#and personally I think he’d watch TV standing up with his hands behind his back

[dragonlikeleaves]

a favorite past time of mine is drawing characters from media I don’t plan on consuming (not yet, at least)

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

is it casual now?, pt. one

pt. two

dumb love, i love being stupid, dream of us in a year. maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier. i know, “baby, no attachment,” but we’re… knee deep in the passengers seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?

“but like… why not just tell him?” robin asks. they’re laying on their backs on steve’s floor, side by side, legs tangled together while a fleetwood record spins out the low sounds of stevie nicks’s voice. “you’re already banging, so what’s the point? you’re practically dating.”

“what? no.” steve replies, taking one last hit from the joint they’ve been passing back and forth before handing it back to robin so she can drop it into the ashtray near her elbow. “it’s not dating. it’s strictly sexual.”

“you’ve never in your life been strictly sexual with anyone,” robin snorts.

steve scowls. this is kind of a sore subject for him because yeah. he’s never done this casual thing before and he’s never really wanted to. he doesn’t even really want to now.

he’s silent for so long that robin’s perfectly capable of understanding exactly what he’s thinking. “oh,” she breathes out. “oh no.”

“stop, please. it was mutual.” steve doesn’t even sound convincing to his own ears.

“okay. yeah. sure.” steve hates how much she sounds like she’s trying to placate him.

“it’s really not a big deal. it’s fine. we’re having fun. i’m having fun.” steve’s embarrassed by how rehearsed he sounds.

“yeah, no, totally. for sure.”

they lay there without speaking again for a long time after that.

~*~

“god, you’re so cute, stevie, cooking me breakfast.” steve’s standing in front of the stove in his kitchen a few days later when eddie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around his waist, nuzzling into steve’s neck. steve can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

“don’t get too used to it,” steve tells him, plating the first batch of french toast. “woke up early enough to eat before work for the first time in, like, three months.”

“well i appreciate it,” eddie says, letting steve turn in his arms. steve can’t help himself; he leans in for a kiss and eddie returns it enthusiastically.

eddie’s never spent the night like this before. usually he’s out of the house before steve wakes up in the morning. most of the time he leaves before they even have the chance to fall asleep together. steve tries not to take it too personally. eddie’s a busy guy and what they’re doing is nothing serious. eddie had been sure to make that clear the first few times they’d seen each other naked.

steve tries not to read too much into it as eddie takes the plate from his hands and pulls himself up to sit on the island countertop just across from where steve’s leaning next to the stove with his own plate. he tries not to get his hopes up but he can’t help the flutter in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach as they eat breakfast together before he has to go to work. he tries his best to ignore the pull he feels toward eddie, the way his hands itch to plant themselves on eddie’s hips and pull him in. he pushes down the disappointment that arises when eddie changes out of the sweats he’d clearly taken from steve’s dresser drawers and back into his own clothes. he ignores the tiny little pang in his chest when eddie says goodbye and leaves, even though steve has to leave for work in ten minutes anyway. he tries to ignore the little voice in his head that points out that eddie doesn’t even kiss him goodbye.

~*~

it goes on like that for a while. eddie starts spending enough nights at steve’s house that steve can’t help but become hopeful. he has his own green toothbrush sitting right next to steve’s red one on his bathroom sink. his hair has started to smell like steve’s shampoo. eddie’s stopped insisting that they’re just casual every time steve leans in for a kiss. sometimes they don’t even fuck, they just fall asleep together watching a movie, with the tv playing softly in the background.

steve’s not delusional. he knows that it’s not a relationship. but that hope is back and he’s helpless against its forces building inside him every time he says goodbye to eddie at his front door. his t-shirts have started going missing, ones with hawkins high emblazoned across the front, ones that he knows robin wouldn’t be caught dead in. eddie’s the only one who could be taking them, but steve can’t figure out why he’s being so secretive about it. he still hasn’t been able to catch him at it. but it has to mean something, right?

steve starts to let himself fantasize about what could happen if he just confessed to eddie. if he just admitted, once and for all, that he’d never wanted to do this whole friends with benefits thing that eddie’s been insisting on. he’s not totally sure that eddie would be a hundred percent receptive, but it’s only happening in his own brain, so he can have the ending he wants for now.

“jesus, dingus, what the hell is going on with you lately?” robin asks, sounding irritated as she comes to stand next to him behind the counter at family video. “i’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes.”

“what? sorry.” steve drags a hand across his face. “just thinking.”

“oh really,” robin snorts. “about what?”

“just…” steve sighs. “remember when we were talking a few months ago?”

robin raises her eyebrows at him.

“i mean, you know. about eddie.” his voice drops into a whisper at the end, as if eddie might be hiding behind one of the vhs displays, even though it’s a tuesday morning and the two of them are alone in the store.

“oh. yes. i remember.” robin sounds just a tiny bit apprehensive.

“well… i think something’s changed.”

“changed? how?”

“i mean, he’s started sleeping over my house a lot more. sometimes we don’t even… you know. have sex.” he whispers the last two words, looking over his shoulder. “i think he’s stealing my t-shirts.”

“okay,” robin draws out the second syllable, elongating the ‘a’ sound, making it clear that steve has to be a bit more specific.

“do you think he… i don’t know. do you think maybe he wants something more? like, maybe to date? or like, whatever.” steve runs a hand through his hair nervously. this is the first time he’s admitting he wants something more out loud.

robin considers for a long moment. “honestly, i don’t know. i’ve never made it past kissing anyone before.” steve’s shoulders slump. “but there’s only one real way to find out.”

“how?” steve grunts, even though he already knows the answer.

“you gotta talk to him, man.” steve groans. “i know, dingus. it sucks.” she reaches out to rub his back, an attempt at comfort.

it almost works.

~*~

steve thinks about it for a few days. about three weeks ago, eddie had started kissing him goodbye every time they parted ways at steve’s front door and he hasn’t missed a goodbye kiss yet. that has to mean something. it has to.

it’s a movie night—eddie’s choice—when steve finally gathers the courage to say something to him.

“can i talk to you?” steve says, sounding far more confident than he actually feels. he’s pulled his legs up under himself on the couch and turned sideways to stare at eddie’s profile.

“um, yeah,” eddie replies a bit distractedly, eyes glued to the tv screen as he reaches for the remote next to him. he pauses the film and only then does he turn to face steve. he smiles, dimples showing. “what’s up, stevie? i don’t pause the thing for just anyone.”

that makes steve feel a little less nervous. it feeds the hope in his chest. he runs a hand through his hair. “okay, well. i was thinking about, like, what we’re doing.”

“what we’re doing?” eddie tilts his head to the side just a little, looking confused.

“yeah, like. you know. you’ve said you want to keep things casual but i was thinking that maybe we could…” steve trails off, unsure of how to continue.

“we could…?” eddie prompts, but he’s starting to look a little apprehensive.

“i mean, i know you said that you don’t really do the non-casual type of thing or whatever, but i was thinking like. i don’t know, that we could, like, go on a date? maybe?” steve hates how unsure he sounds at the end, how his voice turns up at the end.

eddie just looks at him for a long moment. “i thought we were on the same page, steve.”

okay, he’s not ‘stevie’ anymore, but maybe this is just a miscommunication.

“we were,” steve responds, swallowing hard. “i mean, we are. i think.” then he corrects himself. “or, uh, thought.” he looks down at his hands for a second and takes a deep breath before speaking again. “i really like you, eddie. and i want… i don’t know what i want but i know that i like you a lot. and i don’t want to be just friends who sleep together.”

“so,” eddie speaks slowly, still looking just a bit confused, “you don’t want to sleep together anymore.” he doesn’t really say it like a question, more like he’s not really all that surprised.

“no, i mean…” steve’s feeling just a little frustrated with himself. “i like that part. that part’s, like, really good. i just… i want more than that.” he runs his hand through his hair again. “i… i guess want to be your boyfriend.”

eddie laughs then and it makes steve’s chest feel hollow. eddie must see something on steve’s face because his laugh cuts off abruptly. “sorry, man. you’re serious?” eddie sounds almost disbelieving. steve can only nod, his throat tight. he definitely does not want to cry in front of eddie right now. “oh. well. um. i don’t really…” steve’s heart drops and the little bubble of hope that had been building since that first time eddie had stayed for breakfast abruptly bursts. “i’m sorry, dude, i genuinely thought we were on the same page. i’m not—that’s just—” eddie clears his throat. “that’s just not really something i want.”

steve has nothing to say to that. he supposes that eddie had been honest from the beginning and that he was the one who hadn’t been truthful so he can’t even really be mad.

“right,” steve responds, avoiding eddie’s eyes. “sure, okay.”

“i think i’m gonna go for now. but i’ll see you around, okay, stevie?” steve’s eyes snap up to eddie’s face and eddie’s eyes are wide and panicked. he looks like a cornered deer. a part of steve can’t help but feel sorry for putting that look on eddie’s face.

“yeah, okay. see you.” steve tries to smile at him, maybe to reassure him, but eddie doesn’t even look at him as he gathers his shoes and keys before leaving.

once eddie’s gone, steve sits there for a long moment, wondering where he’d gone wrong. maybe he should have waited until a little bit later, when they were upstairs tangled up together and he could distract eddie with kisses. maybe he should have waited until breakfast, when eddie’s soft and sweet, warm from sleep. maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

steve turns off the tv and goes upstairs to bed alone for the first time in a while.

there’s a part two already half written so no worries, i only write happy endings (except that one time).

[undead-supernova]

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker. 

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here. 

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote. 

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something.  She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away. 

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie 

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface? 

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself. 

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc. 

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes. 

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate. 

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine. 

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard. 

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy? 

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here. 

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings. 

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects. 

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold. 

So, yeah, no one really came in here. 

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant. 

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl. 

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class. 

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare. 

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets. 

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.  

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?” 

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly. 

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.  

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly. 

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years. 

“Why do you care?” you snapped. 

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day. 

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever. 

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it. 

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something. 

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

[miley1442111]

unfair- a.hotchner

a/n: he's an asshole in this for a while btw. i wrote this with fem!reader in mind but i don't think there's any mention of it so imagine what you like! mad spoilers for season 3 episode 20- Lo-fi (aka i verbatim copied dialogue from it). 'ly' means 'love you'

summary: what happens when Aaron is met with an ex-fling in the workplace that seems to hate you, surely he'll be by your side, right?

pairings: aaronhotchner x reader, platonicBAUteam x reader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, mentions of murder, mentions of panic attacks, general relationship angst, reader getting hurt, mentions of guns and bullet wounds, mentions of death, suggestive themes at the end

Part 2

You hated New York. You hated the bustling crowds, the rude people, and the barely breathable air. 

“Is it just me or does Agent Kate kinda look like Haley?” you overheard Jj say, and your heart dropped. Aaron and Haley had only been legally divorced for a few months, but they’d been separated for a lot longer than that. Your relationship with Aaron had grown into a 10 months long rollercoaster of highs and lows. He was hard on himself about the divorce, about not seeing Jack enough, but you were always there to comfort him. Jj blushed when she realised you’d heard and mouthed a ‘sorry’ your way. You nodded as an acceptance of her apology and continued with the case. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kate had been shooting down your ideas all day. It could’ve been something as simple as lunch ideas, or something relating to the case, she didn’t care. Your input was unnecessary and unwanted. This led you, the only licensed psychologist on the team to be silent as Aaron, Kate and the nypd cops bounced ideas and facts about the psychology of the unSubs back and forth. You knew that what they were saying was outdated. You knew it, and yet you kept your mouth shut, not wanting to give her another reason to silence you. You weren’t even that mad at her, more at Aaron. Why wasn’t he speaking up for you? He alway did before and he promised he would intervene if someone was being unfair and not listening to you in the workplace. He made that promise to the entire team. You were hurt by him, and by the rumours you’d heard. And then you thought back, since you’d gotten to New York, he’d barely glanced your way, his eyes focused on the case or Kate. Derek slumped in the chair beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“She’s a real piece of work, everything I say is just the wrong thing,” He complained, a tired tone in his voice.

“Want to go back to the hotel? I could use an early night if no one is going to utilise us,” you offered, exhaustion and hurt guiding you against your better judgement. 

“Sounds like a plan, sugar, you and me sharing like old times?” he asked tentatively, clearly sensing the upset you were carrying. 

“You and me Derek, as always,” you smiled. You had known before-hand that the hotel only had so many rooms and in the beginning of the BAU, you and Derek would always share, since he was the person you were closest with. He took your hand and gave it a small squeeze before standing up to gather his things. You stood up too, grabbing your bag and coat. 

“Leaving so soon?” Kate asked, clearly malicious intent behind her eyes. 

“Yeah, just tired and all, listening to you spew absolute bullshit is exhausting,” you yawned and gave her a fake smile as her jaw dropped. Aaron sent you a look of warning, one you met with your own hardened eyes. “Goodnight,” you waved at the cops you had befriended, who waved back, all too happy that someone had finally put Shelly in her place. 

Derek and you walked to the hotel hand in hand, just as you used to, he got the room key, you showered in the bathroom as he watched tv, then vice versa. You texted Aaron a simple, ‘sharing with Derek. Ly xxx’ before you let yourself fall asleep, comfortable in the clean hotel bed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You always wrote it out. He thought to himself as he rushed to the hotel, mere minutes after you sent the text. He had been tired and maybe his vision was clouded with Kate, an old fling of his if he was being honest. He pulled at his tie in the elevator as he caught his breath. When the doors opened on the floor of your room, he found you standing on the other side, your eyes semi-shut as if to try and conserve your drowsy state, a habit he knew you possessed and loved. This brought an ease to him, a small smile made its way onto his lips. You had your headphones on too, which meant you really were sharing with Derek. His smile dropped. 

“Honey,” he sighed and you yawned and rubbed your eyes. 

“Aaron?”

“Yes honey, can we talk-”

“In the morning,” You cut him off, “I’m just getting ice. The ice machine on this floor is out of order.”

“It technically is 1:34 am,” he corrected and you sent him a glare. He shut his mouth. “Can I at least kiss you goodnight?” 

“I don’t know, is your mouth not too tired from kissing Kate’s ass today?” You stifled a chuckle at your own joke as he sighed. 

“Honey if you let me-” 

“Please, for the love of god, shut up, I’m too tired for this,” You got off as the doors opened and closed them behind you, pushing the button back to his floor. You grabbed your ice and took the stairs instead of risking him being there. You got back into your room and fell asleep again, even more to think about. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked into the police precinct with Spencer, ready to help him with his geological profile when Aaron stopped in front of you, and Spencer continued walking on. 

“We need to talk,” he essentially demanded and you rolled your eyes and tried to push past him to follow Spencer but he grabbed your waist and started walking you both into an empty interrogation room. 

“Are you planning on interrogating me?” You chuckled as he let go of your waist and started pacing around the room. “What is the problem here?” You asked. 

“Why don’t you tell me? Something I did made you so upset that you decided you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me, something I did made you not tell me you love me, and something I did made you not let me kiss you goodnight. So please, just tell me!” He was frantic, the early signs of a panic attack clear in his body language and face. 

“Aaron, come here,” you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him. His hands pulled you closer to him, squeezing you tight into his chest. “I was just mad about Kate not taking mine or Derek’s ideas, and how you didn't help either of us out. I just wanted some space to clear my head-”

“Were you jealous?” He asked, pulling away from you.

“No? I was frustrated that mine and Derek’s ideas were being shot down, this has nothing to do with Kate.” 

“Then why did you say what you said last night? It made her deeply upset,” he explained and you rolled your eyes. 

“Because it was true? Maybe next time, let the registered and licensed psychologist with 2 phDs speak?” 

His eyes were trained on you. “Not everything always has to be about you, some people are very sensitive to things like that-” 

“I’m starting to think I should be jealous of Kate” you knew it was a low blow but it was one you were willing to take. “I’ll see you around, agent.”

You left Aaron alone in the room, a frown that was bound to stay all day. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derek had been right to station BAU team members on platforms and we were about to have another body. 

“Hotchner,” a brief pause. “Does it look like it could be one of our guys?” Aaron spoke into the phone.

“What’s going on?” Derrick asked, 

“We’ve got eyes on one of them, he’s on the subway platform at 59th and lex,” Aaron’s eyes met yours and you looked away, focused on Penelope’s voice over the phone..  

“59th? We could have been right there,” Derek sighed, clearly frustrated with Aaron’s behaviour. 

“Garcia, can you get eyes on him above ground?” 

“If he makes it to the park, we've lost him,” Kate explained.

“We could've had that guy,” Derek stressed. 

“Even if we were on that platform, odds are he would have moved on to somewhere more isolated,” Kate argued. 

“Maybe, but it was worth taking a shot,” Derek shot back.

“We had every available man on the street,” She scoffed.

“And I suggested to you that you use this team,” Derek seethed. 

“Second-guessing doesn't do us any good right now,” Aaron piped up. 

“Hotch, how am I supposed to look these cops in the eye and tell them that we're actually here to help them?” Derek demanded, even you were getting angry now.

“We're here to present a profile. That's what we need to do,” Aaron said in that terrible deadpanned voice that made you want to shake him until he was the real Aaron again. Your Aaron. 

“I said to put us at express stops- 14th, 42nd, 59th and that's exactly where they hit!” Derek snapped.

“It's not your place to have this discussion,” Aaron crossed a line with that.

“My place?” Derek questioned.

“You need to back off,” Aaron scolded. 

“We got 7 bodies, man,” Derek said, shocked that Aaron would ever treat him like this.

“Which is exactly why we need to stay focused,” Aaron countered.

“Focused. From where I'm standing, All your focus is on her, not on this case, you're ignoring your girl, so it's not on y/n, but on her,” Derek rebutted. 

“Take a walk, now.” 

You gasped when Derek called him out, but as Derek walked off he offered you a hand, one which you took, and left Aaron with Kate. Derek left to go ‘take a walk’ to a bar nearby and you sat in an office, going over the case with Emily and Spencer. You all ended up sleeping in the office, you chose to be as far away from Aaron as possible. The next day, you were positioned with Emily. 

“How’s it going with Aaron?” She asked and you let out a groan. “That good huh?”

“He’s being such a dick, I have no clue what to do,” You sighed. 

“Maybe talking to him will help?” She offered and you shot her a glare. 

“He doesn’t want to hear me, he just wants to talk,” you explained, hopping off the train and walking up the platform steps. You heard a gunshot and looked around, knowing he was close. 

“Garcia? Where is he?” Emily asked.  “He’s headed our way.” You ran towards the way he was coming from and spotted him, chasing him the other way. You were faster than Emily and stopped in the alleyway. He shot. He grazed your side and Emily shot him and grabbed his gun. 

“Y/l/n?! You ok?” She called back to you. 

“It was just a graze, I’m fine,” You took a deep breath as the adrenaline wore off and the pain started to seep in. Emily and you waited for the ambulance and you started getting stitched up as the rest of the team arrived. Derek came straight to you, Aaron hot on his heels.

“You good sugar?” He asked and you nodded as the needle went back into your skin. 

“Not my first bullet, probably not my last,” you joked and you saw Aaron’s eyes widen. Spencer and Jj shot you a look of concern from behind Aaron and you sent them a thumbs up, Spencer and Jj nodded, understanding that you were ok.

“Can I have a minute alone, please?” Aaron cleared his throat and Derek rolled his eyes but obliged anyway, walking away. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, great. Nothing like a bullet wound to put a pep in your step,” you remarked, sarcasm flowing freely. They finished with the stitches and put a dressing on the wound. As soon as you were out of the paramedics hands, Aaron wrapped you in an all-consuming hug. 

“I was so worried,” he whispered. 

“Yeah, so was I, I didn’t think you could get your head out of your ass in time,” you snorted, hearing others laugh at your joke. Aaron rolled his eyes and cracked a smile. 

“I was being unfair, wasn’t I,” he sighed, his hands resting on your waist. 

“Yes, yes you were.” 

“I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t show it,” he offered and you smiled and kissed him softly. 

“You know it’s going to take a bit more than a few pretty words and a hug to make this right, right?”

“Oh I know, but I was hoping you would at least be in the same bed as me tonight? Then I can at least start apologising,” he smirked and you laughed. 

“Maybe,” you mused. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

[papaya-twinks]

red hot chilli 🌶️ - l.n - part 3

Warnings: brief mention of smut, swearing, obsession

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

other parts

A/N - the golf pictures of Lando sent me genuinely feral so I’m making up another one for this 

And so, when Lando saw you yet again in the pit lane in Miami, he was more than happy. Yet again, you were in the Ferrari garage, with Alex and Rebecca by your side once again. 

“You know,” you said, standing between each of the girls as you watched the grid line up for the sprint qualifying, “some guy, I think his name was Luka, he messaged me the other day,”. Alex raised a brow at the words, gesturing for you to show her. 

“Have you seen him before? Like what he looks like?” Rebecca  asked as the cars came found the weaving straight. “…No,” you said, a bit surprised you hadn’t thought of actually ask your new friend. You and who you thought was Luka had been talking for ages, yet you never did think to ask. 

“Seriously? He could be some 60 year old pervert,” Alex said, raising a brow as she looked at you in confusion. “No, he’s not,” you said, shaking your head, feeling a little protective all of a sudden. “But Y/N-,” Rebecca started. “He’s not a pedo!” you interjected, a little frustrated as you watched the cars roll into their slots. 

Rebecca and Alex shared a look but said nothing more as you put your phone back down, watching as the lights started. “Oh my god,” you gasped as a car spun round, a bright orange car. The same one as, presumably, the same one you had seen in Australia. 

That was shitty.

You didn’t watch the rest of the spring, not all too concerned, as you busied yourself in the corner of your room, taking your phone out and typing a message to ‘Luka’.

Y/N: heyyyyy, how are you?

Lando pause mid-way through his conversation with his engineer upon hearing his phone ding, and he took the de ice into his hands, eyes lighting up as he saw your name across the screen. “Wait,” he mumbled absentmindedly to the hro of engineers, going to the bathroom. 

They’d all caught onto Lando!s weird behaviour whenever his phone would ring and he’d always stare at the message from whoever with such glee. They’d never asked, though, purely to respect his privacy, but it was a little worrying.  Seriously, who was he talking to?

Luka: heyyy, I was watching the F1 

Y/N: me too!

Luka: did you see how Norris went out?

Y/N: yeah, I saw it live, it was rlly unfortunate 

Luka: live?! you’re lucky :)

Of course, Lando did know you’d seen it live. He’d watched you walk down the pit lane in your cute, pretty little dress, the way your hips swayed. God, everything about you was damn hypnotising. Even the way he watched you sip your cup of coffee you had. 

It made him think things, things he no doubt should not be thinking. Yet everything about you was enchanting, almost pulling him towards you like some magnetic force. From small things, to the way your lashes fluttered when the wind blew a little harder, to the way you sipped you walked. 

Y/N: tyyy! You like F1?

Luka: I do, yeah, I love F1! Who’s your favourite driver? 

Y/N: I’d say…maybe Carlos or something 

Obviously you liked Carlos, he was your brother after all. But how was he to ask if you liked him without directly saying that he was the person? That he was Lando Norris?

Luka: Nice, my fave driver is Lando Norris 

Y/N: he’s the McLaren one, right? 

Luka: yeah, ya know him? 

Y/N: I know OF him, haha 

Luka: yeah…he’d be lucky if you spoke to him in real life :) 

Shit, was that too forward? And Lando didn’t even get the chance to check your reply, til he heard a knock on his door, followed by the voice of one of his engineers. “Hey Lando?” the engineer said, opening the door as Lando put his phone down immediately, “you have media,”. 

Lando sighed, nodding as he turned to follow him into the pit lane and to the TV pen. He’d been having an okay time getting on with it, managing to put the whole situation behind him - only to now have media work. That would be shit.

You frowned as you stared at the screen, blinking a few times as you watched Luka go offline. Oh, maybe he had something to do. You put it past you, putting your phone back into your purse and watching the rest of the race, as you stood in the corner. 

“Y/N,” Carlos said with his usual smile, walking into the garage as he nodded for you to come and follow him, “I’m gonna go to some golf course a few miles away. Wanna come? It’s just me and Lando,” he said, his accent thick and Spanish. “We can get out this place,” he said, grimacing a little at the slightly loud atmosphere. 

You ended up agreeing, still have some stress to do with your studying playing at the back of your mind. After all, you could never just…completely rid yourself so stress. If you could, the world would be perfectly…perfect.

You had changed from your other outfit into a new one, a white top and a small tennis skirt, your hair tied back in a braid. You and Carlos arrived at the course, watching a man, with tousled brunette curls, swung his arm, muscles flexing. 

Lando. 

His hair was hanging in messy curls across his forehead, a single one a little out of place hanging low as his biceps flexed beneath his black vest and shorts. Christ. “Hey man,” Carlos said to Lando, snapping you out of your thoughts as Lando tried not to meek his double take obvious. 

“I believe you had a run in with each other in Australia,” Carlos smiled, stepping back so you could shake Lando’s hand. “I guess, yeah,” you said, a smile on your face as Lando nodded silently, leading you to the golf buggy a few metres away. 

“So,” he said, attempting to start conversation as you sat down in the back, Carlos next to Lando as he drove. “You, uh, you gonna play?”. You shook your head in response to Lando, adjusting your top slightly as his arm flexed absentmindedly. “Just caddy, I guess,” you shrugged.

“Carlos wouldn’t trust me enough to touch a golf club, let alone play,” you said wijt a small laugh. Lando chuckled a little, adjusting his hair as Carlos drive down the court to the bit him and Lando intended to go to.

Wow. This was the first time Lando was speaking to you in person. And he’d made you laugh….well, you made yourself laugh. But still!

Though there was a bit of guilt at how he’d been talking to you on Instagram all of a sudden, pretending to be someone else. What if you messaged ‘Luka’ and found out it was Lando? Fuck. He hadn’t thought of that. You say on the side, cracking a few jokes with Lando here and there but said nothing more. 

Luka: Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and stuff, but we should stop talking. 

Y/N: what? stop talking? why?

Y/N: Luka!! What the hell???!!

[urlovebot]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ Too close

closeted bada, bf-to-ex howl, secret gf y/n.

c/w: angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though so don't worry!

a/n: the characters depicted are not related nor based off of their personalities in real life. this is purely fiction. also shout out to @wrosie-writes. they wanted to see anti howl fic. they ask, they shall receive. enjoy!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"are you okay?"

bada hears howl, but she's more concerned with the contents on her phone than she is with him.

"i'm fine." bada tries to make it sound as believable as possible.

“i don’t get you.” howl glares at her, eyes boring into the back of her head.

“...what are you talking about?”

“you and y/n. you’re just really close with her. you confide in her, you trust her. it kind of pisses me off if i’m being honest.”

bada moves her focus from the tv to howl who stands behind the couch she sits on. she looks at him incredulously. why is he bringing this up now?

“what prompted this?”

“you. i know you’re texting her right now.”

bada challenges him, “and if i am?”

howl rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. he was so fucking fed up with you. every chance you got, you were with howl and bada. howl felt like you were intruding all the time, meanwhile, bada told you to not be a stranger. he was angry.

“i want you to stop talking to her.”

bada fully turns around and blinks up at him, “what?”

howl’s eyes narrow, “you heard me. stop talking to her.”

bada shakes her head, “i shouldn’t have to choose. don’t make me choose.”

howl stands firm and bada almost caves. a part of her loves howl. another part of her loves you, deeply.

bada stands up and tries to walk around him. what the fuck was she supposed to do? why was he putting her in this impossible position?

“lets go to bed and talk about this in the morning. please.”

bada continues walking towards their shared bedroom but howl stops her. he grabs hold of her wrist and pulls, “don’t walk away from me. you’re avoiding this.”

she wrenches her hand out of his grip and rubs at her wrist. he’d never done that before and it hurt. it hurt.

“i just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

howl frowns and tries to grab at her again but bada dodges his advancement toward her. she shifts to the other side of the island in their kitchen.

“i dont like this.”

she felt scared. small.

howl raises his voice, “you know what i don’t like? watching my girlfriend be mentally intimate with another person. you’re not even fucking her, you just care too much about her. you pour yourself into her instead of me. god, bada, we havent had sex in weeks! you barely let me hold your hand. Is it y/n? is she forcing you to do something you don’t want to do?”

bada’s jaw drops momentarily. but her shock is replaced with anger and frustration. distress and confusion. “what did you mean by that last part?” she leans forward and places her hands on the surface in front of her.

“you heard me. i know y/n likes women. is she coming on to you? you know i don’t like that and i can make her stop if you want me to. just say the words.”

bada shakes her head, confusion still drawn on her face, “you can make her stop? how? and what do you think it is that she could possibly be doing? what’s so wrong with her liking women?”

howl puts his head in his hands. he couldn’t believe how dense bada was acting. it’s like she didnt understand that-

“i don’t like that about her. you know that doesn’t sit right with me. i can take care of it. of her.”

fear pools in the bottom of bada’s stomach. she gets nauseous and thinks carefully about her next words as they mean alot for your own personal safety. she did not want to compromise that. she… she did not want to compromise herself either. she tries to act passive and pulls out her phone. she sends you a quick “sos” and sets her phone on the counter.

“you don’t need to take care of anything. stop worrying about it. about me. about her. everything is fine. i’m tired baby, can we please just let this go for the night?”

she glances down as she sees the texts coming in from you.

are you okay?

please answer me.

are you at howls?

its late, i need to know if you’re safe

i see your location, i’m on the way

*y/n has shared their location with you*

i’ll be there in 10 minutes. if it’s howl messing with you again, i swear to god i’ll take that fucker out tonight.

howl rounds the corner of the island and takes steady strides to bada and she stumbles back, praying that you show up sooner rather than later.

“you don’t see how she’s fucking with your head? she doesn’t love you like i do, bada.” howl reaches a hand up to bada’s face.

bada shakes in fear, its creeping up her spine and she can feel his breath on her face. he’s too close.

he’s too brave.

bada takes his hand in hers and places it back down by his side,

“you don’t love me howl. I’m something for you to show off like a trophy to your friends. I have no real meaning to you. you dress me up and make me out to be whoever you want me to be, but i’m not her. I’m not the girl you want me to be so desperately.”

bada straightens up for the first time in a couple months and she laughs as she realizes - her and howl stand at the same height. it makes her chuckle in his face. she advances towards him instead and now, the tables turn. howl looks almost… disturbed? shocked? he’d never seen bada be so… firm. so confident.

“y/n lets me be myself. fully. she accepts every part of me without question. her love is unconditional with no limit. no ceiling. there are no dealbreakers- she just loves me. howl i cant even wear sweatshirts around you without you saying i’m not being feminine enough. i’m not pretty enough. but y/n? it doesn’t matter what the fuck i have on because its me. and she loves me regardless.”

bada’s phone dings again and as she looks down at it, its you.

i’m parked, i’m in the elevator going to your floor now

bada walks around howl to their bedroom, he follows.

“where do you think you’re going?” howl crosses his arms.

bada grabs her emergency bag, only needing a couple items since you already had half of her wardrobe at your apartment. “i’m going out. i’m not sure when i’ll be back.”

she exits the bedroom and makes her way to the door,

“and let me just tell you this, howl. If it came between you and y/n, i will always choose y/n. without question.”

and as if on cue, the doorbell rings. bada swings the door open to reveal you in a pair of sweatpants and one of her sweatshirts draped on your body. bada tries her best to shield howl from your sight and exit as swiftly as she possibly can given the situation, but howl grabs her arm and yanks. you hear bada hiss, and as soon as you lay eyes on howl, you feel rage encompass your entire being. you step into the door and remove his hand from her arm, pulling bada from out of the door frame and behind you.

“how dare you lay your fucking hands on her? are you kidding me?” you take a step forward but bada pulls you back and intertwines her hand with your own, “let’s go y/n. please”

howl’s body is slumped, insecurity swallowing him whole. you can't help but laugh at him. he was such a fucking idiot. you turn around and scan bada for any harm, luckily, she seems fine other than being a little shaken up. you lean up to give her a kiss on her cheek and take one last look at howl. pathetic. you both turn to walk away and howl hopes bada turns around to look at him, show any waver of uncertainty. but she never looks back, she just moves forward. with you.

──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your fingers twirl through bada’s hair. she’d changed into comfy clothes once you guys got home and now she’s sprawled out on top of you, head laying on your chest.

“you okay?” your hand pushes the hair out of her face. you feel her nod. she shifts so that her head is resting upright.

“i am now.” she grins up to you, pressing her lips against your own. she really meant it this time.

[tiredfox64]

I was wondering if you could write about Smoke and the reader have already been married and they have kids of their own (2 or 3) and Kuai Liang and Harumi decided to give them a break by watching the kids while Tomas and the reader go on a date night and when they come back they see Kaui Liang and Harumi look exhausted and lost while the kids are being rambunctious? Lol

Never Again, Not Even for Cake

Prior notes: I’ve babysat my niece once. I ended up telling my fiancé my baby fever was gone. Still looking for it. (I’ll get to the other requests soon)

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A child (no)

Ah yes, life’s pleasures. Fall in love, get married, have yourself a little family, the good stuff. Ah but hey, did anyone tell you have difficult kids could be?

Well, Tomas was a child once, but that doesn’t help. You did come from a large family, that helps. It was like living with bunnies. Even if you were the youngest there was always a cousin, niece, or nephew to help with. So you got the hang of this.

The first were a pair of twins, god help you. Two rambunctious boys who went behind their father’s back and learned smoke magic themselves. They aren’t skilled but they like to use it for pranks. And when they turned five, what do you think happened? That’s right! You fell pregnant again! This time with a baby girl.

So now you and Tomas have a family with a pair of six year old twins and a one year old baby girl. Take a guess, when was the last time you ever caught a break? Long time ago. That’s why Kuai Liang and Harumi stepped up and decided to babysit. That’s what good godparents do. You were a little skeptical since you never really knew how good they were with kids. But they constantly said it won’t be bad, you two need a break, you guys haven’t had a date in a while, etcétera etcétera. You caved, now the lovely couple stands in your home, ready to babysit.

“Are you sure you two can do this? You do realize the twins are sneaky? The little one found out she can grab things now.” You kept blabbering and Tomas had to reassure you.

“My love, I’m sure they will be fine. Kuai Liang helped raise me so I’m sure he can deal with the boys.”

“But-“

“We know the milk is in the fridge we just need to warm it up. She is teething so there are frozen teething toys in the freezer. The boys will eat anything and they like to sit down to watch Power Rangers.” Harumi quickly shut you down by going over some of the key points you told them.

“I still don’t think your use of the television is a great idea when calming the boys down.” Kuai Liang critiqued as if he has any say.

“It’s just a tv, Kuai Liang. Other parents do worse you have no idea.” You snapped back.

“Okay, love, I think we should get going. They look like they can handle themselves. Goodbye! Thank you again!” Tomas thanked his brother and sister in law before dragging you out of the house.

Finally a moment of freedom.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

A simple dinner alone was already a treat itself. Not having to force the twins to sit down, stop fighting, and just eat their food was a relief. Or your baby crying in the middle of the meal and having to listen for a good minute to figure out what she wants. The worst is when she’s just crying for no reason and you can’t do anything but let it pass.

There was none of that. Just you and Tomas having a yummy meal. It took you back to the time when you two were just dating. You could never really sit down since Tomas seemed paranoid he would be caught sneaking out of practice. He’d always scare you by popping out of no where from a puff of smoke. It wasn’t ever a big deal and he’d take your hand to go get some food. You commonly would steal from his plate whenever you could but you would give something back in return. A trade. He was happy to see that you still do that even when you guys are now married. You haven’t changed a bit and he was happy with that. Not even becoming a mother could suppress your personality.

You still look as gorgeous as the day he met you and he still looks so handsome. You never doubted your relationship with him. Never doubted marrying him or having kids with him. This date shows that there is a still a strong spark between you.

Not even when the dinner was done did the date truly end. You guys walked, talked, and laughed together. Never even a mention of the kids. Oh that’s right, the kids.

“It’s getting pretty late. You think we should start heading back? We did tell that that we would be out for three hours.” You suggested.

Tomas took a moment to think about it. Yes, it was getting pretty late. Late enough that the kids might need to be put down for bed soon. But…

“Nope, I think they will be okay with us being out for another hour. It’s not like the kids have anywhere important to be tomorrow so they can stay up late.” Eh, good enough, may the date go on!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You and Tomas felt more rejuvenated. All smiles and laughter. You even felt good enough to get Kuai Liang and Harumi a whole cheesecake as another thanks for babysitting. You of course had to get the twins their own slice or else they won’t even shut up.

What you didn’t expect is to walk into was pure chaos. Your motherly instincts kicked in the moment you heard the baby crying. A cry of pain, probably the teething. Ah but Harumi looks like she’s in more pain. The baby had a tight grip on her long hair. That’s what you forgot to tell her. The baby yanks so she should put her hair up. Well at least Kuai Liang was safe from that.

…never mind the boys got him. He looked like a shell of his former self. His bun was so close to unraveling. At least nothing was on fire so that means they didn’t trick him into using his powers.

You placed the desserts on the kitchen table before running to Harumi. You forced your baby girl to open her hands and let go of Harumi’s beautiful black hair. It looked all messy now when it’s usually all smoothed down. You opened the freezer door and popped in the first frozen teething toy you could see. Immediately the crying stopped and she was satisfied once more.

Poor Kuai Liang, the twins are yanking at him and asking him to do more tricks. What is it with boys and arson? Tomas came over quickly to yank them off him, holding them by the back of their shirts. Looking around you could see the living room was in shambles.

“What in the world happened here?!” You yelled out.

“Why didn’t you say anything about them using smoke magic?” Kuai Liang asked in a tired voice.

“We told you they were sneaky.” You said.

“That’s not-!” He stopped himself from screaming at you.

Tomas placed both boys down on the ground again before scolding them into apologizing and cleaning the living room up.

“I mean look, you lived. You still have head on your hair,” You pointed at Harumi, “And you still have your sanity in tact.” Referring to Kuai Liang.

That was a lie they look utterly exhausted. Traumatized even. You’ve never seen these two that disheveled before. Hell, not even you looked this way after giving birth to the twins. Though their looks didn’t stop Tomas from asking for something else.

“Thank you so much for taking care of the kids, Kuai Liang,” he pulled his brother in closely to whisper something, “Could you come back next week? I want to take her out again.”

Kuai Liang damn near looked like he would kill his brother. He didn’t say anything. He just took Harumi’s hand and went out the door. They didn’t even take the cheesecake. Oh well! More for the family!

After notes: I’m sorry if this seems disfuncional. I ended up crying during my speech today so I feel off. I’ll be done with this semester soon. Only three weeks to go. Adiós!

[artdcnaldson]

Consider: you're a close friend of Tashi's from stanford and you'd drifted apart after the injury. You vaguely recognize Patrick at a bar and decide to go home with him despite not... Really remembering where you knew him from. This becomes a semi regular hookup. Until...

You get pregnant. You try calling him but it's not like he picks up. And you'll be damned if you beg for help from any man, especially Patrick fucking Zweig. So ... Maybe it's a bit spiteful. You could've included that important detail in any of your voicemails.

You have a girl. Victoria. (Ricky for short. Yeah it's corny but hey. You're a single mom. You get the right to feel however you want about the situation.) You try not to be bitter - even when you start seeing news that the three of them are together again and you're... SOL.

There's a kids tennis day camp nearby. Shed seemed interested and it gave you some free time. Ricky's 6 now, just a couple years younger than Lily. You show up to pick her up, all sunglasses and tight ponytail and cool ease when you see a girl with the same eyes as your college best friend clinging to your baby girls hand with two men walking behind a bit awkwardly.

What were you going to say now?

This actually makes me insane like hbngngnggg also changed the daughter’s name one fraction ok i think it makes sense tho

Patrick was getting too attached— 24 years old, in his prime, and he didn’t want to tie himself down to someone. He stopped picking up your calls and fucked his way through the eastern seaboard— far away from you so he could get you out of his mind.

A little over a month after he started ignoring you, he got a text.

hey. can you call me?

And he was mean. He knew it was mean, because he saw the message come in and he felt a fondness. And he wasn’t sure if he missed your pussy, or if he missed you. He knew he longed for conversations with you, the way you’d mindlessly trace whorls over his back and talk about the day, ask about things he liked, his childhood, fond memories, tell him some of your own. It came too easy, the most natural thing he’d felt since Art, since Tashi, so he got out. He stayed out.

who is this lol

You don’t text back. He doesn’t see you again for seven years, but you don’t stop seeing him. Partially, you see him in your daughter, in her personality, in her eyes, in her crooked smile, in her ears. It always struck you as funny, the way genetics picks and chooses things like that.

It wasn’t just her— it was your incessant need to know about him. You kept up with his ranking, watched a few of his matches after Ricky goes to sleep and you have the TV to yourself. It was just like that for a while— his rank would dip, it would rise, but he stayed relatively stagnant.

Until New Rochelle. You watched the match live with Ricky, because she had developed a persistent interest in the sport since she’d learned about it in P.E.. A month prior. After the match, after the insanity of the tie break, when Patrick wins, Ricky asks for you to please put her in lessons.

You start small— a local thing at the YMCA. She takes to it like a duck to water. Fucking genetics, if that was even how it worked. You start working your way up, wind up paying a ridiculous amount of money for a fancy tennis camp just because she loves it so much. You show up a couple minutes late for pick up a few weeks in and Ricky runs up to you with a friend in tow.

“Can Lily go to lunch?”

You crouch down and push your sunglasses atop your head, smiling fondly at your daughter. “I dunno, baby… does Lily want to go to lunch?”

“My dad and Uncle Patrick already said yes,” Lily supplies, gesturing behind her.

And fuck, of fucking course. You stand, sweep invisible dirt off of your legs and look at Patrick Zweig in person for the first time since, what? 2012? He looks good, of fucking course he does. You’d seen him during matches, but normal clothes look good on him. It pisses you off.

“You know you just agreed to Chuck E Cheese, right?” You say in lieu of a greeting, omitting awkward pleasantries with Art and Patrick. Maybe Art at least deserved a hello, congratulations on retirement, on the US Open, but the asshole standing beside him was all you could focus on. “I take Ricky after tennis lessons.”

“You have a kid,” Patrick says, not a question, just a statement of fact. You nod, swallowing down irritation. Your luck was so fucking bad. “And she’s…”

You sigh. “She's turning seven in a few months,” you supply. He swallows, nods, does the math in his head

Chuck E Cheese is hell. You remembered liking it as a kid, having your fifth birthday there and being scared of the animatronics. But they got rid of the animatronics, and made the mascot in question creepy and skinny and all but one skeeball machine is out of order. But you play anyway, leave Art and Patrick at the table as soon as the girls get up.

Patrick finds you, sidles up so close it’s like he has no sense of personal space. “She’s mine?”

You huff in annoyance, flub your roll down the skeeball lane. 0 points. What you want to say is something along the lines of, what the fuck do you think? But you remember where you are, sigh, and try your best to censor yourself. “Yes. Biologically, she's all yours.”

He fucking groans, swears under his breath, paces a bit behind you as you ignore him and keep playing. You toss another skeeball down the lane, then another, and the timer runs out before he speaks again.

“You didn’t think maybe you should tell me anytime in the past seven years?” He finally says, He grabs your arm, his hands warm and big and exactly like you remembered.

“I thought I should,” you reply, as casually as you can as all of the hurt and frustration and resentment rears its ugly head. “But you lost my fucking number within the same week that you ditched the west coast for wherever the fuck you went. I called you— over and over. You were the one that never picked up.”

He huffs in annoyance. “You could’ve left a message. Something. I deserved to know that I had a fucking kid running around.”

Ricky darts by, steals your hard earned skeeball tickets from the machine, and runs off giggling like a maniac. You smile fondly and pocket your game card. You turn to Patrick and let the expression fall back into something cold and stern. “I disagree. And I think it’s best if Ricky doesn’t find out.”

He grabs your arm, pulls you closer. “You fucking named her after me,” he practically growls in your ear. You clench your jaw and look away. “She’s never asked who I am? Never wondered about her dad?”

You pull your arm away and glare. You’re sure you look like two divorced parents trying and failing to play nice for their kids’ sake. It honestly amuses you a bit— you might have laughed about it if you were with anyone else. “One, her name is Veronica, okay? Ricky’s a nickname. Two, yes, of course she wonders. She’s a kid. Kids ask questions. You should know that Uncle Patrick.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, an annoyed smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “I’m living with Tashi and Art. Tashi’s coaching me this season.”

You laugh wryly and start to walk back towards the table. “I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, but you want to make bitchy fucking comments, don’t you?”

You roll your eyes and brush past him. “Fuck off, Patrick.”

But you can't deny it. As you sit at the table and watch Patrick get roped into some game hacking scheme by Lily, as Ricky stands to the side and watches with wide, interested eyes, that you feel a twinge of... something.

When Ricky comes back to the table with a large plushie she got from the prize counter and happily says that man helped her win it. When Patrick smiles fondly down at her and steals crusts from Lily's plate. Maybe you don't have to hold him to a seven year grudge. Maybe you could let him back in.

Not for your sake, of course. Clearly that would be a bad idea. A horrible idea.

But for your daughter? Maybe you could just reap the benefits.

[queenimmadolla]

Eddie, ass, fluff

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞

It started off innocently, a complete accident.

You’d been walking with Eddie, down the Wheeler’s driveway after a small get together with your friends while he tossed one of his dice and caught it.

He’d been distracted by your conversation about how you didn’t care for The Terminator, which he took personally, fist closing before he could actually catch the die and it bounced off of his fist to tumble along the driveway.

“I’ll get it!” You were closer to it, anyways, dashing forward to bend down and swoop it up.

You’d turned to him, tossing it back before you could take in the stupefied look on his face, “Eddie, catch it!”

He fumbled to do so, snapping out of whatever was on his mind while his face turned red.

“Uh, my bad. Thanks.”

Weirdo. 

At first, you thought maybe he was just getting clumsy because after that, he kept dropping everything.

More dice, pencils in the hallway, his rings, just about anything he could get his hands on ended up on the floor, you’d never picked up so many objects before.

You’d begun to refer to him as butterfingers.

Then you noticed it was only something that happened when you were alone. Eddie could impressively twirl a pen between his fingers with no problems during the Hellfire sessions he’d invite you to sit in on and you didn’t notice him drop any of his lunch from where you sat with your other friends, across from the Hellfire table. He remained dexterous around others, so why was he constantly dropping stuff around you? 

The idea of Eddie being nervous in your presence came about, but you couldn’t figure out why he would be. Other than dropping things, he acted pretty normal.

He invited you over for a movie after school, and since it was a Friday, you’d agreed on the basis that you got to choose the movie. There was no way you were gonna watch The Terminator, which you knew he’d pick just to spite you.

That’s how Girls Just Want to Have Fun ended up in the VCR and in the middle of his empty threats to commit bodily harm to himself, you attempted to turn on the television.

It didn’t turn on.

“Eddie,” you frowned, pressing the power button a couple of times. It was making the clicking sound but the picture wasn't coming on, “I think your TV is broken.”

“Huh,” Eddie’s eyebrows scrunched together as he joined you in front of it, nudging your hand aside to press the same button and you rolled your eyes.

“Did you think I did it wrong, Eds?”

Eddie didn’t respond, just held his other hand over your face like a face-hugger before he darted back to the couch and jumped onto it.

“Maybe it’s unplugged.”

You glared, gesturing to the tv stand, “Then plug it in.”

He smirked, lounging back with his arms folded behind his head and mocked in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like you, “You’re closer.”

“You little shit,” You mumbled as he laughed, the sound deep and rumbling through the trailer. With a sigh, you got down on your knees and crawled to the side of the stand, peering behind it. 

Sure enough, the thick cable cord had been pulled from the wall. 

“Gotcha,” you muttered, reaching your arm between the space to fumble around for the cable. Once it was in your grasp, you spent the next couple of seconds randomly pressing it into the wall until it finally caught along the plug and you pressed it the rest of the way in.

Shimmying backwards enough to sit back on your legs, upper body turning towards Eddie, you began to ask, “Can you turn on the─”

You stopped short, having noticed Eddie’s eyes pry away too late to not be caught and you finally got the missing piece of the puzzle, realizing exactly what his sudden clumsiness was about.

Eddie wasn’t dropping things around you because he was clumsy. He wasn’t even nervous around you!

“Were you staring at my ass?”

“No.” He answered too quick, face getting red like it had done that first time in the Wheeler’s driveway. Then his gaze flickered briefly away before it was back on you, a telltale sign of guilt.

He was lying. 

Eddie had been staring at your ass, had been dropping stuff so you’d bend over and pick it up for him. All to get a good look at your ass.

“You were!” You gasped in delight, pointing your finger towards him, “You were staring at my ass! Oh my god, this whole time I thought your equilibrium was off or something, but you’re just a perv trying to get an eyeful!”

“I wasn’t looking…” He mumbled, now actively avoiding your gaze as he turned even brighter but you could see the corners of his lips twitching, the smile he was trying to hide.

“You know, I don’t think about my ass often, but it must be somewhat impressive if it caught your attention,” You baited him and like a chum he fell for it, head turning to you.

“It’s really—” His palm slapped across his mouth as he caught himself but it was too late. Eddie Munson was about to make a statement about your ass because he had been staring at it.

“Hah! You fool!” You pushed yourself up and made your way over while he groaned, grabbing one of the pillows on the couch to smother himself. Maybe death would save him from embarrassment.

“You’re definitely a pervert, but I’m kind of flattered.”

You heard him mutter something that sounded like shut up against the fabric of the cushion, and just for shits and giggles, you pushed the remote off the coffee table. It tumbled against the carpet.

It took a moment, but Eddie lowered the cushion to glance at you, eyes widening in amusement when he made eye contact, having expected you to be bent over picking it up. Looks like Pavlov's experiment worked both ways: you had unknowingly been trained to bend over and pick up anything Eddie dropped, and he had unknowingly trained himself to look in your direction anytime something dropped. 

He’d expected to see your ass again.

“I knew it!” 

Eddie couldn’t deny it any longer, laughing as you teased him mercilessly. He most definitely wouldn’t be hearing the end of this.

And if it got him out of watching Girls Just Want to Have Fun, then he could live with it. 

He hoped.

[siren-141]

can your write a bucky one with the "that new hair cut suits you" maybe make it smutty. plzz. cause short haired bucky is DADDDDDDYYYYYY

no bc short-haired bucky is hands down the best bucky and I will NOT be taking any criticism on that

prompt: “that new haircut suits you.” warnings: slight size kink, hair pulling, unprotected sex. 18+ only, minors DNI

pushing through the door, you put your bag down on the counter, your keys next to it. “home!”

you walked through the doorway, head down in your phone scrolling mindlessly through your apps. it had been a long day at work, a non-stop rush of people for the entire day wearing you down, and all you wanted to do was slump on the couch and watch TV until it was time to go to bed.

“coming!” bucky’s voice rang out from the bedroom down the hall. walking into the living room, you plopped down onto the couch and let out a big sigh. “how was your day?”

you shut your eyes, rubbing them as you let out the loudest, most dramatic groan you could muster. you could hear him chuckle from the other room at your dramatics.

“it sucked, it just sucked.” sitting up, you took a deep sigh. fiddling with the TV to try and find a good show, you continued. “babe, I couldn’t catch a break. I mean, it was one person after another coming in, and one woman- this one woman! she got so mad at me for doing my job when it was really her fault that she-”

your voice faltered and came to a stop when your husband walked into the room. he leaned against the door frame, a smirk on his face as he saw your reaction. all you could do was mutter a meek oh.

“what do you think?” the smirk never left his face as he walked toward you, crossing the room in just a few steps. he had a way of making you feel small. he towered over you as he stood in front of you, looking down at you with those eyes – those gorgeous, dark, lust-blown eyes. everything about him right at that moment went straight to your core, and you could automatically feel that familiar feeling. panties dampening, clenching around nothing. your husband had that sort of effect on you.

“your new haircut suits you,” you said, looking up at him. he had let his hair grow out a little over the past few months, and you had loved it – you thought nothing beat watching him sift his fingers through his hair every time that little piece would fall in his eyes, or carding your fingers through his hair when he’d lay on your chest. but looking at him now, hair cut shorter, that certainly beat it.

his finger came up to rest under your chin, tilting your head up even more. oh. he was in that kind of mood.

“yeah? I was hoping you’d like it.” all you could do was nod, reaching up to grab at his waist to pull him down. his smile only widened, seeing how easily he reduced you to no words.

luckily, he was feeling generous today, and leaned down to your level. his large hand cupped your face as his lips met yours, kissing you deeply as you moaned into his mouth. you pulled at his shirt again, maneuvering him to sit next to you on the couch, immediately moving to straddle him.

“someone’s feeling desperate today, hm?” he asked you as you began to grind on his hard length, the only thing between you two being a few layers of clothing. instead of answering, you just kissed him again, this time with a brand new intensity. your hands wrapped behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair and grabbing a fistful, pulling on it until he practically growled.

“need you, right now,” you pulled away, breathless, already standing up to strip down. it was a hurry, both of you tearing off clothes to just the bare minimum, and you were right back on his lap like you had never left.

you sank down on his cock slowly, both of your moans mixing together in between kisses. wasting no time, you started to move your hips, desperately moving up and down and just feeling him fill you. sitting back a little, your hands never left his hair as you ran your fingers through it, mind going foggy with how fucking good he looked and the feeling of his cock in you so deep.

“there you go, that’s right,” one hand moved up to pinch at your nipples, just hard enough for you to feel that shock go down your spine, while his other hand moved down in between your bodies. his metal thumb pressing harsh circles onto your clit had you tightening the grip you had on his hair, your other hand pressing light scratches to his chest. you whined from the added stimulation, eyes fluttering shut for a second before you opened them back, meeting his eyes. “look at you, so desperate. I can see that look in your eyes, sweetheart, you’re starting to get all hazy on me. just need to cum around this cock hm? that’s all you need.”

his words were driving you crazy, pushing you even further to the edge that you were so desperately chasing. “please,” you whined, and he could feel you tighten around him.

“cmon, I got you baby. just need me to take care of you, isn’t that right?”

he took your moan as a response, and went into what you could only consider as overdrive.

wrapping his arms around you, you leaned against him again as he held you in place, his hold tight on you. his hips thrust up into you fast and hard, fucking into you like he’d never do it again.

“fucking take it, I know you can. I know you’re fucking close, I can feel you tightening up on my cock.”

if bucky was being honest, he was on the edge too. you felt so good around him, everything from your cunt taking everything he gave you to your warm skin pressed so close onto his, he knew you both just needed a little more.

“ohhhhh fuck, fuck, right there, please right there,” you were babbling at this point, basically directly into his ear with the way you were positioned. every pretty moan, every pretty whimper, every beg, it all went straight to his cock and it only made him fuck you harder.

but then he hit your sweet spot.

he hit that damn spot, the one that makes you go crazy every time, and that was it. you cried out, immediately plummeting into that orgasm that had been brewing since you laid eyes on him. all you saw was stars behind your eyes as you clenched around him, hips moving unconsciously to just feel more. in the haze, you hadn’t realized that you had a death grip on the fistful of hair you had in your hand before you had cum.

the combination of your cunt fluttering around his cock and the sharp pull, the slight pain, of your fingers gripping and pulling at his hair as you came undone on his cock, was enough to send him straight into his own. holding you down on his cock, you could just barely feel his cum shoot into you in spurts, filling you up until a little bit began to leak out.

his grip on you finally loosened, and you both stayed pressed against one another as you both came down from your highs. when your breathing finally returned back to normal, you slowly sat up, a little smile on your faces.

“so now that you’ve seen my surprise for you, how about you finish telling me about your day while I get us cleaned up?” you couldn’t help but laugh, starting to get back to your conversation from earlier.

[manjiroro]

realisation

character: chifuyu

content: fluff, gn reader

synopsis: chifuyu has always had a crush on you but a sudden realisation dawns on him when he sees you sitting on the couch in his best friend baji’s house

wc: 774

i find this really messy but let me know what yall think <3 i apologise for any mistakes and i hope you enjoy!

Chifuyu’s after school routine is always the same. meet up with baji at the school gate, walk home together and occasionally, hang out at baji’s place till night. But today was different, instead of walking into an empty living room, there was someone sitting on the couch in front of the tv, someone he did not recognise in the baji household.

“Oh? You’re home early” baji directs it to the figure sitting on the couch. Said person turns behind to face baji with a disinterested expression. 

Chifuyu freezes on the spot. He’d seen that angelic face before, passing by his class whenever he was daydreaming in class, and how he purposely walks the longer route to his class just so he could admire their beauty as they looked out their classroom window into the grassy land. No doubt, it was you, his crush, sitting on baji’s couch. His heart sank, of course you’d be taken by such a badass that is baji keisuke. Chifuyu believed that he didn’t even stand a chance, not when it was against baji, the coolest guy he’s ever known.

“I didnt even go to school today dumbass, im sick” you explained, expression growing more annoyed at the black haired male. Baji walks towards you, reaching a hand out to your forehead. Chifuyu couldn’t bear watching anymore, he couldn’t take seeing the one he secretly pins for being showered with care and love from another man. But, just as chifuyu was about to divert his gaze to the ground, baji flicks your forehead instead of feeling it, causing you to hiss in pain.

“What the fuck was that for, asshole?!” you seethed at baji, one hand slapping him in the arm and the other coming up to soothe your forehead.

“For calling me a dumbass” baji states plainly. It didn’t take long for the both of you to start bickering while chifuyu stood a distance from the both of you, dumbfounded. Was he… in the middle of some lovers’ quarrel? But yet, it didn’t feel like it, actually, now that he got a better look, the both of you look somewhat similar.. 

before he could place a finger on it, he was soon snapped out of his thoughts, “Could the both of you stop bickering for once? We have a guest over!” 

you and baji snapped your heads to the source of the voice, 

“Sorry mom..” the both of you said, glaring at each other in the process. 

That’s when a lightbulb lit in chifuyu’s head, you and baji are siblings. He sighed a breath of relief, maybe he does have a chance with you.

“Let’s go chifuyu.” baji’s voice brought chifuyu back to reality as he hurriedly followed baji into his room, sneaking a glance at you in the process. 

The atmosphere in baji’s room was silent between both boys, neither knowing what to say after the incident.

“Don’t bother going for y/n.” baji said out of the blue, catching chifuyu off guard as he stuttered and scrambled, trying to think of a proper response.

“I can tell you like them chifuyu, you’ve been staring at them ever since we stepped into the house.” chifuyu shuts his mouth, face turning a light shade of pink.

“they’re mean, rude, and annoying. you’ll never survive with them constantly nagging by your side.” baji sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, almost as if he was relieving said experience again. The blonde male nodded and promised his friend that he’ll give up on pursuing his sister from then on. 

Soon, night falls and chifuyu was about to head out the front door when he was stopped by a soft voice calling out to him from behind. Chifuyu blushes, instantly recognising who it was.

“I’m sorry you had to listen to mine and keisuke’s bickering.. Here, take these as a form of apology from me and keisuke.” the flustered boy turns and reaches for the gift, which was a bag filled with snacks and cat treats. 

“Oh! Keisuke told me all about peke j, hope he likes the treats too.” you said sheepishly, giving chifuyu a smile, to which he feels like he’s gonna start melting from how adorable you look.

“T-thanks! I’m sure he’ll like them too!” the poor boy stuttered, free hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. 

You giggled, nodding at him, “have a safe trip back home!”

You wave as he steps out of your house, waving back at you. Once the door closes, chifuyu clutches his shirt, heart beating quickly as his face felt warm. Maybe… he could afford breaking that promise to baji. 

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

❥ masterlist

requests are closed!!

[goreinfested]

Hi, I’ll give you full creative range since you just got back to writing. I’m sure you’ll do an amazing job.

Just Headcanons of a relationship with the undertaker 💜

I hope you have a wonderful day and a fun time writing. Take as long as you need.

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS W THE DEADMAN:

Undertaker is definitely a more private man when it comes to his personal life when it comes to the fans HOWEVER that doesn’t mean that he was going to hide you away from the rest of the world.

Especially if you’re another wrestler in the wwe. This man will sit backstage and watch every. Single. One. Of your matches without fail. Even if he had just came back from a match or if he had one up next. His love for the business is stronger then anyone there and the respect he has for you being right in the business with him is immense

Everytime you’d come through gorilla he’d be right there waiting to comfort you or celebrate with you “I’m so proud of you” “you did the best you could darlin’” and sweep you off your feet (literally).

at first when you two met it was safe to say you were intimated by the phenom. I mean it’s the UNDERTAKER. you thought he’d be exactly how you saw on tv but boy were you wrong. He was one of the most humble and nicest man you had encountered at wwe, always addressing you in such a kind manner and giving you advice whenever you needed.

HE definitely loves when you walk him over to gorilla before his matches, locked hand in hand together showing your love and encouragement. It made him want to put on the best performance for you AND the fans.

A lot of the time you had together was unfortunately at the workplace so he tries to make the most of it. Doing small stuff like working out with you and meeting up around the venue just to be close to you whenever possible. What can he say? Being around you is more than enough for him

Leaves black roses in your dressing room at every chance with a card that always says ‘ from taker <3’

And they say romance is dead

Definitely introduces you as his significant other to all his pro wrestling friends backstage and will speak endearingly about you if you’re ever brought up in the conversation

You saw sides of him which were hidden away from most of the world. Despite what the masses think they know, the deadman actually had a silly side

He is the number one offender of using cheesy pick up lines. He will walk up to you in the hallway and be like ‘ hey I haven’t seen ya around here, come here often?’ ‘Did I just die in the ring? Because I think I’m seeing an Angel in front of me’ and everytime you’ll roll your eyes laughing at the way he annunciates his obviously rehearsed lines.

He is NOT shy about kissing you when he’s not actively doing his job out in the ring. Taker is more reserved than most but he will never use his dedication to the ring to ignore giving you what you deserve. Affection is important in a relationship

At home or when alone he’s a lot more endearing, offering to help you cook while he stands behind you enveloping you with his warm arms and giving you cheek kisses

Wherever you are is his home so when you’re apart he will try and call you whenever possible even if it’s just for a few minutes just to tell you he’s thinking about ya and will affirm how much he loves you

( AN: I know this might not be EXACTLY what you were looking for but I tried </3 I’d love to get another request to build on this though :) thank you sm for requesting ! )

[cherrycruz]

Cold Feet

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: pure fluff!!!!  

summary: 10000% self-indulgent soft!eddie (bc it’s my fav) where he gets u a little something for your cold feet when u cuddle <3 (also this is like my 1st ever fic i’ve posted on tumblr so hi). word count: 748

“Jesus Christ!”

You smile into his pillow, rubbing your ice-cold feet along the back of Eddie’s calves.

Winter had fallen over Hawkins, the town slowly freezing over and bringing with it your favorite pastime to keep warm; cuddling with Eddie. It was typical for you two to be together keeping warm under the sheets, watching Christmas movies, and stealing soft kisses from each other. There was just one, teensy downside to it all: your freezing-cold feet. Or as Eddie liked to say, your ‘icicles for feet.’

You snuggle closer to his back, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder, sporting a cheeky grin. You wrap your arm around his waist, pushing yourself snugly against his back, situating your feet between his nice warm legs.

“Sorry Ed’s, I can’t get warm,” you mutter against him.

He attempts to peek at you over his shoulder, the dim lighting from the TV softly illuminating your face. He finds a small smile on your face, eyes closed and lashes pressed against the tops of your cheeks. The sight tugs something in his heart, not only because he wants you to be comfy but the fact that you use him to find that comfort. And he’d do anything to keep that feeling, especially with your feet tucked between his calves, stealing all his warmth.

He moves a hand on top of yours that’s wrapped around him, bringing it up to his lips and placing it back down. It widens your smile and he feels the fat of your cheeks press into him.

“Babe, I think you need some socks.”

“Mmm no, you’re too warm I can’t move,” you protest, squeezing him.

“I actually have something that might help your case here,” he suggests, voices lilting and piquing your interest.

And it’s true, he did have something to help. When he saw those black fuzzy socks with little snowmen at the store, he knew they’d be perfect for occasions like this.

“Yeah?” you mumble into his back, voice lilting back showing interest.

He smiles to himself, “yup, one sec.”

He gently pushes your hand back to you and stands from the bed, making his way over to his bookshelf and grabbing the plastic grocery bag he had hidden. The immediate loss of warmth sends a shiver down your spine, your personal heater taking all his comfort with him. You watch as his back is turned to you, hearing the rustling of the bag and moving to sit up on your side.

A smile grows on your face as he turns around, hiding whatever was in the bag behind his back, with the fattest smile plastered on his face, dimples and all.

“Close your eyes babe.”

You oblige, immediately closing your eyes and waiting. You hear his quiet footsteps on the carpet as he moves toward the end of the bed where your feet lay. He moves the blanket aside and slips a sock over your left foot.

You let out a laugh through your nose. Of course, he got you socks. The sentiment made your heart swell and you hadn’t even seen them yet. He finishes slipping on the other, pulling them up along your calves and making sure they’re in place. He notices your smile, tilting his head.

“Okay, open ‘em.”

You immediately do, sitting up fully to look at your feet. “Eddie!”, you squeal, “they’re so cute!” You bring a hand down to run along one of the tiny snowmen, looking up at Eddie. “Thank you”

“yeah? you like em?”, he beams.

You raise up on your knees, pressing your hands on either side of his face and looking into his honey eyes.

“Yes,” you reply and push your lips to his. “I love you”

Eddie places his own hands on your face, copying you. At this point the sweet gesture warms you inside, knowing he went out of his way to get something for you.

He does a little giggle, placing another kiss on your lips. “I love you too, sweetheart. Thought of you when I saw them.”

The admission just about makes your heart burst, pupils fully blown as you caress his face with your thumbs.

“You’re so sweet, pretty boy”

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink in the dimly lit room, and you feel the heat rise on his face. You kiss both sides of his face, then grab his hand to pull him back onto the bed.

“C’mon, gotta see if I still need those calves to keep me warm.”

ty for reading! x

[danicalithegirl]

Coffee and TV (One Shot #3)

Art by: @jemmacdraws

It was late, we had both worked a double, and we were finally getting some time to ourselves. My roommate, having decided she needed the apartment, gave me no choice but to hang at Eddie’s. I wasn’t mad or anything, but my bed was WAY more comfortable than his and I could really use it right about now. I was in this strange middle ground of trying to clean up a little while also providing us—him, really—with snacks. He’d already cracked open a Coke, his favorite after-work ritual, and was sprawled out on the couch, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, because why stick to just one vice when you can double up?

"Work suuucked. I need to cool off, man," he groaned, dramatically tossing his shirt onto the dining table, like it had personally offended him.

I watched him wander over to the fridge, half expecting some sort of grand hunt for another cold Coke. Like clockwork, he came back with one in hand, flopped down onto the couch, and lit up.

Meanwhile, I was up, moving around the room, trying to clean up the chaos that always seemed to follow him. There was something about being in Eddie’s space—his chaotic, endearing space—that made me love him even more. It wasn’t clean or perfect, but it was him, and there was a kind of charm to the clutter. Every so often, I’d find myself standing directly in front of the TV. Not on purpose... mostly.

“Babe, c’mon,” he said, lazily waving his hand to the side, but I could feel his smirk behind the cigarette.

"What's that? You need something?" I’d ask, completely ignoring his request and standing in his line of sight even longer. It became a bit of a game.

Eddie chuckled, a little defeated, and eventually just leaned over, peering around me like he was too tired to put up a real fight. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a win.

I wandered off to the kitchen again, grabbing a big bowl and filling it with Ruffles before plopping down next to him. Without thinking, I snagged his cigarette and took a relaxing drag myself.

He turned away from the TV for a moment, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Make yourself at home, then why don’t ya?”

I laughed, inhaling again before passing it back to him. He took it with a playful smirk, clearly enjoying the little twist of our routine.

“Really? I get to make myself at home with your random mug collection and all the mess?” I elbowed him lightly, gesturing to the kitchen, which looked like a tornado had swept through it, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake.

He feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “How dare you! Wayne gave me some of those mugs! Says every home needs a great random assortment of ceramic drinking vessels.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, if I'm going to be crashing here more often, something's gotta give: the mugs or the mess.”

He pouted for a moment, clearly torn, then relented. “Fine. I’ll work on the mess. But the mugs stay.”

“Deal!” I said, raising my bowl of chips in a mock toast. “May the mugs reign supreme over the chaos.”

He paused the show, glancing over at me. “What did you mean about crashing here more?”

I gave him a half-smile. “I meant what you think I meant, Eddie.”

He still looked puzzled, his face showing a flicker of confusion, maybe even a little worry. “Wait, you mean like... staying here?”

I could see the gears turning in his head, like he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it.

I shrugged, “Yeah, this place is bigger, and you live alone. Thank god for rent control, right? I don’t know... I love living with Robin, but she’s always bringing Katie over and basically evicting me for their ‘alone time.’ It’s fine ‘cause I’ve been working late nights, so I’m not around when they ‘get to it,’ but... yeah, it’s getting old.”

Eddie’s lips curled into that familiar mischievous smile, his worry melting away. “Well, if you stay here, no one’s kicking you out.”

I leaned into him, feeling his warmth against me. “I know,” I whispered, snuggling closer and taking another drag of his cigarette.

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

An add on to this post

But with details 👀

There’s never a lazy moment with him

Warnings: smut obviously

Y/n was trying so hard to focus on the film she was watching, but couldn’t stop thinking of the night before with Peter Vincent. Him thrusting into her pussy as her head was arched back. His hand around her neck tightly as he fucked her. His hands roaming each part of her body. It didn’t feel real to her, but she knew it did in fact happen

Her phone buzzes beside her, but she chose to ignore the call since she was too focused on the film. The person calling was growing impatient and decided to keep calling her until she picked up

When she did pick up, she didn’t bother to check to see who was calling. “What the fuck is so important to be ignoring me?” The voice of Peter Vincent asked her. “Sorry, I was focused on a movie I was watching” she says as her eyes were still on the tv screen as she spoke

A laugh escaped him, which gets her a little annoyed. “Sorry, I think you being more focused on a film then me is hilarious. I bet you’re not really paying attention because of how well I fucked ya last night” her face goes red at the unnecessary call out from him

“I’d assume it’s the same for you as well. You did tell me you’d only call me if you wanted to see me” she pointed out. “Hm, clever girl. Should I come over to yours then?” She had to think about what she was wearing, and also think of how long it’ll take for him to get to her house

“Yeah. Imma go get ready then, see you soon daddy” she hangs up, and places her phone back onto the couch. Y/n gets up, and starts to walk to her room. Once she had entered her room, she walks up to her closet that held all her sex toys and lingerie

She was looking through her lingerie to decide which one she should wear. Y/n sighs as she decides that it wouldn’t be necessary since she knew he’d be hella impatient with her tonight. She just decided to take all of her clothes off to surprise him at the door

A couple of minutes had passed by, and there was a knock at her front door. Y/n gets up from her bed, and then walks off to her living room. When she had entered, she approaches the front door. She checks the peephole to make sure it was him, and not someone completely random

It was him, so she opens the door. His eyes instantly roamed her body as a shocked expression showed on his face. His eyes met with hers as she moves aside to let him inside. He enters her house, and shuts the door behind him

The two go to her bedroom where their was handcuffs on her nightstand waiting to be used. He takes his clothes off as she goes to lay down on her bed. After he had discard his clothes, he crawls on top of her. Both of their faces inches away from each other. He goes into her without a warning, and begins to thrust

Her head arches back, and her hands go to his back as he instantly hits her g spot. His hands were on her comforter as he was picking up the pace of his movements. Her walls began to clench already, but he stops. He stands up and told her to come closer towards the edge of her bed

She listens, and soon her legs were lifted up and placed onto his shoulders. Soon his cock was back inside of her. His head arches back at the same time as hers. Her hands were gripped tightly onto her bed as he pounds into her pussy. “Fuck” she moans out as his cock begins to hit her g spot again. Her eyelids were at the back of her head as he fucks her

Her walls being clench again, which makes him stop again. He pulls out and places her legs down. “Get on all fours” he orders, which makes her listen to him. He does the same once he’s back on her bed, but he had placed his cock inside of her ass

Her head arches back to his shoulder as both their hands intertwined with each other’s. He begins to leave hickeys onto their neck as he thrust. “Peter” she moaned as she felt her climax again. He stops and then pulls out. She felt mad that he wouldn’t let her cum at all

“Daddy, I wanna cum” she says, which makes him sigh. “Fine, I’ll let you cum darling. Just lay back down, okay?” He gets up and watches as she lays back down. He goes back to being on top of her, and instantly goes inside of her pussy again

He thrusts as her hands go onto the comforter this time with his hands back in hers. He continues to thrusts until she had came all over his cock. He stops, and then pulls out of her. He stands up, and went to her bathroom to clean up. She had sweat covering her, and she felt somewhat hesitant to go into her bathroom now

Once he was done, he had said his goodbyes, and then left her there to be alone. That’s when she had realized she was just his toy, and nothing else. She takes a bath to self reflect now on her decisions now. Peter had returned to his place thinking of her as more than a person to fuck

He had actually developed feelings for her now

[raineandsky]

#8

(Part 1) (Part 2)

The TV is blaring some nonsense the civilian couldn’t care less about. There isn’t much else on at this time of night though, and he’s only watching it to pass the time. The newscaster is talking about some fires downtown, from what he can gather, but it’s no different to usual. He imagines it’s being sorted even as it’s being reported.

The front door swings open a little violently, the handle probably leaving yet another dinge in the wall behind it. He huffs in annoyance as he clambours to his feet.

“I thought I told you to chill a little with the door opening, [Villain],” he calls. “We can only replace that wall so many times.”

He gets to the doorway of the living room, glancing out into the main hallway. The front door has already been closed – hopefully carefully with the lack of noise – and someone is standing in their hall. Not Villain; they’re too tall, too bulky, and holding an air of self-importance Villain has risen above.

“[Hero]...” he says to no one in particular, but the person at the door nods stiffly.

“I’m here to save you, [Civilian],” the hero announces, as if he’s in a comic book and not in the midst of breaking into someone’s house.

“I don’t need saving,” he snaps coldly. He’s already planning his escape – he doesn’t know if it’s worse for the hero to think he’s a hostage here or that he and the villain are in cahoots. “So you can leave.”

The hero frowns like he was expecting the civilian to throw himself at him in thanks. “You… need saving from [Villain],” he says as if the civilian just didn’t understand.

There’s an open window in the kitchen. It’s only three stories up. “No, I don’t.”

He darts back into the living room, vaulting over the sofa. He can hear the surprised “hey!” following him from the hall, but he doesn’t look back. His socks make him more or less slide into the kitchen. The window isn’t open – damnit, I closed it ‘cause it was cold earlier, he thinks distantly – but it isn’t locked. He decides it’s worth the time.

His fingers grapple with the hinge, shoving the window open with a decrepit crack. He levers a leg over the side as quickly as carefulness will let him go. He doesn’t get to make the next part of his plan before a pair of hands wrap around his arm, holding him steadfast halfway out the window.

“Let go of me,” he demands boldly. The hero’s hands only tighten on him as he yanks him out of harm’s way. The civilian has no chance of overpowering him, and he just lets it happen. “You have no right to be acting like this.”

“I’m trying to save you, [Civilian],” he retorts again. God, this guy’s like a broken record, the civilian thinks. The civilian eyes the handcuffs hanging off his belt for a moment as he gets manoeuvred back into the living room.

He was right to worry, as the moment he’s out of danger of launching himself out of windows the cuffs are put around his wrists. The movement is gentle, like he’s worried the metal might hurt him. “I don’t think you understand,” the hero continues. “This is [Villain]. You’re in grave danger around her.”

He lugs the civilian to the front door, carefully letting it shut behind him. His car sits at the bottom of the building near the entrance – one of the fancy agency cars. “A load of empty pomp,” the villain would always say.

“I don’t think you understand,” the civilian spits. The hero is pulling him down the stairs, and he doesn’t even bother to try to fight back. He’d rather his dignity is in order when the villain comes for him. “You are not saving me. This is kidnapping.”

“Well, your kidnapping will get you a warm bed and really, really good food.” They get to the bottom floor, the staircase opening into the outdoor courtyard. “And [Villain] is clearly pretty set on you. Let's all hope she’ll come for you.”

The hero pulls his car door open – the front passenger side, he notices – and carefully pushes the civilian inside. He gets into the driver’s seat and not a minute later they’re pulling away, probably to the agency.

The civilian isn’t entirely sure who the agency thinks he is. He’s not certain he wants to know, really. One thing is for sure, whatever their deal – they’re expecting him to act as bait to make the villain come to their base. He figures they’re wildly underestimating what she’s capable of.

(Part 2)