Why the hell is this idiot awake? And why is he sending her Instagram reels of all things?

‘awake???’ she texts back, worried. ‘why??’

Seen immediately, typing. ‘YOU awake why??’

‘homework’

‘yuck get away from me’

April picks at her bottom lip, watching the clock on her desk tick. If Leo’s awake at four in the morning, he hasn’t slept all night. She considers texting one of her other brothers to force him to sleep, but hopefully they would all be in bed by now, Donnie included. 

‘how much coffee did you have in the evening’

‘...’

‘Leo.’

‘okok four cups’

‘nardo you gotta be kidding me’. April rubs at her face, sighing. Leo knows better than to lie to his big sister, so he’s definitely telling her the truth, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Four whole cups of coffee?

‘did you try melatonin? helps me sleep a lot better nowadays’

‘apes do u even know me, obv melatonin doesn’t work on us’

‘damn’ 

‘ur taking it tho?? don’t take too much, not good for u’

‘yeah dum-dum, no sleep is not good for YOU have you thought about that?’

No response. Two minutes later, a funny reel. 

She huffs frustratedly, thinking, before finally deciding to call him on FaceTime, setting the phone against a textbook.

The face that greets her is so fucking worrying that April gapes, not responding to Leo’s raspy greeting. His eyes are completely bloodshot, face gaunt, red stripes practically completely purple now. 

“You look like shit.” She says, uncharacteristically blunt. Maybe the lack of sleep and physics is getting to her. How the hell does Donnie do this all the time?

Leo scowls, putting the phone down so all she sees is the dark ceiling of the kitchen. “If you just called me to insult me, I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She raises a hand in surrender, pulling her notebook closer and picking up her pencil. “Science is turning my brain to soup, I lost my speaking filter. You’re still very pretty.”

A second, and Leo’s face comes back into view. “Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” She nods, smiling as Leo grins, as brightly as he can with fatigue coming off him in waves. “What are you up to?”

“This guy on YouTube is reviewing the older JJ movies, it’s a four hour long video. And I have Sour Patch Kids, so I’m happy.”

April bites back the hundreds of worried comments she comes up with, deciding to think a little more tactically. She doesn’t want to piss him off again, so telling him to sleep or pointing out his eye-bags is off the table. 

“You wanna hear about my homework? It’s so difficult and horrible, I hate it.”

“I respect your degree, I do, Apes, but how hard can journalism homework even be?”

“It’s physics, man, that’s the thing. I’m going to jump out of my window.” She groans, equations swimming behind her eyelids. “I’m like ninety percent sure if I tried explaining this to you I could bore you to sleep.”

Leo chuckles, but there’s something tired and morose in it. “I wouldn’t take that bet.”

She blinks at the bitter tone of his voice, but doesn’t call him out on it. There’s a lost look in his eyes as he stares off to the side, chewing slowly on his candy. Her big sister instinct rears its head immediately at that.

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” April assures him, deciding fuck it, opening up Chegg to find the answer to this last question so she can finish this as fast as possible. “I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Why don’t you tell me what this random guy has to say about Pluto Vacation IV, and I’ll tell you how valid that is.”

By the time the sun rises, and Leo hangs up to go help Mikey make breakfast, April has turned in not only physics, but has finished all of the rest of her homework. She starts to pack, a plan ready in her mind.

–

They don’t let it happen a fifth time. 

Leo sighs, letting his head fall onto his bed, hiding his eyes from the fairy lights in his room. Normally, they look so pretty and aesthetic, but ever since this new bout of insomnia hit him, a lot of things have been bothering him more than usual. And he’s currently too exhausted to get up and turn it off on his own. 

He groans, reaching for his phone, because what else is he going to do? His brain is too tired for anything other than mindless scrolling, and if Raph asks him to train today he might just burst into tears. The time reads 12 P.M., a very productive time of day for the majority of planet Earth. The minority includes him apparently, as he pulls up one of his old blankets over his head, and settles in for an afternoon of TikTok.

The door to his train car opens quietly. Leo blinks, emerging from his nest to look up. 

Mikey stands at the doorway, sunshine smile on display. He sees his eyes scan his face, and the sunshine dims a bit, but he still says excitedly, “Hi, Lee! April just got back, we’re doing a sleepover!”

“Oh – oh yay!” His delayed response throws his act off a little. Don’t get him wrong, he is so happy his sister is back, it’s just he’d really rather not do a sleepover tonight where he has to spend another eight hours pretending to be asleep next to his peacefully resting siblings. “That’s great, I’ll be right there.”

Mikey nods but doesn’t leave, so Leo has to go through the excruciating process of forcing himself up and out of the room with a performative smile painted on his face. Mikey hooks his elbow with his, walking in step with him to the living room. 

He finds Raph and April talking, a bag carelessly dropped next to her feet. She catches sight of him and grins immediately, raising her arms. Leo can see the conscious effort it takes for her to not linger on his eye bags, he’s been needing a lot of that too lately.

“Hi, Apes.” He mumbles into her shoulder as she tightly squeezes him.

“Hi, Leo.” She replies warmly. “Missed you so much.”

A large hand rests on his shell, and he looks up to see Raph smile down at him. “Wanna join in on the hug fest, Raphie?”

“Ha, don’t worry, there’s gonna be plenty to go around in the sleepover soon.” He chuckles. 

“Soon?” Leo asks, and Raph points a thumb to the entrance. Leo turns around to see Donnie and Mikey walk in with a bunch of blankets and pillows in their arms. One of the spider limbs in Donnie’s battle shell is holding Raph’s largest teddy bear, the other holding his blue hoodie he couldn’t find in the morning. 

“We’re doing a sleepover now? It’s literally noon.”

“We’ve hit critical condition.” Donnie informs him primly, dropping the blankets in the middle of the floor. “You’ve been awake for too long.”

His mood sours immediately. He knows, okay? He’s aware that not sleeping for days at a time isn’t healthy, and he knows he looks like shit, but people don’t have to keep commenting on it. 

“Don’t pout.” Mikey wheedles into his side, giving him another squeeze. “We’re gonna help, I promise.”

“Right.” Leo says, disbelief clear in his voice, before something rose-scented smacks him in the face. “Hey!”

“You’re welcome.” Donnie responds, starting to move the furniture to make enough room for the blanket fort. “Your favorite hoodie, freshly washed with softener and your scent beads.”

Leo pulls it over his head, the familiar comforting smell easing some of his tension, the soft texture making him feel like he’s being swallowed whole. “Thanks.” He says quietly, hoping they can’t hear the croak in his voice. 

Donnie pauses in his ministrations for a millisecond before getting back to work with more gusto, him and Mikey setting up an impressive fort that could withstand five siblings. While Leo watches them, Raph taps him on his shoulder, and he’s offered a cup of freshly made chamomile and lavender tea, steam curling on top. The thoughtfulness almost makes him cry as he gives him a wobbly smile in return, taking a sip. It’s the perfect temperature, splash of milk and sweetened with honey, just how he likes it. 

He feels April at his back, gently untying the knot of his mask, carefully folding it and walking to his room to put it away. She comes back with his fuzzy Christmas socks.

“You guys.” Leo tries, feeling emotionally wrung out and sore. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Three turtles reply in unison, breaking out into chuckles. Raph guides him to the center of the fort, making him sit down and rest on the biggest pillow. He finishes his tea as Mikey puts the teddy bear under his other arm and April puts the socks on him, brain too fuzzy to protest. 

He jolts out of his fog when he feels something pressing down on him. He looks up to see Donnie tuck him in under his purple weighted blanket, the one he uses on his bad days. He’s awash with the clean scent of roses, as tears fill up in Leo’s eyes unbidden. He tries to blink them back. “Don…”

“Hush.” Donnie replies, quietly, and Leo sees the lights in the room have been dimmed, his other siblings wearing their pajamas and getting ready to pile. “Stop using your brain. It’s sleeping time now.”

“Wow, I never thought there’d be a day when Hamato Donatello would actually tell me to ‘stop using my brain’.” He croaks out.

Leo prepares for the obligatory joke about him not having a brain in the first place, but Donnie just gives him an amused look in return, speaking softly but matter-of-factly, “Your brain is hurting my twin. So stop using it.”

A ball of emotion lodges in his throat that keeps him from speaking out loud, so he just nods. He gets a head pat for his troubles that he’s too emotional to block away.

Eventually, Donnie lies down next to him, their arms pressed together. Mikey nestles into a ball on his other side, snuggling close. Raph settles behind their heads, turning to his side and curling around them all protectively. April throws her feet over their legs, playfully kicking him in the shin. 

Leo chokes on a laugh, tears soundlessly rolling onto the pillow. This has been one of the longest weeks of his life, hours in the middle of the night spent staring mindlessly at the ceiling, into the middle distance, into the New York skyline. The darkness seeping into his body, harsh, cold. A high pitched hum in his ears, heaviness in his eyes.

Right now though, he feels warm and loved and exhausted beyond belief. But not alone. Never alone. 

“Thanks, guys.” He finally whispers. 

Donnie gently bonks his head with his own, affection clear in the action. Mikey presses a loud kiss onto his bicep. “You’re welcome, big bro.”

Raph strokes his head. “Sleep, Leo.”

“We love you, Nardo.” April says, nudging his foot. “We got you.”

Leo smiles. He trusts them, they got him. He closes his eyes and pulls on his night mask. The demons of the night don’t stand a chance against the warm glow of his family. He finally falls asleep. 

[moonstruckme]

hello! i saw u were hoping for more eddie requests (or less marauders requests, was what you were getting at i think) n i was wondering if u had any thoughts on summer with eds? maybe night swimming…making out on a towel in the back of his van…lots to consider…

p.s. — ive yet to request anything from you, so this is my first chance to say how much i love your work! 🩷

Okay okay, you guys are wearing me down about writing summer blurbs. Twist my arm! Thanks for requesting love ;)

cw: pg-13 smut, mention of not eating

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 858 words

Eddie’s hair has dried frizzy, which doesn’t give you a lot of hope for yours. His skin is still sun-warm, and you shiver for reasons that are multiplying by the minute, pressing close as he mouths over the dip where your neck meets your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you’d ended up in Eddie’s lap. You’d climbed in the back of his van to get a towel, and somehow that towel had ended up spread beneath the both of you, scratching lightly at your bare shins as the sun slips below the horizon and your boyfriend brutalizes your neck. He bites down just this side of too hard, making you gasp. 

“Eddie,” you plead, fingers winding in his hair. “We can’t do this here.” 

He releases the skin of your neck with a lewd suctioning sound, moving to that place under your ear that gets you melty like a popsicle in July. His hands grip your ass, squeezing indulgently as you squirm in his lap. “Says who?” 

“Says—” He kisses that favored spot and your head falls to the side to accommodate him, an embarrassingly needy sound escaping you. “—says, I don’t know—the cops.” 

Eddie’s laugh is so raucous he has to pull away. You’re not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. His hands slide to your hips, grounding you as he looks at you with eyes wide and incredulous. “The cops?” he asks. 

You swallow, nodding. You have this horrible vision of Jim Hopper himself getting a call about the suspicious van parked by the lake, coming over and shining a flashlight into the open back doors to find you both naked and in the middle of things. 

Eddie laughs some more, shoulders shaking with it, and you can’t help but snicker a little too just because he is. “Baby, the cops don’t give a shit about what we’re up to. I’m sure they have better things to do.” 

You shoot him a look, because you both know damn well that when Hawkins isn’t being threatened by monsters from a parallel universe, it’s completely dead around here. 

“Let’s go back to your place,” you urge. “This towel’s all wet anyway, and I wanna shower.” 

Eddie makes himself at home in the juncture of your neck again, kissing lazily. “S’not enough room in my shower for both of us,” he complains.

“We can pick this back up after, I know—shit, Eds—” Without warning, his hand slips up to palm your tit, pushing aside the scant covering of your swimsuit. You try to sound reasonable. “I know I taste like lake water.” 

“Mhm. It’s hot.” 

“It’s gross.” 

“You’re gross.” He pauses, lips lifting momentarily from your shoulder. “Okay, wrong comeback. I’m distracted. It’s not gross, baby.” His grip tightens on you a second before he licks up the side of your neck, holding you in place when you squeal and try to get away. “Mm, yummy lake water.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you laugh, leaning back and setting your hands on his shoulders so he can’t try it again. 

“Aw, come on.” A thick finger slips under the elastic of your bikini bottoms, tracing a line around your hip as his other hand squeezes your boob lightly. Eddie grins at your tiny inhale. “Have a little fun.” 

“Eddie,” you say warningly. 

“Yes?” Another finger joins the first, your swimsuit stretching to accommodate them. 

“I want to go home.” You imbue your voice with as much firmness as you can. When Eddie pouts, you go for the kill. “I’m getting really hungry.” 

Immediately, the wickedness leaves his expression, replaced by a sweet concern. “Yeah?” The elastic of your swimsuit snaps back into place, and you jolt. Eddie flattens his palm over the spot, rubbing apologetically. “I forgot, you barely had anything for lunch. You wanna drive through somewhere?” 

“No, I can make it until we get home,” you say softly, backpedaling a bit in the face of his caring. “I’m not dying, just a little hungry.” 

Eddie’s mouth pulls to one side. “You sure, sweet thing? It’s a bit of a drive back. We could grab McDonalds.” Your eyes widen, and his grin makes a return, this time crooked and dorky. “Yeah?” 

“That sounds amazing,” you admit. “Do you think they’ll give me a hashbrown even though it’s not breakfast yet?” 

“I’ll make sure they do.” He eases you off his lap, reaching over to close the back doors. You start looking around for your flip-flops. “I think they’re serving breakfast all day now anyways.” 

“Ugh, awesome.” You imagine the greasy taste, and your mouth floods with saliva. Shit, you actually are pretty hungry. Eddie climbs into the front seat, reaching for your elbow to help you over the console behind him. The material of the seatbelt feels warm and rough against your skin. “Just to be clear,” you say, “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t having a good time. We still should have a re-do later, after food and showers.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh, turning the keys in the ignition so the van rumbles to life underneath you. “No need for a re-do, baby. We’re just having an intermission.” 

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[sargebarnesx]

Stay

Pairing: Jim Hopper x female reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex

Words: 1,454

Summary: Recliner sex with Jim Hopper. Simple as that.

Author's Note: I have been editing this for over a week now and I’m tired of it so here it is, hope it’s good 😂

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Her determination was clear from the way she took the remote and the beer from his hands and shoved them both onto the table beside his chair. She didn’t even bother with the tv, as whatever was on would be long forgotten by the time she was done with him.

She climbed on top of him, stopping when her knees were planted on either side of his broad thighs. Her panties caught against the zipper on his jeans and she whimpered, placing a light hand on his chest. He hadn’t said another word, he only watched her through half lidded eyes. Finally, she leaned forward and caught his mouth with her own.

They kissed like this for a while, barely opened mouths, not quite meeting at their center. But she could tell his breath was starting to hitch in his throat at the thought of what was to come. His hands were trailing up her thighs, pushing her dress higher and higher. He was so warm, so gentle as he fingered the goosebumps that had popped up on her skin the moment she climbed on top of him.

She wanted more.

He needed more.

He growled low in his throat and planted one large hand on her ass, then he wrapped the other around her back and pulled her into him. He couldn’t help but moan as she ground against his hard cock. He wanted to open his eyes, to pull away and look at her thighs stretched over his lap, look at her tits rising and falling with each ragged breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop kissing her. She nipped at his bottom lip, finally dipping her tongue into his mouth. She circled her hips, relishing in the feel of his denim-clad cock rubbing against her. Her hands moved to his hair, something she knew he loved, and she raked her nails across his scalp. He moaned lightly again, this time opening his mouth to speak against her needy lips, “Oh, baby...need...more.”

His voice was muffled by her mouth as she poked and prodded her tongue against his, lightly licking and sucking. He was breathing so hard; he felt like his heart was going to thump out of his chest. They stayed like this for a few moments more, groping and kissing and teasing.

His fingers were trailing against her covered pussy, no doubt feeling how wet he had made her through her underwear. She groaned into his mouth, which only encouraged him to keep going. He slipped his long, thick fingers into her panties, then finally, into her soft, slick heat. She gasped and pressed her forehead to his. “Oh fuck,” he whispered, “Who made you this wet, baby?” He pulled away, pushing his fingers deeper as she bit her bottom lip, her eyes finally reaching his. “I said,” he murmured, “Who made you this wet?”

She jolted as he curled his fingers inside of her, his thumb brushing her sensitive clit. “You,” she choked on her own words, her throat feeling dry. He smirked up at her, hoping to remember the way she looked in this moment forever. The way she threw her head back as he rubbed her, the way her eyes were squeezed shut while she relished in the pleasure, the way she dug her teeth into her kiss swollen lip to stifle a whimper, the way her hands gripped his shirt for dear life.

“I didn’t hear you, baby,” he rasped under his breath. He pulled his fingers from her center and slipped them between his lips, sucking and savoring her taste. Her mouth fell open as she watched his tongue swirling around his fingers. He was the sexiest man she had ever seen. She wanted to please him, wanted to see his desire for her etched across his face.

She gripped his wrist, pulling his fingers to her mouth. Her lips parted and she wrapped them around his digits, sucking so hard that her cheeks hollowed out. Pulling his fingers from her mouth with a pop, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the stubble on his cheek and then the shell of his ear. Lightly, she traced it with her tongue before whispering, “You did, daddy.”

Something inside him snapped.

He growled again, so deep in his chest that she could feel it rumbling beneath her. His dick was straining against his pants, painfully so, and he gripped her waist harshly. He wanted her wet pussy. He wanted to make her writhe on top of him. He needed relief. He needed her.

“Baby, please,” he begged, “Fuck.”

She adjusted her position and he took in a sharp breath. He hooked a finger into the top of her dress and pulled it down until her soft tits bounced out. He caressed her smooth skin and traced circles around her hard nipples, then took one in his mouth. His mustache added another level of ecstasy and she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt like her skin was on fire underneath his touch. “Will you fuck me?” she asked desperately, attempting not to whine, “Please.”

He smirked, lapping at one nipple and pinching the other. “I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, tapping her ass. She knew this signal; he was telling her to lift up onto her knees. He wrapped his lips around her nipple again as he reached beneath her to unzip his jeans. He sighed with relief once his cock was finally released from (what felt like) its denim prison. He pumped it a few times with his right hand, then reached under her dress to move her panties to the side.

The groan that escaped his throat once she sank onto his dick was carnal.

“This sweet little pussy just drives me crazy,” he purred roughly, keeping his gaze on her through hooded eyes. She was falling apart, impaling herself on his thick cock over and over again. He slapped his hands on her ass, pulling her up and pushing her down, up and down, and up and down.

“Daddy, I love the way you fill me up,” she whispered, her thighs beginning to tremble. He slid his hand up from her ass, over the curve of her hip and waist, then planted it in her hair. He gripped a handful and pulled her face to his, “You keep talkin’ like that, baby, and you’re gonna make me cum.”

She loved a challenge.

“You gonna cum inside me? Make me scream?”

He grunted in response, his eyes rolling back as she trailed her tongue over his jaw. He pulled her hair harder as she smirked at him, feeling accomplished. She loved getting him worked up.

They kissed again, a clash of teeth and tongues and heavy breathing. “Mm, fuck,” he said gruffly, swallowing her moan with his own. She leaned back, planting her hands on his knees. He moved his hands to grip her tits, pinching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I can feel you getting close, baby,” he said, raking his eyes over her body, “Can feel you squeezin’ me.” She nodded, unable to speak.

“Please cum for me, baby, daddy wants to feel you explode on his dick,” he pulled her to his chest and placed hot, open-mouth kisses on her neck. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, feeling like she was about to combust. His thighs tensed beneath her.

“Oh, fuck, baby!”

That pushed her over the edge. Her self-control shattered, she could feel herself fluttering around him, coming undone, releasing all the pent-up frustration she had been holding in. He was gripping her hips so hard, hard enough that she was sure he’d leave a mark. He couldn’t help himself, he loved the way she looked riding out her orgasm on top of him.

Suddenly, his cock jerked inside of her and she felt his heat overcome her. His face fell into the crook of her neck and he moaned deeply. “Fuck fuck fuck!” he cried, groping at her body, grabbing whatever he could. His hips stuttered up into her and he groaned as he coated her walls.

Then, they were still. He leaned back, stretching his arms over his head, breathing heavily. Her body fell limp against his chest, totally spent of all energy. He grinned, his eyes heavy. He could feel her heart thumping against his own as she tried to steady her breathing. “I don’t know if I can move,” she admitted sheepishly, attempting to stretch her legs out. He wrapped one arm around her to hold her in place, then reached up to smooth a hand over her messy hair.

“Then don’t,” he whispered, “Stay here with me.”

[we-out-here-simping]

Ch 2: The teenage hobby of making out.

(s.h. x gn!reader)

from the river to the sea. (get in your daily clicks, read about it, donate if you can.)

Summary: Hopper’s getting mad that his kids are kissing boys.

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: use of (y/n); no pronouns used (gn!reader); Suggestive (sexy ice cream consumption); steamy but no smut; boner alert; hopper being a cockblock; arguing; reader is jealous of Eleven; hopper makes a 'your wife' joke (its canon); daddy issues?

A/n: this is the closest i think ive gotten to writing smut so far lol i struggled so much

Anyway ive been having the big bad no good awful time lately and feel like doing literally nothing but i really pushed myself to finish this guy so have this and also I think it's high time we get readyyy for desi!reader!!!! She will be arriving soon hopefully!!!

masterlist

...

‘You don’t tug on superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind.’

Hopper’s record player blares. Your eyes fling open at the intruding loud tone of at this point what you know to be Jim’s favourite song.

‘You don’t pull the mask off an old lone ranger and you don’t mess around with Jim.’ The faceless crowd chants through the speakers. Quite swell headed of himself when you really think about it. 

Your face scrunches, a yawn leaves you when you stretch under the quilt. The sheets beside you ruffle, and when you turn it is your sister, rousing from her sleep as well, Mr. Arnold, the teddy bear, in her arms. She lets out a frustrated groan at the loud song, before pulling her blanket over her head. 

You snort at that because you’re sure it's impossible to fall asleep with that playing right outside the room. This is not the first time that Jim has used this really effective strategy to annoy you and your sister out of your slumber.

You lay there for a second before finally getting up to get started with the morning, knowing full well Hopper won’t be quietening it down unless both of you were out of bed and having breakfast. It also isn't like you had neighbours to complain about the noise.

By the time you come out of the bathroom, Eleven is once again stirring awake. She stretches both her arms above her head again and lets out a deep sigh.

"Morning, El.”

She mumbles something that sounds like ‘morning’, her tone a lot less peppy than yours. she once again decides she wants to be back asleep, rolling over and burying herself in the sheets again. “I think… I hate that song now”, you hear her grumble under the mass of the comforter.

“Yeah, that happens when you are forced to listen to something a billion times. What's weird is he does have other records but he really loves the song with his name in it”, you laugh both at your sister’s and Hopper’s antics.

You sit back on the bed with an ‘oof’, looking at where she lies beside you. “Okay, kid, let's get outta bed”, you say knowing full well that the noise isn't going to stop unless you both step out of the room. “c’mon El”, you sigh, shaking her a little by her shoulders. "Don't you have to go meet Dustin today?"

El’s eyes shoot open, she looks up at you with wide eyes as if she'd forgotten about her plans. She throws the blanket and the soft toy off of her and jogs away to her room.

You chuckle to yourself at her excitement, reaching under the quilt to look for Mr. Arnold. You pull him out, brushing the messy fur around his beady eyes before putting him neatly with the rest of the pillows and get out of the room yourself.

You head out into the kitchen, the smell of roasted coffee hitting you immediately. Jim has always been notorious for having his coffee extra strong, no cream, no sugar. you remember trying it once and pledged to never do that again, not being accustomed to that taste. 

There's a box of cereal on the kitchen counter, you fix yourself a bowl and put some in another bowl for Eleven. You then head to the couch where Hopper is reading a newspaper and sipping the bitter and brown beverage, "morning" you say quietly— shouting was not needed since he had turned the player off when he noticed both you and Eleven were awake. 

"Morning kid", he greeted from behind the newspaper, not really bothering to look up.

"You have to find a better way to wake us up."

He chuckles to himself, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it" he jostles the flimsy paper.

You roll your eyes which he doesn’t notice. That’s the usual with him. He doesn’t ever seem to notice you. And for the most part, you’re used to it. Somewhere between adopting you and now, things changed. Not to be mistaken, he is the closest thing you have to a father and you know he does love you but some part of this relationship feels… hollow now. Like you’re not getting enough, he’s not willing to give you enough. 

In silence, you swirl your spoon around in the floating cereal while Hopper takes a big sip of his coffee. You think to finally tell him about Steve.

Just when you were contemplating when to speak up about it, Eleven comes out of her room, still wearing the same clothes, "Morning Hop", she greets brightly.

He looks up, "Morning kiddo", he smiles before his gaze moves back to his newspaper.

“There's a bowl for you on the kitchen counter”, you let the girl know. She smiles and pours herself some milk into it.

"Hey, Hop?", The super powered girl calls out. He hums through a mouthful of soggy cereal as he looks up from the newspaper. "Can you take me to Will's?” she says while walking over to the couch where he was sitting, "Dustin is coming back today. We're surprising him"

"Oh, okay kid. We'll just leave in a bit", he sets down the papers and downs all of the cereal. He goes into his room. By the time you and Eleven are done with your breakfast, Hopper comes out, clad in his uniform. 

"Hey y/n any groceries you want me to get? Going to the Market today", he asked while putting his shoes on.

"Yeah, it's on the fridge"

The man went over to the fridge door and took the list off of it. He took a second to read the contents of the list before muttering out the last one, "icecream, again?"

"I like ice cream. We ran out", you shrugged.

"I bought a tub this sunday."

“I really like ice cream”

“seriously? this is getting more ridiculous than El’s eggo obsession–”

“hey!” she interjects. 

“and weren’t you expanding your horizons? How’d that combo work out last night?” He looks between you and Eleven.

"It was…", she pauses, looking for a suitable word, "disgusting.” she says with the straightest face before going to her room to get changed and to put on her shoes, you assume.

“I… can't say that I disagree”

“Look kid, I'm not getting you ice cream so often, okay? Anything else?"

“...Nope that's… that’s it. Just the list.”

“‘Kay,” he shoves the paper in the pocket of his shirt. He glances over at the room that Eleven is in before clearing his throat. “Hey, do you uh…”, he looks back you, voice softer than it was just a second ago, “wanna talk about it?”

“About..?” 

“That nightmare I’m assuming you had last night.”

“... there's– there isn't anything to talk about”

“Yes there is”, he barely gets the words out of his mouth when you sigh, frustrated before getting off the couch and moving towards the kitchen. 

“C’mon kid,”, he follows behind you, “you haven't been telling me anything recently, and Owens told me–”, you groan at the name, “don't interrupt me– Owens told me that you refuse to share anything with him either.”

“I don't tell anything because there is nothing to tell. And honestly,” you put your bowl in the sink, “I don't want to talk about stupid feelings with a stupid old man”

“You think I haven't been hearing you scuttering ‘round in your room trying to fall asleep? So don't bullshit me but there is a lot to tell. He recommended these weekly check ups because they will help. I mean– look at El, she barely struggles with the night terrors or–”

“You just have to compare me to her, don’t you?”

“Owens will call saturday and you better tell him everything”, he commands with his nostrils flared.

You roll your eyes away from him, crossing your arms.

“Do you hear me? Hey! look at me when I’m talking to you”, he uses that stern voice again, the one that means ‘you better listen or else’. You aren’t sure what the ‘or else’ ever is yet you always listen when he uses that voice. You look at him, reluctantly so, “Good. now… I'm getting late. Why don't you get rid of that attitude and stop being such a brat" he shoves his wallet in his back pocket, calling out Eleven's name and she comes out wearing a navy-blue t-shirt that seemed a little too big for her, and she casts you a concerned look.

You let out a frustrated huff as soon as the door shuts close behind them. You run your fingers over your face, your head hurting again after that argument.

You then head to put the rest of the bowls in the sink and the milk in the fridge, but that's when you notice it. The Eleven's drawing— of you, Hopper and herself— that was initially stuck to the fridge door with a magnet, was now on the floor— along with the other magnets. You tried to put them back on nevertheless they fell again. You were frustrated as it is, it only made you angrier when they didn't stick. In your rage you shove them in the nearest drawer, it closes with a loud thud.

You weren't sure how this entire thing had managed to get you so mad. You wanted to rip your hair out, break all the bowls, burn the stupid phone so Owens never calls, shatter hopper's favourite coffee mug, tear apart every drawing Eleven has made of you all together. But you don't. You just stand there, trying your best to keep it at bay– the anger, the tears, both. And god, you needed to catch your breath, you needed some water.

You grab a glass of water from the tap. As it fills, you latch open the window above the sink. The window and the glass of water had become a part of your routine to calm yourself down. A compulsion at this point because if you didn't do it, everything felt off.

You guzzle down the thing, the liquid cooling you. You force yourself to close your eyes, breathing in, holding it and then breathing out– just like Hopper had taught you. Although it brings down your anger, it doesn't exactly calm you down. You blame it on the lack of wind today.

You don't keep your eyes closed for too long though. You close the window and head to your room. You don't bother with anything else, planning on hiding under the sheets for the rest of the day. It is then that you hear a knock on your bedroom window.

You look up from the mess of wrinkled sheets and you are met with the beautiful smile of your boyfriend. He gives you a little wave with a bouquet of flowers and holds up a takeaway cup from scoops ahoy. A smile automatically forms itself on your face as you walk over to the window and open it so he could climb in.

He lets himself in in a rather not ninja way, your hands flying to steady him. you take in his clothes– his scoops ahoy outfit, the colours suit him, his favourite watch snug around his wrist, the shorts fitting him perfectly, his floppy hair resting softly against his forehead— he looks beautiful to say the least. 

"Morning your highness!", He spoke up with a rich English accent– gesturing wildly with the bouquet, "Flowers picked by yours truly! Ice cream scooped, once again, by your beloved", he handed you the flowers— which you held close to your chest while showcasing a huge grin. "And guess what? New flavour! You have to try it, babe."

You adjust the crooked name tag on his shirt, "I was just leaving for work but decided to take a little detour. Hope you don't mind me coming."

"Of course I don't— it's just, if you came like two minutes earlier, Hop would've caught you."

"Close call", he wipes the imaginary sweat off of his temple, making you giggle a little.

"You look very pretty," you say before you even realise.

"I'm supposed to be a manly man! you calling me pretty and beautiful isn't helping with that", he complains only half-heartedly because he loves hearing you call him those things. No one has ever complimented him in such a way, sure he has gotten compliments about his hair or his nether regions from girls but you telling him he's pretty and cute made butterflies flutter all over in a way he didn't think was possible.

"Well, that's too bad. You are pretty", he blushes all pink when you say it, "The prettiest ever", he smiled shyly as you came closer to him— faces merely inches apart.

"Not too shabby yourself babe", he pecked the tip of your nose and then you go to put the flowers in a vase next to your bed.

“How did last night go?” he asks, following behind you.

“Hmm?”

“You were... going to tell your dad about us?”

“Oh.”

He purses his lips, “I'm guessing you didn't”

“I wanted to, I swear but then Mike Wheeler happened."

“‘Course he did”

“And then I almost did this morning too but then Jim and I had a fight, like right now..”

“Fight, about what?”

You quickly shake your head, “.. doesn't matter. I’m sorry”

“Hey, its okay. How ‘bout this okay, you.. try again. okay? whenever feels right-- no rush" you nod slowly. the boy flashes you a grin before speaking up again, "now, gimme a little kiss"

"No."

"No? why no?" he pouts.

"’Cause I want to have ice cream first", you declare, booping his nose.

He lets out a playful scoff, “is that all I am to you? I stole this just for you yesterday and I don’t even get a kiss?" he is all theatrical as he holds is palm on his chest to show just how scandalized he feels.

“Stole it?”

“Nah", he clicks his tongue as a no, shaking his head, "we get free ice cream.”

Your brows fly up at the information, “Woah, really? hmm, I need to work there.”

“Will you? Please do. My coworker pretty much hates me–”

While he is rambling, you try to snatch the cup from his hand, but before you could do so he pulls his hand away. "Ah ah ah, you gotta give me the password first to get the ice cream babe"

"What?" you ask, brows knotted together.

"Not the password", He says in a monotonous voice.

"Steve c'mon–"

"Not the password."

"Just give it to me, Steve", you try reaching for it again– to no avail.

"Not the password."

"Stevieee", you're practically draped over him, yet he somehow manages to keep the cup right out of your reach.

"Not the password", he smirks, laughing a little.

You sigh, you had to play it his way to get what you want. You give a quick kiss on his cheek– more so a peck. "Hm, warmer...", he hums, "but still not the password."

You groan all frustrated, knowing full well what he wanted. and you had no other choice than to give in. You tilt your face so your lips meet his and when you pull back, awaiting his response. He finally says, "You got it", before lowering his hand.

Steve then goes into character– sitting you down on the edge of your bed, he takes out his hat from his pocket that said 'ahoy' on it and puts it on top of your head.

He greets you how he would welcome any other customer, you giggle at his theatrical antics. "Now, since you are one rather good looking sailor, I'll let you set sail on this ocean of flavor with me with this amazing scoop of our new invention!!'

The treat is a little melted— blame it on the summer heat. tasting phenomenal, surely to be your new favourite. As Steve watches you relish the delicious flavour, he notices that the runny liquidy ice cream has managed to drip around the corner of your mouth and lower lip.

"Oh babe, you've got a–" His thumb swipes over your lower lip— eye contact unbreaking— Smearing the liquid much more than actually wiping it. He does it unreasonably slow.

"There", he pulls his arm back, and without looking at the residual ice cream on his thumb he licks it– gaze still unwavering. "Delicious", he murmured. Heat creeps up your neck and spreads through your cheeks. You both knew what Steve was doing although you'd be lying if you said that it wasn't working.

Having expected for you to be absolutely flustered, Steve is surprised when instead your features morph into a mischievous smile, "right? You wanna try some?"

"Uh, sure", he hesitates.

You go to feed him the drippy ice cream with the spoon only to 'accidentally' smudge it at the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, you've got a—"

"Oh, very funny babe—" Before Steve could finish, your lips were attached to the corner of his mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick at the liquid— the movements agonisingly slow. It is then that Steve forgets how to function. He doesn't reciprocate your kisses, being sure he'd forgotten how to kiss. This was the first time you'd initiated a kiss, or made a move on him and now he didn't know how to react. 

When you pull away, his eyes remain closed for a bit longer. But when they finally do flutter open, instead of the same mischievous sly smirk, he is met with your wide eyes. You blink as if unsure of what you had done, Steve sees you gulp before you get up and leave the room.

Steve was stuck, he realises. His mind has forgotten how to work for however long that lasted. Maybe it was minutes or maybe it was only just a few seconds– to him it felt like hours though. Blood rushed to his cheeks and other parts of his body.

He paid it no mind though and quickly got up to find you. His situation will go away, right now he needed to make sure that you were alright. He went out of the room and sees you by the kitchen— throwing away the empty cup— your back turned towards him.

You don't look up when he stands beside you, he calls out your name and you shyly turn to sneak a look at him, rubbing your own arm anxiously, “S– sorry that was weird right?”

“Uh– n– no! It wasn't", he assures, shaking his head, "It just… um, I wasn't expecting it. It was– It wasn't weird.” he waits, hoping you'd say something but when you don't, he speaks up, "That was like the– the hottest thing ever– what you did back there."

“It wasn't... too much? It felt like it was too much.”

“Too much? I have a boner right now, respectfully, of course.”

Your eyes widen, and just when they were about to trail down– “don't look down!” You hold your breath, trying your best to muster all your power to maintain eye contact with him, but your gaze betrays you for just a second as it snaps down to his groin before jumping back to his eyes. Your face becomes so warm, palms clammy.

“W-what do I do?”

“No–nothing? It’ll go away”, he barely manages to stammer out, turning his body towards the kitchen counter so you don't see it, eyes roaming everywhere but towards you. 

Steve in high school never would have faced such issues, king steve never would have been so clumsy and embarrassed in front of someone he liked. The old Steve wouldn't get this damn red and awkward. But he does, he isn't the old Steve afterall.

He feels your hand on his shoulder, urging him to look your way. When he does, his eyes meet your unsure gaze-- you were looking at his lips. He himself can't help but trace the contour of your face, from your eyes to your nose, to the swoop of your cupid's bow to finally your lips.

It is you who leans in. This kiss was different than any you have had before. It grows deeper. And suddenly, its all tongue and teeth. Steve has never kissed you like this before. Its hands over your body, fingers creeping under your t-shirt. And its unusual. A good unusual. One you could get used to.

“Steve?" you breathe out when you pull apart.

“Y– yeah?”

“I’m sure. What I said yesterday, I’m sure.”

“Wait– you’re not just saying that ‘cause I–’

“No. I– I mean it.” You let out a giggle. The giggle which he was sure could end and fix all his fears and nightmares. The giggle that made his heart flutter and stomach do summersaults. You were sure to be the death of him. 

His grip around your waist tightens as he rests his forehead against yours, warm noses touching. "When.. uh– when does Hopper come back?"

"5:30," you huffed out, once again leaning in and he once again pulled back to be just out of your reach.

"One last question, El isn't home, is she?"

"No, no. She– she's with– friends. Won't come back till four."

"Good, wouldn't want them to come in on this", he almost growls before latching your lips together. And then you're kissing him. It is messy, but he loves every single second of it. His hands go to hold your jaw and yours to his cheeks, pulling in closer– deepening the kiss. At this point you'd both forgotten to breathe, too intoxicated on each other. But soon, both your lungs start to burn off the lack of oxygen and you both pull apart.

Your breaths were jagged, foreheads still touching. You gasp into his mouth. Your lips move in tandem as Steve pushes you between himself and the counter. The edge of the counter digs into your thighs. His hands travel to right below your ass, ready to lift you up onto the counter. But before he could do so, you pull him by the collar of his sailor outfit towards your room— lips never stopping contact. Steve takes the hint and gently pushes you against the door of your room, fumbling for the door knob.

You grab a fistful of his hair, he lets out a moan into your mouth. He finally manages to open the door, and you immediately pull him in. Steve tries to steady you both while tightening his hold on your hips, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. 

You pull him towards the bed. He finally pulls away to take off his shirt only to latch his lips back to yours. He is hovering over you, lips never not touching, hands roaming each other's bodies. You slightly pull away, your digits fumbling for the cassette player's buttons next to your bed. The button clicks and Asia’s ‘heat of the moment’ starts playing. The both of you laugh because it was the mixtape that you and Steve had made a couple months ago.

…

Hopper had just reached the Byer's when he realises that he had forgotten his hat in the heat of the argument with you. He frowns upon the thought of the argument, he regrets shouting, he was worried about you and maybe he shouldn't have gotten that mad.

He waves over at Eleven, watching behind her to make sure she gets inside. He starts the engine and heads back to the cabin to retrieve his hat and perhaps make amends with you.

When he gets there, you don't open the door. You were possibly still mad at him, he thinks when he lets himself in, he could hear the song blaring from your room. He takes a peek in through the cracked open door.

Through the few inch wide door gap, he sees you and Steve Harrington. A shirtless Steve Harrington on top of you. The boy kissing you. And you kissing him back.

Through the kisses, his lips trail along your jaw and down your throat landing on your collarbone— pulling a moan out of you. "God, you're– fuck", Hopper barely hears the boy mumble. The man's nostrils flare as he sees his hands go back to the little sliver of skin exposed between your shirt and your shorts, fingers playing with the hem of the shirt.

"HEY!"

Steve immediately pulls away and yelps when you accidentally yank his hair. You both look up towards the source of the sound and there stood Jim Hopper, eyes wide with seething anger. 

“HOPPER?--”

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Hopper", You yelp out, speedily turning the player off while Steve fumbles to hide his integrity behind a pillow. Both Steve and Hopper were bright red. You were sure to go deaf to the loud beating of your heart.

"What in the fuck are you doing with my kid, Harrington?", You were sure Hopper's face would burst into flames any second now.

Steve eyes bounce frantically between you and hopper, he stammers, "I— Hopper—"

"That's fucking sir to you, Harrington."

"Sir, I—"

You hold your hands up, hoping to calm Hopper down after he found you in such a compromising position, "It's– its not what it looks like Hop—"

"So you're telling me that you two weren't about to–"

"Hop—", you try interrupting him but he interjects you by turning to Steve, pointing his finger at the poor boy while simultaneously squaring up on him. "I'm gonna have a serious fucking talk with your father, Harrington."

He walks backwards, incredibly intimidated, "But, sir—"

"Cover your goddamn tits and wait for me outside, Harrington." Steve gulps, silently nodding– knowing well enough that talking back was going to be fruitless so he leaves the room, the door shutting behind him.

You try speaking up again, "Hopper, listen–"

"No, you listen", he scolds with gritted teeth and flared nostrils, "You are fucking grounded. You can live your stupid paranoid fantasy and stay safe and stuck in this cabin”

“Hop–”

"And that means no tv–"

"Dad–"

"No radio or cassettes, no more phone, no more tv– ", he said as he unplugs the radio player and pulls out the cassette box from under your bed and throws the tapes around in anger "what else are you hiding from me, huh?”

"Nothing, hopper–"

He notices the box pushed further back under your bed and pulls it out— filled to the brim with Steve related stuff. your graduation caps, polaroids, mixtapes, books that had flowers pressed between their pages, beer bottle caps from when you had gotten drunk for the first time– all on the floor for display; the entire thing doing nothing to calm the raging man down. "Hopper, stop–"

"No more fucking dating", he picks up the mixtapes and books, throwing them with immense fury and rage. He pulls out polaroids of you and Steve and crumbles it up.

"NO!!--"

"And NO MORE FUCKING STEVE HARRINGTON", he smashed the now empty box against the floor, "D'YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND?" he was shouting now, full on shouting— and it scared you. For the first time, Hopper scared you. The same guy who had saved you, protected you. The first person with whom you felt safe, ever. 

Tears spring up in the corner of your eyes. you duck your chin into your chest, squinting them shut.

“Asked you a fucking question.”

You try to even your breaths before answering, "No."

"What'd you say?", Words dripping in fury.

"I said, no."

"Why? You love that stupid idiot or something?"

The question scares you because you don't have an answer. You wrack your brain, looking for an answer but still…. your brain pulls up a slide that was nothing but a blank screen.

Do you love him?

You like him. You love being with him. He is your best friend, your only friend. But do you love him? how would you know? You do not know. 

“He’s my friend. He’s my only friend, Jim”

"Cut the bullshit, y/n", Hopper spoke as he noticed the tears springing up in your eyes and right now he was too damn angry to regret it.

Either of you don't hear the sound of the door shutting over your own heartbeat. you finally speak up, "You're bullshit."

"What?"

"You see El and Mike everyday, they're always kissing. But you see me with Steve one time–"

"The one time I see you two, you are fornicating— El and Mike don't do that."

"I'm a fucking adult, Hopper"

"You're a goddamn teenager is what you are!"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't do this stuff when you were a teenager, Hopper. You’re being an asshole!”

“Maybe you shouldn't have hid things from me y/n and I'm not being an asshole, I'm giving you a reality check. and if you think you’re such an adult then stop fucking hiding in this cabin from the world and feeding you little paranoid fantasy”

Both your chests rise and fall, face warm with aggravation, “Oh, don't look at me like I’m some monster", Hopper shakes his head at you, exasperated. you don't say anything, instead you get up to leave the room, "… where do you think you are going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Aww, where are you gonna go, to your boyfriend?”

"You know what? That's a great idea, Jim. I’ll go and never come back again, I'll live with Steve or I’ll live in that stupid trailer. I've done it before and I'll do it again", you say with absolute resentment, all gritted teeth and red eyes. "I’ll leave", you sniffled, "Cuz you sure as hell don't want me here."

"Sure, kid, go 'head", he said through flared nostrils and a mock smile.

You raise your volume too before, "You won't have to fucking pretend to care for me anymore, you can take care of El all you want now", you pause for a beat before murmuring, "Clearly you like her more."

"..What–"

"Don't play dumb", your voice shakes as you speak, "it took you years to even consider adopting me, but you took El in in a heartbeat. El’s the one you care about Hopper– just fucking admit it, she's the one that gets hugs, she's the one that gets all the love and affection, she’s always mattered more to you, she's the one who matters to you because she's the one who reminds you of your dead daughter"

You said that. You said that. And the truth was that you meant it. Sure, you regret it, knowing how much it affected Jim. But it seemed only fair in your rageful brain to do the same.

Hopper is frozen, he swallows a lump in his throat. He looks at you hunched over the mess he'd made, your eyes red, watery and enraged.

You see him take a deep breath; it almost seems like he was about to say something. Maybe he'll apologise, you think, maybe you will too. Instead, he turned, his body lingering for a second too long near the door, and you pray that he says something– anything so you could take it all back. He lets out the breath he had been holding and shut the door behind him. A few seconds later you hear the cabin's door slamming. He left. 

…

At the station, Jim was having his lunch– donuts, which Flo had bought for everyone in the light of her birthday. Powell and Callaghan were discussing something, Flo has given Jim some paperwork– he isn’t sure about what though. His mind was too busy playing your argument on repeat.  

El’s the one you care about, Hopper. 

She’s the one who matters to you.

Because she’s the one who reminds you of your dead daughter.

“Chief?” Jim realises that he had been staring at the files that Flo had given him. 

“You okay, boss?”

“Uh, yeah— I’m peachy Callaghan”, Hopper gets up from his chair picking up another donut, “exactly how your wife was last night.”

Powell and the rest of the workers let out a guffaw while Flo looks at Jim with disapproving eyes and Callaghan looks like a kicked dog. Jim picked up his keys, headed towards the exit.

“Where are you going Jim?”, Flo demands behind him.

“Gotta take care of something, Flo”, he picks up his hat and puts it atop his head, “Hold the fort down for me while I’m gone?”

“It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Thanks, Flo”, he muttered, flashing a fake grin. Hopper shoves the donut in his mouth and went out the door and into his car. He drives through the empty streets of the local market, one hand tight around the steering wheel and the other holding the crumpled up shopping list you’d made. Joyce would know how to deal with both your and El’s situation, he thinks to himself as he stopped in front of Melvald’s general store, she was actually good at the whole parenting thing, afterall. 

When Jim steps into the empty store, he is met with Joyce putting up a sale sign. “Hey”, her head turned at the sound of the bell ringing.

“Hey, You busy?”

“You’re our first customer, so..” There is a beat. Hopper’s fingers fumble with the edge of his hat. “What now?”

Hopper vents about everything that happened between you two to Joyce while picking up all the groceries you had written in the list. “And its not just y/n, El too— she and Mike are kissing, like constantly and the other day— she just…. slams the door, right in my face. and– and y/n just doesn't wanna tell me anything and every time I try to talk, it just turns into an argument. and this last one just really went to shit”, Joyce hums as she rings up all of Jim’s groceries.

“Y’know, those smug sons of bitches, Steve and Mike. They’re corrupting them, I’m telling you.”, he shakes his head, “This has never happened before. And I’m just gonna lose it. I mean, I’m gonna lose it, Joyce–”

“Just take it down, Hopper”, Joyce speaks with a calm tone as she packed up the groceries.

“I want– I need to get rid of them."

“'rid of them'? you sound like you're going to murder them. and didn’t you already tell Steve and y/n that they can’t see each other anymore?”

“But El—”

“Hopper, that is not your decision to make”

“You don’t get it Joyce, El and mike– it’s constant. It is constant. And y/n's been hiding this thing from me for months probably! Months!”, Joyce huffs at Hopper’s anger, “Okay? That is not good or normal, that isn’t healthy”

“What you did to y/n and Steve isn’t healthy either”, Joyce pushes Hopper’s grocery bag on the counter towards him, “Besides, you can’t just force them apart.” She leaves the checkout counter and moves to an aisle and starts putting sale tags on the items, still continuing the conversation. “I mean, y/n’s right— they’re not little kids anymore, Hop.” The woman explains with knitted brows while the man picks up a random thing from the aisle nearest to him and starts playing catch with himself like a bored toddler.

“They’re teenagers Hopper”, Joyce huffs, “If you order them around like a cop, then they’re going to rebel. It's just— what they do.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Let them do whatever they want?”, Jim tosses the box up again.

“No, I didn’t say that”, she sighs, snatching the box midair while shooting a chastising look towards the tall man, “I think you should talk to them.”

“No. no, ‘cause talking doesn’t work–”

“Not yelling. Not ordering”, she gestures with the tag gun, “But talk to them” The woman turns to put the box back where it belonged while muttering with a shrug, “y'know like a heart-to-heart.”

“A heart-to-heart?” Hopper questions, confused, “what’s that?”

“You sit them down, you talk to them. Like you’re their friend”, Joyce explains while the man leans against a wall rather dramatically as if he was five-year-old listening to a lecture about the theory of relativity, “if you talk to them like you’re on their level, then they really start to listen. And then– you know, you can start to create some boundaries”

“Boundaries”, Jim repeats.

“Yeah, but Hop— it's really important that no matter how they respond,” she pauses for emphasis, “You stay calm. You cannot lose your temper”

The uniform clad man rolls his eyes; however, he hid it quickly before Joyce could notice and taps his fingers awkwardly against the wall, “uh, maybe, you could do it for me?”, he requests as if asking Joyce if he could do his homework

“No.”

“Yeah you could. You could come over after work. Yes?”

“No. it only works if it comes from you. Besides you're the one who yelled at y/n. So, you're the one who will apologize.”, She punctuated her sentence by putting a tag on Hopper's shirt. “But…", She trailed off.

“But?”, Jim echoes.

“Maybe I can help you…”, she picks up a notepad from the counter, “find the right words.”

…

You have locked yourself in your room, not planning on seeing anyone. It's what you deserve anyway. Its probably for the better. The lights are turned off, the only source of light in the pitch darkness is spilling through the tiny gap of your slightly open door. You've hidden yourself under the blanket, the bed a mess from tossing and turning.

You hear muffled sounds of Jim reciting something in a monotonous tone from the room next to you. “...important to establish these boundaries...”, His muttering sounding like he had a cigarette between his teeth, “....we can create an environment where.... we feel comfortable, trusted and open….”, you hear him pause, “to share our feelings”. He pauses again and you turn around in your sheets, burying your head under the quilt not planning to hear any more of it. Because if you did you’d cry, whether of jealousy or hurt or regret or guilt, you did not know, you just knew that you would cry.

After some time you then heard the thump of his feet from his room. They stopped in front of your door for a few seconds and you think for just a second that maybe he will knock, maybe you both will fix this, but then they started moving again, moving further from your door and finally stopping in front of El’s door. He knocks. “Hey”

“Yes?”

“Can I talk to you guys, a minute?”, he asks. You couldn't hear the rest of the conversation as it was muffled by the walls and door. But you filled in the gaps— hopper was trying to talk to Eleven and Mike, possibly about the previous night. He was trying for Eleven. Not for you. For Eleven.

Then Hopper abruptly left with Mike— something about the boy's nanna. You knew that definitely wasn't the truth. For once, you felt bad for Mike.

...

"Y/n?", Eleven cracked the door open. You were lying in your bed, back facing the door. Eleven approached the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?", with knitted brows, she asks, eyes trying to adjust to the dark room.

"I just feel a little sleepy, El", she did not need to know about your fight with Hopper. She did not need to see that ugliness.

"Do you want to watch romcom?"

"You do that"

"And you?"

"I'm not in the mood, El. Kinda tired. I'll be fine, I think I just need sleep.”

The short haired girl nodded rather half-heartedly and left. A few seconds later, the door opened again, you didn't turn to see who it was. 

“Do you want ice cream? Hopper brought some”, It was Eleven again.

“... No, I'm alright”, you don't bother looking up.

"Y/n?", you feel her palm on your shoulder before you turn around hoping the dark room hid your red eyes. "I've kept your food here”, she tells you.

You give a faint smile at the girl's kindness. She closed the door behind herself, leaving.

After eating your food, you fall headfirst into the pillows and there lied Mr. Arnold. You held the bear flush against your chest. Maybe the soft toy could help you fix this too. It smelled like Eleven, you smiled at the thought of your sister and you hated the fact that you were jealous of her. She was the kindest, strongest and most adorable kid— and you'd talked to Hopper about her like you resented her. She was your sister, you loved her.

The bear also smelled like Steve. You missed him, you wondered what he was doing. You told yourself to call the boy after Hopper leaves the next morning. You are curled up in your bed, exhaustion overtaking you. Your eyelids grew droopy and soon you were drifting into sleep.

…

You’re in your room, grey and sterile. your headache had dulled out for the most part, although your eyes still felt too dry. Your Papa had come to check in on you. He said that you were getting better and that you could go back to lessons and the rainbow room from the next day.

The entire week you were like this he didn't bring up why you are hurt. You reckon he was disappointed. You don't bring it up either, just glad that you didn't have to wear the collar because you were hurt.

When the doctor gave you medicine with the injection, Papa held your hand, his other hand brushing over your shaved head to comfort you.

"Good job, Seven."

When the doctor leaves, you finally speak up, "Papa?", he looks at you, "are you angry... at me?"

"For what?"

"For what happened that day."

"No, Seven. I'm not. I am proud of you and the extent of your powers”, your heart swells at the praise, "now we just have to hone in on it. Get better at it. Do you understand?"

You nod silently. He clears his throat before getting up from beside your bed. He buttons his grey blazer, "now, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" you nod once again.

He is about to reach for the door when you speak up again, “Papa?”

“Yes, seven?”

“Where is my mother?”

He turns around, the wrinkles on his forehead more prominent, “What?” he walks back up to you.

“I was reading a book in the rainbow room", you explain, " The child in it had a papa and a mama. Why don't I have a mama?”

“Not everyone does, Seven", he answers curtly, “Your mother died when she gave birth to you” he says before once again turning to leave the room.

“You're lying”, he stops and turns and is met with your knitted brows, “I can tell you're lying.”

You see him purse his lips for a second before he speaks up, ”Well, your powers have never been reliable, have they? Your mother is dead.”

“Did I kill her? like I did with that man and the child.”

”yes. Get some rest. Lessons start again tomorrow, Seven."

“Yes Papa”, he is out the door before you even say the entire thing.

…

Hopper doesn’t know what the hell he is doing. He just knows one thing and that is that heart-to-hearts are not his thing. Not anymore anyway. He used to be better at this, at emotions. 

Ever since sarah… he’s felt like this. This empty chasm, this darkness. A black hole. That sucks in everything that is good, warm and bright. Everything he loves, everything he cares for, he swallows it all if it gets too close. It happened after sarah. And for a really long time, Jim decided to never let anyone in– which included you. Your younger self had tried, to win him over, to let his walls down but he hadnt let up. But then last year… Eleven managed to break down those walls, and just like he always does, he swallowed her whole. Enough that she had compared him to that psychotic man who called himself your papa, enough that she had decided to leave. And now he was doing it again, with you. 

Hopper fucking sucks at feelings, not because he doesn't feel but maybe because he doesn't want anyone else to know that he does. The folded-up paper in his hand makes it really fucking clear. And though his palm is slightly sweaty, he blames it on the summer. 

He hates that he shouted at you, multiple times.

Look at me when I’m talking to you.

That is what he had said back then, that is what he had said today. And he saw that same look on you, that deer-in-the-headlight look, the same one he saw on you when he first saw you at the police station. And he immediately regretted it. He and his inflated ego are to blame when he didn't apologize. But he will now, he is going to apologize. He is going to talk things out– have a heart-to-heart. You’re his kid dammit and you fucking deserve it.

Alright hopper, you got this. Just do what Joyce told you and they'll listen to you. 

He stops at your doorstep first, knuckles lifted to knock but then he hears Eleven giggling, and he glances over to her room. Mike is still here, he thinks. Let’s just deal with them first, lets get the easier conversation over with and then he’ll talk to you– he’ll tell you everything, he'll listen to you. 

But then he goes to Eleven’s room and asks if he could talk to them, and he tries he really does try but as it turns out the easier conversation still wasn’t easy at all. Hopper can't help but repeat history.

He has always felt cursed. Cursed to ruin everything as he tends to always end up doing. And in his anger he ends up blackmailing mike to stay away from his daughter.

When hopper came back, Eleven asked him if Mike's nanna (bless her) was okay. "Uh, yeah– she'll be fine kid– pretty sure it was a false alarm." He had lied through his teeth, but he doesn't take it back.

He doesn't take it back. he never goes to your room. he doesn't talk it out. So much for a heart-to-heart.

...

[strxwberry-milku]

𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐀 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧? 𝐏𝐭𝟐

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Roomate!Jimmy x Reader x Twin!Jey

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You always had a thing for twins…

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1,097

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Daddy k*nk , Gagging , Cream Pie , Spitting

* 🎀 𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒 🎀 *

“ Bend ova fa me princess ” Jey said while plopping you down unto the bed.It was so funny at the fact that , he was not to long ago cussing you out , but now look at him….ready to stretch that pussy out until you can’t even spell your name out correctly . Being a good girl you listened to his instructions and bent over making sure you arched your back real good , so him and Jimmy can see your glistening folds nice and presented. It was pathetic really, you bent over , after not even 24hrs of meeting these men, pussy throbbing and clenching at the mere thought of there big , long and thick dicks sliding in and out of your hole and painting your insides white with sticky hot cum. But of course you would like that wouldn’t you? them claiming every inch of your delicate body , leaving hickies and bruises on your neck and thighs for everyone too see, and know that they’re there bcause of them . Naughty little slut you are.

Groaning at the sight , Jimmy came forward and glided one of his thick fingers through your puffy folds “ Shittttt mamas, look at you all excited and shi, you can’t wait can you ?”. Moaning at the sensations of him prodding your hole you grind your ass back up against him , dying to feel at least something to soothe the aching feeling of wanting to be stretched and full. Not liking the fact that you didn’t respond to him, he gave your pussy a quick slap. “ ah-h-hh yes daddyyyy, Ooooo I can’t wait , I want you to fill up my pussy with your throbbing dick pleaseeee” you remarked jolting from the bitter but sweet sting that erupted from your pussy. Laughing he gently grabbed your jaw with of his hands and set your face at angle so that you were staring into his eyes.” That’s what i thought princess,respond when daddy talks to you ” you nodded your head in agreement. “such a good girl you areee” Jey taunted in the background , clearly amused by your obedience.

“Stick out yo tongue pretty girl” Jimmy commanded , examining your face as if it was a sculpture from the museum. Doing as told you stick out your tongue, which was already coated with saliva so you tried so hard not to dribble on yourself. “ Good girl” Jimmy whispered and pursed his lips together ready to let his saliva drop into your mouth .Moaning at the taste of his spit you swallow and keep your mouth open . “Such a dirty slut you are…I wonder what else you could do with that mouth of yours?” Jey said and came from behind Jimmy to peer down at you. He pondered for a second and smirked, with the mischievous glint in his eyes you knew that , by the end of this, your throat would surely be sore.

“Turn yo sexy ass around sweetie” Turning around you focus your attention on Jet yet again, “ That’s it baby ” he muttered while hastily pulling down his grey sweats,quickly revealing his already leaking precum , 8-inch caramel dick . Your eyes widened at the sight “ Fuck” you thought , how and earth was that gonna fit in your mouth ?. Sensing your worry he patted your head reassuringly “ Don’t worry angel, you can handle it , you’re a big girl”. That being said, you took a deep breath and guided his glazed cock into your mouth. Groaning at the feeling of your mouth suction cupping his dick , he pulled your hair into a make shift ponytail and gently began to bob your head up and down. “ Fuc-ckkk yess , baby just like th-att” the pleasure you were giving him was all too much, with the way you were going , you would’ve thought this was you regular job or something .Spit seeped through the gaps of your lips and his dick and dribbled down to his balls, you slightly gagged due to his enormous size, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle .

Feeling a bit left out from the action Jimmy climbed unto the bed and hiked up your dress to position himself behind you . Being so cock drunk from pleasuring Jey , you didn’t even feel Jimmy slap his tip against your pussy until you felt him push the fat head inside .Moaning at the sudden penetration you push back against him,trying to feel full as much as possible. Slapping your ass he gripped unto your hips and started to slam his pelvis against your ass at a rough pace . “ Damn princess , ion know you was that tight...mmn-gn you finna ma-ke me bus-s quickk” he moaned and shut his eyes. It was like your body was on fire, it was all to much, from Jimmy complety obliterating your insides , too the point it felt like he was about to touch your liver too Jey who was face fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

Your body shuddered and your knees stared to buckle a little due to the overwhelming pleasure that was seeping through your body. Every moan or noise that threatened to escape , sent vibrations straight to Jey’s dick , further forcing him to his edge. “Shit,Shit,Shit!” Jey gritted out as he could feel his stomach tighten,signifying his release was about too come. You were on thin ice as well, one more thrust from Jimmy and it was over for you. Your blood pumped so fast around your body to the point you could hear it drumming in your ears, sweat dripped down your face and into your bouncing boobs. Jimmy was gripping unto you so tight , there’ll surely be bruises . “ I’m boutta cum princess, come with me ” he strained out, trying so hard to wait on you .

You couldn’t hold it anymore, your eyes rolled at the back of your head and the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your pussy convulsed around Jimmy’s dick, completely milking him for what he’s got .Quickly pulling his dick out of your mouth he jerked of until his nut spilled all over your face ,almost like a finalised signature ,completing that you belong to him, Jey Uso. Pulling out of your sloppy hole, Jimmy groaned in defence from the loss of your warmth.

*BANG * *BANG* ( the front door )

“ Uh hello ? It’s your new roomate!”

𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍 𝐃𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐍….

I love ending on cliff hangers, it’s to funny. But anyways, how y’all like the new format ? ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

[sleeplessdreamer14]

quiet night, apocalypse

request: no

fandom: treasure planet (2002)

relationship: jim hawkins x gn! reader

summary: Jim comes to you in the late hours of the night in search of the safety of your embrace.

contains: anxiety comfort, reverse comfort, sleeping in the same bed, profoundness, some use of artistic license, a bit poetic at the end

a/n: I love that I can just write these whenever I want

It was half past 2 am, and Jim was still awake.

He’d gone to bed hours ago, but found himself unable to fall asleep. Even with his window open, the night was still a bit too quiet. It’s wasn’t that he wasn’t tired. He was rather exhausted, in fact. But his mind just wouldn’t stop running.

There wasn’t even one particular thing he was thinking of, just the lingering feeling that something bad was going to happen, whether it be in the near or distant future; a fear that had a nasty habit of plaguing him in the latest hours of the night when he was left alone with his thoughts. After hours of trying to drift off to sleep, Jim couldn’t take it anymore and pulled the covers off of himself, climbing out of bed and carefully treading out of his room, keeping one arm extended outwards to feel for the door since his eyes had not yet adjusted properly to the darkness.

He was careful to close the door slowly behind himself, turning the knob as to make as little noise as possible. Jim kept one hand against the wall as he walked down the hallway, his eyes gradually adjusting to his surroundings with the help of the moonlight shining through the window.

Finally, he came to the door to your room. As he reached for the doorknob, he froze in his spot and began to reconsider. It was so late and chances were you were probably fast asleep by now, and he already felt bad for wanting to wake you. But then he remembered your words from a while back, reminding him that he could wake you if he needed you. And right now, he did. Plus, he knew you would feel bad if he lost any more sleep because he decided to try and dealing with his anxiety alone.

With the same precision as before, he carefully turned the knob to your bedroom door and tip-toed in to see you lying fast asleep, kinda sprawled out along your bed, your lips parted slightly.

You had left your curtains open, allowing the silvery light of the moon to shine into your room and into your bed. He could see your back and shoulders rise and fall steadily with every breath you took.

Now he felt really bad for what he was about to do.

Jim proceeded with caution towards the vacant side of your bed and gently lifted the covers so he could slide into the spot next to you. As he expected, you must have felt the mattress dip as he climbed into your bed, causing you to stir in your sleep. A meek groan sounded from you as you stretched and rubbed your eyes, peeking one eye open to see your boyfriend timidly positioned on your bed next to you.

Once you registered the situation, you rubbed your face and propped yourself up on your elbows. With a sniffle, you asked if he was okay and what time it was in a hushed tone, your voice a little groggy from going hours without using it.

Jim took a breath in to respond, but came up empty, unsure as to how to explain why he was in your room at 2:30-something in the morning. He muttered shy apologies for waking you and rubbed the back of his neck, glancing between you and the window as he stumbled over his words.

This wasn’t the first time Jim had come to you like this, and he knew you wouldn’t sling off at him for it, of course, but he was still a bit sheepish. Coming up empty, he merely let out a slow puff of air through his nose and let his shoulders slump in defeat as he stared at his lap.

That on its own answered the first half of your question, and your expression shifted into one of sympathy as you sat up in your spot on the bed, lazily opening your arms as an invitation to come to you.

Jim quietly accepted, scooting closer to you so he could comfortably fit into your arms. You shifted around slightly just to ensure your legs wouldn’t get sore as you slowly rubbed gentle circles over his back. After the first couple of times, you had grown familiar with what to do in this scenario. You pulled away gently and reached over to open the covers further, patting the spot on the mattress next to you.

Moments later, you were lying on your sides facing each other beneath your comforter, your legs loosely entangled. Jim had rested his head on your chest with his arms wrapped around your middle while you had one arm draped over his shoulder while the other gently stroked his head.

“You’re okay,” you spoke in a hushed voice, taking your time with your words and tightening your hold on him ever so slightly, and he did the same. “It’s alright now… Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Jim felt his eyelids begin to fall closed as he left his mind start to shut down, allowing him to only put whatever energy he had left into breathing. There was no fire, no storm, no disaster, there was only you, with him, in this room. Tonight, you were his, and he was yours. And so it would be come morning, and for as long as you two wished. It took a while, but eventually, your sweet nothings began to fade out as he finally succumbed to exhaustion.

And at last, the night was truly quiet.

[starrgazed22]

LET THE GAME RUN OUR DESTINY

Jim Halpert x fem!reader Word count: 900 words Warnings: Nothing, just fluff, I guess. Summary: You decide to play this game you bought, The Sims 2, to cure your boredom in the office.

Another boring day at Dunder Mifflin’s, but not really.

The camera zooms in on your computer monitor from a distance, revealing you’re playing The Sims 2. You hear a door thud, Michael coming out of the office, and you quickly hide The Sims with your mail.

──────

(your interview with the camera crew)

“Jim helped me install this game I bought yesterday, called The Sims. It’s so addicting.” Cut. “No, just random characters, that I chose at the start of the game,” you clear your throat. “No one specific.”

──────

(Jim's separate interview with the crew)

“Yeah, I helped her install it, but if she gets into trouble because of it,” he throws his hand into the air, “I have nothing to do with it.”

──────

The cameraman pans over to your face, catching you being extremely focused on the game.

Time today goes really slowly, but the game is saving it. Not for Jim though. Jim is so bored, he hasn’t talked to you the whole afternoon because of the game. The game literally sucked you in. He decides to walk over to see what you’re playing. You quickly hide it, acting like nothing just happened. Jim raises his eyebrows.

“What? Nothing,” you try to play it cool.

“Come on, let me see! I am curious what it looks like.” He tries.

You blush a little, pretending you’re going through your mail. “No.”

He looks at you hurt. “Alright then, I’ll go back to boring myself, also known as, doing work.” He playfully grunts.

You chuckle at his joke, minimizing the mail window to play the game again.

After some time, the lunch break comes. You decide not to worry about the game being opened, because no one will go around your desk anyway.

Jim, still on a call with a client, signals you to go ahead, and you walk to the break room first. Jim finishes the call, hanging up the phone. He wants to throw away his Jell-O cup, still from the morning. He goes to the nearest trash can, which is next to your desk. He throws it away, suddenly amazed by something on your desk. He leans to get a closer look at your screen. He smiles to himself.

“She did us in that game. Me and her.” He smiles downwards. “Oh, she said those are random characters?” He chuckles. “What a coincidence.” He stretches all the a’s in the last sentence.

Jim finally comes into the break room, sitting down at the table.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey, Jim.” You smile at him as you slurp in your noodles.

“So, how are we doing?” He asks casually.

You respond, not getting the secret message behind it. “I’m doing pretty good, did all the calls Michael told me to do.”

“No...” He chuckles. “I meant, how are we doing?” He asks, pointing his head back to the main room.

You look at him, genuinely confused. Suddenly you realize it. You put your head into your palm, covering your eyes in embarrassment.

Jim chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s okay, really,” he reassures you, sensing your embarrassment. “It’s funny. By the way, thanks for making me look like Prince Charming.”

You peek through your fingers, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have spent a little too much time on your character,” you admit.

Jim grins, taking a bite of his sandwich. He leans back in the chair, the chair making a small squeak. “Alright, so, what’s our story in The Sims? Are we a family? Colleagues? Maybe lovers?” A small smirk plays on his lips.

You feel your cheeks heating up again. “Well, I didn’t get too far with the storyline yet, but we’re housemates. We live together.”

“Oh, really?” Jim raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Housemates, huh?”

You shrug, trying to act nonchalant. “It just seemed easier than having to switch between two houses all the time, you know. Plus it saves money.”

“Yeah, right,” Jim says with a big amused smile on his lips. He leans forward, his eyes locking with yours.

You stare at him, heart pounding. “What?”

Jim shrugs, still smiling. “What if we let that game decide what we do in real life.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

He chuckles softly. “Whatever happens in the game we have to do. Up for the challenge?”

You feel a smile spreading across your face. “Alright, then.”

Jim’s grin widens. “Great.” He stands up, finishing his sandwich. “Shall the computer decide our destiny.”

You shake your head with a smile, feeling a rush of excitement as you watch Jim leave the room.

You decide to make yourself a cup of coffee before heading back to your desk. You walk up to your desk, stopping in disbelief. You see the screen, the characters stopped in time while they’re kissing. You look over at Jim, who is trying to hold in his laugh, avoiding eye contact. You deduce he did that. But you still feel a bit of blush run over your cheeks.

“Very funny, Jim.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile.

“What! You agreed to let it run our destiny.” He shrugs his shoulders at you.

You resume the gameplay, seeing what the characters will do next.

“Wow, they’re heading to bed now,” you announce with sarcastically no emotion.

He bursts out laughing, trying to keep quiet.

Such a dork.

[hauntedwitch04]

Baby making with Daddy

Steve Harrington x Reader

Words: about 1.0k words

Warnings: smut, sexy time in the bathroom, and baby fever of Steve Fucking Harrington

Author’s note: Hi loves! I finally managed to write some more after the crazy week I had. It's note my best work, but I hope you like it, your witch Becky

Requests are open I Ask

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Join the Taglist

If you like my works, consider to buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 3: Sex pollen

"Now be quiet baby, or everyone will hear you moaning for Daddy as he puts a baby in your lap. "

Whispers Steve, as he pulls down your panties, in the Hoppers' bathroom where you have been hiding.

You ended up in this situation because of your husband's baby fever, which now seems to have taken over his entire brain.

When you arrived at Jim and Joyce's house today, you knew right away that there was going to be a problem, because you saw that Jonathan and Nancy had brought with them, for the first time, the daughter who had been born to them a few months ago. Immediately you had gone to see the newcomer, and you couldn't help but immediately fall in love with those soft little cheeks of hers and her toothless smile, but you hadn't missed your husband's glances.

In part, you were shocked that it lasted so long, but then at some point in the afternoon, when everyone had decided to hang out in the garden for a while, he had said that he wasn't feeling too well, and he asked you to go with him, and right away you understood his intentions.

You were not even in time to close the bathroom door, that your hips were already pressed against the sink and his lips were already leaving a long streak of saliva that went from your right earlobe to the hollow of your breast.

"God, love seeing you with that little girl is driving me crazy. Seeing you with her in your arms, or playing with her, I can't help but think if she was ours. I swear you'll be pregnant by tonight, if it's the last thing I do." He whispers into your neck as he lifts the skirt of your dress and with expert fingers grazes your center, already in involuntary spasms of pleasure and wetness from his words and gestures.

"Feel how wet you are baby. Who made you so wet?" He asks rhetorically, as he massages one of your breasts from above your dress.

"You daddy, you did it." You gasp as you try not to lose your wits, though it may be too late now.

"That's right baby, and now Daddy is going to fuck you so hard that you even forget your own name, and then put a beautiful baby boy or girl inside you. Do you like that idea?" He asks as he unzips his pants, and slowly massages his member, to prepare himself.

"Yes Daddy, please make me a mommy and you a daddy, I can't wait to have a baby of our own." Moan as he spins you around and pulls down your panties, now rendered useless because of how wet they are.

"Now be quiet baby, or everyone will hear you moaning for Daddy as he puts a baby in your lap. " He says in a sensual voice as he bends you over the bathroom sink. You feel his cock graze your entrance, then enter hard.

Immediately, however, all I feel is pure pleasure, as from how aroused you are, his member has slipped inside you smoothly. Steve immediately begins to move at a brisk pace as he grabs your hair, previously left neatly gathered, in a rudimentary tail to pull you up next to him, causing me to arch my back. He, as I pull you closer, lowers himself, making sure to meet you halfway, to kiss you with all the passion he has.

His thrusts continue to be strong, and you struggle more and more to hold back your moans. You feel your orgasm coming faster and faster and more and more violently, and you can't help but tell your husband, who immediately chuckles with amusement.

"Cum baby, let go, don't worry." He says, speeding up his thrusts, knowing that her orgasm was also now in the home stretch. "But know that this is not over, when we get home, I will fuck you so hard that besides being pregnant, you will have left the mark of your body her our mattress." He continued.

His words are too much, and immediately you are hit by an endless wave of pleasure. You feel every nerve in your body relax under that rush, as your pussy clenches tightly around his cock, wanting to squeeze every single drop of semen inside him into you. Your orgasm affects his, causing him to release everything inside you. You feel him lean against your back, before leaving a kiss between your shoulder blades.

"What's the word?" He asks rhetorically as he gives one last thrust, matching his cock for the umpteenth time against your cervix, making you moan.

"Thank you, Daddy." You whisper, while your voice is still slurred with pleasure. He slides his cock out of you, then continues talking

"That's my baby girl, now put your panties back on and let's go outside, I wouldn't want them to start suspecting something." He tells you, as he closes his pants, and looks one last time at your pussy, where some of his seed is starting to drip out, to pick it up with a finger and put it back in.

"Like they didn't hear you." You comment looking for your panties, to find them thrown across the bathroom, trying not to be distracted by his gesture.

"Watch your mouth baby, because it's not a given that you cum tonight if you don't play nice with Daddy." He says, slapping you on the ass, after you just put on your underwear, before leaving the bathroom.

Eventually a few weeks later it turned out that Steve had kept his promise and actually succeeded that night, even though you believe it had been the time in the Hoppers' bathroom.

TAGLIST

@digitalhearts @samanddeansannoyingsis @minkiles @ash04w3 @123345566 @the-house-of-rose-and-ember @nightfiress @theyluvtrinity21 @supernatural-lvr @starsval

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favorite Woman

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: Street celebrates you, his girlfriend, daily. On Women's Day, however, he steps up to make you feel special and loved.

Warnings: fluff!! brief mention of domestic violence (20-David responds)

Word Count: 1.5k+ words

A/N: Happy Women's Day to all of you amazing women! Life wouldn't be the same without you.🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest

When you wake up on March 8, you don’t expect anything special. It’s just another day on the calendar, but when you’re dating Jim Street, you never truly know what will happen from day to day. After you rub your eyes and stretch, you reach for your phone. A message from Street pops up when you unlock it.

Happy Women’s Day to my favorite woman.

You smile as you type a quick reply before getting up and preparing for the day. The message was unexpected but a sweet surprise that put you in a great mood, and you hope it’s the beginning of a great day. Once you’re dressed and ready, you text Street another message, asking him to have a great day and let you know how he is when he gets a chance.

Opening your front door to leave, you nearly trip over a large bouquet of flowers. Your smile grows when you see Street’s name on the card. He pulled out all of the stops for Valentine’s Day, so you probably shouldn’t be surprised, but you’ve never had someone celebrate you for an entire day just because you’re a woman. Then again, you are Jim Street’s favorite woman.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What’s up with you, smiley?” Luca asks.

“Nothing,” Street answers. “Just excited for a good day.”

“Oh,” Hondo interject. “And why is it such a good day?”

“It’s Women’s Day,” Street replies.

“Ah, best day of the year for a playboy,” Luca teases. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Dinner reservations at a café on the beach.”

“Wait, you celebrate Women’s Day, like make a whole thing out of it?” Tan asks.

“Of course. I mean, I’m dating a woman, and she’s amazing, so I’m going to celebrate her every chance I get.”

“They grow up so fast,” Hondo jokes, shaking Street’s shoulder. “What else you got up your sleeve, Mr. Romantic?”

“Please don’t let that stick,” Street whispers. “I got her a couple presents, sent her a text this morning, just little things to show her I appreciate her.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is that?” you ask, staring at the gift bag with wide eyes.

“Delivery. It just got dropped off. Have a good one.”

“You too.”

Pulling the bag closer, you untie the intricate bow holding the handles together before removing a long jewelry box. The bracelet inside is small, minimalistic, but incredibly beautiful. The light pink color is nearly invisible, seeming to be a sparkling white diamond shade unless the light hits it right. At the clasp, a small charm with ‘JS’ engraved on it.

Despite knowing that he may not answer, you call Street. When he does answer, you don’t let your surprise distract you.

“Hey,” he greets happily, and you can picture the loving smile on his face.

“This is too much,” you say. “I can’t accept this.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want another color, or-“

“Jim,” you interrupt with a laugh. “It’s too expensive.”

“You make it sound like you’re not worth the money. You don’t really want to have this argument on today of all days, do you?”

“Look, I love you.”

“And I love you. I meant it, you are my favorite woman and I love you and want to celebrate you.”

“You do that every day.”

“Not like this.”

“Wait, what does that mean? Street, is there more stuff coming?”

“I’ve already said too much.”

“Well,” you begin, smiling as you lean back and think of the one thing you want but haven’t gotten today. “In that case, can I make a special request?”

“Sure.”

“I want a kiss, as soon as possible.”

“I can be there in five minutes.”

“Without leaving work,” you add. “LA needs you, too.”

“LA isn’t as pretty as you.”

“Street.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Street, seriously, listen to me very closely. I love you, and I know that you love me, you make me feel seen and heard and loved, and I appreciate you and all of the gifts more than you know.”

“I love you, too. Hey, we just got a call, but I’ll-“

“See you then,” you interrupt. “Be safe. I love you.”

The line beeps when he ends the call, and you smile, looking at his initials hanging from your wrist. Street is the best boyfriend in the world, and knowing he is willing to celebrate you just because of who you are makes you fall even deeper in love with him.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance,” Hondo alerts as the team climbs into Black Betty. “Neighbor said he could hear the husband yelling before things were thrown against the wall, but both neighbors are barricaded inside, refusing to talk to police.”

“Any idea if he’s armed?” Deacon asks.

“No registered weapons,” Hondo replies. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not.”

“How are we doing this?”

“I say we go in through the front door,” Street offers. “If he thinks cops are waiting out there, he’s not likely to expect it to get blown open.”

Hondo shrugs before nodding. “Stay liquid.”

Street reaches the door first, kicking it open once he feels Hondo’s hand on his shoulder.

“LAPD, step back!” he yells.

✯✯✯✯✯

It’s been about an hour since you talked to Street, and each moment that goes by without an update worries you. Playing with the bracelet and looking at your flowers helps, but you need confirmation he’s okay. Someone knocks on your door, drawing your attention away from the bracelet as you sign for another delivery.

The assortment of fruit and chocolate is so beautiful that you don’t want to eat it. When you see the card, you rush to open it and read it.

One more delivery, but enjoy this until then. Thank you for making life fun. I love you.

You wonder what more Street could have planned because your day is as close to perfect as you’ve ever experienced.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Well, if you’re done being a terrible human being, I’ve got a date with a beautiful woman,” Street grunts, pulling the handcuffed man to his feet.

“Hope yours listens better than mine,” the man replies.

“Tan, I need you to take him,” Street calls, passing him off before he can do something he’ll get in trouble for (not regret, just be punished for).

Street looks at his watch, and Hondo says, “Get out of here. But you may want to clean up before you pick up that beautiful woman.”

“Hey, are we ever gonna get to meet her?” Deacon asks, smiling as he removes his helmet. “Because I for one did not expect you of all people to settle down.”

“I’ve met her,” Luca brags.

“Yeah, yeah, roommate privileges,” Tan says as he returns. “But no one else wants to live with Street.”

“I’ll bring her to dinner or something soon,” Street promises. “Bye.”

“I’m sure there’s a joke about his mommy issues or something, but he’s so happy I can’t bring myself to make it,” Tan muses.

✯✯✯✯✯

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Street apologizes as he walks into your apartment, slipping his spare key into his suit pocket. “I- whoa.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling.

“You look amazing,” Street adds, kissing your cheek. “Perfect.” Another kiss. “Beautiful.” Another kiss.

“You have good taste.”

“In women or clothing?” he asks. “Because you're the one that wanted the outfit, so I’m going to go with good taste in you.”

“How did you stay single this long?”

“I looked, but there’s only one you.”

“You did way too much today, but I love you for it.”

“I didn’t do enough. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I don’t show you enough.”

“You do. Jim, you’re the best part of me, and every single thing you do and say shows me that you love me.”

“So, you don’t want to go to dinner?”

You smile, laying your arms over his shoulders. “I really want to go to dinner. You look amazing, and I feel amazing, and I love you so much that I’m not sure I can survive another moment without kissing you.”

“Oh, right, I’m sorry, I forgot about your special request.”

“Then do something about it,” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

Street smiles, pulling you against him as he kisses you. Being his favorite woman makes you feel whole, and you’re never as happy as when you’re in his arms.

“I would like to hear more about how I’m your favorite woman,” you say, pulling back. “Because you’ve worked with some incredibly strong women.”

“But there’s only one you.”

“And there’s only one you.”

Street kisses your temple, wrapping an arm around you as he leads you toward his car. You lean against him, enjoying his warmth and the joy and comfort he provides you.

“That’s probably a good thing,” he replies. “Because the one of me that there is loves you, even if he doesn’t tell you enough. Happy Women’s Day, to the most beautiful, loving, perfect woman in the world.”

“Will you still feel that way tomorrow?”

“I’ll feel this way until I can’t feel anything. You’re stuck with me.”

[sealofarchives]

Is it Too Late?

It was the monthly movie night as a break from the usual routine.

The softshell turtle would usually expect your arrival, looking over his shoulder, on whatever work in progress invention he was working on.

However, by the time you and the others were waiting for the pizza to arrive.

You didn't sit near him. Mostly across from him as you listened to one of his brothers. Talking about something that happened earlier in the day.

And most of the interactions you gave to him were just a smile. A different one he wasn't used to.

You might have been true to your word with giving him space.

Since he was surprised that you wanted to ask him out on a date last Saturday.

It might have been that same smile that appeared when he rejected your feelings.

.

..

...

Saying how you weren't his type but, still appreciated your company nonetheless.

It almost felt insulting that he got to eat his favorite pizza. While you try to eat a fresh slice despite your broken heart hiding those crushed feelings.

The Jupiter Jim movie playing in the background just felt like a white noise as you tried to seem interested in the movie. But after the first movie was done, Donnie overheard a conversation between you and Leo.

"Hey Leo, can you portal me home?"

"Something came up so I can't really stick around for the rest of the movie night."

"Sure but, kind of missing out on Donnie fanboying on the next movie because."

"We would have sneaked away to let you two lovebirds have that special moment."

"Those words from Mikey and Raph because you saw how they panicked. Trying not to spoil their plan out in the open."

Donnie felt horrible seeing you lightly tug the shoulder straps of your backpack, that was intended for the movie night sleepover.

You still kept up the facade as you politely smiled back at Leo. Slowly heading towards the light blue portal.

"You usually avoid these sort of plans. What changed your mind about it?"

Leo pretended to stretch his arms but, still grinned at you.

"With someone like Kendra being his type, its not gonna last long."

"You're the exact opposite and I mean that in a good way."

"You're like a personal cheerleader for him."

You were inches away from the portal. Stopping your steps close to tears in your eyes. But, held back trying not to crack under pressure.

"Guess I have to be careful with any of your matchmaking ideas."

After hearing you two go your separate ways for the night, Donnie's shell lightly hit the wall as he sat down. Horrified at the thought of his brothers eventually finding out that he broke your heart. Or attempting to rebuilt that friendship you had with him.

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Summary: Jim meets you in an ally to fuck you dumb.

warnings: voyeurisum, public sex, creampie, infidelity, age gap (unspecified), dumbification, dubcon, submissive!reader, anal fingering, p in v

“Yeah… yeah I’ll be home tomorrow. I have some ugh-“ Jim’s eyes wandered from his wife’s voice on the other end of the phone when you strudded by, looking back at him with playful, seductive eyes, wearing nothing but high cut shorts and a nearly see through tanktop and a light spring jacket. “Some extra work to do.” It should have been a crime the way your ass cheeks nearly bounced out of the fabric with each step. Ending the phone call abruptly he followed behind you, his eyes fixated on your rear end, the way your hips swayed with each confident step.

Checking his surroundings, he turned into the ally stunned by the sight of your bare chest, your nipples hardening from the breeze while your boobs sat quaintly on your chest, only partially visible from the streetlight. Taken aback by the sight he wasted no time. His hands cusped your cheeks, lips colliding with an immense urge to take every part of you possible. “What er yuh doing walking past me like that. Giving me that look.” Shoving your body against the brick wall, he hoisted you up, unfastening the denim shorts quickly, pushing your laced, soaked panties to the side.

“What can I say? A girl wants to have some fun, and you just look thrillingly attractive.” Tongue lapping over his lips, he unbuttoned his pants, spitting quickly into his hand, coating his cock with his saliva before shoving his long, hardened length in the tight, wetness of your dripping cunt, rendering you speechless. The size of his shaft felt overwhelmingly large, stretching your succulent, eager hole open beyond imagination.

A menacing laugh escaped from between his plush lips while his sapphire blue eyes were transfixed on you, taking immense interest in the way you immediately shut the fuck up once his cock was buried in you. “That all it take huh? Need my cock to behave don’t yuh? Such a fragile young thing. Look at you, my dumb little whore.” You whined, hands grasping desperately at his shoulders while his cock drilled in and out of you, your inner soaked walls clinging to his shaft, feeling an immense pleasure from the way he fucked you senseless. With each thrust, your ass cheeks bounced off the brick wall, tits barely being held in place in the frivolous tanktop.

“Pl-please. Feels so- so good.” The warmth of his hands beneath your ass cheeks sent shivers up your spine, the way he gripped onto the fatty skin so roughly. His body was pressed flushed against yours, giving you no room to breath with the brick wall behind you. Jim watched as you struggled to move, merely laughing at your poor attempt of grinding down on his cock. He buried his head into your neck, suffocating himself against your fragile, smoothe skin while his lips suctioned red marks into your ‘innocent skin.’ Your pussy throbbed at this point but he wasn’t done just yet. “I-I’m going to-“ He broke away, clasping your jaw with his hand, demanding your attention.

“You’ll cum when I say you can.” People began laughing in the distance, causing your cheeks to redden in embarrassment when they walked by but Jim didn’t care, still buried deep withing your ivory pussy.

“Don’t look at them, look at me.” In a dazed, fucked out state you did as he said. A sharp slap that could be heard from miles away hit your face, causing you to yelp from the pain and strength of his muscles. Your head rearing to the side, just missing the brick wall behind you.

“Get down on your knees.” He released his hand from your ass, dropping you down, knees hitting the puddled cement. The realization of just how big he was set in, your eyes going wide, glancing up at the older man with pleading, pitiful eyes of mercy but he showed no remorse, pulling you in forcefully against his leaking cock.

“What’s ta matter eh? Flaunting yourself, dressing like that, merely begging for my cock. Now you got it and you wanna act scared?” When his length pertruded upon your slippery slope, Jim rested his head back, the feeling of warmth, and your plush lips wrapped around his cock while tears formed at the brim of your weary eyes sending the man into overdrive seeing you so weak at the knees.

The slight breeze blew wild strands of your hair around you while spit was building up dripping down your cheek, the impactful blows making it hard to breathe. His cock pumping deeper and deeper down your throat with every volatile thrust. When he felt your teeth graze, he slapped your harshly again, watching the tears stream down your cheeks, and the bubbles forming in your spit as it leaked down your neck, whimpering around his hardened length.

He held you down, pushing you against his skin with no room to breath, watching your arms flail in a pathetic attempt to push him away. He smirked, watching you struggle, desperately needing more air, he wanted to see just how far he could push you.

“Relax. Breathe in and out, subtle your jaw. Acting like this is new to you.” Listening, batting your curled eyelashes, you relaxed your jaw, allowing his cock to sit in your throat, never breaking eye contact with the harsh, crystal blue eyes. When he felt your teeth again he forced your body up, walking you over to the dumpster. Bending you over, a stinging, volatile slap ricocheted off your sensitive, ass cheek, causing you to squeal out in pain. Spreading your cheeks, he found that tight, needing glory hole, imagining what it would feel like to be fully submerged in your ass but he wasn’t going to push you that far instead sliding two fingers in your ass, causing you to tense from pain and shock.

“Look at you, allowing me to use you like some whore on the street. You feel that?” His fingers worked at your ass like the speed of lightning, not giving the tight forbidden hole a chance to adjust, while his cock pounded into you relentlessly, making you able to feel your boobs bounce against the metal container.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, Jim please I- oh!” He added another finger, working your asshole open to the point of no return. He held you down with his hand at the gape of your neck, feeling the goosebumps and sweat building on your skin.

Your pussy tightened around his length, desperately needing a release. “Give it to her harder man!” A passerby yelled in the distance, turning your cheeks a rosy shade of amber, painted with fluttering embarrassment but deep down you like it. In a sick twisted way you liked people seeing you be completely at Jim’s mercy, taking his cock so well, being completely and utterly at his disposal as if you were his slave and he owned you.

His hand came up to firmly grasp your boob, twisting your nipple with immense strength, still relentlessly pounding deep into your overworked core. Your thighs began to shake from the sudden rush of pleasure, your back arching, still trying to contain yourself from cumming right then and there on his cock.

“Whaddaya say princess? Hm?” He pulled your head back by your hair, causing you to moan and crumble against him.

“Gonna cum on my cock for other people to see? Show them you got what you wanted? That I broke you? Come on now, show me just how much that little over used pussy can do.” His words sounded like music to yours, not needing to be pressed any further. Your moans filled the street, hands grasping at the back of his sweating neck while your sweet, delectable nectar pooled out onto his dick, flooding out of you like a river. Your hole body shaking, toes curling, euphoric waves of pleasure rushing through your veins like a drug.

“Want me to fill you up sweetheart?”

“Mm-mhm, pl-please!” In that second his cock pulsated within your sherbet walls, filling you up profoundly to the brim with his seed, painting your insides white like a mosaic portrait, desperate moans fulfilling your eardrums.

Falling back against his chest still trying to catch a breath, people began to scatter off from the scene as if nothing happened. “I wasn’t too hard on you was I?” His tone of voice changed, now caring and endearing. Turning you, he brushed the hair out of your face, wiping away the scattered mascara and tears. He could tell in your eyes that’s what you needed, to be controlled and cared for.

Shaking your head, still coming down from your high, you rested your head on his shoulder in a tired state. Eventually taking him up on an offer to stay at his hotel room tonight.

[spooky-holtz]

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff (possibly alludes to smut at one point? If you squint?)

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I know Christmas was almost two weeks ago but this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. So enjoy, even if my timing is a little off :)

--------------------

December. Quite easily the best and worst month of the school year. As another calendar year winds down, so do rigorous lesson plans, with most teachers at Abbott choosing to give in to the growing excitement among the students as the holidays draw nearer. 

Less time is spent actually teaching and a lot of allocated lesson time is spent watching movies on huge, outdated TV screens, students gathered around the devices on Eagles rugs that were so generously ‘donated’ by Melissa earlier that year.  

As the month goes on you find yourself spending more time inside your classroom, herding the group of preteens that make up the school choir as successfully as you would herd cats. Needless to say, it’s been a stressful few weeks of carol singing and rehearsals, trying to convince a group of kids that it’s not ‘lame’ or ‘cringe’ to appreciate music the way you do.  

As the resident music teacher at Abbott Elementary, you find it incredibly difficult to get young people inspired in the way you so desperately want them to be, often having to let go of the talent you see among some aspiring young musicians for reasons outside of your control. Though the budget doesn’t stretch to allow much in the way of extracurricular activities, choir practice is the one activity where you have your greatest tool already at your disposal; your voice.  

As much as you adore these kids, getting them to concentrate after a full day of learning is no easy feat, with them often choosing to sit around in groups gossiping or scrolling on Tik Tok rather than join you around the old piano that stands in place of a desk in your classroom, where you sit on your creaky stool, waiting for them to join in with you.  

After a particularly difficult lunchtime choir practice in the middle of December, you find your feet carrying you to the sanctuary you often retreat to during your breaks: the teachers’ lounge. You trudge along the hallway, the heels of your sneakers squeaking slightly against the polished concrete floor as you struggle to find the motivation to get you there, dragging your feet along the floor.  

As your hand wraps around the handle and you pull the door toward you, you’re instantly engulfed with the scent of burnt coffee and the sound of chatter as the little groups that sit around the room carry on their conversations, entirely too distracted to notice the door opening.  

Jim Gardner addresses the room from the small TV that sits on the opposite end, his newscast largely going unnoticed by the audience as they munch on leftovers or pore over today's newspaper. Much like Jim, your entry into the room goes unnoticed save for a pair of emerald eyes that you can’t help but glance toward.  

Melissa is already looking back at you over the rim of her glasses, phone in hand, the slight frown on her features already telling you that she’s noticed the lack of energy you carry. You can’t help but be drawn toward her, almost as if being pulled in by an imaginary force. She’s already pulled the empty chair by her side out by the time you reach her, and you collapse down on to it, sighing heavily, leaning your elbows forward onto the cold surface of the table in front of you for support.  

“Choir practice really that bad today, huh?” she asks, sympathy laced across her face.  

“I swear, these kids are turning me grey even faster,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cradle your forehead, “I mean, seriously, how hard is it to get through ‘Silent Night’ without laughing at the word ‘virgin’?” 

The silence that comes from the redhead is deafening as you turn your head slightly in your hands to catch a glimpse of her expression. Her lips are pursed slightly, and her eyes are a little too focused on your hair, doing everything she can to avoid eye contact; a telltale sign that she’s fighting back a laugh. When she finally reaches enough composure to meet your eye line, she can’t help but snicker.  

The sound makes you take your head out of your hands and throw her the most unimpressed look you can muster, though it’s a halfhearted glare.  

“I’m sorry,” she begins to apologize, “but that word was probably the funniest thing ever when I was that age too. Cut them a little bit of slack.”  

Great, so not only do your students think you’re a ‘nerd’ for making them sing carols but Melissa does too. Because having the woman you have an enormous crush on think that is exactly what you needed to round out your year.  Almost as if she can sense your descent into overthinking, Melissa breaks the silence.  

“Hey, I’m just messing with ya,” she says. She reaches forward, pulling you out of your spiral, and rests her hand on the thigh that sits closest to you, patting gently. “Besides, you’re cute when you’re grumpy.”  

Your eyes dart to hers at the comment and you’re met with a wink. The simple move turns you into putty, melting you to bend to her will. Her hand burns through the material of your slacks where it still lays against your thigh, her thumb rubbing gentle circles in an effort to soothe you. You’re sure your face is matching that same level of heat that radiates from it.  

She smiles back softly before turning back to her phone, leaving her hand resting against the patterned material you wear. The contact grounds you and helps you to think a little more rationally. While she’s distracted on her phone, you reach forward onto the table to grab Melissa’s worn Stanley Tucci mug and steal a swig of the steaming black coffee that sits within. The harsh flavor makes you wince, with you preferring your coffee with milk and an obscene amount of sugar to make it even barely drinkable. The expression you wear causes Melissa to giggle, the redhead having looked up almost knowing that your face would be a picture of extreme disgust.  

As she laughs the hand on your thigh squeezes and she leans into you, the lines around her eyes accentuated by the deep laugh that’s taken over her being. You decide that this is the most beautiful version of Melissa you’ve ever seen. Carefree, happy, and relaxed.  

The moment comes to an abrupt end as Barbara enters the room, both you and Melissa turning to the creaking door as it opens. Her eyes naturally fall to your table, much as your own do when you enter the teachers’ lounge, and her gaze lingers on you before she speaks up, barely giving herself a chance to sit down.  

“Oh sweetheart, you look terrible,” she says, concern laced across her features. She’s not wrong. You know the bags under your eyes are worse than ever, having forgone sleep to choose which Christmas carols are least likely to make a room full of elementary schoolers insult you. You wish you had just chosen to sleep instead because every option you threw at your group of angels ended with nicknames being thrown right back at you.  

“See, I told you that you looked bad,” Melissa says, the playful glint in her eye accompanied with the squeeze of your thigh letting you know she’s kidding.  

“You look like you need this Christmas break,” Barbara adds, “Actually, why don’t you come to the little shindig Melissa and I have here on the last day? Get that break started early for you.”  

It’s worrying how quickly you accept the invitation but Melissa’s hand on your thigh paired with the musky smell of her perfume makes it impossible to decline.  

“Of course, I’ll come! Do I need to bring anything?” You ask.  

“Nothing at all, we’ve got it all covered,” the older teacher replies. “Just bring your dancing shoes.” 

You’ve visibly relaxed at the prospect, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your company. While you’re distracted taking another, albeit smug, sip of Melissa’s coffee, Barbara shoots the redhead a knowing look, quirking her eyebrow as she does so. For a split second, Melissa turns the same shade of red as her hair, caught out by Barb and the confession of a pretty obvious crush she gave a few weeks ago. She quickly manages to regain her composure, hand still resting on your thigh and phone still in hand.  

You would think that a full week later, after hours of Christmas songs later, that you would be sick of carols. But you still find yourself sitting in the teachers’ lounge long after the rest of the faculty has left the building on the final day of school before winter break, with your usual duo and the addition of Mr Johnson. The room is filled with a warmth that doesn’t just come from the school’s subpar heating system, but instead from the situation you find yourself in.  

You feel a slight buzz from the copious amounts of wine you’ve consumed since the end of the school day, your stomach lined with Melissa’s incredible cooking and sweet treats brought in by Barbara. You feel that Mr Johnson is in the same boat as you as he mills around the room, plastic cup filled with what you can only assume is even more wine, swaying by himself to the record that plays from the relic of a radio that sits on one of the many cabinets in the room.  

Your attention is immediately drawn elsewhere when Melissa’s cackle fills the room, her and Barb sharing stories that they’ve no doubt already told each other a few dozen times over the years. You completely miss the anecdote, but you still can’t help a smile from breaking out on your face at the sound of laughter, the noise acting like music to your ears – it’s far better than anything that could possibly be played on that radio right now.  

Almost as if by cue, the pair finish their story and the older of the two decides to rise from her chair, beckoning to you as she does so.  

“Come on, I wanna start to shake my groove thing,” says Barbara, already swaying slightly from the few glasses of wine she’s consumed herself. You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, matching her action and standing from your chair yourself, moving further from the security of the table as a swing version of “Jingle Bell Rock” continues playing. “I need a dance partner and you’re the perfect height so get yourself over here.” 

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond before her hands quickly mold you into shape, moving one of your own to her hip whilst the other grips your open palm.  

“Wow Barb, at least buy a girl a drink first,” you grin as she swats at your shoulder, giggling along herself. The bells on the front of her extremely festive bright red sweater jingle as she does so. The swaying of your ‘dance’ lasts for a mere few seconds before Barbara interrupts it herself.  

“Melissa, I think we may need to swap places,” she says as she glances at where Mr Johnson stands, eyes still closed and nursing his plastic cup of wine. “I have a feeling Mr Johnson may need some assistance.”  

Melissa mumbles her response as she comes nearer to you, seamlessly swapping places with the elder woman. You completely miss the wink that is thrown her way from Barb, eyes still focused on Mr Johnson’s one-man party.  

When you turn your head back to face in front of you, you’re naturally drawn to the bright green eyes that sit slightly below your eyeline. You feel your heart stutter in your chest at the sight, rarely getting to see them this close. It always baffles you how many shades of green, blue and brown come together to create a colour that can only be described as ‘Melissa’. You realize you’ve been staring a little too long when a change of song and her words break you from your thoughts.  

“Come a little closer, you can’t dance properly if you leave enough room for Jesus and the 12 disciples,” she says, her tone playful and smile wide. You can’t help but throw your head back in laughter as her hand snakes from your hip to the small of your back to bring you in closer. There's no mistaking who is leading who.  

When you bring your head back Melissa is considerably closer than before. She’s so close that you can see each individual eyelash under her thick layer of mascara and eyeliner, along with the slightly smudged edge of her lipstick, the deep red of the wine making the colour even richer. The smell of her musky yet floral perfume invades your senses as she looks up toward you. You move your hands from her shoulders to link together behind her neck, her red curls tickling your wrists.  

You can feel every slight movement she makes as Frank Sinatra croons at you both as you sway slightly in place, too scared to move too quickly in case you scare each other. Her thighs almost touch yours and your chests are almost entirely pressed together. You hope she can’t feel your heartbeat; the speed and intensity of it would almost instantly give away your feelings toward her. Her body this close to yours makes your head spin, your mind racing with possibilities of other situations you may find yourself this close to her in.  

You can feel every breath she lets out against your lips, making you aware of how little it would take to connect them with her own. You’re pretty sure she’s noticed too because of the way her eyes keep flicking down to look at them every few seconds. You can feel her hands burning a hole through the material of the shirt against your back. As if she can hear your thoughts, she moves them slightly lower, coming to rest against the waistband of your trousers and dangerously close to your backside. What you wouldn’t give for her to just bite the bullet and slide them into your back pockets to pull you impossibly closer to her.  

“You know, I, uh, never wished you a happy Christmas,” she breaks the tense silence, almost whispering as if anything too loud might startle you. “So Happy Christmas, Hun.”  

She wears a slight smile on her lips, suddenly dropping the hard exterior she always carries to become the softer, more vulnerable version of herself you’ve come to fall madly in love with.  

You can’t help but melt at the sight, your head dropping forward to lean your forehead against hers. She welcomes the move with ease, closing her eyes as you both sway slightly to the music, never moving from your position.  

“Happy Christmas, Mel.” 

[shroomaz]

"No One Else but You..." (Part 1)

RISE! FUTURE DONNIE x GN! Reader Series

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Hope everyone has a lovely morning/night to start the new year off. And speaking of starting off- here is the first chapter of "No One Else but You..." ENJOYYY!!!

If you haven't read the introduction- that's fine! But if you do want to here you are:

You gasp for air as you wake from your slumber.

You had a nightmare...but can't recall what it was about. Ah, the typical "I had a nightmare- but immediately forgot what it was about." A classic...

Stretching your arms, cracking your back, climbing out of bed, and putting on some slippers. Yawning in the process, you pick up your phone, looking at the time.

9:30

....CRAP!

"I'M LATE- !" you started rushing around the room gathering something "professional" to wear and tossing your once comfortably warm pjs across the room.

It was hard enough that you left home for college to continue your "most precious" dream career... if only it was so easy. Once you got to California- it was like putting a goldfish into a pool of hungry piranhas. You had no idea where to go, no idea what to do, and most importantly no one to comfort you whilst you were gone.

You left New York to California hoping for something greener on the other side. Hoping to be able to see more things and get more experiences, but of course, life had another plan to drop the ball on you.

Ah, the feeling...the feeling of the young naive you wandering around town with hopeful sparkles in your eyes...those sparkles had dimmed a long time ago since then.

This was your final chance to get something done right. This job interview would be the pin in what you always wanted. That is-- if the traffic would hurry up.

Once you've arrived; you rush up the office stairs, holding your files and resumes in hand, some papers trying to fly away and you tripping on your feet.

People giving you looks as you kept running into them, with your apologies following after.

FINALLY! You made it to the front desk.

"Um...hello there," you said to the desk lady typing on her computer before looking at you with her glasses sliding to her nose and with a... not-so-welcoming look in her eyes.

"Yes...? What is your business for today?" She replied to your question, almost bitterly.

"I'm sorry for coming in so late- but I'm here for the 9 o'clock interview. For the opening position?" You were nearly about to ramble to the lady before she cut you off coldly.

"That position has already been filled." She continued to look back at her computer, typing and TRYING to ignore you...but you couldn't take that. Nope. Not today.

You place your papers on the desk, leaning in and holding your hand to her in confusion. "What do you mean it's been filled? I was told that there was no one applying for the role and that I would be qualified if I showed all my papers!" 

The lady looked up at you and slowly moved your hand down before leaning in. "You were too late then..." she leaned back before sighing; "Someone else came in before you...you win some you lose some sweetie. The time you moved on..." She went back to typing.

...

You didn't know what to do...everything had gone down the drain. Whoever told you that being a regular citizen would be this hard...? No one that's for sure...

When these times were tough you remembered home...

"HOME"

You want to remember that feeling; coming home from school and walking with April to the sewers to greet your green friends...

Mikey, Raph, Leo...Donnie. All the chaos that would run rampant around the lair, the Jupiter Jim marathons, and most importantly- the weekly sleepovers that you would have with them.

They were the closest thing to family that you had! And with Donnie...you were close.

After all, he was the first one you met, the first REAL person to come into your life...it all began that day at the rooftop where he "rescued" you from the purple dragons back in high school...it was funny when you look back at it and how he TRIED to convince you that he was not a talking turtle and some guy in cosplay...but you knew better. What human calls other people 'fellow human' and says they do 'regular human activities'?

However, he slightly eased up when you didn't fall for it...and you kind of relieved him and freaked him out when you weren't phased by it-

It was a hassle sometimes...with his teasing and sarcasm that would erupt from him. Those precisely drawn eyebrow raises he would give you when you were just a little slow to catch onto something...but you knew at the end of the day, he was always there for you when you called or texted.

The weekly sleepovers with the guys soon just became you and Donnie making a fort for you to sleep in his room. Or rather- you falling asleep in his lab whilst he worked on something. 

Better yet! You would wake up in his bed and he would sleep in his work chair in his lab...

It was sad to see that fade away like a distant memory...and that you had broken apart since then...

Ever since that fight that you had with him on the phone, you both couldn't talk to each other again. It was too painful to look back and remember the words that you both said to each other that night.

The falling of friends happens sometimes...but losing someone closer is another.

Scrolling through your old photos; you couldn't help but feel the slight grief when scrolling and still seeing the pictures of you and Donnie. It was so very few when you caught him with a smile... it was usually a scowl or straight face...but then you stopped on an old photo that Donnie had taken himself on your phone.

The night where you had fallen asleep on him, trying to survive to midnight on New Years, his hand on your head and there he was...with a slight smile on his face.

He had explained to you that morning that it was a "New Year's Gift" and you teased him for it...which he then "threatened" to delete if you were to abuse your power against him.

With Donnie...you never knew what you were going to get...but you knew that he was there. And that's what mattered...and in his way; he cared.

Tears slowly started to fill the corners of your eyes, looking at his for a moment that felt like forever...it was a brief moment considering you were in public on a sidewalk bench-

You missed him...and you wondered if he missed you.

*ding-ding* - your phone had a random number notification. Assuming it was junk mail- you went to delete it.

Until you read the message.

"Y/N"

"Come back."

"We miss you..."

(END)

[michaelscottsbreakroom]

Big Nerd – Jim Halpert

Second one today. Yup. I love writing and Jim Halpert, plus this is really cute and just straight up fluffy. I’ve never been more proud of myself.

It’s been about two months of Jim Halpert finally dating you. It was all rather cute but awkward when you went up on your tip-toes in the rain and pecked his cheek, scurrying off to your car, holding your high heels in one hand after a small work party a few weeks before you two started dating

Now, you were both together, and it was Jim’s first time at your little apartment. It was cute and rather relaxing. You had a nice leather couch with mustard-yellow throw pillows and an off-white and burnt orange blanket draped over the top.

An older looking orange tabby laid on the couch, completely unbothered. Jim grinned.

“Is that Fluffy?” He asked you. You grinned and giggled. You hadn’t stopped laughing and giggling today from your excitement.

“Yes! He’s so cute right?” You beamed. Jim smiled back at you, feeling his cheeks flush in a childish manner. Although he was more of a dog person, it was sweet to see you get so proud and happy of your little old lady.

“How about I give you a little tour? Maybe just to get you used to the whole apartment for now,” you suggested. Jim hummed, sliding off his shoes and stepping onto the clean wooden flooring.

Walking down the hallway, you opened doors and pointed to little trinkets you owned like a cheerio-shaped vase you had on the dining room table, little blue-and-purple flowers sticking out from it.

There was one room you completely passed, not even glancing at it. Instead, you showed him to your bedroom, which was cute and very like you.

“Here’s the bedroom!” you said, showing him the room with a queen-sized bed with a large fluffy carpet. Jim smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“That’s cool,” he said with a grin, looking down at you. Giggling once again, you walked to the living room.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked, smiling. Jim nodded.

“Yeah, how about you choose the movie, okay?” he said, “do you know where the bathroom is?” he asked.

You hummed, turning on the TV. “It’s just down the hallway, to your left,” you directed. Jim thanked her and left.

As he got close to the bathroom, he saw the room you didn’t show him. Jim walked towards it and poked his head through the door, his jaw dropping to the ground.

A small room with a large beanbag and small television was in this room, bookshelves filled with action figures and games stacked neatly everywhere, as well as piles of opened books and posters hanging from the barely visible free walls. Jim wanted to laugh.

He called for you, walking into the living room with a stupidest grin on his face. “Are you a geek?” he asked.

You gave him a bewildered look before her face changed into realization. Heat exploded on her face, which was quite noticeable, making Jim burst out into laughter.

“JIM!” You yelled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. He caught it and laughed, covering his face as you launched another one at him. “Why were you snooping!?”

He continued chuckling walking to the couch and flopping down, making Fluffy jump and scurry off. Jim flopped onto your lap, stretching out with a groan and a cheeky smile.

“You’re such a nerd,”

“Shut up, Jim,”

[darthannie]

day twenty-four: age difference with jim

pairing: Jim x f!reader word count: 1,500 warnings: age gap relationship, almost sugar daddy! Jim (will have to look into that, it’s making me think things), fingering, unprotected p in v a/n: This one took longer and work stopped me from writting but HERE WE ARE. I need him so terribly it's not fair. kinktober masterlist

Dating apps were tricky. Your friend convinced you to up the age settings in the multiple apps that you used. She really didn’t have to say much. She simply showed you all the men that showed up on her app and you knew you had to follow suit. They weren’t all winners, but some of them stood out. Day in and day out you received multiple matches. One in particular seemed to be going somewhere. You matched with a man named Jim. He was about nineteen years older than you and he was gorgeous. You didn’t understand how a man like that could be single, but you guessed you’d find out soon enough.

You had always thought about being with an older man but didn’t think you’d go through with it. The hushed conversations at three in the morning proved that you were more than willing to follow through. You were opening up to each other even before your first meeting. You found out he was recently divorced. He confessed that he cheated on her, which took you aback. But, that answered your question. That’s why he was single. But, you grew to understand. It wasn’t like you didn’t have your skeletons.

You both were in the same boat though. You were not looking for anything serious and you both needed something new. You were becoming his something new. It took a couple of weeks before the conversation turned sexual. His messages made you blush and yearn for him. Sexting was not something you’d done much in the past. But, for Jim, you sent anything he asked for. It was thrilling to have an attractive older man lust for you. He sent you money to buy lingerie in his favorite color. You smiled as you remembered the soft purple fabric you hid away for a special occasion.

He invited you out to dinner, wanting to take you out first before going further. You were surprised this was his version of “nothing serious”. The restaurant was upscale and the menu prices reflected that. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you saw how much a pasta dish cost. He chuckled, “Don’t worry about the cost. I’m taking care of the bill. Get whatever you think looks good, love.”

One thing you weren’t expecting was getting weird looks from some of the wait staff. You were insecure about it, but whenever you looked back at Jim you felt just fine. Things felt easy with him. In such a short time, you were already attached to him. You knew catching feelings for a man much older than you would bring forth questions from friends and family, especially if you ended up together. For now, he was your best kept secret.

Dinner went by too quickly. You both didn’t want the night to end, so you ended up at his apartment. It was nice. Modern. Better than what you had going on at your apartment. You tossed your purse on the couch and sat next to it. Your dress rode up, exposing more of your thighs. He took notice as he sat down next to you. You stretched as he got comfortable. He was watching your every move. You made eye contact for a few moments and sat in an awkward silence.

“What?”, you chuckled.

“Nothing,” he smiled, “you’re just so beautiful. I can’t help but stare.”

Your heart swelled in your chest and you kissed him before your brain could tell you not to. He was ready for it, kissing you back feverishly, placing his hand on the side of your face to pull you even closer. You straddled him on the couch and put your hands on his chest, kissing down to his neck. His hands rested on your waist, gripping your hips and pulling you down. You bucked your hips, seeking any bit of friction you could. His head leaned back as he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of your lips on his neck. When he opened his eyes, you were looking back at him.

“I need you, Jim. Really bad.” Your voice was desperate.

“A young woman like you being with an old man like me. Are you sure?”, he asked.

You laughed, “More than sure. Plus, you’re not that old.” Now it was his turn to laugh. He was painfully aware of how this looked, but he didn’t care. He was in awe of you. He felt lucky that you were even in his home, let alone on his lap asking him to fuck you.

“Come,” he said. He led you to his bedroom and you threw yourself on his bed, rolling over to lay on your back and nuzzling the pillows. He stood over the bed, smiling down at you. You made a “come here” motion with your pointer finger and he rolled his eyes before crawling over you. He planted kisses all over you, starting with your face and moving to your neck and shoulders. You scrunched up your dress and he followed your lead, pulling it over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. He took off his shirt and undid his pants, pulling them down. He admired your figure underneath him, wearing his favorite color.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. The feeling of his body against yours, his hands working on your bra, and finally his hand cupping you over your panties was overwhelming. “Is this for me?”, he said patting over the fabric. A giggle escaped your lips, “Yes, all yours.” He grinned and used his fingers to pull them aside. His fingers slipped right inside you, earning him a whimper. All it took was that one sound to make him addicted to you. His goal for the foreseeable future was to have you make those sounds as much as possible. He watched you as you looked down, jaw dropped at the feeling of his fingers working inside you. You wanted to skip all the formalities. No more foreplay. You just needed him inside of you. The sight of him, almost naked, turned you on even more.

You ran your fingers through his greying hair. He looked very good for his age. Images of the two of you together swirled around your brain. Going on long walks, going out to dinner, moving in together. Maybe this was just a one-time thing, but you’d be damned if it was. His weight shifted on the bed, pulling you out of your daydream. He pulled down his underwear and you got a good look at him. Your mouth watered. He stroked himself a couple of times before reaching over to grab a condom.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t wait any longer.” He sounded needy.

You put out your hand as he reached for the bedside table. “Do we have to use one?”

He raised an eyebrow as he spoke, “Do you not want to use one?”

“I don’t. I want to feel you. All of you.” He moved his hand away from the nightstand and cupped your cheek, ardently kissing your lips. He used his other hand to line himself up at your entrance, teasing you with the tip. Grunts and moans filled the room when he finally sank into you. You grabbed his head and pulled him into a sloppy kiss as he started moving in and out of you. His pace was moderate; it was clear he was trying to savor the moment. It wasn’t every day he was able to be with someone half his age, but he desperately wanted this to be an everyday affair. He stared into your eyes and his mouth fell open as he moaned. He leaned down and kissed your neck as he said your name before you moaned his.

He pulled back and his pace quickened. The eye contact was making you weak. You thought about asking him to finish inside you and he thought the same, but that was off the table. You both knew better than to risk anything. Your orgasm hit you first and his followed soon after. He pulled out and came on your stomach. You watched as he made a mess of you. When you both caught your breath he quickly slipped out of the room saying, “Wait right there.” You exhaled with a smile, wondering where else you’d be going at that moment.

He returned with a warm cloth and cleaned you off. He got back in bed and gestured for you to cuddle up against him. You looked up at him, admiring the faint lines on his face. He took your hand and placed his palm against yours. He looked down at you as he interlaced his fingers with yours. He kissed the top of your hand.

He was hopeful when he asked “Would you like to stay the night? I wouldn’t mind the company.”

You hid your excited smile and collected yourself before looking back at him. “I’d love to.”

Taglist:

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