#This was originally going to have a short blurb about how they have been trying for a child for a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetiepoison · 7 months ago

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Famous Baby blurb

(The Leafs Game)

A/n: I’m actually really struggling writing the next part so a throwback! Italics indicate a flashback

“Try going up one note” You suggest standing across from Justin at the piano.

Your friend asked you to come over to help out with some new music he was working on. You also were trying to write an album of your own and figured the afternoon spent working would help you as well. Justin sang the previous verse over again but higher like you suggested.

“Yeah I like that.” He commented going straight into the next verse. You hummed along joining in on certain verses creating a harmony.

“How would you feel about this song being the first I release off the new album?” Your jaw dropped at Justin’s question.

“For real?” You gasped. Justin’s return to music had been long anticipated by both fans and the media alike. And for him to want the song you collaborated on to be his intro back into the music industry was appreciated.

“Of course!” Justin exclaimed scooting back from the piano. “(y/n), you are one of the biggest names in the industry right now if not the biggest” he said putting an emphasis on the word the.

You were like a little sister to Justin, originally signing onto the same label when you were 16 and starting your career. Justin knew what it was like to be so young and in the spotlight so he looked out for you. Despite you switching labels and Justin taking a step back from music, you remained close. There was no one else he trusted more to debut his new album with.

“You’re still Justin Bieber.” You reminded him. “You don’t need my name attached for this to be successful.”

You continued practicing until the afternoon slowly turned into the evening and Hailey came downstairs with a leafs jersey on and an extra in her hands.

“Cult meeting tonight?” You asked as she handed the jersey to Justin.

“Yeah, do you want to come?” She offered.

You laughed at the thought, “Hell no.”

“C’mon, (y/n) please.”

“Come support our friend with us.” They both wore the same pouty expression.

“Auston is not my friend.”

“But we are,” Justin cut in before you could go on a rant. “And would you rather hang out with your friends or stay in by yourself tonight?”

“I’m fine with staying in.”

“C’mon everyone’s going, and it’ll be a fun night and we can go out after-“

“Fine.” You give in. “But I’m not wearing a jersey.”

—

It wasn’t enough for you to just not wear a maple leafs jersey. You knew one thing would piss off Auston even more. So once you all settled into your seats you grabbed your best friends hand and dragged her down to the gift shop.

“You don’t even like hockey.” She reminded you as you searched through the jerseys. “Why waste money on something you’re never gonna wear again?”

“Because, Auston will hate it.”

“And why do you care what he thinks?”

“I don’t.” You immediately snapped. “But I definitely don’t want him to think I came willingly. Plus we’re from here so why not support the hometown team.” You shrugged continuing your search.

Once you finally settled on a jersey you liked you didn’t wait for a bag and instead immediately pulled it on over your shirt. The jersey may have been petty, but you knew it would get the job done and that’s what mattered.

Justin groaned and rolled his eyes once he saw you return to your seat, “I’m not even gonna say anything.”

“Good choice.” You said sitting down next to Shawn with a satisfied smirk, actually looking forward to the start of the game.

“The arena is packed tonight. And we are not short of celebrity guests. Up in the stands we have Justin and Hailey Bieber, Shawn Mendes, and (y/f/n) (y/l/n)” The crowd cheered loudly following the announcement and the excitement only grew as your section was featured on the Jumbotron. You waved and smiled for the camera.

“It looks like there’s a rivalry going on up there.” The other announcer commented on the oppsoing jerseys you were wearing. You adjusted in your seat making it very known that you had a Kings jersey on.

“I would love to hear the trash talking that’s going on up there between Justin and (y/n)”

—

Once again the crowd went wild as Auston scored a goal. The group around you excitedly jumped up cheering along with others. You remained stoic looking down at your phone to check the time.

“At least pretend to be happy.” Justin leaned down to whisper his back facing the ice. “The cameras are on us.”

“Excitement for Auston is just something I can’t fake.” You finalized with a shrug of your shoulders, but the pleading look on Justin’s face was too hard to ignore. So you forced a smile throwing in a few claps.

“I’ll take it.” Justin said satisfied.

Once everyone calmed down you went back to your phone showing Shawn pictures from the vacation your family took recently. You were so absorbed in telling various stories from the trip you didn’t notice the time out that was called.

Shawn’s song, Fallin’ All in You began playing. You absentmindedly hummed along and looked up to see the Jumbotron started back up and this time with the kiss cam.

The camera suddenly panned on your section and was featuring Justin and Hailey. All of your friends instantly began cheering the couple on. And when they gave in and the crowd erupted.

Your excitement was fleeting though as the camera moved off of them and onto you and Shawn.

“Oh God.” You mumbled with a smile on your face trying to cover up any discomfort you were feeling.

You thought your immediate hesitation would be enough of an indication that you didn’t want to kiss your ex, but they persisted refusing to move the camera.

“They aren’t going to move on till we kiss.” Shawn whispered.

“Fine.” You conceded leaning back and looking over at him. “You make the first move.”

“Like our first kiss all over again.” He laughed before leaning over and kissing you. It was gentle and sweet, but had the whole arena booming with excitement.

You immediately covered your face laughing along with him as the camera stayed on you two to get the aftermath. Shawn kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders and kissed the side of your head. “Give it a second they’ll move on…And we’re good.”

You were relieved when you looked up and it wasn’t your face you were seeing on the screen. The breakup took place seven years ago and you stayed true to your word remaining friends after the split.

While there were no longer romantic feelings, Shawn was a comforting piece of your foundation. He not only maintained a good relationship with you, but your family as well. You knew he would be a part of your life for the rest of your life.

“Good job guys, no matter what happens with this game, that’s all anyone’s going to be talking about.” Justin reached over to fist bump Shawn.

“So we need to know are you guys back together.” Your best friend held out her water bottle as a fake microphone to you.

“Yeah, that kiss seemed pretty intimate.” Your other friend, Mason joined in also holding out a water bottle.

“Shut up.” You giggled pushing the water bottle away. “If any of you say we’re together I will end you.”

“Not the threats.” Mason joked, “I’m for sure telling TMZ that when they call me.”

Following the kiss cam the intensity seemed to go up for both teams, especially for one player in particular.

Auston wasn’t sure why seeing you on the kiss cam annoyed him so much, but it did. Everyone was supposed to be here to watch a hockey game and you turned it into a joke.

“Fuck.” He angrily slammed his stick against the boards breaking it before taking a seat on the bench.

“Dude, take a breather.” Mitch encouraged sitting down next to him.

“I’m fine.” Auston insisted taking a long swig from his water bottle.

“You sure because you’ve seemed tense?”

“Yeah I just want to win.” Mitch knew that wasn’t the reason, but he also knew not to push so he let it go.

Following your kiss he began playing harder. His hits were more forceful, his trash talking more heated, and his need to score at an all time. The intensity in the arena extended beyond the ice. As the game drew closer to ending fans of both teams started getting more aggressive.

“Matthews sucks. Anytime anyone gets near him he’s crying and acting like a little bitch.” A man sitting in front of you screamed at the glass. You had watched him down four beers already and become progressively drunk as the game went on.

“He’s talented, but selfish with the puck and a show off. The talent won’t last forever.” His friend next to him chimed in. They were both wearing Kings jerseys similar to the one you had on.

The way they were talking about Auston didn’t sit right with you. Any other day you would agree and probably even say those things yourself, but today was not that day.

You may have not known much about hockey, but you knew Auston was good (you would never admit that to him). And two middle aged men saying otherwise annoyed you.

“(Y/n), don’t.” Your best friend wrapped her hand around your wrist. You looked down now noticing that your hands were clenched and tapping against your leg.

“I’m not going to do anything.” You reassured her, trying to take deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“Are you sure? Because you have this crazy look in your eye and your extremely stiff right now.”

“I’m fine.” You seethed through clenched teeth.

“He’s overrated and overpaid.”

You took it upon yourself to tap on one of the men’s shoulder. As they turned around you cleared your throat and plastered on a tight smile. “Don’t you think this is the type of conversation you can have in your car on the ride home or maybe not even at all?”

“I can talk about whatever and whoever I want, when I want to.” The man on the right replied his beer sloshing around in his glass.

“You are two grown men talking about another grown man, be realistic.” You bit back, your attempt at being nice slowly fading away.

“You’re right we are grown men and allowed to have whatever opinion we want.” The second man replied raising his voice.

“Yeah maybe just don’t have it so loudly.” You suggested shrugging your shoulders and leaning back in your seat.

“You don’t know anything about hockey.”

“I know that right now the leafs are beating the kings.”

“Games not over yet.”

“And Matthews has scored two of their four goals.”

Despite your best attempts to keep the conversation cordial. The raised voices started gaining the attention of others around you. You knew a disagreement was one thing, but a full blown fight wouldn’t be a good look for you. As far as the public were concerned you weren’t the type of girl to be aggressive. And you would have maintained that look had one of the men not stood up so he was towering over you.

“He sucks the same way you probably get on your knees every night and suck his dick.” Any thought of being passive for your public image was out the window as you also stood not backing down.

“Excuse me.”

“You heard me.”

“No say it again I want you to hear yourself and how stupid you sound.” Image be damned. You didn’t want someone talking about Auston like that and you definitely weren’t going to allow them to talk about you like that.

“You’re nothing more than one of his sluts.” He threw his arms in the air, but before anything further could happen security was closing in on you quickly. You realized you hadn’t only caught the attention of the people around you but the whole arena as you looked up and could see yourself on the Jumbotron.

“And you’re a pathetic excuse of a human being. People pay to watch him, you’re running your mouth for free.” You had the final say as security pulled him away kicking both man out of the game. The crowd cheered watching them get escorted out, still fighting with anyone they could.

Watching them leave, however didn’t make you feel any better. You quickly picked up your bag and began climbing up the stairs before anyone could stop you. You were embarrassed that someone spoke to you like that especially in front of a crowd. You ran into the nearest bathroom locking yourself in a stall. You cursed yourself for letting your anger get the best of you. You knew this was going to be everywhere in a matter of hours. The string of texts coming into your phone from your publicist let you know that word already got to her.

“Fuck.” You groaned letting your head fall against the stall wall.

“(Y/n)?” You knew your best friend would find you. She stopped in front of the stall you were in, “I know you’re in there. I can see your feet.”

You groaned stomping your foot on the ground,“Go away.” There was no way you were opening the door.

“A security guard came over to us, Auston’s asking to see you.”

“No.” You flat out refused.

“Please.” You didn’t need to open the door to know she was biting down on her lip, a nervous habit she picked up from you. “He’s refusing to go back on the ice until he talks to you and they kinda need him.”

“Oh my god, he’s so dramatic.” You exclaimed opening the door. You usually were against giving into tantrums, but this needed to be resolved.

You begrudgingly followed security as they took you down to the tunnel where Auston was waiting.

“Are you crazy?” Auston screamed as soon as he saw you walking towards him.

Auston was confused as both teams were forced back to their benches in the middle of the game. Nothing happened on the ice to justify this, but as the crowd started to get loud and the Jumbotron featured the stands he realized it wasn’t because of what was happening on the ice, but rather off of it.

He watched as two people stood toe to toe yelling back and forth, neither backing down. But once he looked closer he realized he recognized the people around the two and then realized one of the people standing was you.

“So fucking stupid.” He mumbled, anger starting to flare up in his eyes. He continued to watch until the man raised his arm and that’s when Auston started moving before he could think. He didn’t get very far though, before multiple people were holding him back.

“Get off me.” He growled fighting against Mo, John, and Willy.

“You’re not going over there, this isn’t our arena and those aren’t our fans.” John kept his arms on Auston’s shoulders.

He continued watching as security closed in on the altercation separating you two, “fuck this.” He snapped breaking free from the hold on himself and moving towards the tunnel. “Someone get her down here.”

“Are you?” You shot back, “your holding up a whole game for this!” You motioned your hand between the two of you.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would’ve just sat down and stayed quiet!” He was pissed and didn’t care about who could possibly hear him.

“Oh yeah because I wanted a grown man yelling in my face.” You sarcastically let out, your voice going up an octave as you also got louder.

You watched as Auston shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He had a concentrated look on his face, a look you’d seen before. This was the look Auston wore when he was trying to figure something out. But unlike before, the look didn’t go away, he was still frustrated.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He huffed pacing back and forth.

“I wasn’t, I was defending you!” You flung your arms in the air voice strained. “And based on how you’re treating me right now, I shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t need you to defend me.” Auston didn’t hold back, “people say shit all the time. You included.”

“But they weren’t me and no one besides me should say those things about you.” Your pulse was racing and it took a generous amount of self control to bring your voice back down to a reasonable level.

It felt like an eternity of silence before Auston finally replied, his voice much softer and more worn out, “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“But I didn’t.” You watched as he leaned against the the wall hunched over. You realized that this was effecting him more than you. You were worried about your image, but Auston was worried about you. If anything would’ve happened to you, he would’ve never forgave himself. That’s not because he had any feelings for you, but because his parents raised him right (or at least that’s what he told himself when he flew off the ice and down the tunnel demanding to see you.)

“Hey, Auston.” You timidly touched his cheek forcing him to look at you. “I’m fine. Okay?” You searched his eyes for any confirmation that your words were getting through. “Plus I didn’t totally disagree with them, they did call you a little bitch.” The smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and the deep chuckle confirmed that he was fine.

“A little bitch, huh? Not very original.”

“They also called me a dumb bitch so we have that in common.” You shrugged taking a step back.

Auston was amused, “Who would’ve thought that would be what we have in common.”

You smiled crossing your arms over your chest. You both took a second to really look at each other. You may have disliked each other, but you shared common ground when it came to dealing with hate. Auston didn’t deserve it any more than you did.

“This color looks terrible on you by the way.” Auston broke the silence lightly tugging at the jersey you wore.

“Really? You looked down at your outfit, “I think it’s sleek and flattering.”

“You’d look better in blue.” Auston stood to his full height.

“Win this game and I might consider it.” You offered side stepping to allow him to get closer to the entrance.

“Really?”

“No.” You shook your head, “but I do actually need you to win now. That fight can’t be for nothing.”

“This next goals for you, then.” He smirked.

“Don’t miss it like the last one.” You teased.

“Don’t get into anymore fights.” He retorted walking away and you watched as he returned from where he came.

#famous reader #hockey #maple leafs #nhl #nhl blurb #toronto maple leafs #celebrity reader #justin bieber #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews #la kings #hockey game #shawn mendes

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

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hunt and peck

2.7k / javier peña x f!reader

You challenge him, “That’s your next move? To apologize?” He returns his hands to the desk and chair. He leans in close and lowers his voice with a straight face. “Yeah. I'm sorry. It was unprofessional.”

WARNINGS: I8+ Based on my original gif rb blurb (suspend disbelief). Reader is bilingual and can sit on Javi. PiV, defiling Steve's desk. Javi is not dark but gets slightly dominant. MY FIRST JAVI P. THING.

-------------------------------🖤🖤🖤

You’re staying late at the office to finish an intelligence report. Javier is the only other person left, and most of the lights are dim. You’re click-clacking away on your typewriter, and through the glass wall of your office, you can see Javier hunched over his own, typing industriously but slowly. He pauses, looks at his watch, and mutters something.

He leans back in his seat and puts his hands behind his head as he stretches his spine. His obscenely short sleeves put his biceps on full display. Baby blue is a good color on him. The armpits are a little darker with sweat. His shirt stays tucked in, stretching over the light padding above his jeans. While he’s all stretched out, he lifts his hips out of the seat and you get butterflies.

When he sits back down, he shamelessly adjusts himself and you throb. You start typing again, trying to put it out of your mind so you can finish undistracted and go meet a friend.

—-------

When you’re finished with the report, you go to the restroom to change into a dress so you can go straight to meet a friend for a drink. You look at Javi on your way back to your office, and he’s scowling at the page. He only looks up for a second. Then he starts typing again. Slowly hunting and pecking. His effort tugs at your heart.

You put your things down in your office then go to his desk. He stretches again, and you avert your eyes. He relaxes into his chair as though taking a break. After he sits back, his legs are stretched out in front of him, with hands on the arms of the chair.

He shamelessly checks you out and asks, "How do you do it?”

"Do what?"

"Type so fast."

"Practice. I have to do it a lot. Are you close to being done?"

"Not at this rate."

"I could help you finish."

He raises his eyebrows. "I could never turn down that offer." Your face heats up, but you smile. "Not from you," he adds with a wink. It's the cheekiest he's been since your welcome-to-the-team party at the bar a few weeks ago. He's always professional in the office. As soon as he looks at the typewriter again, his face falls and he's back to business.

You ask him, "Do you want to, uh –" you look at the typewriter. "Want me to type and you can dictate?"

He knits his brows and searches your face. "Really?" he says with soft, sincere eyes. You nod and look from him to the typewriter and back and he says, "Right," then stands up. "Thank you."

You take a seat in his warm chair and scoot it forward, then position your hands. "Ok?"

He puts his hands on his hips and you watch him settle into the stance then look back at the paper. He starts talking slowly while you type.

"The subject. . . brandished . . . A firearm. . .”

You catch up faster than he expects, and you look up at him for more.

"Shit, you're fast,” he marvels. "But I can't read from up here.” He puts his hands on his knees and squints. You're shoulder to shoulder and he smells like cigarettes. A whiff of his sweat goes straight to your loins.

You ask, "What, you don't trust me?"

"Can't think if I can't read it," he mutters and glances at your legs. He's so serious about work, but you can tell something else is dying to break through. If only he knew you weren't a snitch. If only there were some way you could let him know . . .

—-----

"I could sit in your lap," you offer, prepared to brush it off as a joke. Your heart races and his brow wrinkles as he looks at you skeptically. His jaw flexes. He looks away contemplatively, then back at you. You wait out the silence.

His voice is deep and soft, and his face doesn’t give anything away. "Stand up.”

He sits down, and for a moment you're afraid he's going to tell you to leave. But he settles into the chair, looks at you, then at his lap, then back at you. Calling your bluff, he gestures casually with one hand toward his lap. “Sirvete” (help yourself).

You stand in front of him then sit down about midway up his thighs. He peers around your right shoulder and says, “good” as he looks at the typewriter. He rests his large, veiny hand on your left hip. He says a few words and you type them.

Then he wraps his arm further around you and pulls you back in his lap. All the way back. “There,” he whispers. You’re not on his cock but so close that if you shift your weight, you feel its warmth. So you shift your weight.

He continues dictating, and you type. Then you feel his cock twitch. You ignore it, but when it begins to harden rapidly, he clears his throat and says, “Gotta stretch my legs,” nudging you up from his lap with a subtle lift of one knee.

He hovers over you with one hand braced on the desk and one on the chair. “We’re almost done.” He continues dictating the report, his voice a little hoarser. You sit up a little in the chair and his arm brushes your back. He doesn’t move his arm, and you don't lean toward the desk again. His cock is all you can think about.

—------

“Are you good?” he asks.

You don’t register the question. When you turn to ask him what he said, your eyes fall on the bulge in his tight jeans. Your gaze lingers. He shifts uncomfortably on his feet and shuffles them back, bringing his pelvis backward, too. Then he matter-of-factly says, "Sorry." He takes his hands off the desk and chair and inhales deeply as he stands up straight. He adjusts himself as he turns away awkwardly, bringing one hand to his hip and the other hand to his brow to wipe his sweat with his thumb and forefinger.

You look at him with your panties soaked and blurt out, “That’s your next move? To apologize?”

He looks at you curiously, then returns his hands to the desk and chair. He leans in close and lowers his voice with a straight face when he looks at you. “I'm sorry. It was unprofessional.”

You scoff. He's a tease. Your face heats up and you avoid eye contact.

His jaw flexes and he raises his eyebrows while looking down at nothing, making his mustache look sinister. Then he lowers his head and looks at his jeans. “Okay,” he concedes softly, then looks at you again. He moves his hand from the back of the chair to the back of your dress and rubs big, slow circles, watching your face. You wet your lips and glance at him, then see him register the severity of your attraction.

He slides the hand up to your far shoulder, then stands up and moves behind the chair. He slowly massages both your shoulders. You put your hands on your lap and close your eyes. As soon as you sigh, he leans down with his head close to yours. He freezes his hands on your shoulders and double-taps both his thumbs at the same time like a command. “Stand up.” He breaks contact and steps back. You do as you're told, and soon as you’re on your feet, you hear the low screech of the chair sliding out of the way.

It doesn’t take more than a second for him to press himself into your back, hard-on and all. His hands rest on your hips, and he draws a long breath through his nose. He looks over your shoulder with his head near yours and surprises you when he says, “Type. Let’s get this done.”

He brings his mouth to your ear and dictates in a deep near-whisper, “Agent Peña. . .” You hesitantly type as his hands slither around to the front of your dress. “then had to. . . ” His palms glide over your lower belly, then come to a rest on your hips and hold you steady as he presses his hard bulge against your dress, making you weak. He presses himself into you again, harder this time: “discharge his weapon.” Your whole body tingles.

When you’ve finished typing the sentence, his mouth slowly claims your neck, starting low then dragging his open lips upward on your delicate skin. He teases you with his hot breath as one of his hands drifts up to your breast and the other begins to hike up your dress. He closes his lips on your neck and sucks lightly at first, leaving your skin wet each time he plants a long kiss.

Your head falls back against him and his energy becomes hungrier. He rests your dress above your ass. He palms your breast as his other hand ghosts your throbbing clit over your damp panties. "Mmm," he remarks quietly. Then he trails his fingers up to the top hem of your panties and reaches into them. Looking down at his hands on your panties he releases a breathy moan as he feels you. His other hand slides from one breast over to the other and he lightly kisses your ear.

The massive hand in your panties engulfs your naked, dripping seam. It rests there, cupping your needy cunt, then pulls you back into his engorged jeans with a subtle thrust of his hips and a deep breath in. Your eyes close as you savor the feeling of his body wrapped around yours. He swirls his middle finger around the wetness at your entrance, and his voice deepens. “Tan lista" (so ready). He dips his head down and nudges your jaw. You tilt your head, giving him access to your neck again. He seals his lips and sucks, gently denting your flesh with his teeth before tearing his mouth away. He whispers, “What are you ready for?”

He begins to slowly work your clit while his other hand holds you still with an arm crossing your chest as he palms your breast. “Hmm? Que quieres?” (what do you want) He slowly grinds his stiff package into you.

You moan soflty and say, “Ya sabes.” (you already know)

“How do you want it?”

You already feel your lower belly filling with a tense warmth. You can’t manage to answer.

“Up to me, then,” he concludes, his voice soft and deep. He takes a hand off your breast to urgently unbuckle his belt, leaving his other hand down your panties. It’s such a smooth, fast motion, he must have done it a thousand times. The sound of his zipper goes straight to your cunt and you softly gasp.

He wraps his body fully around yours from behind again. The button of his jeans is cold on your lower back but the shape of his hard cock is warm. He inserts a thick finger into your tight, wet hole and you gasp at the intrusion. He slowly pumps it in and out and you sigh with need, feeling a climax already in sight. He removes his hand from your panties and two sticky fingers tilt your chin toward his face. His lips meet yours thirstily, sucking everything out of you. You push your ass back into him as you kiss passionately.

—-------

He abruptly forces you around to face him, and for the first time, you see the hunger on his face. You heard it in his voice, you felt it in his touch, but to also see it overwhelms you with need. His eyes fall on your chest heaving with desire. He plants his lips on yours again and kisses you deeply, his tongue making itself at home in your mouth. He runs his hands down your sides to your ass. He grabs an asscheek in each hand, pulling you away from the desk and into him. Then, without breaking away, he walks you just a few feet to a clean desk and pins you up against the side of it. He pulls his head back to look at you and holds eye contact as he urgently tugs your panties off, then nudges you so your asscheeks rest on the side of the desk.

He pulls down his jeans enough to free his hard cock and you barely catch a glimpse of its imposing form before he aggressively pulls you against him. You moan at the first contact of your wet, naked sex against his stiff manhood, and your legs wrap around him. He kisses you deeply again as he pulls you against him, rhythmically tilting his hips, sliding his hard cock through your folds, getting himself wet and ready. You’re already close. You tilt your head upward, breaking the kiss.

Javi whispers, “Todavía tan lista, sí?” (still so ready, aren’t you?) and inhales sharply. He drags his lips up your throat while it’s extended, then sucks on the crook of it.

“Aun más” (even more), you respond breathily. “Metemela ahorita” (give it to me right now).

He slows down his movements and locks eyes with you. He wets his lips. “Bueno.” He wraps his hand around your throat with his fingers resting where your jaw meets your ear. Then he gently guides you down onto your back. You stare up at the styrofoam ceiling as he notches the fat head of his cock at your entrance. You close your eyes and wrap your legs around him again, using your lower body strength to beg him into you.

He holds you by the sides of your ass and begins to push in, softly grunting. You moan as his girth spreads you open. Half way in he sighs and wraps his hands around your thighs for leverage. Then he pulls your body into him harder as he plunges his cock to the hilt. He retreats then shoves all the way in again, this time a little easier. He repeats the motion, burying himself inside you, breathing heavily and moaning lowly. He pounds you smooth and slow. God, he feels good.

He leans over you and puts his forearms on the desk as he continues railing you. You look at him. His forehead wrinkles and his thoughtful brown eyes study your face as his cock slams into you, filling you to the brim each time. Then he buries his mouth in your neck. At the new angle, he’s putting pressure on your clit. He can tell you’re about to come. His thrusts are smooth and complete, filling you up just right.

“Javier,” you pant on the edge of bliss. “Oh god, I, I'm gonna-”

“Adelante” (go ahead), he whispers gruffly and rolls his hips, grinding against your clit while he's deep inside you. Your spine arches and as your cunt begins to choke around him, you moan. "Ohhhh,” then, “Ohhh, god, Javi.”

As you clench around him, he repeatedly moans, each one soft and short. “Yeah,” he whispers. Then he holds his breath and you fixate on his neck veins bulging. He gasps then grips your sides under your arms, slowly thrusting through your orgasm.

When your pulsations slow, he pushes you forward on the desk, letting his cock fall out with a shudder. He wraps his hand around it and comes with a ragged sigh spilling his load onto the desk, between your legs. He looks at you and breathes for a few seconds, then pulls up his jeans and zips them without doing his button or belt. You sit up, keeping your legs spread to avoid the cum. He hooks his hands under your knees to pivot you over the cum to face the front of the desk. Then he hugs you into him and puts his hand on your head.

You sit there for a minute and he tells you how good you felt. That he'd been wanting to feel you and thought about it every time he saw you. You look at the time and say you should go. You fix yourself and get off the desk.

"Thanks for helping me finish," he says.

He looks at the cum, grabs a tissue, and haphazardly wipes it off then puts the tissue under the desk in Steve's wastebasket.

-------

Yeah he came on Steve's desk

Yeah I resisted the urge to use the word pecker

Yeah this got a content label early on 🙄

And I get this Q a lot so, when/whether I'll do a dark Javi P. Short answer, eventually.

-------

Thank you for reading and engaging 🖤🖤🖤 It means a lot! You can subscribe to @toxicfics for notifications.

Joel master list in my profile header has all Pedro character's I've done, but it's overwhelmingly my various versions of Joel Miller.

@pedrostories

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #javier peña narcos #javier peña smut #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javi pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #toxicanonymity ☠️#javi peña ☠️#pedrostories

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katewritesthings · 11 months ago

Text

Learning to Deal

So, I've never written fic before, so please be kind. I've had to drink a bottle of wine to finish the smut and gain the courage to post. Please be funny when you tell me this sucks. :D (I also have ideas for a few more short blurbs in this universe)

•pairing: Joe Burrow x Original Female Character

•summary: Caroline Stevens had been known to the fans of the Bengals' as Sam Hubbard's best friend since he got drafted. Now she's dating his teammate Joe Burrow and must navigate the logistics that come with that

•word count: 4.3k

•warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. Slight angst. Angry Sex. Dom/Sub dynamics. Slight Daddy Kink. Light choking. Ass smacking. Cursing. Drinking. Cannabis Use. Lots of other stuff. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Caroline Steven was sure she’d never get used to how overwhelming being a plus one to an NFL starter could be. Since her childhood best friend, Sam, had been drafted by their hometown football team, she’d attended her fair share of over-the-top events with budgets bigger than her teaching salary. (That is, when Sam happened to be single and his mother was not an appropriate option.) This routine would be coming to an end shortly, though.

Over the last year, Caroline had started seeing one of Sam’s teammates, Joe. Meaning that the next time they walked into a jungle-themed room, she would be on the arm of the man she wanted to walk in with, and Sam would not be hindered in attempting to fix his single status. (at least for the night).

Although he was one of the most private (read: shy) people Caroline had ever met, Joe somehow managed to become the face of the Bengals. Seriously, the guy was so closed off when she first met him that Caroline was convinced Joe hated her. It wasn’t that Caroline disliked the fact that her boyfriend was charismatic enough to become a franchise player; she just hated the legalities that came with it.

It would only take the entire next Monday arguing with the agents and publicists that the NFL and Bengals put together to officially be Dating Joe Burrow™. Caroline was more than ready to be able to claim the beautiful man she grew to love as her boyfriend, but she knew that Joe was a little more hesitant about what compromises they were going to have to make as a couple to get this approved through the league. There were whispers about using their anniversary to make sponsored posts already.

Walking into the banquet hall the Bengals had rented at Moerlein Lager House, Caroline scanned the room for her boyfriend. While they had texted a few times throughout the day, their conversation before Joe dropped her off yesterday had been acting… off. Joe seemed a little put off about having to use his personal life for marketing, but Caroline hoped he saw her as worth it. The two made their way to a table to the left of the entrance, where champagne flutes were set out for guests to take.

“Calm down, Stevie." Sam’s voice brought her back to reality, using her childhood nickname. “I really don’t think Danny Devito is here; there’s no need for such excitement.” “You’re such a goober!” Caroline chuckled, pushing a stray auburn curl out of her eyes. “I just wanted to see if I could see Joe. You act like it wasn’t you who set us up, don’t act like you’re annoyed with how we act together.”

Before Sam could spit a comeback at Caroline, two arms wrapped around her middle and squeezed her tight. Joe’s deep voice boomed, “Hey, babe," before kissing her on the cheek and greeting Sam. Ja’Marr, Irv, and Tee. joined the three, drinks in hand. Greetings were exchanged before Ja’Marr nudged Caroline.

“Damn, girl. I didn’t know your Ms. Frizzle ass had dresses that didn’t have dinosaurs and shit on them.” With an eye-roll, Caroline pulled at the hem of her black dress, trying to make it come farther down than the upper thigh. She was far more comfortable in her themed dresses and cardigans, which helped engage her second-grade students. “I didn’t know you had that much skin; I almost thought your legs was made of cloth like some stuffed animal.”

Before Caroline could laugh at Ja’Marr’s roast, she heard Joe’s laugh, and his grip tightened on her hip. “Don’t be mad, Ja’Marr. You’ve just been salty that I’m the one she chose to know how much skin she has and how to stuff her.”

At that moment,t the various reactions rang through the group. Tee and Irv sent a chorus of “oooohs” to the circle of six. Caroline nearly choked on her drink and sent a look of confusion and panic to Sam, who responded with a chuckle and a “Well, this got weird. This is my signal to leave.”

Caroline turned out the remaining four men, making fun of Sam for running away when sexual topics came up while her mind raced with thoughts. Caroline shifted in her spot, tugging at her dress again.

Joe seemed to notice Caroline zoning out because a whisper in her ear brought her back to reality. “I’m sorry, Caro. It came out before I could think. I had two drinks before you got here; I'm so sorry.” Tee, Irv, and Ja’Marr were still in conversation, now about the chances Sam would find enough alcohol and a girl to make him warm up to the sexual topics tonight.

Caroline let out a sigh and excused her and Joe from the group. She led them to a corner near a window overlooking Great American Ball Park and a partial view of the river. “You’re forgiven, Joe. You know, I just hate when you get vulgar.” “I completely understand. You’re not a piece of meat. I promise I’ll only brag about our fantastic sex life and your crazy body when you start the conversation.”

Caroline leaned even farther on her tiptoes than her heels assisted, and kissed Joe on the chin. “That’s all I ask, baby.”

—

Ironically enough, Joe and Caroline had that conversation at the beginning of the night because, at present, the couple currently found themselves in a small group of Bengals and some of their plus ones from the party, playing a drinking game that required the player to answer the question on the card drawn or drink. The night had gone smoothly after the small speed bump that happened when Caroline arrived, so she found herself relaxing into Joe’s side, enjoying the early morning hours.

A small group of Joe and his teammates had decided that after a season of abstaining from partying as hard as they wanted, they’d continue the celebration in the suite Ja’Marr and Joe had previously booked in a nearby hotel. Something had told them they would be too incapacitated to drive and would want to celebrate as late as possible.

“Oooo! My turn! I pick... Joe!” Irv’s little sister Rachel, exclaimed to the circle. Her words were slurred from the mix of whiskey and weed she had been ingesting, but the entertainment was evident in her voice. It was obvious she was enjoying the usually serious men lose themselves in fits of giggles when another teammate admitted something embarrassing.

“What’s the most amount of people you’ve hooked up with in a night?”

“Three,” Joe mumbled, not picking up his drink.

Caroline sucked in a breath. She knew this, while they didn’t quite know everything about each other yet, she and Joe had talked a lot in the time of their relationship. Early on, though, they found out that their sexual and romantic history was best left on an “ask-only” basis. Caroline knew herself better than to have Joe tell her everything at once. After his last long-term relationship ended, she watched from afar as he numbed himself in ways she didn’t even want to think about. She knew it was best for herself if she only found out what she needed to know and she believed that included whether or not she would be in the same room with one of Joe’s random hookups. Joe seemed to share the same mentality because he had only ever asked her vague questions.

Next was Irv’s turn to pick a person to interrogate and a card. He scanned the group and chose Sam. His voice filled the air, reading from the card, “What was your most embarrassing sexual experience? Describe what you remember in detail.” “Fuck off, it does not say that!” Sam protested across the table from Caroline. “I’m afraid it does, Sammy boy,” Irv laughed back, waiting for Sam’s embarrassment. Caroline’s eyes shut as she laughed at her best friend’s discomfort. This situation was so much funnier to her than the one earlier in the night. Caroline wasn’t sure if it was because there was some light ribbing going on, the presence of women, and a game that was about bonding, gave her comfort in a way that was not present when it was just Caroline and 5 men.

“Well, I guess when I was like 16… uh…. The girl I lost my virginity to…,” Sam stuttered. Caroline’s eyes instantly opened. She knew this story. She had figured in 10 years and a professional sports career later, he would have more embarrassing memories. “Well, uh… We had decided that maybe we would try mouth stuff, y’know. Well, uhh. St-she went down on me for the first time and uh.. .she vomited on me.” Sam stuttered through the whole beginning of the story while everyone else was gasping for air through their laughs. “You got puked on?!” T.B. said through howls.

“Well, that’s not all.. We both made so much noise when my lap got covered. Ma-her brother came bursting through her bedroom door, and, uh.. he caught us.” Caroline shifted in her weight and faintly joined in the echoing laughter. Joe looked at her with a quizzical look and took another hit of the blunt being passed around. Joe wasn’t usually much of a partier, but the Bengals had put up a hell of a fight this season and it looked like her boyfriend was damn sure goign to celebrate it.. He had slowed down on his drinking after embarrassing himself earlier in the night, but Caroline had seen him with a honey-flavored backwood and at least two different rolled swishers throughout the night.

Before Joe could make anything of it, Sam’s name pulled him out of his thoughts to see Tee’s placing a card on the table. It was Caroline’s turn and she was answering telling the most legal trouble she had ever been in.

“So, basically, Sam had gone to practice and I woke up before he did. I went down to the kitchen in his house and two of his roommates were talking about me over breakfast. They were basically saying the most vile things you could think of and it only got more vulgar once they saw me. I threw a cast iron skillet at one of them and was banned from OSU’s campus.” She had shared this secret with Joe a few weeks into seeing each other. He had heard a vague version when Sam moved out of his house midseason. Caroline filled him in on the details after they were together to let him know why she was so sensitive about being in ceratin situations.

The card game continued for another ten minutes before some member of the group suggested they play ‘Never Have I Ever.’ This time, Caroline caught the look Joe sent her as she filled her glass to get ready to play. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? They’re going to get even more raunchy.”

Caroline licked her lips before forming them into a smile. “I’m fine, Joey. I’m having fun, I promise. And if I get uncomfortable, we can always say one of us is tired. Just squeeze my hip twice.”

Rachel explained the modified “late night, here to get fucked up” rules. They’d go around the circle and each person would say something they had never done. Every person has five fingers up and puts a finger down and takes a drink for every time they’ve done what someone else hasn’t. Once all five fingers are down, the person chugs their drink and is out.

The rules seemed easy enough and before long the game was on and laughs filled the air. Caroline wasn’t really paying attention to who had done what. Except Joe. She knew she shouldn’t, but this was a loophole in learning things about him, and without all the details. So far the score had gone as follows:

“Had sex in a football field” - Joe drank. Caroline drank. “Ever made out with someone of the same sex” Joe didn’t drink. Caroline drank. (Joe winked at her) “Cheated on someone” Joe drank. Caroline didn’t drink. “Been cheated on.” Both drank. “Broken a bone.” Both drank.

The group was in good humor, consistently whooping at Caroline when she had admitted she did something. Rachel had changed gears from trying to get everyone’s dirty secrets to just getting Caroline out, picking topics for her and Irv that they had known would get her out.

They were both down to their last finger and Caroline was starting to get drowsy. She had drunk quite a few times during this game and had been tipsy before. Maybe if she were more sober, she would have realized one of the two things happening within the next moment. Rachel gave Caroline a jokingly competitive stare before mouthing you’re going down.

“Never have I ever fucked someone in this room.”

Being the level of intoxicated she was, Caroline didn’t realize that an odd number of people in the room put their fingers down and took a swig of their drink. She also didn’t realize that, while Joe was intoxicated, he was mainly high which caused his mind to work in overdrive. This meant that Joe had noticed that there was an odd number of people who put their fingers down in the room.

Caroline had her cup tipped to the ceiling and was almost to the bottom of it when she felt two distinct squeezes on her hip and her boyfriend growling her name barely loud enough for her to hear. Her mind started racing at what Joe could.

“Actually guys, I’m feeling a little past my limit and am probably going to lay down. Caroline, care to join?” Joe’s strained voice came through his tightly clenched jaw. Caroline followed Joe as he stood up and made his way down the hallway of the suite toward their bedroom.

“Are you feeling okay, Joe?” The question hung between them while Joe fumbled with the keycard and the door handle. Caroline tried to not let her mind race too much as she replayed the last three minutes in her head. If anything, she should be the one a little upset in her opinion. Joe had admitted to cheating on someone in the past, and although she knew of the incidents, she couldn’t fathom why admitting she had sex with Joe would set him off so much.

A low grumble she couldn’t make out brought her out of her thoughts as Joe ushered her through the door.

“Please?” Caroline questioned, indicating to Joe to repeat what he said. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucked him?” Joe demanded again, this time loud enough for the redhead to hear. She was standing a the foot of the bed while Joe still had his hand on the deadbolt. “Uhm, what and who are we talking about again?” Caroline nervously laughed, attempting to put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head. It hit her the same time Joe’s steeled blue eyes met her brown ones and he repeated the question. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucked Sam?” the third time the question was presented to Caroline, frustration and anger overtook her drunken state. “What in the world are you talking about, Joe? When I told you I didn’t need to know details of your sex life you told me the same?” Caroline was confused. She never intentionally kept anything from her boyfriend.

“I did ask. The first time we hooked up,” Joe’s voice came out strained. He had moved towards the middle of the large room. All Caroline wanted to do was crawl in the large bed directly in front of her and cuddle her boyfriend. This night definitely took multiple turns. “You did not! You asked me if you were the first professional athlete I had gone down on.” Caroline was exasperated now. She didn’t want Joe to think she was lying.

Caroline walked into the bathroom for a chance to break Joe’s gaze. When she reached the mirror she began taking the pins out of her curls. “And I very clearly heard the story of the first time you had that experience tonight, with our mutual best friend, Caro.” Joe loosened his tie as he emphasized the last few words of his sentence. He was angrier than Caroline had ever seen him off the field and she hated that it was because of her.

The redhead turned her body to face the door where her boyfriend stood. Even when angry, the man was beautiful. Brown waves fell onto his face nose and cheeks red from a mixture of intoxication and anger. He had his button-up undone to his sternum and was working on taking off his belt.

“And I had told you that story when Matthew asked if you knew how to use a lock! I told you he walked in on me in high school and you cut me off. Plus, that happened well before Sam was drafted, therefore not a pro athlete. I thought you were asking if I was a groupie trying to add another to the list.” “I genuinely thought you knew babe,” she said from in front of the mirror, her eyes taking in Joe. He had leaned against the doorway and was watching her in a manner that made her unsure of what he was thinking. Usually, communication was easy between them. Disagreements never lasted long because even if they had conflicting feelings on a subject, they were both willing to hear it from the other’s perspective to attempt to understand.

Caroline unfastened the back of the earrings she was wearing and placed them down in the travel jewelry box she had placed on the counter earlier in the evening. “I told you about how I was a nerdy ginger in high school and had to make a mutual agreement to lose my virginity to my best friend. You didn’t want to know who”

Joe took a deep breath and rubbed his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess, I didn’t think it was Sam. You guys went to different schools.”

“That’s cute that you thought high school Stevie could’ve gotten the attention of a boy besides Sam.” Caroline made the joke, hoping to lighten the mood. It didn't.

“He went to an all-boys school, and everyone in my school was repulsed by me, so we made a pact to keep up with the Joneses, so to speak. When everyone in middle school was talking about making out, we didn’t want to feel left out, and that sort of just progressed on to other things…”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Joe’s eyes flickered with a flash of emotion as he cut her off, clearly not wanting to hear the details. “Oh my God. Absolutely not in the way you’re asking.” Caroline’s brown eyes made sure to keep eye contact with Joe’s blue ones, she wasn’t going to be the first to look away. “It was really just experimenting, Joe.” “When was the last time? Did I know you?” Joe questioned, anger still seeping through his voice. Caroline felt a lump grow in her throat when she thought back to the last time she and Sam had hooked up, or at least attempted to. It was during her and Sam’s sophomore year in college and he had invited her up to visit him at Ohio State. “It was the day we met. At Ohio State.” Caroline uttered. Sam had insisted on taking her to Woody’s, the on-campus tavern, to meet with some of the second-string freshmen. Joe barely said hello to her, before returning his attention to the playbook in front of him. The room was silent for a minute before Joe broke their eye contact, standing up straight. Rubbing his fingers against his lip again, he turned his head to the side. “Fuck, Caro. I just hate that he’s had what’s mine.” Before Caroline could get out the words, ‘What’s yours?’” Joe closed the few steps between the two.

“Yes, Caroline. You’re mine.” His proximity to Caroline caused her back to turn flush against the counter. “And tonight I’m going to mark my territory.”

A warm feeling of realization washed over Caroline when she realized what Joe meant. Or maybe it was horniness. Because at that very moment, his hand wrapped around Caro’s throat and bucked his hips into hers.

A moan of agreement left Caroline’s plump maroon lips, causing Joe to growl. “That’s right, baby. I’m going to take what’s mine. But first, on your knees.”

Excitement sent of chill throughout Caroline’s body. She liked it when Joe was dominantt, but it rarely ever happened without her explicitly asking for it. What can she say, the man was all about her gratification by default.

Before her knees even made contact with the cold tile, Joe’s cock was out and hitting her in the face. A smile spread across her face before she opened her mouth and gave a lick to the head. Caroline still had her tongue out and she worked her mouth down Joe’s shaft. When the head hit the back of her throat, she closed her lips and wiggled her tongue.

“That’s right, baby,” Joe smirked, raking his hands through the auburn curls at his pelvis. Caroline brought a hand up to cup his balls, retracting her tongue and beginning to move her back and forth. “Fuck.” Joe bucked his hips into his girlfriend’s mouth, causing her to gag a bit. “Gag on Daddy’s cock, that’s right.” He demanded, causing Caroline to loosen her jaw and attempt to take the rough fucking her face was receiving. That was new.

After a few moments filled with slurps and moans, Joe finally spoke again. “Get up. Turn around.” Joe’s voice was still gruff with anger, but possesiveness and lust had also joined in. If Caroline hadn’t already been wet from the worship Joe had just demanded from her, she would’ve been after Joe gave her ass a smack and returned his left hand to her throat. They made eye contact in the mirror in front of them.

“After tonight, there’s going to be no doubt you’re mine last.” Joe leaned in and whispered into her ear. His right hand busied itself tugging down the thong she had under her dress. Caroline lifted her leg slightly to step out of the thin material, Joe took this as his opportunity to line up the head of his dick with the slick of her pussy.

The tip of his dick entered her warmth and he whispered, “My girlfriend,” as he slammed his entire length into her. White pleasure tore through Caroline’s pelvis when this happened. Joe was not small, and feeling him push his entire length into her gave her a sense of fullness that she craved.

Pulling out slowly, his eye contact never wavered from Caroline’s. “On MY arm for events.” He thrust into her again, then pulled out even slower causing a whimper to escape Caroline’s smudged lips. “Mine,” Joe repeated, burying himself to the hilt again. “Any objections?” Caroline shook her head, making sure to keep her brown eyes locked on Joe’s blue ones. She wanted to see his reaction.

“No, sir.”

And she was glad she did. Joe’s eyes somehow got even darker with lust as his right hand pushed her back down, so her chest was flat on the counter and his left found her throat again. The marble dug into her thighs, but at this point, the pain was mixing with the pleasure, Joe thrusting aggressively into her.

Caroline couldn’t make out the chain of expletives leaving Joe’s mouth as she began to feel the intense pleasure building inside her. “I’m so close, Daddy,” she whined, trying on the new title Joe had given himself earlier. “I wanna come on your cock so bad.” If Caroline thought Joe lost himself in lust earlier, she was wrong. He let out a guttural moan and stood Caroline back up again, without removing the hand from her throat. He moved his hand from her back to her clit. He used his long fingers to work circular motions on the sensitive nerves until Caroline lost herself to her pleasure and began twitching lightly. She wasn’t sure if she was actually moaning or just imagining it until Joe’s voice coached her through her orgasm. “I know, darling,” He planted a kiss on her head. “I know, you’re doing such a good job, just breathe.” He peppered more kisses over the top of her head before he moaned again. “I’m going to come, babe. Get on your knees and open your mouth.” Caroline did as she was told, quickly. She wasn’t going to give Joe a reason to question whether she liked this side of him or not. Joe pumped his fist around his dick twice before warm ropes came shooting towards Caroline, most of it making it in her mouth, a little on her lips and chin. She took Joe’s thumb and wiped the excess, before making eye contact and engulfing it in her mouth. After swirling her tongue around Joe’s thumb a few times, she swallowed. She set her lips in an ‘O’ to show off her newly empty mouth to Joe. “Fuck, Caro. You’re going to be the death of me,” Joe said laughing, his cheeks flushed. He patted his girlfriend's head before saying, “Now go clean up so we can go to sleep. I need you to get some rest before I wake you up.” “Oh, yeah?,” Caroline cocked an eyebrow, still on the ground. Her thighs were starting to ache from never taking off her heels. “Yeah, I’m going to fill you with cum and then we’re going to go eat brunch with the rest of the suite,” Joe said, sternness still in his voice.

Caroline stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was smudged and her hair was a rat’s nest, she thought about how this was the happiest she had ever been. Though, she was certain if she continued finding and loving new sides of Joe, it wasn’t the happiest she would ever be.

#joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fic #joey b #joe shiesty #joe brr #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow smut #joe burrow angst #joe burrow established relationship #plz forgive me #i'm drunk

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slicered · 4 months ago

Text

“tell me what you want”

gojo x reader are high school sweethearts . . . ?

DESC: you and satoru have been intertwined since you were young, and entering high school you are forced to confront your feelings about him.

A/N: not proofread. written in like… an hour? this was originally supposed to be a blurb but it took its own course :( . if you like this, i’ll continue with pt.2 !!

TAGS: satoru x reader, gojo x reader, FUCKKK MEI MEI, gojo hc, takes place in highschool, gender neutral reader, satoru loves looking at you, satoru thinks your jaw-dropping but he’s #bsf! <- he has yet to recognize his feelings for you, vice versa 🫂

—————

2.18

gojo rests at the top of the social hierarchy. but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person- it just highlights how highly sought he is. and yes, valentine’s day is a shitshow.

he’s adjusted to his desk, overflowing with gifts as he eyes you next to him. students clamor in your classroom trying to catch the 2nd-year’s attention.

“do you think anyone has asked him out yet?” whispers a girl to her friend.

“are you kidding? it’s a question of who he’s asking out, he could have anyone with the snap of his finger,” responded a boy sitting adjacent to her.

to be honest, gojo didn’t care for valentine’s day. it wasn’t like he was ever short of attention. instead, he fixates on you. he’s scanning for a reaction to the comments about him. he fiddles with the blue pen in his hand, tapping the edge onto the wooden desk that connected you two.

you and gojo had been best friends for years. rumors that you two were dating have existed and ran their course long before this day. viewing you romantically never crossed his mind, maybe cause the boy looks absent minded 99% of the time. neither had you, but there were the occasional thoughts of wonder at night if he ever liked you. but now, if anything, you found having your angelic friend sitting next to you distracting. “hey, ‘toru,” you speak sweetly, hiding your annoyance under a soft smile, “could you hold off on the pen tapping for a bit? i’m trying to focus.”

satoru smiles, having your attention. “sorry, sorry. but you already have these notes, why do you have to study so hard?” he whines, resting his head on his arms, his blue eyes locked onto your face.

“cause you need them ‘toru,” you let out an exasperated sigh. “just cause my dad is our teacher doesn’t mean you can pass. he knows you too, if anything, he’ll make sure you’re focused.” you continue to write, eyes traveling from the board to your notebook. it was true, you were studying harder than you needed. studying for exams weren’t a priority to many until may. but to you, anything was better than listening to your classmates talk about satoru. you knew how popular your friend was and it was agonizing to sit next to him; an example, as you were lost on your tangent about studying, a girl approached satoru.

“hey satoru, you wanna come to my class?”

fuck.

that voice grated your ears. you look upwards in annoyance to see mei mei, your upperclassmen. you had known her since you were kids, and to be frank, you used to be close. used to be. the silver haired girl sank down on your desk, her silver hair cascading downwards, and ignored your presence. “mei mei, can you get off of my n-”

“satoru~” her voice rose. she knew exactly how to get under your skin. she inched backwards, crowding your notes further, abruptly knocking your eraser off your invaded desk.

satoru read the annoyance as you bit your inner lip. “mei mei, can you go away? i’m busy.” satoru waved his hand in front of her face, attempting to shoo her like a fruit fly. mei mei pouts her lips, “come on, it’s not like you’re busy with anything important… you don’t have a valentines today either, am i correct?” gojo shifted uncomfortably, furrowing his eyebrows slightly.

the look that you gave her was unwavering as you spoke, “he’s busy.”

“ohhh, i’m sorry! why, is he going somewhere with you?” mei mei snarked.

“no, but-”

“then stay out of our conversation.” the atmosphere in your classroom shifted. eyes were on the three of you as you and mei mei bickered back and forth. satoru continues to tap his pen, slowly increasing in intensity. “satoru, utahime is throwing a party tonight. stop by! suguru said he’s going.” mei mei hoisted herself off of your shared desk, taking your notes with her to the floor.

“are you deaf?” satoru snaps, “why do you even come by our class?” he pinches his nose bridge and mei mei begins to back off.

“i’m just saying, satoru, there’s always room for you.” mei mei smiles coyly as she exits.

—

“fuck! she’s so fucking annoying i swear i’m going to-” you seethe, seeing your notes walked on by mei mei as she closes the classroom door. you hated mei mei.

“hey,” satoru sighed. “i’m sorry, i know you hate her.” satoru stood from his chair and grabbed your scattered papers. you tucked your head into your palms, and into your desk.

there was untouched history between you and mei mei. it hurt. you and her were close, before you met satoru. while your friendships overlapped, he never understood what happened freshmen year, what made you hate her so strongly.

“do you want to get ice cream after school? or, like, do anything that won’t cause sulking?” satoru poked, setting your notes (and his, which you took) beside you. you turned your head slightly, face still hot from the rash interaction with your old friend.

“are you seriously not busy today? no confessions from the stack of letters you received that you want to indulge in?” your words strike satoru, his answer ricochets milliseconds after you speak.

“i wanna spend today with you.” he says, running his left hand through his hair, while simultaneously adjusting the sunglasses that were out-of-place. a grin snatches the corner of your lips as you take a deep breath.

—— “okay.”

comment if you want a pt. 2, which will be a mini date between you and satoru ! ❤️

#gojo x reader #jjk satoru #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fic #jjk headcanons #mei mei #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk hurt/comfort #pain #friends to lovers #gn reader

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tenpintsofsundrop · 1 year ago

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Push and Pull

Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (Smut Blurb)

Concept: While playing games with Viper, Emily (accidentally) plays on your attraction to her - something you had been trying to hide since you started with the BAU. The results end up being more than interesting.

Word Count: 2,800

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Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: smut; this is set during Season 4, Episode 9 (52 Pickup) and there is a lot of references to the episode in this, but I think you could read this without having seen the episode; mentions of typically sexist practices - in the form of 'pickup artistry': the reader character replaces Jordan Todd on the team; there is an age gap between Emily and the reader - Emily is older and the reader character is younger; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; mention of the reader wearing a dress and makeup; the reader has sexual fantasies about Emily - which include: pussy eating, fingering, rough sex, semi public sex, being called 'naughty girl'; most of the sex acts are in fantasies (this fic is mostly tension and build up and sexually adjacent situations rather than actual sex); masturbation (the reader masturbates); mentions of masturbation being unsatisfying or not feeling 'as good' as having sex with the desired partner; caught masturbating - Emily walks in on the reader; Emily refers to herself as 'Mama' (once); rough kissing, Emily gropes the reader through clothing, very light choking (from Emily toward the reader) (Emily puts her hand on the reader's neck and applies pressure for a few seconds to get her attention), Emily calls the reader 'needy little thing' (in this case the word 'little' is meant to be condescending and not a description of size); undertones of degradation kink; I believe that is everything.

A/N: The original request mentioned fake dating (and I would love to do that trope with Emily), but I couldn't stop thinking about how stunning and gorgeous Emily looks in this episode, and I thought it would be interesting to use it. Also the idea of a man basing his pickup techniques on women needing male validation when - hey, what kind of women wouldn't want or need male validation? A woman who is obsessed with the other gorgeous woman at the table. It was such a fun scenario to write about. I definitely wanna write more Emily fics in the future.

...

At first, you really weren’t looking forward to it.

Though it seemed fun in concept - having an excuse to dress up and go out to a club while on the job - Emily assured you that it was going to be miserable.

The way Emily talked about the man - Viper. She almost made him sound worse than some of the confirmed killers you had dealt with during your short time at the BAU. She said that he was the scum of the earth, a waste of oxygen, that made her feel dirty just by giving her a weird look. She joked that she was ‘dragging you along’ because she didn’t want to suffer alone (that, and she needed backup, in case the guy truly was dangerous).

From the way she talked about it, you thought the night was going to be miserable.

You certainly didn’t expect it to be one of the best nights of your life.

Viper frequented bars and nightclubs. So of course, nightclub appropriate attire was required. You rushed to a store and grabbed the first tight dress you could find (a red one with spaghetti straps that would pair well with a pair of modest black heels you already had in your bag for the job). You didn’t expect to come back and see Emily getting changed into a clingy black dress that fit her like sin, her makeup subtle but smokey.

You had been actively suppressing your attraction to her, a gorgeous older woman, since you had joined the BAU a month ago. You told yourself that you could keep your lustful feelings under control because you would only be there temporarily, to replace their usual media liaison - who was on maternity leave. But seeing her dressed up like this, it certainly didn’t help with that suppression.

Things only got worse when you got to the club and Viper descended upon the two of you. (You quietly whispered to Emily that his name should have been Vulture and the soft laughter she let out had your insides fluttering.)

Turns out, Emily had been paying extra attention to the ‘push and pull’ technique that Reid had talked about. And even though you knew that it was just in the name of messing with the cocky man - you fell hook, line, and sinker for Emily’s combatants of this technique.

See, rather than letting him push and pull the two of you - compliment one of you and leave the other one reeling for validation, Emily complimented you herself. She never let Viper leave room for you to need that validation. Not that you would ever need it from someone like him. But she certainly threw him off with this tactic.

She supported you, focused far more of her attention on you than she did on him. The two of you never fell to the traditional ‘women in constant competition’ market that his techniques were built on. If she put far more of her focus on you and actively ignored him (or even not-so-subtly insulted him), then what could he do?

Women not vying for his attention? It was a curveball for the ages.

Clearly, he had no backup plan. He was struggling to keep up.

If he called your dress cheap, Emily said how well the fabric complimented your amazing body. If he said your mascara was clumpy and poorly done, Emily said your eyes were naturally beautiful and shined bright without makeup anyway.

The more annoyed it seemed to make him, the more she fawned over you.

And it left you staring at her all night. Captivated by her beauty, her silky voice. You barely even knew that he was there as she laughed at him, engaged in his silly games, taunted him.

By the time you left the club, you were almost high on the affection Emily had given you.

The rest seemed to go by in a blur. The real killer was caught at a different club, and the team retired back to their hotel to get some rest before returning home. As you and Emily walked back to your shared room, you were still laughing and joking about the pathetic man who somehow made his living off of scamming men more pathetic than him.

“And did - did you see the look on his face when I said ‘you probably go home alone, don’t you?’ - Like he - he couldn’t believe that I wasn’t falling for his BS,” Emily said, stuttering through her words as hardy laughter disrupted her speech.

“It’s like he’s never met a confident woman in his life.” You replied, a delicate chuckle in your voice.

It was a subtle compliment toward Emily, admiring her confidence in how well she had dealt with the scummy, overly cocky man.

“No, not quite.” Emily sighed, using the keycard to open the hotel room door.

Your insides fluttered even more when she held the door open for you. You couldn’t help but enjoy the domestic feeling behind it as you brushed past her body in order to get inside.

Of course, she wasn’t even paying attention to the dreamy, starstruck look on your face as she continued speaking.

“He’s never approached a confident woman before.” She quickly corrected, letting the door fall shut and click locked behind her. “He’s never approached a woman he thought he couldn’t con.”

“And for some reason he dared you to ‘meet him on his turf’?” You questioned, repeating the words she had told you, when ranting about the previous interaction she had with the awful man. “You, of all people?”

You had to wonder what about Emily Prentiss would come off as even slightly insecure or - what about her said that she would fall for his stupid tricks. In your opinion, it was like trying to outrun a cheetah using a tricycle.

“Yeah, I guess he was counting on me being drunk and blinded by all his guyliner.” Emily joked, tossing her bag down onto one of the twin beds.

You collapsed down onto the other bed with intense laughter. The joke itself was funny, but her delivery, her confidence, and her smile caused a spark through you that forced you to laugh off the tension before you jumped her bones. You had to be professional. You had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“I call the bathroom first.” She announced. “I really need a shower after being drowned in Drakkar Noir all night.”

You had to ignore the dryness in your throat and the heat between your thighs at the thought of her in the shower. Previously, it was something your mind could have easily glossed over, but after she spent the night fawning over you and capturing your attention completely, it was like you were a horny teenager again. Now all you could think about was her completely naked, droplets of hot water rolling across her skin, surrounded by steam.

You had to pull yourself together. You had to be professional, for fuck’s sake.

“But of course.” You told her, giving a smile and a nod. You motioned toward the bathroom, as if presenting it to her in a gentlemanly fashion. “I’ll probably just shower in the morning.”

Emily nodded in acknowledgement of this, and there was no further conversation.

This left your mind reeling, your body entirely tense and hyper aware of her every movement as she got ready. You had to busy yourself with grabbing your pajamas out of your own bag - an oversized X-Files tee shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton shorts - while she grabbed her toiletries bag and went into the bathroom.

The water turned on and you tried your hardest not to think about her undressing and stepping under the stream as you changed into your pjs. You tried your hardest not to think about her tight, fit body relaxing under the steam. You tried your hardest not to think about soft bubbles rolling across her soft, pale skin.

Clearly, you were failing. Failing not to think about her. Failing miserably when it came to suppressing your attraction for her.

By the time you climbed into bed, there was a hard, hot pain between your thighs.

You wanted so badly to simply roll over and go to sleep. You wanted to ignore it. But a very large part of you worried that if you didn’t ‘take care’ of that nagging arousal, then you wouldn’t be able to sleep. And if you didn’t sleep and you rolled into the next day with this attraction to Emily still at the forefront of your mind - then you wouldn’t be able to act normal around her for the travel day home tomorrow. You might say or do something stupid.

You had to do something.

The longer you laid there in bed, unconsciously squeezing your thighs together, feeling your pussy throbbing between them - thinking about Emily’s head being trapped between your legs - the more it bothered you.

You had some time while she was in the shower, right? You could be quick. Of course you could. And if you heard the water turn off, you would simply stop.

Before any true logic could catch up between your ears, a hand was sneaking below the waistband of your shorts. That hand easily went inside your underwear and found a natural place on your throbbing clit. You dipped down into your wetness (leaking out of you abundantly from how much you had been thinking about Emily) and slicked up the hot button before you began rubbing it in hard circles. You were determined to cum quickly and be done with it.

You closed your eyes and tiled your head back against the pillow, your mind drifting back to her once again. You couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect she looked in that ruby lipstick. All night, you had felt jealous of the glass when she brought her drink up to her lips.

You imagined her approaching you at a bar.

You would be out by yourself, and she would see you from across the room. So entirely confident, she would see you and in a moment, know that she could have you.

She would come up behind you, whisper sweetly in your ear, telling you how perfect you looked. She would smirk at your initial shyness when you giggled at the compliment. She would tell you that she couldn’t wait to get you home - that she wanted you and she wanted you now.

So she would pull you into a bathroom, pinning you against a counter. And then she would shove her hand under your dress, only to find that you weren’t wearing any panties, just for her. She would scold you, call you a naughty girl. Her voice so sweet and condescending, only making you wetter. And then she would shove her fingers into your slick cunt and shove her other hand over your mouth, trying in vain to keep your whorish moans from being heard as you begged for her.

“Emily, please,” You couldn’t stop the faint, needy moan that escaped you as you got lost in the fantasy.

Of course, so lost in it, that you didn’t hear the shower turning off.

Your pussy ached, leaking freely into your underwear, and your clit throbbed, emanating a needy pain out through your pelvis. You worked your fingers in more frantic circles, doubling down. Your hips canted up off the bed, knocking the covers off you slightly as dull pleasure radiated out across your hips.

(Dull compared to what Emily would have given you, you were sure.)

Even if it was unsatisfactory, you were close.

“Emily-!” You cried out desperately, right on the edge of orgasm.

“Hey, do you have some makeup remover I can borrow? I forgot-”

Shock cascaded through your system and you instantly stilled your movements. This caused your orgasm to become a low hum in your pelvis once again as your eyes shot open in disbelief.

Your gaze locked onto Emily where she stood in the bathroom doorway. Your insides were still with shock - embarrassment or any other emotion hadn’t even caught up yet.

Steam ploomed around her and she was forced to hold up the hotel towel with one hand as it couldn’t fully wrap around her body, leaving a sliver of her skin exposed from her armpit to her knee - the curve of her breast, her waist, and her hip on full display. With her hair soaked and her bangs slicked back from her face, and true to what she had said, her makeup still on but slightly smudged from the shower - she looked utterly delicious.

She was like a pornographic dream, live in front of you.

You let out a quiet whimper at the sight.

It was only then that your brain began to unfreeze from the shock, and you realized how truly incriminating you looked. The covers pooled around your thighs, your hand quite visibly inside your shorts, your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes scanned over her half naked body. You rushed to rip your hand out of your underwear - and you realized the sight wasn’t much better as your fingers glistened in the light.

Emily’s eyes moved from your glistening fingers to your stiff, nervous body, your thighs still parted (as it would be too uncomfortable to clamp them down on your wet underwear and aching cunt). She smirked at you. She looked at you with the same devious, cocky expression that Viper had started out the night with - before she had taken him down notch by notch.

The look alone caused any apology to be stuck in your throat. You waited for her to speak before you made any moves.

“What were you thinking about?” She asked, her voice breathy, soft, yet entirely commanding.

In that moment, caught in the smoldering gate of her eyes, you could find nothing but honesty pounding inside of your chest.

“You.” You whined quietly.

Emily chuckled gently.

Your stomach twisted with embarrassment for the split second that you thought she might be laughing at you. But then you realized that it was, in fact, a sound of satisfaction.

That realization hit you when she dropped the towel completely. She stood in front of you proudly, showing off all of her naked, wet glory. Her dark nipples pebbling in the air, the damp sheen of water making her skin glow like a dewy goddess. Quite obviously, she wanted you to look.

Your eyes traced a few thick droplets of water as they escaped her hair and ran down her body. You became absolutely mesmerized by the way gravity pulled the water over her collarbones, the teardrop curve of her breasts, the plushness of her stomach, across her pelvis, down her thighs. You imagined yourself tracing over those exact lines with your tongue.

“Come to me.”

Her silken voice snapped you out of your trance. Your eyes shot back up to her face once again, and in the sluggish moment that it took the words to get to your brain, she added something onto the command that absolutely knocked the wind out of you.

“Come on. Come to Mama.”

Her calling herself that name, so self assured, so certain - the phrase almost had you down on all fours, crawling to her like a dog.

But instead, you scrambled to get upright and practically ran across the room to her on shaking legs. Entirely eager, you stood in front of her and leaned in to press your mouth against hers. Naturally, you expected that the interaction would start with a kiss.

But she quickly reached up and stopped you with a hand on the side of your neck. You let out a harsh whimper of disappointment - one that quickly turned into a moan when she pressed her thumb into your windpipe with just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy.

She was showing you who was in charge.

“Not so fast,” She told you, her breath cascading against your lips now.

Although she was completely naked and you were clothed, it was very apparent that she was the one in complete control.

“Tell me how badly you want it.” She ordered, her voice low and almost gentle - a soft domineering that caused the hairs on your arms to stand up straight.

“I want it so badly,” You easily replied, your voice intensely needy. “I need it. I need you, Em.”

Emily reached up with her other hand and - with no warning - harshly gripped your pussy through your underwear and shorts. This caused sharp shocks of arousal to flow through you, making you moan out weakly. It was a dizzying euphoria that had you bucking into her hand. You almost came from that single touch alone.

“Needy little thing.” She purred. “I am gonna have so much fun with you.”

This was her last verbal sentiment before she pulled you forward by that hand on your neck and silenced any further moans with a bruising kiss.

#sundrop writes #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prenitss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years ago

Text

Gone Fishing: And Baby Makes Three…

this was originally a request from my dear friend Katie (but tumblr ate it, so it no longer exists) and it spiraled into a short little mini series (tagged on my masterlist). just sweet little blurbs when i get a request or the mood strikes.

original prompt: eddie tells wayne he’s going to be a grandpa.

warnings/tags: r is pregnant; mentions of pregnancy and related symptoms; dad!eddie munson x afab!fem!reader. (2k words)

Eddie had come home from work one day and found you sitting in the kitchen with Steve and Nancy’s newest little one. A wrinkly faced newborn with Steve’s dark head of hair and Nancy’s eyes. And when Steve had handed that baby to Eddie, your eyes had softened in a way he’d never seen before.

He supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when later that night you'd asked him if he wanted to try for one of your own. And it wasn’t like he’d been opposed to the idea—he’d married you with the intention of starting a family some day.

In all honesty, the trying to get pregnant part…well, that had been fun. He’d just anticipated a little bit of time between deciding to start trying and getting pregnant. But two months later, you’d come home from the doctor with a photo in hand of his affectionately named “little gummy bear.”

It hadn’t looked like much at the time. A tiny little blob with wriggly limbs, if he was being honest with himself. But you’d cried when you held the grainy picture in front of him, and he’d cried too, holding you on his lap at the kitchen table.

Soon enough, another month passed and you were far enough along you felt comfortable enough to tell those around you your exciting news. Naturally, you suggested the two of you tell Wayne first. It felt right to do so, you told him, and he’d agreed.

You were glowing and beautiful, like Nancy had mentioned people said happened during pregnancy one day over dinner, but not your fullest self. Most mornings Eddie felt the bed dip as the sun rose in the sky, and joined you with a hand to comfort in any way possible when you rushed to the bathroom. Whether it was a warm palm sliding up and down your back or the chill of his skin on your clammy cheek, he’d wanted to be there in whatever capacity you’d allow. He’d carry your struggles on his back if he was able to. You were doing all the work, after all. And he was grateful for it—grateful for you.

The evening you were meant to tell Wayne over dinner, you’d been sick since the morning—all day, really, and it pained him to see you like that. He watched you washing dishes in the kitchen while Wayne settled down in the living room with a freshly opened beer, feeling his heart double in size when your eyes lifted and met his.

You’d always been beautiful, but there was something different about you lately. Nancy said that the “glow” people often spoke of was from the endless hormones raging through your body. Some of which he’d become well-acquainted with these few weeks, because they made your emotions vary between happy and sad in a split second—often to his own detriment.

But he really thought they’d gotten it all wrong; he thought that the glow came from the way you were so in love, it manifested on the outside with no more space to contain itself. And if it made him pathetic to admit how in love with you he was, especially so as of late, he’d happily own up to it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, moving over to where you stood with your hips flush against the countertop, your head bent a little low as you scrubbed idly at a dirty plate. His fingers curled along the side of your cheek, turning your face so your eyes would meet his. His thumb tapped at your chin, your lips tugging upward weakly. “There you are. Why don’t you go lay down, hmm? I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes.”

“Eddie.” You placed the dish down in a drying rack and huffed out a slow breath.

“You were up at three in the morning—” He chuckled when you opened your mouth to protest and nudged your cheek with his nose, brushing a kiss there. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I still want you to tell Wayne. I think it’ll be nice for you two to share that memory,” you admitted softly, leaning into his shoulder, one arm wrapping loosely around his waist.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Only every day.”

He dropped his ringed fingers down to your sweater, sliding over your midsection, seeking the comfort of your warmth. You sighed against his neck, head tucking against his throat, and he murmured, “Please let me take care of the kitchen? I’ll feel ten times better if you go get some rest.”

It took a little bit more convincing, and a brush of lips against your brow with a muttered reassurance he’d take care of everything, before you retreated to your bedroom and closed the door behind you. Eddie worked in quick silence to finish up where you’d left off, calling over his shoulder to his Uncle that he’d just be a minute.

His Uncle leans back with a great sigh, hand waving unhurriedly in the air. “No rush, boy.”

And once he’d finished scrubbing the remnants of dinner off the final plate to tuck it away in the drying rack, he flounced over to the kitchen table where you’d wrapped a gift for his Uncle. He double checked the little card tucked in between sheets of tissue paper, pushed it to the front of the bag, and snatched the handles in his hand.

A crooked, lopsided smile crosses Wayne’s face that matches the one Eddie wore, eyes widening in curiosity at the gift dangling in his nephew’s hand. “It’s not my birthday, y’know,” he said, placing his beer down on the coffee table. Eddie leaned back on the couch beside him, nerves bubbling to life at what lay within. Wayne’s smile dropped, concern lining his features as he asked, “Is the little missy not feelin’ okay?”

Eddie sighed heavily. “Yeah, she’d been up this morning sick. I told her to go lay down,” he admitted, thumbing at his ring finger, twirling the yellow gold wedding band around and around in his nervousness. “Open the card first.”

“What are you doin’? More jittery than normal,” he chided, but slid his finger beneath the edge of the envelope all the same, opening the lip to reveal a Hallmark card. On the front was a golden trophy, with a banner stretched across reading ‘The World’s Greatest Pop Pop.’ His head turned to Eddie, the creases around his mouth deepening as he swallowed thickly and opened the card. The older man rubbed a hand over his mouth, throat clearing as his eyes reread the words on the card over and over again. “My boy. Are you tellin’ me I’m gonna be a grandpa? The Mrs. Munson is havin’ a baby?” At Eddie’s slow nod, Wayne barked out a disbelieving but excited laugh, pulling his nephew into a rough hug.

Eddie swallowed the knot forming in his throat. Exhaled deeply to keep the tears at bay. He’d been doing that a lot since finding out you were expecting; blubbered when you told him you were pregnant, then once more when he’d accompanied you for the next doctor’s appointment and saw the little thing for himself, and then once more when he’d heard the heartbeat for the first time.

“Finish opening your gift before you start getting all sappy and shit,” he teased, choking on his own emotions. Wayne slid out the grainy photo from the last ultrasound, thumb running along the tiny outline of the little one. Eddie grinned, leaning over to trail a finger along the form. “That’s from an earlier appointment. I can show you what they look like now. Less…alien-gummy bear hybrid, more…actual baby. With fingernails, the doctor said. Thought that was pretty cool.”

Wayne huffed out a watery laugh and fished out the pieces of tissue paper within the package. His mouth worked silently over the emotions riling in his gut as he lifted a hat within his palm and glanced at the words etched across the front. There at the top, was a fish with a reel swirling around in a loop, poised at its opened mouth. Then, in blocky lettering below, read ‘Reel Cool Pop Pop.’

When Wayne leaned back, his teary eyes scanned Eddie’s face, frown setting further into the wrinkle lines crowding his lips. “What’s wrong, boy? I can tell somethin’ is goin’ ‘round in that head of yours.” He knocked his weathered knuckles lightly against Eddie’s temple; Eddie nudged his head away, lips quirking with a smile despite himself. “C’mon now. Your brow’s wrinklin’ like your momma’s did when she used to worry.”

“I’m happy. Shit– I’m so excited, but I…” He paused, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’m, ah, in a few months I’m gonna be a dad and I don’t know why, but the universe thinks I’m ready for that.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinkin’. But I’m gonna tell you right now that you are not your old man. You’re a good man, Ed. Gave me hell for a few years, but I know you’re ready,” he said, lowering his head to where Eddie’s palms slid down his face, an exhausted sigh falling through the gaps between his fingers. “Got a good head on your shoulders and a big heart. Been a good husband to your wife, and I know you’ll make a fine dad. I’m proud of you. So very proud of you, son.”

Later that evening, when Eddie entered your shared bedroom with joy in his heart and excitement bubbling in his blood, you shifted up onto your elbow. You peered over at him with a wide grin across your pretty features. Asked, “What’s making you smile like that?”

Eddie’s grin widened, hand splaying over his heart like a love struck fool as he practically threw himself onto the bed, singing, “You're havin' my baby what a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me.”

The sleeves of your too-long sweater covered your face, body rolling away from him, mortified. “Edddds, no. Please no Paul Anka song again.”

His nose pressed into your cheek as his chin hooked over your shoulder. Lips smacked a loud kiss against your cheek, an amused chuckle spilling from his lips. “What? I’m a man madly in love with his wife. What’s wrong with that?”

Nothing. Nothing at all, so you shifted closer to him, back aligning with his chest as his arms wound tight around your waist. You let out a contented hum as his palm drifted along the waistband of your jeans and beneath the hem of your sweater, lingering over the secret growing beneath your heart. “I love you, too,” you whispered, hand affectionately grazing over the back of his. “Was Wayne happy?”

“Over the moon. Said he thinks it’s a boy.”

And seven months later, he’d be right.

Wayne entered that hospital with balloons in one hand and a teddy bear in another. His weathered face drew tight as he ducked into the room you’d been moved into to rest and recover, hand waving in greeting to where Eddie sat at your bedside with his newborn son cradled in the crook of his elbow. An infant boy with dark hair like his and the eyes of the woman he loved. Eddie leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, pride at what you’d done to bring your son into the world still glowing bright in his chest, and waved his uncle over. Watched as Wayne placed the gifts down onto the small couch pressed against the corner wall and drifted nearer to your bedside.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a bright smile as his uncle glanced down at the little blue bundle in his arms, before glancing up. “Congratulations, you two.”

Eddie glanced your way briefly to capture your glowing smile—to take in the way your eyes had never once left your son’s since his arrival on this side of earth, and then lifted to his uncle’s, your voice tired as you asked, “Wanna hold your grandson?”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, breaking off to clear his throat and inhale deeply. Eddie swapped places, climbing up from the makeshift rocking chair to allow Wayne to sit, before he leaned down and brushed a kiss against the baby’s head. Once his uncle situated himself, Eddie lowered the infant into his arms. “What did you two end up namin’ him?”

Your eyes flickered briefly to Eddie’s, head bobbing with a nod. Eddie brushed his thumb along his son’s cheek and said proudly, “James Aragorn Munson.”

James shifted in his grandfather’s arms. His head moved to seek out the shelter of his warmth—to seek out the love he’d already known in his short span of time in the outside world.

“Welcome, James.” Wayne moved his rough palm to the back of the baby’s head and shifted him on his lap so he lay stretched out before him. The older man admired those tired eyes that blearily gazed up at him with a tenderness that knocked the wind out of Eddie. James’ mouth opened in a little grunt, eyes closing once more in contentment, unknowing that he’d already stolen the hearts of the three watching him with rapt attention. “I’m your Pop Pop. We’ve been waitin’ for you.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson blurb #dad!eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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therealslimshakespeare · 7 months ago

Note

do the girls deal with any specific bouts of cruelty BECAUSE of period weeks? Like guards being especially malicious or things like that?

Female Complaints

Me instead of just answering, takes weeks and ends up writing you a blurb, which rather deviates from the original ask. Ugh sorry. The long and short of it is yes! If, and that’s a strong if, they are caught during it. But they would endeavor not to be with everything in them. And as shown here, many of the boys try to help with that

Warnings: mentions of periods, internalized Misogyny, some gender dissatisfaction (we’ve all been there when curled in a ball and no Advil on hand) and some hinted sexual threats

Lieutenant Sanchez would have rather licked that guard’s boot than admit to her ailment, but the longer his all too observant heckling went on, the more conscious she was of symptoms she’d otherwise surmount by a supreme and long perfected method of productive disassociation.

Keeping her eyes down on her literal cabbage patch, Sanchez tried to pay attention to the rub of her blisters on the rough hewn handle of the garden hoe, anything to forget about the tear pricking pain gnawing at her pelvis. It was an old trick to withstand the forces of hurtling her fighter jet into the blue yonder, to focus on another discomfort, the bite of your tongue, the curl of your toe in your boot, anything over the crucial and foremost discomfort that might throw off your performance. She wasn’t weak, she knew that, but it was impossible not to hold oneself up next to others. Her time in enlistment had only been possible on certain days of the month by crucially provided medications. Now those medication weren’t available and she was half crippled one week out of the month, and there was talk. Talk about how she ever managed to do her job.

She’d done it magnificently.

That’s how she’d done it.

And she’d seen it through until her bird was a fireball in the sky, driven down into her target along with her bombs, one last salvo of equipment, a final “fuck you” to her enemies as they plucked her from the sky. Now she was hoeing sandy earth between cabbage rows with a swimming head and knees that buckled from the intensity of her menstrual cramps.

Lieutenant Sanchez wasn’t very fond of considering herself a woman; it hadn’t gotten her much beyond unwanted restrictions and unasked for attentions. She could not relate to Maureen Kendeigh’s delight in her sex, the way she held court over discomforts and reveled in girlish peculiarities while in camp. Maybe Kendeigh was more confident, stronger, or maybe she’d had a kinder go of life so far, but Sanchez would rather lick that guard’s boot than admit even to her fellow prisoners that she was suffering from female complaints again.

Last time had been complete with a migraine, and there was nothing for it but to lay with her coat sleeve tied around her eyes and blindly grope for the bucket to puke on occasion. Someone had emptied the bucket twice, brought a washcloth and gently told her to “let me” while she’d futilely batted the kindness away.

Sanchez wasn’t looking to recognize her benefactor. Even though she suspected him, he wasn’t getting shit from her. Not even thanks.

She refused to belive that anyone had seen her like that. Just as this guard was never going to get the satisfaction of an admittance of the same. There was no tell-tale blood on her trousers, she was doing her job, the weeds were being churned up by her furious whacks -the Krout Fucker could go pound sand for all she cared. But then again, were it an option, she’d do anything to pause, to straighten, to brace her hands on her hips for a brief respite.

-A posture that had earned her the guard’s first jape.

If she’d mistaken his German jokes about blood and female dogs, she did not misunderstand his gesticulations to his crotch and then her own. The laughter that followed from his fellows haunted her, that little crowd of four standing at a little distance, smoking and mocking, the way her fellow prisoners gave her uneasy looks, the way Ida Brady hauled the water buckets about a few rows down as if she hadn’t bled a child out of herself a little over a month ago.

The woman was ghost-like in her frailty and thinness, but she was strong. Sanchez loathed her for it, for the way she’d managed to be so very discreet about the ultimate female humiliation, the way she seemed so impervious to all the taunts and laughter of the guards about her erstwhile misfortune. The way she could haul buckets and hoe crops without a wince, the way she was respected by the men in spite of it.

“Here, let me.” a large, warm hand folded over Sanchez own white knuckles on the wooden handle, making to take her prop from her.

Same words, same voice, if there was anyone she liked to avoid more than Ida Brady herself, it was her caregiving fairy of a brother. Washcloths over throats or help in Sector B’s shit excuse for a garden, Sanchez didn’t like owing John Brady anything. She gripped her garden implement harder, half to wrestle it back from his presumptuous aid, half because now he was taking it away, she realized how crucial the support was to her remaining upright.

“Think you’ll find this is mine.” she snapped.

“Think maybe you should take a breather.” he leveled back, fingers still curled over hers and for a woman who’d not allowed a single touch all winter, to feel a hand on a hand in springtime was more electric than perhaps it should have been. Or maybe it was those watchfully wise eyes pleading with her through a greasy fringe of brown hair. His eyes were green in the sunlight, or maybe that was his undershirt reflecting.

“I’m fine.” she jerked at it; unnervingly the wood didn’t even budge from his grip -he was strong for a scrawny little fuck with pretty clavicles and no need for a razor.

“These are for you.” Brady’s other hand extended a very quaint little bag in front of her face, domestic and familiar, its label touted seeds for a variety of squash. “To be sewn in between the cabbages, apparently their vines will help block out the weeds. And we can eat them.”

Sanchez took the bag with one hand, her other still trapped beneath his own on the hoe’s handle. “And you’re not smart enough to put seeds in dirt?”

“Sit down and plant them before I make you.” Brady’s tone was the sort Sanchez supposed her father was going for when belligerently ordering her about in her younger, dependant days, -it weakened her knuckles in reflex and suddenly the hoe was out of reach and Brady’s other hand extended as if to help her into some goddamn carriage. “Come on, no one will notice if you stop makin’ a fucking scene.”

Gingerly she put her hand in his and knelt down, winded from the agony of the descending movement despite his supportive grip, but once seated on her knees, she had to admit -to herself, never him- it was better this way.

“There.” he muttered, like he himself had been the one relieved, “You don’t have to be so stubborn. Everybody helps everybody in here.”

Sanchez pondered that, knowing that the bomber girls certainly had a pack of protectors that she had denied herself due to belligerence and not a little annoyance at being blamed for Cleven’s scars. Stubborn, he dared call her stubborn! It made her venomous even as she carefully undid the bag and poured a small quantity of the precious seeds in her palm, “Oh?” she taunted him “Does your harpy of a sister even have female complaints?”

John Brady’s form was excellent even when hoeing a cabbage row and he certainly was making an annoyingly more significant amount of progress compared to Sanchez’s weak limbed efforts of before. “Wanna keep your teeth?” he grunted as his hoe blade blurred near her foot, “Then don’t talk shit about my sister.”

Sanchez found the warm earth and the posture on her knees too comforting to retain her vitriol; she ought to hurl another barb at him but it all seemed a little unimpressive as she realized this was the first spring day she’d really enjoyed: sat here on her knees between cabbage rows with John Brady whacking the earth beside her.

“Huh.” she uttered after a while, having kept pace with his work down the rows, shuffling on her knees and repeating the motions of dig and plant and cover. The crowd of guards had not yet dispersed but the heckles had stopped.

“What?” Her companion grunted.

“Staring at asses seems to be a staple for them, no matter whose ass.”

Brady’s hoe thudded into the earth and stayed there for a beat too long as he met her eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Is it the one with the blonde scruff?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Brady’s hoe went back to work, its wielder not seemingly perturbed.

“Used to that?” she asked him, suddenly discomforted at the realization, which was a new sensation for her -concern for somebody else in this hell hole.

“Yeah.”

“That’s shit.” was all she had to offer, but she eyed the guard in question, and something showing on her face seemed to bother him enough he turned away and began his route through the compound again, cigarette crushed into the earth and dog trailing at his leash.

“Yeah.” Brady assented beside her, unaware of the change. “Lotta things are shit right now.”

“Yeah.” she agreed.

“S’why we need to let each other help.” he sermonized and she was reminded why she found the young captain so aggravating. She also felt an odd impulse to follow him around like those damn guard dogs and snarl at anyone who had shitty intentions.

“Yeah.” She agreed, “Anytime you need to hide a body, I’ll help.”

He turned her a lopsided grin, surprising in its width and brightness, how easily it cracked across his sober face despite the context, “Knew I’d find your currency one day, Sanchez.” he about preened and then they began on another row.

#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #integrated AU #Brady x Sanchez #it was about time the other girls got a little love

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sporesgalaxy · 10 months ago

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what's uppppp I have some backstory writing for Pierre I've been fiddling with for aaagesss & I mostly like where it's at now. so I show you :)

short life history intro + Devil Fruit aquisition origin + little blurb from on the way to the Grand Line. enjoyyyy

warnings: animal death, bfrb (nail chewing)

•••

Tiny Pierra lets ants crawl all over her. She watches them tear apart a dying grasshopper in the garden, piece by piece.

Pierra looks with wonder in her eyes at a rotting fish covered with maggots. At a dead baby bird that fell from its nest too soon. At a bag full of bloody ducks her father shot.

Pierra gets too upset sometimes, and too frightened frequently. Pierra hides as often as possible.

When Pierra starts getting big, she wishes she was still small. She used to like squeezing into tight spaces; inside a box, under a small desk, under a bed. She doesn't fit anymore. Sometimes she feels like she's stopped fitting anywhere at all.

Pierra sneaks into places she is not supposed to be when she's alone, just to look around. Just to hear the silence.

Pierra takes food she is not supposed to eat, just to get away with it. Just to test how far she can go without being noticed. Just to be unnoticed on purpose.

When Pierra is 16, she goes to the market with her mother. While her mother speaks to someone, Pierra breaks off a tiny piece of the most interesting fruit at the stand. No one notices her do it this time. Pierra chews and swallows the piece of fruit, and it tastes bad, but Pierra is pleased to have learned what it tastes like without permission.

Later that evening, alone in her room, Pierra thinks she is dreaming, or maybe losing her mind. She wonders half-heartedly if the fruit was poisonous and she's dying. Then, she does what she always does when she thinks she is losing her mind: distracts herself and waits for it to pass.

It passes, eventually, but this won't be the last time. She learns that it's not madness, but the curse of a Devil. She learns she can't swim anymore. She prays for forgiveness. She tells nobody.

When Pierra gets too upset and admits it her mother a year later, she is begged never to transform again. To hide it forever, for her own safety. Human traffickers could be anywhere, her mother says, and Devil Fruit users fetch a high price. Pierra promises to keep hiding. Pierra wonders if it will be easier now, having someone who understands.

Pierra's mother goes back to acting like nothing ever happened. It doesn't get much easier.

----

Pierra Piper is currently one of many passengers on a large Navy escort vessel, which is in the process of entering the Grand Line through the Calm Belt. Pierra is trying very hard not to look at the water or think about Sea Kings. Her nose is buried resolutely in a short book.

The book isn't exactly comforting, though; it's about a man who transforms into a bug and finds himself useless and helpless and burdensome to his family, unable to continue working at his job or caring for himself. Pierra knew the book was about this, and chose to read it anyway. She reminds herself of that as she bravely turns the page rather than closing it.

It still feels surreal that Pierra is making a once-in-a-lifetime journey into the dangerous waters of the Grand Line for something as droll as her lab assistant job.

Pierra digs her nail into the book's spine restlessly.

She wonders if somehow, the Marines who interviewed her had known. Had been able to tell, just by looking at her, that she's been cursed by a Devil Fruit. Maybe there's some dead giveaway that she just doesn't know about.

More realistically, Pierra had been chosen for transfer despite her inexperience simply because she's big. She isn't especially athletic, but maybe being 7 and a half feet tall was deterrent enough for some pirates. Or maybe it was about being sturdy and able to reach things in a large laboratory.

Pierra chews her thumbnail and makes a great effort not to think about the sorts of biological research experiments she's read about the World Government allegedly subjecting prisoners to, or just how many prisoners the Marines have access to on the Grand Line. Those reports might not even be true. Pierra's thumb begins to bleed.

She wishes she had turned this job down. She wishes her mother hadn't been so encouraging despite the danger. She wishes her dad hadn't sounded so happy for her. She wishes the job didn't pay so much. She wishes it didn't promise a free return trip in 6 months. She hopes she'll meet a rich Zoologist while she's on the Grand Line.

#1pc #adddna #centipierre

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mothmanmunson · 11 months ago

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Aftershocks

A hurt/comfort Steddie blurb while I take a break from my main fic.

“Something's up with Steve, Eddie.”

Robin was pacing back and forth in front of Eddie, who was sitting on his couch in the trailer the government had so graciously gifted him and Wayne after the spring break incident, and after they finally cleared Eddie's name.

“And?”

“He won't tell me! He tells me everything.”

“And you're coming to me because?”

Robin huffed and gestured to Eddie, as if to try and emphasize the fact he was sitting there at all as the reason, and she had a point. If it hadn't been for Steve he'd probably have just bled out in the Upside Down.

Dustin had explained what happened when Eddie woke up in the hospital. How Steve carried him out of the gate that was in his old trailer, even though he had several broken ribs, and then insisted on being near him.

“Cause according to him, you two bonded in the Upside Down… I know he won't talk to anyone else, so you're the guy.”

Eddie sighed softly.

“Robin, Steve and I haven't talked since I got out of the hospital.”

“Exactly! Don't you think that's weird? He literally fought with the doctors when they tried treating him because he didn't wanna leave you or Max alone, and then once you're both out he just goes radio silent on you?”

Eddie shrugged. He had just chalked it up to him going back to prepping for college or whatever now that Hawkins was safe again. Robin huffed once again, which brought Eddie out of his thoughts.

“Will you just… will you talk to him? For me? He looks terrible and I'm worried about him.”

“Yeah, I will. Just don't get your hopes up, okay?”

—

Steve sat on his couch after getting home from chauffeuring the kids to their different activities for the day, Will had art club, Max, El, and Erica had gone to the new mall they had built where Starcourt used to be, and Dustin, Lucas and Mike were hanging out at the arcade.

He had been running around non-stop since everything settled after spring break, and that was just with them. He only got short breaks between all the drop offs and pickups, and those were usually filled with college prep, house work, or doing favors for the older kids, much to Robin's dismay.

“Steve if you keep this up you're gonna make yourself sick or something,”

She had said one day while her, Nancy, and Jonathan were over. They had offered to take over some of the driving duties so Steve could have a break, but he refused.

“I'm fine, guys, really. I appreciate it but you've all got your own stuff going on.”

“Well, so do you.” Nancy chimed in.

“Steve, the last drafts of your college application essays had so many typos in them it looked like you were writing them in your sleep.” Steve scoffed softly and shook his head.

“Well, then it's a good thing I had you look over them, isn't it?” After more bickering back and forth, the three had left empty-handed, and Steve continued on his self-destructive helping spree.

Which is why he was surprised when Eddie showed up on his porch on a Friday afternoon unannounced and out of nowhere, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

“Hey, uh, can I come in? I wanna talk to you.” Steve let him in and noticed Eddie had slipped off his shoes at the door.

“What's up, Eddie?”

“I could ask the same of you. You look like… well you don't look great.” Steve scoffed softly at the comment before considering the fact Eddie had clearly said something less harsh than he was originally going to.

“I've just been busy.”

“Busy enough to skip meals?”

“Eddie. Not you, too.” Eddie stuffed his hands in his Jacket pockets after setting the bag on the coffee table.

“What do you mean, ‘not me, too’?”

“You're here to ask to take over driving the kids around, aren't you?” Eddie let out a short laugh.

“What? You think I'd let the Hellions into my van? Mike and Dustin are lucky I don't make them walk home from sessions.”

“So… Robin didn't tell you to come see me?” Steve had just guessed, but the way Eddie shrugged confirmed his suspicion. Of course Robin would go to Eddie-she knew if anyone was gonna get through to Steve it'd be him, especially after he insisted on being by Eddie's side in the hospital. She saw something spark up in Steve that she knew was the starts of a crush.

“Oh, no, she totally did. But I'm not gonna try a tactic that already didn't work. I just came to hang out, to encourage you to take a break.”

“Well, I have to work on my essays for my applications, so maybe some other time, yeah?” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve mentally curse both him and Robin.

“No can do, big boy, it's my turn to dolt around for you. Sit.”

“Eddie I really don't th-”

“Steve. I'm doing this for Robin's sake and for yours. Pick a movie, sit your ass down, and relax.” Eddie went over and nudged Steve in the direction of the movie shelf.

“Otherwise I'm gonna go grab 'The American Werewolf in London' outta the van and we're watching that.”

“Why is it in your van?”

“Cause it's a rental and if I leave it in there I'll remember to return it.” Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded, picking out The Dark Crystal and popping it into the player before sitting down.

—

The two watched the movie for a while, and Eddie kept an eye on Steve, who had visibly relaxed.

“Hey, so, I've gotta ask, why have you been running yourself into the ground, Harrington?” Steve looked over at him before looking back at the movie. It looked like he was trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

“I just…I don't wanna be stagnant, I guess.”

“Steve, c’mon, tell me the truth. I'm not gonna force it out of you but I can't help if you don't tell me, man.” Steve let out a soft sigh and sat up, placing his drink on the table as he did. Eddie watched as the tension made itself at home in Steve again as he moved, and part of him wished he hadn't opened his big mouth.

“The night Starcourt burned down.”

“Yeah?”

“Hopper wasn't the only one who went through shit that night.” Eddie let Steve take his time, watching him with wide eyes. The brunette looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide, and Eddie didn't blame him.

“Well, to make a long story short, Starcourt was a front for a Russian military base and they captured Robin and I. It was awful, we were only there for hours, but it felt like days…” Steve took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“I felt so useless. I couldn't help Robin even though she was right there, and it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I told myself if I survived I never wanted to feel like that again.” Eddie frowned and furrowed his brow, twisting the rings on his hand as he did.

“Steve. You're not useless, you were just as trapped as she was.” He reached out and grabbed Steve's shoulder supportively.

“I know but-”

“No buts. From now on, if you start to feel that way, tell someone. Hell, tell me. Just, don't dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of, okay? You've got so many people that care about you, but we can't help you if you don't ask for it.” Steve looked at Eddie for a moment before looking down at his hands.

“Yeah… okay… Thanks, Eddie. Really.” Eddie smiled and nodded, giving Steve's shoulder a squeeze, and went back to watching the movie.

It wasn't long before Eddie felt Steve's head on his shoulder and he smiled as he adjusted himself so both he and Steve would be more comfortable.

“One more question.”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“Why didn't you tell Robin? She'd be able to comfort you a bit better than any of us.” Steve shrugged a bit, which made Eddie sigh.

“Steve. She's your best friend, and who else would know how you felt better than her?”

“It's not just Starcourt, Eddie.” Eddie raised his eyebrows expectantly and it was Steve's turn to sigh as he pulled his knees up to his chest. It was a defense mechanism he had picked up after all the body blows he'd taken throughout the past year, and it seemed to have latched onto his mental health as well.

��I thought you were gonna die… You did, a couple of times, on the way to the hospital… Then I saw Lucas and Max and I started feeling helpless again. Dustin told me what you did and all I remember is hearing this voice in my head telling me it was my fault you were even in that position in the first place. You and Max are just as much a part of this weird, fucked up family as the rest of us and-” Steve stopped when Eddie put a hand on his knee, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.

“Steve, you weren't the one that made me do anything. None of this was your fault, and I'd have done it despite what you had to say. Like you said, we're a weird, fucked up family, and I'd literally kill for Dustin, so of course I'd do what I could to help.” Eddie watched Steve wipe at his face with his sleeve and reached over to gently grab his arm, pulling him into a hug. Steve had stiffened up a bit in surprise, but Eddie soon felt his body shake as he sobbed, and rubbed his back comfortingly.

After a while, and a lot of crying, Steve finally pulled back and looked at Eddie. His face was red, and his eyes were puffy from crying, but his eyes were full of something Eddie never really saw much when he'd try comforting someone.

Gratitude.

Usually it would wind up in the person getting upset with him, which he didn't mind because it took their focus off of what was upsetting them in the first place, but he never got so much as a thank you for it.

“Thank you… Sorry for soaking your shirt.”

Eddie laughed softly and shook his head, taking Steve's hands in his.

“It's alright, Steve. You feel better?”

Steve nodded and let out a soft laugh, wiping at his face with his sleeve before rubbing his face fully.

“God… that was such an ugly cry. I can't believe you let me go for so long.”

Eddie laughed as well and wrapped an arm around him playfully, giving him a squeeze.

“You should see me cry, like, really cry. Snot gets everywhere.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at the thought, making a disgusted sound.

“Gross.”

“Right? At least you managed to stay pretty somehow.”

Steve tilted his head and smirked softly, heart jumping into his throat for a moment before he managed to speak.

“You think I'm pretty?” Eddie's face went red and he cleared his throat, which confirmed it for Steve before he even started talking.

“Well…yeah. Even when your hair's a mess you still look like some deity, couple that with how caring you really are and any girl would have to be blind and dumb not to want you.” Steve's heart dropped like a rock just as quickly as it had leaped, and he was hoping it wasn’t readable in his body language.

“Actually…I don't think I'm all that into girls anymore.” Steve noticed Eddie's head tilt to the side just the slightest bit before he glanced around, avoiding eye contact. Was Eddie nervous? Steve couldn't tell, equating Eddie's neutral expression to that of a scared puppy.

“When did… when did that happen?”

“Well… I guess I've always felt like that, but just avoided it, y’know? I know how hard it is to be anything but straight in Indiana but…when we were alone in the Upside Down, it kind of confirmed it for me, I guess.” Eddie finally made eye contact, and his eyes were full of confusion and a bit of fear.

“I…I was your gay awakening?” Steve let out a soft laugh and shrugged. He hadn't really thought about that. Sure, he knew he had a crush on the metalhead, but he didn't think of it as a sexual awakening or anything.

“I mean, I guess? I never really thought of it like that until now but… I dunno, it's dumb.” Eddie leaned over and grabbed Steve's face in his hands, the confusion and fear in his eyes replaced with an intense passion.

“Don't ever call anything you think dumb, Steve Harrington.” They were so close to each other their noses were almost touching, and Steve took in the scent of cigarettes and sweat. All he had to do was lean forward just the slightest bit…

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I… uh…” I love you, I wanna hold you and kiss you and never let you go. He wanted desperately to tell Eddie how he felt, how badly he wanted to kiss him, but he found himself, instead, swallowing his words.

“You…?” Eddie dragged, the passion replaced with a softness that made Steve melt. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, leaning in to softly kiss Eddie's lips before pulling away.

When he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes, Steve was greeted by a red-faced Eddie, who sat there dumb-founded and blushing.

“Eddie? I-Im sorry, I shouldn't have done-” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve stop.

“No, no, it's okay. It was…a wonderful surprise.” Steve felt his heart skip a beat once again and bit his lip. He couldn't tell if Eddie meant that as a good thing or not, his voice was so soft and monotone in that moment it felt like he was replaced with a robot while Steve had his eyes closed.

“Is that a good thing or…?” Eddie smiled softly and leaned in to close the distance Steve had created.

“It's a good thing. I promise.”

#hawkins library #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie stranger things #vintage gays #st4 #post s4

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illarian-rambling · 4 months ago

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@davycoquette with the fun question games again!

Get to Know the Writblr

Gonna put this under a cut because it got long, but feel free to treat this as an open tag if you want to hop on!

On the Tumblr Writing Community:

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

Since the beginning of the year, maybe? Sometime in February, I think.

What led you to create it?

I was feeling pretty lonely having no one to talk to about my writing. None of my real-life friends are writers and I'm really terrible at expressing my interests verbally, so I figured online might be the place to go. So far, I've been right!

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

Oh, the people, for sure. It's incredibly rare that I come across anyone being less than supportive on here. No matter our skill level, I really feel like every writer on here has a sense of being in this shit together.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Hmmm.... I'm pretty open about sharing things about myself, so idk if there's anything major I haven't touched on yet. I wake up at 4am every morning for work, so if you see me posting at an egregious time, that's why. Also, if you ever want martial arts tips for your fight scenes, I'm your gal!

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

I love it when people make memes of their ocs. Makes me giggle every time.

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

You gotta interact with people. I know it can be scary, but even a reblog with no tags can make another writer smile. Chances also are, if you leave a nice comment on someone's work, they might check you out and leave a nice comment on yours! A community isn't a community unless you go out and commune :)

WIP it Good:

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

Lately, I've been juggling writing my first draft of Mortal God book 3 (tentatively title being The Machinations of Machine and Man) and going over @kaylinalexanderbooks lovely comments on MG1. My ghost ship project is also on a low simmer in the back of my brain, but I'm trying to leave that until I'm done with MG3.

How long have you been working on them?

Good lord, I started MG1 about... almost two years ago now? Damn, it feels like it's been so much longer. But hey, three book drafts in two years ain't bad! Honor's Outcasts, which is largely written by now, I started about three years ago.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

The two main characters of MG started as a vague daydream, which then became two important dnd npcs along with MG's main villain. I ended up liking them all so much that I wrote a short story which became *drumroll* three entire books! A lot of my inspiration came from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood and the Foundryside Trilogy of books. I can't think of anyone specifically who inspired the characters, except that Astra was originally based on the archetype of the silent wandering cowboy/samurai as seen in a lot of Kurosawa films and old westerns. For anyone familiar with her, uh, things changed quite a lot.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least ten percent of my brain's storage is dedicated to my wips at all times. As for how often I'm actively thinking about them... it's also quite a lot.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

"Uh, fantasy stuff?" is my go-to.

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)?

I really wish I had the ability to explain my wips as succinctly with speech as I do with writing, but alas. I would want to give a nice, book jacket blurb that doesn't give away too much of the crazy shit.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos:

Name any characters you created.

I think I'm really good at names, so we're gonna go down the list!

Izjik Meautammera

Sepo Kaiacynthus

Twenari Undetasib/Devaris

Djek Kagura

Astra DuClaire

Mashal Darezsho

Ivander Montane

Elsind Cavernsight

Duchon Avymere Kalaphon Spearsong III

Faalgun Falani

Nyda Burningrock

Kaulakri Ondohuroata

Pashananath

Anarac Fifth-Blood

Who’s the most unhinged?

Unhinged in terms of violence? Sepo for sure. Unhindered in terms of sheer chaos? I'm gonna go with Izjik and Djek as a duo. Between both of their high charismas and low intelligences, along with their combined expertise in fighting and creative uses of magic, they're unbeatable.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Probably Izjik. I've been writing in her POV for the longest.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Sometimes yeah, when they do something real stupid. But, then again, I did make them that way.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I think I know my characters really well and base my plot around their motives, so there really isn't a huge need for control.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

PLEASE!!! FEED ME ASKS! I'LL TAKE ANYTHING!

On Writeblr Engagement:

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

Probably creativity. I've read a looooot of fantasy/sci-fi, so if you're doing something I've never seen before, I'll probably give you a follow.

What makes you decide against following?

Any kind of hateful rhetoric or someone who doesn't want 18+ interaction. Other than that, I think it's important to follow people who write different genres or have different methods than me.

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

I wouldn't say so. I get a little shy doing that.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

The characters of @kaylinalexanderbooks @mk-writes-stuff and @somethingclevermahogony all have a little place in my brain. Favorites from each include Robbie and Akash (not to be separated), Narul and Bop (love me a good living weapon/teddybear of a dude team-up), and Nellie and Stellaris (their earnest kindness makes my heart happy). If you haven't yet, you should go check out their stuff and see for yourself!

And with that, thanks for reading! Go out and have yourself a bitchin day <3

#writing #writerscommunity #writblr #my ocs #get to know the writer

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clairelsonao3 · 11 months ago

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Any Writers tried BookTok?

As some of you know, at some point in the New Year, I plan to self-publish a romance ebook. Over the next few months, I hope to start putting some more infrastructure in place to promote it for when the time comes to send out arcs, etc. I already have friends and supporters on Tumblr and A03, which is a great start. But of course, everyone says BookTok is the place to be, especially for romance writers. But I'm hesitating for a few reasons, which are:

Will I get canceled? To make a long story short, the book deals with topics that are not only dark but could be seen as controversial -- and are liable to be attacked by people who don't care that the book is the exact opposite of what they think it is and simply like canceling things based on certain phrases in titles, blurbs or loglines. Tumblr and Ao3, with a few unfortunate exceptions, have been mostly, blissfully free of these people, but BookTok strikes me as someplace that might have a lot of them. Idk, maybe I'm wrong. And if someone does try to cancel me, will I be able to handle it by simply refusing to engage?

I don't want to and can't really show my face for mostly professional reasons. (I like my face just fine, just not for TikTok!) I can use my own voice and, like, my hands or, something, but face is a no-go. Will I be severely hurting my chances of getting any eyeballs on my posts?

Is the culture toxic or likely to harm my mental health? No amount of promotion is worth something that's going to traumatize or hurt me (see above about cancellation). And if my work and/or my characters are hurt, I'm hurt. I've encountered toxicity on social media before and have largely stepped away from it, with Tumblr being the main exception because the community here is so wonderful.

Will it be too much of a time commitment? I know they suggest posting once a day, which seems like a lot, especially if it involves creating and editing original posts. And really anything that's going to take more than, say, 20 minutes out of my day (unless of course I really enjoy it, like I do Tumblr) is too much of a time commitment, in my opinion.

So, that said, I would love to hear from anyone who has experience with BookTok, especially writers of romance and ESPECIALLY writers of "dark," edgy, and/or controversial romance. Should I just try it for, say, a few weeks and see how I like it? (I have never used TikTok before, ever, so it would mostly just be getting a feel for it). Is that even possible?

Thank you for any opinions, anecdotes, or nuggets of wisdom anyone can offer!

#writeblr #writing advice #tiktok #booktok #opinions needed #writing community #self publishing #publishing #publishing questions #publishing advice #fiction #author #indie author #writing

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marrowwife · 1 year ago

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A WIP INTRO

"Listen. I'm sure it was a good thing, in whatever backwoods village you crawled your way out of, to be kind, and helpful, and friendly. But you matter now, you're Sainted--- we're Sainted. We're the strongest players of the Court. And in the Court, being kind is a weakness. Being kind will get you eaten alive."

His retreat was cut short with a firm grip around his arm and a pair of eyes, brightened almost as gold as they had that terrible day in the great hall. Alaryk wondered if this was the first time Perryn had ever stopped smiling. He wondered, staring at the boy burning with an intensity as fierce as the High Summer sun, if a single smile had been real to begin with.

"Teach me." Perryn said, and he sounded like the roar of a wildfire, like the intimate crackling of a hearth. "You said it yourself, we're Sainted. The same. So teach me how to be like you."

Alaryk wrenched his arm free, and the thing inside him howled and writhed and whispered terrible promises. "You are nothing like me."

ABOUT

Title: Ravenous

Genre: NA Fantasy

Themes: Monstrosity, Queerness, Identity, Trauma, Legacy & Family, The Nature of Good and Evil (Constructed Morality), Nature vs Nurture

Tropes: The Chosen One, The Main Trio, Coming Of Age, Anti-Hero, Moral Greyness, The Boarding School Setting, Medieval Fantasy Setting, Knights vs Monsters, Rivals to Friends to Enemies to Lovers, The Orphaned Hero, Sun and Moon Coded Characters, Child Soldiers (kind of), More TBA

BLURB

Idrismark is a kingdom fractured, the land sequestered between impenetrable mountains and the gnawing, ever creeping monstrosity of the Ravening Wood, the burial place of the Betrayer. What is left of the inhabitable is ruled by the whims of the Noble Houses, originally claiming lineage of the Six Saints, individuals with untold powers who defeated the Betrayer and held back the corrupt magic of the Wood. Now the Houses are the Upper Class of Indrismark's population, all trained in the arts of Knighthood but focused in the games of Court politics.

It is only the Sainted that truly provide safety from the Ravening Wood, those with the strongest blood ties to The Six and a fraction of their power, most often sacrificed in the war against the Wood. Therefore, when two Sainted appear in one generation, a peasant plucked from the masses and a Noble's son, all of Idrismark is watching. The common people in joyous relief, having been subject to the increasing ferocity of the Ravening Wood. And the Noble Houses in rapt, hungry calculation, ready to do anything they can in the mad scramble for power a Sainted is want to inact upon the Court.

Alaryk has known his place since the moment of his birth. Son of the House Lupei. Disappointment to his father. Neither a first son and heir, nor the daughter his father had hoped for in a third child, to be wed in alliance and used as a pawn in the games of the Court. Alaryk used to pray to be Sainted, to become proof of his Father's power, his House's power, to be useful. But the Sainted were rare, and House Lupei had not produced a Sainted in hundreds of years. He should have known that the truth had never been an obstacle for his Father.

The Academy, where all Noble children are sent to learn how to fight the Ravening Wood, was going to be hard enough. Now with the mantle of Sainted balanced precariously on his shoulders, Alaryk must navigate the politics of Nobility, the grueling regimen of squirehood, the baffling intricacies of making friends, all alongside desperately trying to control the power he has been given. Because Alaryk is not Sainted. His magic is not the magic of The Six, it is not pure and good and heroic. Alaryk is a liar and his magic is ravenous.

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-)

@houndmouthed @tragicbackstoryenjoyer @philocalizt @waestlandbaby @andromedatalksaboutstuff @writingmoth @serenanymph @moondust-bard @ashfordlabs @carnocus @real-fragments7

#writeblr #wip #wip intro #wip introduction #wip: ravenous #fantasy #queer fantasy #the chosen one #wip: cry of the ravening wood #marrow writes #aesthetic #writing #snippet #ch: alaryk #ch: perryn #pl: idrismark #why was it so hard to write a blurb for this thing #I'll probably change it #but its doing its job for now

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bradshawsbitch · 2 years ago

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ghosts | bob x bradley (floydshaw)

plot; oh my god, they were roommates! after some time of living on base, bob finally tires of the uncomfy bed and limited access to good paths to do his morning runs on. after moving in with rooster, the two of them discover an affinity for film. perhaps horror is not bradley's preferred genre though...

request; yes, requested blurb (that accidentally ran away with me) by @multifandombullshitbabes ! This might not be what you had in mind when you requested, hehe - but I hope you like it either way! 💕

warnings; fluff, angst, descriptions of panic attack/ptsd, two idiots in love, i'm still in my 'bob struggled with alcohol' bullshit, so mentions of previous overconsumption of alcohol, confessions of feelings, friends to lovers, cuddling, swearing

word count; sigh, 4.3K. (me; i'll make it short and sweet *narrator voice* she did not make it short and sweet)

disclaimer; first time truly writing floydshaw pls be nice I'm in a funk

tagging people who might like; @sebsxphia @theharddeck @hangmanbrainrot @roleycoleyreccenter @lt-bradshaw @mothdruid

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A couple of months ago, Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd had made a comment about wanting to move off base. He’d mentioned it in passing to his pilot, not wanting to impose on everybody at once. Natasha, who was a very straight forward person, proceeded to tell the squad to let him know if they knew anyone who’d sublet a flat or a room for him to stay inr.

That was all it took really, one moment in time when Bob needed something. A need that Lt. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw figured he could help his friend with. Bradley, who had managed to not only snag a flat for himself, but had actually come over quite a sizable house, with lots of spare rooms. Spare rooms that would definitely be able to house the WSO.

Bradley had been eager at the idea of living with the wizzo, envisioning getting to know the demure man on a more personal level if the two of them became roommates. He’d always appreciated Bob, in sort of a quiet way, only venturing outside co-worker niceties on that one day at the beach.

That day he’d been so proud to see Bob take up some space, even if the bespectacled man seemed rather surprised at his own accomplishment. Bradley was quite certain he knew somewhat who Bob was, and he definitely liked the man. He just wasn’t entirely prepared for who Bob was when he was in the comfort of his own space.

During those first weeks of living together, Bradley had made a point of spending time with his new roommate, making sure he was alright and settling in. He noticed that Bob went on morning runs almost every day, and made a point of trying to tag along. Those runs usually ended with Bob laughing at how Bradley’s cardio wasn’t up to his speed, and sometimes he’d sprint off to challenge the pilot.

That was something Bradley hadn’t expected. The way Bob was more lighthearted and filled with mischief and a teasing streak than he’d originally thought. Bradley found himself laughing and smiling a lot more when Bob was around, and he always felt his chest fill with warmth any time Bob beat him at a sprint and threw his hands up in the air to celebrate.

Those few first weeks, it had just come naturally to come together during the evenings - share how their day had been, and end up in front of the TV together to wind down. Most of the time they’d just watch the news before one of them called it a night. At some point though, they’d gotten into a heated discussion about film - Bradley discovering that Robert was a bit of a cinephile.

After that night, it had become Bob’s mission to educate Bradley on his sorely lacking film knowledge. After the initiation of movie nights, where Bob would pick films that he felt his co-worker had to have seen, they’d sit together maybe once a week to go through The List.

However, when Bob announced after a couple of weeks that they’d gone through his whole list, the darker haired aviator found himself pouting a little. He didn’t want movie nights to end.

“Rob, you have to have some more films on that list of yours? C’mon, I thought you were an expert,” Bradley tried to sound lightheartedly teasing, but it came out a little bit more upset than he wanted. He could not bring himself to care much though, as he stood a bit away from the ash blond man. Bob offered him one of those small smiles he only reserved for a select few people, and he shook his head.

“Sorry, Hen. We’ve crossed off all of the films on the list,” Bob had taken to jokingly changing Bradley’s call sign now and again - but only when they were at home.

Sometimes Bob regretted showing Rooster the list before they began their movie nights. If he hadn’t, he’d be able to pretend he had more on them, without making it obvious that he’d kept adding films for them to watch. Watching the other man’s face fall, Bob’s brows pinched together slightly. Did Bradley honestly still want to watch movies with him? Bob figured Bradley had only been nice to make him feel at home these first few weeks of living together.

“I mean… If you want, we can still have movie nights,” Bob suggested, his voice sounding a little shy in his own ears, which made him cringe slightly. Bradley perked up at his initial sentence, before Bob had hedged. “If you want, we can switch off though - choose one film each?”

“Yeah! Yeah, who gave you a monopoly on film choosing huh?” Bradley seemed eager now, smirking as he ruffled the slightly longer hair on top of Bob’s head, his tone now sufficiently teasing.

As the pair continued to switch between one another in choosing films, it became obvious that their tastes differed a bit, but that it almost always ended in passionate discussions and lighthearted jibing of the other’s taste. Bradley would call Bob’s choices ‘pretentious’ and Bob would in turn say Rooster was ‘uncultured’.

It came as far as them sitting down almost every evening to watch a film together, trying to one up each other’s film choices by throwing in something out of left field. After the film ended, both men were rather slow to call it a night. Neither of them wanted to return to their separate rooms, finding comfort in the happy space they’d created in their living room.

Some nights they’d stay up talking well after the movie ended, and Bradley had started to share more of himself than he ever thought possible. It was easy, talking to Bob. He never judged him when Bradley confessed fears or hardships he’d yet to fully face.

After having lived and shared these conversations with Bob for almost three months, Bradley found it in him to talk a little more about how lonely he’d felt ever since his mother passed away. His own emotions surprised him. He figured it was a done deal - yeah, it was sad but he was alright.

Turns out there were still some tears left to cry for years lost to grief and loneliness. That night was the first time Robert Floyd held Bradley as he finally found it within himself to cry. Of course, it probably did not elicit the same emotions in Bob as it had in Bradley.

Bradley had found that his roommate had started to stir up conflicting emotions within him. He found he missed Bob when he wasn’t around, and the thought of seeing his roommate brought pleasant warmth and fluttering feelings to his very core. Rooster figured Bob just thought of it as comforting his friend.

Bob had told Bradley a bit about his childhood as well, Bradley figured Bob might think it was only fair. It did still break Bradley’s heart when Bob told him of how he’d narrowly escaped becoming addicted to alcohol during his youth, and how joining the Navy had saved him in more ways than one.

Bradley had wanted to wrap his arms around Bob to comfort him so badly, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep, or make Bob feel uncomfortable around him. Sometimes Rooster wondered if he was obvious about his budding feelings for his roommate. Instead, he made a point to bark extra loud at Seresin whenever he jived Bob at the Hard Deck for not having a beer and ‘letting loose’.

What Bradley did not know was that Bob’s chest constricted and fluttered helplessly every time Rooster made a point of steering any oncoming beverages around the WSO, a blush always warming his throat and ears whenever Bradley would tell Jake to ‘fuck off, Bob doesn’t need that shit to be funny’.

Bob figured he didn’t quite know exactly when he’d fallen for the burly pilot. Perhaps it was when he’d made Bob feel like he was an important part of the team during their beach exercise way back in the beginning of their acquaintanceship. Or maybe it was the harsh sting of jealousy that overwhelmed him as he held Bradley back from pummeling Jake into the ground that day in the briefing room, back when he still thought that maybe they’d had a thing for one another.

Or maybe, it had been the way he’d fought inner demons the day of the mission. Had to bite his tongue until it bled when Rooster defied orders to save Mav. The way he’d all but passed out as Nat had put down their Hornet on the carrier and the overwhelming grief that gripped him as he realized Rooster was probably gone.

The way he found himself dreaming endlessly of Rooster not making it home, and waking up shaky with tears streaming down his face. He’d promised himself he’d at least try to tell Bradley how he felt after that. He felt a little insecure though - he’d seen the way girls and guys alike flocked around Bradley at the ‘Deck. The man was beautiful, and everyone else knew it too.

Which is why Bob had felt a surge of elation at the prospect of getting to live with Rooster. Seeing him every day, making sure he was well. Checking in on him sometimes as he napped, just to see the rise and fall of his chest.

Bob couldn’t remember exactly how he’d roped Bradley into movie nights, but he was pretty sure it was his highlight of the day. Bradley often muttered softly under his breath if he got into the film, and he thinks that maybe Bradley didn’t even know it himself, but if something was particularly gripping, he sometimes placed some part of his body on Bob.

Sometimes it was his hand on his knee, other times he’d plop himself down so close to Bob that their thighs smushed together “Sorry, Rob,” Bradley would gruff out before wriggling a little and then muttering ‘fuck it, you don’t mind do you?’ - and of course Bob did not mind as Bradley settled into the sofa close to him.

His favorite was when Rooster would fall asleep on him though. That only happened when he thought the film was too slow, and they’d had arduous training at work during the day.

And if Bob chose slow films on purpose on those days, well that was his business alone. Sometimes he’d pick films with foreign languages to further lull Bradley into a sleepy state, though sometimes that backfired if Bradley was proficient in the language. He’d learnt to steer clear of Spanish.

Most of those nights they’d end up cuddled together on the couch, and Bradley would wake up hours later apologizing to Bob. The first time he’d scrambled up, claiming he needed to go to bed immediately. These past few times though, he’d lingered against the warmth of Bob’s chest, mumbling a sleepy apology before dozing again.

Tonight, however, it was Bradley’s pick, and so Bob couldn’t look forward to having Rooster’s weight on top of him as he snoozed softly.

Horror wasn’t something Bradley would usually choose as a first hand pick, but today he was on a mission. For as many times as he’d dozed off on the bespectacled WSO, he figured it was his turn to have Bob curled into him for a change. Seeing as Bradley wasn’t all too familiar with the horror genre, he perused a few titles and reviews, and picked the one that had the absolute scariest looking plot and reviews that raved about their inability to sleep after watching it.

Bradley figured it would be a piece of cake, it was just a movie after all. He’d seen some shit in his day and figured this would be no more than a laugh - and hopefully a cuddle if the lankier of the two got a bit frightened. He was cautiously optimistic as he spied his roommate coming through the door after an afternoon run.

“Hey, Robby!” Bradley greeted him, taking in Bob’s shirtless form. He was slightly sweaty, and a soft sheen clung to his chest and forehead. His dark blond hair was not neatly styled as it usually was when the two headed off to work, and flopped in front of his eyes as he smiled at Rooster. “Hey Brad,” Bob was slightly out of breath, finally bending slightly to rest his palms on his knees for a moment to catch his breath.

“Did you forget your glasses this morning? Saw them in the bathroom,” Bradley noted silently that Bob without his glasses was a little less soft and cute looking, and without the birth control goggles shielding the view of his cheekbones, he found them to be more prominent, along with his jawline. Licking his lips, Bradley had to avert his gaze for a moment as he waited for an answer - he could feel his cheeks getting warm and ruddy. They unfortunately often did that around Bob.

“Nah, usually wear contacts on days off and on leave,” Bob chuckled, patting Roosters shoulder with one of his large hands before disappearing towards their shared bathroom. “Just gonna have a quick shower, and then you better knock me out with your choice of film, Bradshaw!” Bob grinned back at Bradley before disappearing into the shower.

“Fuck..” Bradley groaned to himself, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his damndest not to think of his roommate stripping out of his running shorts to shower.

He busied himself with setting up their usual movie night snacks, making some popcorn (Bob insisted that you could simply not have movie night without them), and making sure to put out some sodas for the two of them. Bradley felt like he craved a beer to soothe his nerves, but he hadn’t brought any home ever since Bob moved in. And honestly, he was happy to be without if it made Bob comfortable.

He’d put out some plain fanta orange instead, and a diet coke for himself. He’d found that his wizzo preferred fanta, and every time Rooster had brought out some for him, Bradley’s heart would leap at the grin that settled on Bob’s face, always exclaiming ‘you remembered!’ as if memorizing his drink of choice was rocket science.

As Bob emerged from his room in sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, he almost forgot to resist the usual impulse he had when he saw that Bradley had gotten everything ready for them. The impulse to softly grab onto his bicep, and plant a soft lingering kiss on his cheek as he mumbled his thanks. Instead, Bob smiled at Bradley before swiping some of his wet locks out of his face - his blue eyes landing on the drinks Rooster had put out.

“Oh, you remembered!” Bob’s exclamation this time was soft, and it almost sounded as if he’d been punched in the gut, a sort of somber emotion flickering behind the blues of his eyes.

“What’ve you got for us today, Chicken?” Bob grinned before plopping himself down on the sofa with a content sigh.

“Well, Bobby, I figured we could branch out,” Rooster replied with a small smirk, glancing at the other man, a sneaky look in his amber eyes as the blond man huffed out an indignant laugh at the nickname. There was still a distinct twinkle of happiness in those blue eyes though, which encouraged Rooster to continue.

“Today, we’re doing horror, Robby,” Bradley looked smug, waiting on his roommates reaction. Bob just raised a brow, a cool smile on his face. “Oh yeah?” leaning back against the cushions he said nothing else, as if telling Rooster to ‘bring it on’.

“Now, Bobby - there will be no judgment if at any point you should feel the need to hide your face in a pillow,” he paused before slowly putting his hands behind the back of his head, knowing that his biceps were now making the t-shirt he was wearing strain against their size “I’ve got plenty,” he smirked, knowing it would tick Bob off.

“Oh my fucking God, Rooster!” Bob groaned, putting his face in his hands as he laughed “That was so bad!” Bradley burst into laughter with Bob, the two of them naturally gravitating towards one another, Bob’s hand landing on Rooster’s knee to steady himself as the laughter subsided between the two, leaving them face to face with one another, eyes twinkling and ghosts of their laughters still upon their lips as they noticed their noses were practically touching.

Bradley’s breath hitched softly in his throat, and his eyes flickered down to Bob’s lips so fast he didn’t think that his roommate caught it at all. So he quickly cleared his throat and leaned back against the backrest, putting an impish smile on his face as he shrugged “Offer still stands, Rob,” he grinned wider as Bob rolled his eyes, shook his head and leaned back too, getting comfortable with the throw he’d put over his stomach.

Turns out, Bob would not be needing any pillows. In fact, what he needed was his own fist to bite down on. To keep from bursting into fits of giggles at the sight of Bradley’s brown eyes, open wide as saucers, lips slightly parted as he muttered long strings of creative curses and suggestions to the characters, only minutes into the film.

“Don’t go in there… don’t fucking go in there… don’t go– I fucking told you!!” the last part was shouted as his whole body jolted at the loud screaming coming from the TV. Bob closed his eyes, biting down hard on his knuckle, breathing steadily through his nose to not give in to the laughter that was bubbling deep within him, his stomach aching from the strain it took to keep it in.

It only got worse from there, and Bradley’s soft curses turned more and more into pained groans and face held in between his large palms. As a particularly nasty jumpscare came on, Bradley literally flew up from the sofa exclaiming;

“Holy shit! What the fuck was that?!” he blinked a couple of times, furrowing his brows slightly as he sat back down slowly, his breathing turned a little labored. Licking his lips he tried to heave a deep sigh to alleviate the pressure that had begun building in his chest, but to no avail.

“Bob…” he murmured, his breath starting to become a little shorter still. The room seemed to be getting smaller, and he could now only distantly hear the screams from the TV as his gaze was frozen on something far away.

“No…” he moaned softly, trying to shake his head and closing his eyes. That only made it worse though, as flashes of clear blue sky and pristine snow whirling towards his face appeared in jumbled succession.

His hands shook slightly as he tried to run them through his hair, but he found that he couldn’t differentiate the texture at all. He figured he must be gasping for air now, because he felt quite light-headed as that overwhelming feeling of dread and feeling of needing to do something came over him. He needed to do something, he needed to run, or he needed to get up, or he needed to–

“Rooster!” Was that Mav? Did he have to eject? Where were the handles? “Bradley!” he was trying, he really was! Why was Mav screaming at him again?

“Bradshaw!” 'Lieutenant Bradshaw!', was he in trouble?

“Hen! Chicken! For fuck’s sake, please!” Bob was pleading with Bradley, kneeling in front of his shaking form, trying in vain to bring him back. He’d turned off the TV as soon as Bradley had first murmured his name, noticing immediately that he’d gone. Bradley blinked at that, and suddenly amber eyes met blue. Bob sighed in relief, cradling Bradley’s warm cheeks in his palms.

“Hey, hey, Brad - stay with me okay, it’s Rob - yeah? Roomie?” Bob knew he probably shouldn’t be talking this rapidly, but fuck, he was scared. He wanted Rooster back.

“Rob…” Bradley’s brows furrowed, blinking again - Bob could see some of the far away fog lift from those beautiful brown eyes, and he sighed. “Hey, yeah - I’m here big guy. We’re just havin’ a nice little movie night, yeah?” Bob was talking slower now, letting his thumbs caress the other man's cheeks slowly. Bradley nodded slowly against Bob’s grip.

“I can’t breathe,” Rooster confessed, tears burning behind his lids as the slight reprieve from the dread he’d felt started to end. “Please, Bob” Bradley didn’t know how he’d voice that he needed help breathing. He hardly knew himself. Usually, these types of nights he’d just go until he passed out.

Contemplating his choices for all of ten seconds, Bob stood from his position below Bradley’s knees, gently guiding the pilot down on the sofa. Fear stricken eyes stared back at him, and he only smiled soothingly “It’s okay, Chicken - it’s only me,” Bob spoke softly before he laid the expanse of his body on top of Rooster, guiding his hands so they laid on top of his back, his cheek pressed against Bradley’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me, hen?” Bob spoke, letting his own palms gently massage over Bradley’s ribs, making a point of taking deep, exaggerated breaths. It was surprising how fast Bob’s tactic worked. His weight on top of Rooster calmed him down considerably, and soon Bradley’s breathing had slowed to normal. Peering up, Bob could see Rooster’s exhausted face, eyes lidded and vulnerable.

“Hey, we feelin’ better?” Bob inquired, feeling no apprehension about letting his hand glide up to caress Bradley’s scarred cheek. Licking his lips, Bradley nodded, shame burning within his chest. “Don’t you dare,” Bob whispered, and Bradley’s eyes shot to his in confusion.

“I have nightmares about that too,” Bob spoke slowly and deliberately. Bradley’s surprised “you do?” flew past his lips before he could stop it, and he could feel Bob's arms tighten around his chest as the WSO nodded, burying his face into Rooster’s chest. Well, now was as good of a time as any.

“Was scared I’d never get to see you again.” he murmured into Bradley’s t-shirt. The arms that had laid loosely against Bob’s sides came around him in a crushing hug, and the two men laid intertwined and embracing hard for a long time, Bob nuzzling his face into the crook of Bradley’s neck, relishing in the steady thrum of a pulse under his lips, and Rooster’s familiar scent against his nose. Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his face into Bob’s newly washed hair, breathing soft and slow. It didn’t take long before the two of them fell into a dreamless, comfortable sleep.

As the red rays of the sun filtered through the windows, Bob stirred awake in Bradley’s arms. Blinking softly, he raised his head from where it had still rested against Bradley’s chest. Bleary eyes taking in the sight of the clock on the wall showing him it was only just after four in the morning. He could feel Rooster stir underneath him, and he lowered his gaze to take in Bradley’s sun kissed face in the soft morning light.

“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was raspy and deep from sleep, and it made Bob’s stomach flip slightly. Again, their faces were so close, yet they did not move. There was a soft crease between Bradley’s eyebrows as his eyes roamed over Bob’s face.

Blue eyes held brown, before they slipped to admire Bradley’s soft looking lips, accentuated cupid’s bow hidden beneath his mustache. Just before Bob was about to look into Bradley’s eyes again, he had surged upwards, letting his lips caress against Bob’s in a soft and lingering kiss.

Bob couldn’t help the soft noise of longing that left him, the sound melting into Rooster as his hands went from having rested at Bob’s waist, to tangling into his soft curls as he deepened their kiss, nose pressing into Bob. Bob’s hands squeezed at Bradley’s hips as he pressed himself closer to his roommate's body, gasping softly at the feeling of Bradley’s tongue gently prodding at his lips, his own languidly meeting and caressing Bradley’s tongue.

“Bob,” Rooster sighed as he broke away for air, the wizzo continuing to place rapid kisses over his jawline before shyly nuzzling his face into Rooster’s neck again.

“Yeah?” there was a note of hesitance in Bob’s answer, and Bradley’s hands fell to Bob’s sides again as he squeezed gently - urging the other to look at him.

“Hi,” he said gruffly as Bob appeared above him again. Bob smiled, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. “I’ve kind of wanted to do that for a long time,” Bob confessed sheepishly, and Bradley chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

The two men smiled at one another, Bradley reaching up to caress his thumb across Bob’s cheek.

“I think I might’ve fallen in love with you,” he spoke quietly, meeting Bob’s clear blues with a small crease between his brows again.

Bob only smiled and leaned down to place another, lingering kiss on his roommate’s lips. “Well, lucky for you and your pillows, I happen to have fallen for your stupid charms too,” Bob smiled, gently pinching at Bradley’s bicep. The confession made Bradley laugh softly before sitting up, keeping Bob straddling his lap as he embraced and kissed him again.

“Chicken?” Rooster huffed at the teasing call sign “As much as I loved branching out, maybe we steer clear of the horror from now on?” he smiled down as Rooster’s innocent face looked up at him.

“What’re you talking about? Now I’ve got you to cuddle up to when I get scared!”

#robert bob floyd x bradley rooster bradshaw #bob floyd x bradley bradshaw #bobster #floydshaw #bradley bradshaw x bob floyd #bradley bradshaw/bob floyd #tgm fic #my writing

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