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dreamsteddie · 2 months ago

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AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

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Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

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#steddie #fanfiction #dreamer speaks #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin

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munson-blurbs · 10 months ago

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Summary: Your lab partner, Eddie Munson, might be the most irritating person in your life. But when he unexpectedly comes to your rescue at a party, his chivalry is too hard to resist.

A collaboration with the absurdly talented @corroded-hellfire 🥰

WC: 3.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), fem!Reader, enemies-to-lovers, drinking, Billy Hargrove being a douche, fighting, blood, praise, fingering, accidental voyeurism if you squint, unprotected p in v, fluff because Red & I are some corny motherfuckers

Thank you @blueywrites for your idea that upped the spice 🌶️🌶️ Divider credit to @saradika

“Okay, so we need to mix the magnesium with hydrochloric acid,” you start, carefully measuring each substance and pouring them into a test tube, “and then we light the splint and see if it creates a squeaking noise.”

“Right,” Eddie says, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “And, uh, why are we doing this, exactly?”

You clench your jaw and exhale through your nose. Eddie getting under your skin is bad enough, but if he knew how much he annoyed you, he’d likely double down.

“We’re testing for the presence of oxygen,” you say with as much patience as you can muster. “And you need to wear safety goggles.”

He rolls his eyes and mimics you in a high-pitched and highly unflattering tone. “You need to wear safety goggles.”

He reaches for the matches, but you pull them away before he can grab them.

“I’m serious.”

Eddie scoffs. “Please. We’re not even blowing shit up. Besides, I have a gig tonight, and I’m not getting on stage with goggle marks on my face.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be the difference between your shitty band getting a record deal or not.”

“Whatever.” But he begrudgingly snaps on the protective gear, and you hand over the matchbox and the splint.

“So just li—seriously?” You watch, dumbfounded, as Eddie strikes a match and uses it to light the cigarette perched between his lips. Where had he kept it this whole time?

“What?” He asks with a smirk. “There’s, like, a million of these left. I’ll use the next one for the experiment thingy.”

He doesn’t get that far; Ms. O’Donnell marches over and yanks out the cigarette, snuffs it in the tray, and orders him to the principal’s office.

Leaving you to complete your work alone. Again.

Last week, it was because he’d kicked his feet up on the table and took a swig of Mountain Dew from a beaker. The week before, he’d blown up a rubber glove like a balloon and popped it right in Jason Carver’s ear, causing him to shatter a test tube on the ground.

You often felt more like a babysitter than a lab partner.

What you needed was a night out, so the party Steve Harrington was throwing tonight could not come any sooner. It wasn’t your usual scene, but all of your friends were going, and it certainly beat raiding your parents’ liquor cabinet alone.

Music blasts from an overpriced stereo system as you pull up to Steve’s house. Barely audible over the reverberating bass is the sound of drunken cheering as someone does a kegstand. You sigh, plaster a smile on your face, and make a beeline for the punch bowl.

Heather Holloway ladles jungle juice into an already pink-stained cup; you’re grateful for at least one kind face in a sea of Hawkins High students and recent graduates.

“Heather, hi!” You smile at her, plucking a new cup from the stack and filling it nearly to the brim. “How’s college?”

Heather takes a sip, wrinkling her nose at the vodka’s pungency. “Way better than high school,” she says with a laugh. “I’m taking an intro to biochem, and my lab partner actually shows up.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “Maybe you could take mine. He’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

She laughs. “Can’t be worse than when I was stuck with The Freak last year. He never showed up to class.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And Ginny Anderson was his lab partner during his first senior year, and he pulled the same shit.”

Lucky them, you think wryly. Guess he decided to be a star student for his third go-around.

Frat boy-style cheering echoes from behind you and when you spin around you see Billy Hargrove strutting through the crowd, towards the kitchen. He throws a wink to a few girls and slaps five to one of the guys on the basketball team. If he’s coming into the kitchen, it’s the last place you want to be.

The living room is smoky and loud, but it beats getting stuck next to the booze with a jackass like Hargrove. Every thump of the bass has the little sips of alcohol you’ve taken sloshing around in your stomach. It’s hard to tell where you’re going or even what direction you’re going with so many people, so you just keep wading through groups until finally you come upon some space to breathe.

Unfortunately, this space brings you right back to where you began: in front of the kitchen. Just in time for Billy to sidle up next to you, the scent of whiskey and tangy cologne wafting off of him in waves.

“Where have you been all my life?” he asks, as if it’s supposed to be charming instead of nausea-inducing.

“Was better a second ago,” you mumble, not caring if he hears you or not. But when you move to step away from the blonde, the smarmy look slips from his too-pretty face and is replaced with a mask of set determination.

Strong fingers curl around your wrist, just tight enough to cause the barest amount of pain. The audacity and possessiveness are what piss you off the most, though.

A gentle tug of your arm does nothing to free it from his grip, so you try a little harder. Still nothing.

“Let go,” you seethe. The words are biting, but you’re a chihuahua up against a doberman.

Somehow, above your pulse pounding in your ears and the music thumping throughout the large house, you hear the distinct clang of a metal lunchbox snap shut and heavy boots on polished wood floors headed in your direction.

You sense Eddie over your shoulder before he appears in your peripheral vision. A moment hangs in the air where he and Billy stare at one another, and you watch them both, unsure of what is about to happen.

Eddie steels his jaw, unmoving. “Let her go,” he says, a slight rasp in his tone.

The jock remains unfazed, unthreatened. “Shouldn’t you be worshiping Satan’s asshole, Freak?”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping Tommy’s? Or does he only worship yours?”

A cacophony of laughter stirs up an anger inside of Billy. He grabs Eddie by the jacket collar and slams him against the counter. “If you don’t fuck off in the next three seconds, I’ll kick you ass so hard that your uncle won’t even be able to identify your body.”

Eddie smirks. “One…two—”

Billy’s fist crashes into Eddie’s cheek with a sickening crack. Eddie returns with a punch to Billy’s abdomen, but not before his face sustains a few more hits.

Shock loosens its grasp on you and you call out for help, knowing it’s no use getting in the middle of their brawl. Someone—Tommy H, maybe—is chanting “fight!” and it takes all of your willpower not to clock him yourself.

Billy finally lets up when Eddie falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in agony. “Maybe next time, you’ll mind your fucking business,” he spits through his split lip—one of the few punches Eddie managed to land.

His smarminess is enough to provoke a reflexive response in you. As he gloats, you deliver a swift kick square to his crotch. A choked whine slips from Billy’s parted lips as he doubles over. You snort a laugh to yourself thinking about how the dumbbell is probably going to spin this story so he doesn’t seem like any less than the King of Hawkins High in front of his fellow party-goers. He’ll never be able to take away your satisfaction at using a pair of your nicest shoes to crush Billy’s balls though.

Eddie is still on the ground, wiping blood that’s trickled out of his right nostril onto the back of his sleeve. Turning your back to Billy, you bend down and offer your hand to Eddie. He accepts it with a weak smile and you help him to his feet.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eddie says with a shrug and a sad smile that knots your stomach. He’s been hurt worse than this?

Unable to follow that train of thought, you reach out and slip your hand into Eddie’s. You give a small tug and he readily follows you down the hall of the Harrington home, the thumping beat of the bass becoming softer the further you walk.

In the back corner of the house you manage to find a bathroom that’s not occupied by someone puking the mixture of alcohol they’ve consumed or a couple hooking up, going at it like wild animals. This one looks like it’s been hardly touched all night and you click the lock into place once you and Eddie are inside.

Eddie takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, his calloused fingers coming up to gently touch the gash right across his chin. He winces at the tenderness of the wound while you crouch down and look in the cabinets underneath the sink for a first aid kit.

“Ah, here we are,” you announce as you pull out the small white box with the red cross on it. On your knees, you shuffle over towards Eddie and slide the kit along with you. “It’s not so bad,” you tell Eddie as you dab some rubbing alcohol on a small swath of gauze. “The face just bleeds more because—”

“Because the blood vessels in the face are so close to the skin,” Eddie finishes for you.

“Wow,” you say, raising your eyebrows at him. “I’m impressed.”

“We are in the same science class, you know,” Eddie teases with a playful smirk. It quickly turns to a grimace though as you begin to dab at his wounds.

“I thought I recognized you from the seat next to mine,” you joke back. There’s silence for a few moments while you clean off all the excess blood and bandage up the open cuts. “Why are you suddenly interested in science this year? I mean, I was talking to Heather before and she said you never showed up when you were her lab partner. So, what? Renewed attempt to graduate?”

“Uh,” Eddie says with an awkward chuckle. He avoids your eyes and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Something like that.”

“Got the hots for O’Donnell?”

He belly laughs at that thought, grimacing at the pain it causes. “Fuck, no!” He shakes his head. “She looks like a walrus and a naked mole rat had some sort of freaky baby.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ew.”

“You were the one who suggested I’m into her,” Eddie rebutted, and fairly so.

“I didn’t make you compare her to a—”

A loud crash stops you mid-sentence, followed by someone drunkenly lamenting, “not the punch!”

“We’re probably safer hiding out in here for a bit,” Eddie says softly, “unless you want to volunteer to clean up whatever mess they made.”

“I think cleaning up your mess is more than enough for tonight.” To punctuate your point, you swipe a clean piece of gauze over a small cut you’d previously missed. “Besides, I wanna know what’s suddenly got you showing up to class.”

Eddie’s eyes roam your body far more conspicuously than he’d like, but the attention fills you with a newfound warmth. “You.” He snorts out a little laugh, startling you slightly. “Fuck, I’m drunker than I thought.”

“W-Wait.” You fight off the embarrassment that accompanies your stuttered words. “I’m the reason …?”

He noticed your reaction, mistaking disbelief for discomfort. “Does that make things…does that make you feel weird?” Nerves marr whatever joking tone he was trying to convey.

All you can do is shake your head. “No. It makes things…good.” Good insufficiently describes your reaction, though part of you waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s a prank, his way of getting back at you for—

A hooked finger in the belt loop of your jeans snags your attention, Eddie gently tugging you closer to him. “And now?”

“Still good. Better, actually.” Resting one hand on his sore chest, you lean in and add, “will it hurt if I kiss you?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite him not caring, you certainly care if you’re going to hurt him or not. Your mouth moves slowly towards his, lips just barely brushing against each other as your breaths co-mingle. It’s not enough for Eddie though, and he presses his lips against yours with more force, stealing the air from your lungs as your body melts against his. The back bathroom at the Harrington household is not something you would’ve considered romantic before, but right now it’s the only place you want to be. Tucked away in the corner with Eddie, trading explorative kisses as your hands roam each other's bodies.

Your body buzzes when Eddie’s tongue sweeps against yours, heat immediately pooling between your legs.

Instinctively, gingerly, you press your torso to his, one trembling finger hooking into his belt loop. A moan escapes you, soft but saturated with need. Eddie clocks it immediately.

“Mhm.” His smile threatens to break the kiss. “That’s it.”

You feel the button of your jeans unfasten, the sound of unzipping music to your ears. His hand slips between the denim and the newly exposed lace of your panties, grin widening when it reaches the damp patch.

Eddie’s hardness strains against the confines of his own pants, and you rush to relieve that ache. His exhale when you touch him—over his boxers, but not as gently as he touches you—makes you even wetter.

“Gotta have you.” He toys with your waistband but doesn’t explore further until he hears your ‘yes,’ pathetic and whimpering but consent nonetheless. “Good girl,” he growls, sending a shiver coursing through you.

The pads of his fingertips find your clit without struggle, rubbing precise circles over it that have you groaning his name. “Every time you say my name from now on,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna think about this.”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.” It’s part taunt and part truth; only his name is on your mind. Your back arches against the sink, porcelain digging into your skin, but you barely notice.

One strong hand reaches for the strap of your tank top, pulling it down so harshly that the fabric tears. He mutters a soft swear, tugs the rest of the shirt down until your bra is completely visible.

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Eddie kisses your chest, groaning when the sensation of his lips causes you to squeeze his throbbing cock. “Careful, or I’ll—”

He’s interrupted by the door swinging wide open, Billy and Heather wrapped around each other in drunken lust. Billy’s eyes widen, their blueness dulled from the liquor, when he sees that the bathroom is currently occupied—and by whom.

The intrusion startles you as well, but you’re much quicker at recovering than the inebriated asshole gaping at you from the doorway.

“Get the fuck out!” you hiss.

Heather turns her head to look in your direction, as if she hadn't been aware there was anyone else in the bathroom until you’d spoken up. It’s clear she’s had quite a few more drinks since you’d seen her in the kitchen.

Whether it’s the alcohol, the shock, or his own stupidity, Billy doesn’t make a move towards leaving, let alone tug Heather along with him. The blonde shakes a few curls out of his eyes, causing Heather to reach up and twirl one around her finger.

“Jesus Christ, is this douche even capable of hearing a woman if she isn’t moaning his name?” Eddie mutters to you before rounding on the drunken pair and raising his voice. “The lady said out. Now.”

Something finally snaps Billy out of his dazed state and he curls his lip, giving the two of you a half-hearted sneer. He pulls Heather out of the doorway so quickly that it looks like she gets whiplash as he slams the door closed behind them.

Eddie leans over and locks the door, giving the knob a twist for good measure. “Do me a favor, honey?” His voice is a ribbon of silk down your spine. “Turn around so you’re facing the mirror.”

You do as he says, hands planted on the sink ledge. Your shirt is torn, make-up smudged, and you’re out of breath from the impromptu make out session. Ducking your head, you’re determined to avoid your reflection until tobacco-scented words tickle your ear from behind.

“Be a good girl and look at yourself while I fuck you.” Eddie moves your thong over, exposing your pussy, and exhales with a tremble. His middle finger glides over your folds before pushing into you slowly. “You got wetter when I called you a good girl, didn’t you?”

“Mhm,” you manage, stifling a moan as his ring finger joins his middle.

A teasing pout graces Eddie’s lips. “Such a good girl. And only for me.”

“Only for you,” you echo.

He taps the head of his cock on your bare ass, leaving drops of pre-cum in his wake. “Gotta be inside you,” he growls. “Gotta fuckin’ feel what a good girl you are.”

The sensation of his cock dragging down along your folds mixed with him knowing just what to say to get you squirming has you dropping your head forward with a soft whimper. A strong, calloused hand quickly finds its way up to your throat though, and presses with just enough pressure to remind you that you’re supposed to be looking at yourself in the mirror.

When you lift your head, you’re greeted by the sight of a smirking Eddie behind you in the mirror.

“Atta girl,” he praises.

At a torturously slow pace, Eddie begins to push inside of you. A guttural groan slips past your gritted teeth as he stretches your walls, the pleasure causing you to curl your toes inside your shoes.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out before pulling his hips back. “Pussy’s even tighter than I imagined.”

The mental image of Eddie laying in bed with his hand wrapped around his cock, thinking of you is enough to make your knees weak. They can’t buckle too much; Eddie has one hand gripping you tight and the other trailing down to your clit. Each deliberate circle is punctuated by a thrust, pleasure from every angle.

He kisses your shoulder blade, groaning when you tighten around him. “Look at yourself,” he growls his reminder. “Look how beautiful you are, all fucked out like this.”

You catch another glimpse; this time, you see Eddie’s lust-filled expression along with your own. He’s even further gone than you are, so focused on burying himself within you to care about the sweat matting his bangs to his forehead or the way his teeth dig into his lower lip.

“Say it.” His voice is half-commanding, half-pleading.

“S-Say what?” Each word is a struggle, your orgasm building to a peak you’d never before reached.

“That you’re beautiful.” He tugs you even closer to him, and there’s no mistaking his dominance for anything else. “So—goddamn—beautiful.”

You follow his order without a second thought. “I’m b-beautiful, all fucked out like th-this.”

Eddie’s hips snap against the plush of your ass at a frenetic pace. “That’s it; that’s my good girl.” Not a good girl, you note. His good girl.

One hand atop his, desperate for as much contact as possible, you moan: “your good girl.”

“Oh, fuck.” Everything is you—you and him together, and it drives him to the edge. “You…you gotta…’m so close,” he rambles.

“Me, too.” Panting breaths mingle with his groans, your walls tightening around him as you come. It’s so much, so intense, and tears cloud your vision resulting from the overwhelming bliss. “Eddie, oh, Eddie.”

He spills into you with a cry of your name. “H-ohmygod, holy fuckin’ shit.” His thrusts don’t stop until every last drop of his cum is inside you.

Eddie’s chest presses against your back, but he’s careful not to put all his weight on you. The feeling of him so solid and warm behind lulls you from pure ecstasy to warm contentment, not wanting to move out from beneath him.

A few silent moments pass before Eddie pulls out of you, both of you disappointed by the loss of contact. But Eddie’s hands refuse to let you go entirely, gently running over your hips and up your sides. The touch is featherlight and sends a comforting tingle throughout your limbs.

“You with me?” Eddie’s worn-out voice asks you.

“Mhmm,” you hum in acknowledgment. “Don’t wanna move.”

Eddie gives a husky chuckle in reply before he stands up, reluctantly taking a step away from you. Your own muscles whine in protest as you stand straight, the tell-tale signs of a good fucking already settling in.

The two of you begin to clean up, each slipping back into articles of clothing along the way. One question prickles the back of your mind in the quiet room and you know your brain won’t be able to rest until it has an answer.

“Uh, Eddie?” you ask once you’ve cleaned up your smeared lipstick.

“Yeah?”

“Are you still going to come to class? Or, you know, now that you’ve had me you won’t have a reason to anymore?” You try to hide the insecurity in your tone but there was no mistaking the slight edge your words had.

Eddie pauses mid-buckling his belt and gives you a frown.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says and the nickname alone already has your engine revving for a round two. “I wouldn’t sit through O’Donnell’s class for someone I only wanted to fuck. If I’m gonna listen to that hag drone on and on then there’s a damn good reason I’m sitting my ass in that classroom.” With a sigh, Eddie steps closer to you and after a moment’s hesitation, cups your face in his hands. “Can I take you out? Do things, ya know, the right way?”

A little trill of a giggle bursts out of you, which makes Eddie frown. But you’re quick to let him in on what you found amusing.

“You mean having sex in a bathroom at Steve Harrington’s house isn’t the typical way romances start?”

A grin slowly slides across Eddie’s mouth and you swear it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. All you want to do is keep that smile on his handsome face as much as you possibly can.

“A romance, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “If I’d known that’s what this was, I would’ve at least fucked you in a guest room.”

You let your fingers brush over the fly of his jeans, feeling a gentle twitch from behind the zipper. “How about for round two?”

Eddie holds your face in his hands as he kisses you deeply, only breaking it to smile and murmur:

“You read my mind, Beautiful.”

#eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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northern-passage · 6 months ago

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there's a scammer on here that's copy and pasted the entirety of Hashem Safi's story and is attempting to use it to pass off their gofundme as legitimate, so i wanted to bring attention to Safi's real gfm, especially because it is so close to its goal.

this gofundme has been vetted by humanity for gaza on instagram, #425 on their linktree here.

Hashem Ziyad Safi is a medical student at IUG, and was half-way through his medical studies before Israel's genocidal attack on Gaza.

He is fundraising for his family: his father, mother, two brothers-- Ahmed and Abdullah-- his younger sister Misk, and his older sister Yara and her 9-month old daughter who was born only a week before the war.

In Hashem's own words:

Before the war, we really lived a beautiful life. We had our dreams, our goals, our home, and a wonderful life, but everything is truly over now.

Yara studied IT and graduated university just before the war, she is a painter and loves to draw.

Ahmed was in his last year of high school and loves video games - he used to be introverted and youthful, but this war has forced him to become a man.

Misk is in middle school, she loves reading, reciting, cooking, and writing - we admire her for spending her time in the war still reading as much as she can.

Abdullah, my youngest brother, is just a child - he cannot understand the horrors we are enduring and is struggling with severe depression.

And I was passionately studying medicine, so eager to achieve my dream…

The university Hashem was studying at has now been completely destroyed by Israel, as well as the family's home. They have been displaced 6 times since the invasion began, and continue to live in fear of having to run yet again.

Hashem's mother and younger brothers are now sick from the contaminated water, and Hashem is having trouble breathing due to all of the smoke and debris from Israel's constant bombing. Recently, he also sustained an injury to his leg and has been unable to receive adequate care due to malnutrition and lack of appropriate medical supplies.

The family has raised €25,314 raised of €30,000 goal. Please consider donating and sharing to help them in this final push to meeting their goal!!

#please always make sure to verify gfm before sharing them #all it took was pasting the first paragraph into google and the legit fundraiser appeared #gaza mutual aid

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transmechanicus · 7 months ago

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this is. probably a very personal question.

Is it worth it? Transitioning? In spite of it all?

Completely, utterly, and absolutely. I’m one of those ppl who knew i was trans since i was like 8. I found out when i was probably 13/14 what transgender meant, but recoiled from it because i could not imagine a world that would accept me or where i would be happy with the result. At 15 i met my first other trans person, and they became my friend and partner and the first person to ever know i was trans. Being around them, known by them, was such a colossal psychological relief and source of joy unlike anything i had known before. It made separating from them after graduation all the more excruciating to lose that one person i had trusted with that truth.

Sometime over the next two years i came out to my Mom, but nothing really changed, and i had more or less resolved to rot and die under the identity i had been born into. I let my undergrad studies chew me up, neglected all but the most necessary body maintenance, and spent every moment outside work or class buried in video games or books. At some point something snapped out of place, or perhaps back into place. I knew i didn’t want to die like this. I wanted something more for my life and my flesh than being a half dead servitor stocking yogurt. I wanted to transition, and however slowly, however long it took, that’s what i resolved to do.

It took a while. I had no real finances, no privacy, and little independence. I was coming from a white low-self-expression, high-control household. I “messed up” while base coating warhammer models one time and gave myself black nails. My dad berated me about it for days before trying to pin my hands down and sand the paint off (didn’t work, thank you automotive primer). When i was ~22 i got my ears pierced, basically the first permanent part of my transition, and i had never known as much joy as i did driving home knowing the pain was a step of permanent progress. Around this time 2019/2020 i started being out online, more vocal about being transgender as opposed to just having a relatively inexpressive fandom blog with no info beyond my name.

When i was 24, two years ago i came out to my dad, and a week later i left for grad school halfway across the country. I had an apartment all to myself, and my own source of income. I spent my spare change building up a wardrobe of new clothes that i actually liked. I got my first year of grad school done mostly without anything remarkable. Went to some queer events at my school. Found a partner. Got loved to bits for a while. Re-came out to my parents over the summer, and this time it stuck. Started HRT that fall, 2023. Came out to my classmates and coworkers and was rewarded with support and acceptance. Lost the partner. Devastated. Resolve to get even hotter and cooler. Smash out 3 piercings and a tattoo inside a week. Develop personal fashion sense. Attend research conference. Get better at makeup. Go to some concerts. Increase HRT. Tiddy Arc. Buy bra with a supportive bestie. Start weekly therapy. Increase HRT. Cosplay at a major convention. Schedule another tattoo. More HRT. Bra no longer optional. Present day. Tattoo on Wednesday. 90% of progress packed into the last year or so. Undeniably hotter, happier, and more self-expressive than anything in the last 24 years prior.

Transitioning is more than worth it, it brings me so much relief and joy every day no matter how shitty my day is otherwise, and while i have known doubt, i have never for an instant known regret.

There is still time🖤🏳️‍⚧️💕

#my stuff #trans #asks

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heartsofminds · 8 months ago

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i'm calling just to hear you scream - part i

"She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down." or Natalie gets fed the fuck up and hires a hospitality attorney before everything else turns to shit.

a/n: i couldn't help myself at all and had to bite by trying my hand at writing for carmy! what can i say? i love men with trauma that need to be cuddled like newborns! please enjoy the beginning of enemies to lovers to enemies back to lovers fic with a workaholic chef and an overly empathetic attorney. angst is my brand! i hope you enjoy!

Being the peacekeeper of your family is never something anyone ever sets out to be.

One day you’re normal and live blissfully with the rose-colored lenses of naivety tinting life shades of bashful blush and magnetic magenta. The next day you’re diffusing a spitfire scarlett dispute between your anxiety-ridden mother and impulsively crude older brother while simultaneously taming the balloon of battered blue tears your baby brother sheds who observes from the corner; scared yet somehow unaware of the emotions sucking the oxygen out of everyone.

At first, it feels good. It feels nice to be appreciated and turned to in moments of darkness. Helpfulness defines your livelihood and gives you the nameplate of the gold star child who can never do any wrong and always finds a solution. But then you realize that is what you ever really are, and you’re both hated for your inability to let things sour and for always having an answer despite uncertainty plaguing every course of action.

Being the peacekeeper of your family is both a Medal of Honor, worn with pride and graciousness, yet a bullet wound wielded by shame and agony. The tenderness and hurt push on it until you can hardly stand it; half expecting pus to be seeping out in pale yellow heaps because the pain feels so real.

There are no exit wounds. There are no breaks. There is no humanity or personal identity or room for self-discovery.

A peacemaker is all you will be and all you will ever accomplish, and you’ll never say it out loud but it’s fucking exhausting.

Being the peacemaker is something Natalie Berzatto never fucking asked for, yet here she is, playing project manager to her haywire (and sometimes freakishly obsessive) baby brother’s blind-eyed throw of a dart that manifested itself in asking Uncle Jimmy for an eight hundred thousand dollar loan with the promise to have it completely paid back within eight months.

She’s not one to rain on a parade, but it’s hard to keep marching when your entire life has been putting out the fires of overly ambitious business ventures during unmedicated fits of mania. She had seen it with their dad, with their mom, and with Mikey. Carmen is the last needle needed to complete the fucked up haystack that engulfs their family.

She’s tried to be positive. She’s tried to be kind. She’s trying to be the peacekeeper, but all of that falls out the window when her brother is bitching out everything that fucking blinks and breathes and Richie has slung a sledgehammer into the wrong wall that needed to be knocked down.

Natalie has never thought of looking into Botox until now; when her face is set in a permanent scowl and her resting heart rate nears triple digits. Pete had been telling her for the past three weeks that she was doing amazing; that this was an impossible task to complete stress-free, and that the stress was “good” because it meant that she cared.

Sometimes she doesn’t realize that not everyone has a mom who drives the fucking car through the den during Christmas Eve dinner nor does everyone have a mom who moves all the furniture to the backyard before having to leave for their oldest brother’s high school graduation. Not everyone has an older brother who blows his head off and doesn’t leave a note and not everyone has a younger brother who would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his body and had his mouth that was spewing hurtful insults by the dozen.

Stress does not mean that you care. Stress means that your eyes are staring at the fucking Sun trying to see where the other shoe is getting ready to drop because there’s always another disappointment and always another phone call to make to the pharmacy for more SSRIs.

Needless to say, Richie calling Neil “lard ass” on an antagonizing loop after he had pointed out the wrong wall was being destroyed was the last straw. Well, that and the fact she found a new patch of white hairs colonizing on her hairline the other morning. Constant shouted insults, gray hairs popping up overnight, and the colossal secret of a new infant making its arrival into the chaos in October weigh heavy on her. And she absolutely cannot afford to lose her cool and become the kind of bitchy and mean she knows that she’s capable of.

Your phone number sits inside the LED-lit text thread of a friend she had known in high school. Becca was the older sister of Claire Cantor whom her little brother may have or may have not had a pathetic crush on years ago when he was in high school.

She feels kind of grimy doing what she is; offering up information about Carmy to Becca to give to Claire who apparently thought her baby brother was the bee's knees (which, if she saw the way he was acting right now, Natalie knows she would run the other way). She doesn’t even think Carmen has the capability to think of anything outside of the restaurant and the menu and how royally fucked they all are.

She can feel the dull ache of guilt in her chest that comes with knowing how unlikely anything is to come from this, and how wrong she is for pretending like her telling Becca where he grocery shops or if he has a girlfriend or if he was currently looking for someone to date would somehow tether Claire to a world where her and Carmen are a “thing” (because apparently “boyfriend and girlfriend” is too permanent of a word for Chicagoan twenty-somethings to use).

But she’s doing it for the sake of everyone else! It can’t possibly be as gross and low-lived as she feels it is.

Becca Cantor is insufferable and can only be taken in small doses, but she’s also a big wig junior partner at one of the most lucrative law firms in Chicago. Natalie hates blowing smoke up people’s asses who don’t deserve it (and in Becca’s case certainly don’t need it), but she desperately needs help and knows that she needs to figure something out before she fucks herself in such a deep hole that she couldn’t attempt to unfuck herself if she tried.

Your official title is “junior associate” and you had been working at Becca’s firm following your graduation from Northwestern’s Pritzker School of Law a couple of years prior. Becca had said you were amazing; freakishly smart, funny, and hardworking. She also mentioned that you were the best kind of junior associate; the ones that know when to shut the fuck up and when to get the fuck out of the way. The addition added before the text conversation ended was how you were looking to get your foot into the hospitality legal field, and how you were willing to do anything concerning that for free fucking ninety-nine if it meant you would have some experience.

Natalie sits with her lower lip worried between her teeth and her hands one tick shy of shaking. Her heart beats erratically despite lounging on her couch with the lights off and a re-run of That 70’s Show playing softly in the background. She makes a mental note to bring up the high resting heart rate at her next OB appointment.

It’s because she’s pregnant. Yes. It has to be because she’s pregnant.

She shouldn’t be nervous. It would be absolutely ridiculous to be nervous. She’s not nervous.

She already ran the idea past Sydney and she agreed that they absolutely needed a lawyer in their back pocket. With all of the tax records fucked beyond belief, new workers being hired who actually knew their worth and wouldn’t tolerate not having an actual employement contract, and the lack of permits under their belt currently, a lawyer wouldn’t hurt if getting one turned out to not be as helpful as anticipated. Besides, Becca had said you were doing it for them pro bono which in turn meant free fucking nintey-nine.

But Natalie had lied to Carmen about how much some fluted cocktail glasses cost to ensure that they purchased the cheaper ones so that she could run the numbers and figure out a way to put you on the payroll. Pro bono or not, you’re doing them a huge favor and part of her can’t put the peacekeeping to rest.

Her fingers type and untype a novel of characters. She can’t seem to relax her mind enough to articulate what exactly she wants to say. She has one shot to not scare you off and not lose her mind in a fit of fiery rage and not have everything turn to shit and it be her fault. She has to be perfect.

Fuck. She is nervous.

Hi! This is Natalie Berzatto. I’m one of Becca Cantor’s friends and she referred me to you. I’m working on opening a restaurant and would like for you to swing by and discuss some things about it if you’re open to that! Please let me know. I’m looking forward to hearing back from you soon!

Nat’s finger hits the blue “send” arrow in the rounded box of her phone screen the same time she pushes a gag to the back of her throat. She used to work at a marketing firm for Christ’s sake. Cold contacting people isn’t anything new and she’s usually not one to shy away from reaching out to anyone in her personal life first. But she can’t help the fact that she’s never been able to swallow the artificial bubble gummy niceness of reaching out to a complete stranger for the first time. She feels stupid and knows that she sounds even stupider but tries not to think about it.

Besides, keeping everything together is never easy and she knows that she would be selfish for letting her discomfort prevent her from doing what she knows is best.

Her breath is stuck in her chest as she eyes the open text thread to an unsaved number; her blue text message staring at her menacingly and breeding contempt as the seconds pass. She gasps loudly whenever she sees the gray bubbles pop up beneath it. Pete pokes his head into the living room with a tea towel in his hand and one of the ceramic plates they had eaten dinner on in the other. His eyes wear concern but he knows better than to confront his wife. Natalie was anything but sugary sweet when she was stressed and the influx of hormones as of late have not been helping.

You see the message as soon as Natalie sends it. The unknown “312” number finds its way into your notifications and your eyes read over the words in a frenzy. You know that you’re intelligent. You graduated from law school for fuck’s sake, but for some reason you absolutely cannot comprehend the text you’re reading.

Firstly, you were sure Becca hated your fucking guts. She was a junior partner that everyone hated being assigned to because she pushed all her work onto the associates and nothing ever seemed to be good enough for her. Part of the reason you had to take work home tonight was because she sent you an email with enough passive-aggressive undertone to know that these edits needed to be done now; never mind the fact that the time she took to type out the seven and a half page report about the original report probably took up so much time that she could’ve done the task herself. But yet you replied kindly and have been working through your brain fog and finger cramps since arriving home at six in the evening five hours ago.

Secondly, hospitality litigation was absolutely above your pay grade. You had taken one elective course on it during your 2L year and did a two-week internship before the start of 3L simply because one of your friends wanted to go on vacation and needed to find someone to cover for them. You know jack shit about hospitality law and you don’t even know why Becca Cantor, of all fucking people, would be so willing to recommend you when she couldn’t care less if you lived or died.

But of course, you can’t say no. You can never say no, and if this Natalie person was desperate enough to reach out to you via text at 11 PM on a Wednesday, she definitely needed help and needed it now. Besides, you would tell her that you do not need to be paid and if whatever she needs proves to be way too advanced for you, you can always help her find an attorney that knows what they’re doing.

Right?

It definitely doesn’t mean that you’ll pull an all-nighter and research every aspect of hospitality law in Illinois that you can get your hands on. . .Or look up every department dealing with food and management regulations in the state. . .Or try and look at precedent cases. Your firm gave you unlimited access to West Law. Might as well use it for something slightly more interesting than trusts, estates, and contracts.

You’re unusually pensive for something you know you would love to do. The ongoing battle as of late has been the dispute between seeking joy and wading in practicality; happiness or falsified peace?

You rub your eyes with a roughness that would make your optometrist cringe. You know that staring at your computer screen five hours after your contracted work hours ended was the culprit for your dry eyes, but the hours you need are not going to bill themselves. Getting up to get your eyedrops will have to wait.

Replying to Natalie cannot.

Your fingers type and untype; the feeling of texting back an unknown number foreign and unnerving.

Thanks so much for reaching out and thinking of me! I would love to. What dates and times work for you, and where would it be best for us to meet?

The text stares at you on your phone screen. Why do you sound so. . . corporate? Boring? Infantile.

She could probably tell you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about at all. The feeling of defeat rises in your throat but you ignore it and hit send instead. You’re trying to be better about that; letting your fear of uncertainty keep you from taking action. You’ve come to realize that the hard part isn’t doing the thing. It’s actually sitting in the aftermath of the “thing” and waiting for the rest of the world to catch up.

You bite your lip so hard it begins to bleed and throbs with each pulse of watery blood that fills your mouth. The gentle suck you give it to stop the bleeding makes it partially numb.

Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca. Fuck you, Becca.

Natalie chirps when your text illuminates her screen. She gasps and sits up; startling Pete who had settled next to her after finishing the dishes. Her eyes curl up in the same way her lips do.

Fucking finally.

The world no longer feels like it’ll fall apart.

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ramp-it-up · 3 months ago

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Sugar, Cubed

Photo found on Pinterest

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, little bit of slow burn. Main character injury, allusions to sex, sexual tension, indecent proposal, caught between two lovers trope, idiots in love, Tony being Tony, truth or dare, talk of voyeruism, possibility of group sex, eventual polyandry.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part one, part two will be posted next week. I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

You met the two most hated men in your life while you were living together as recipients of the prestigious Stark STEM Fellowship at NYU.

There was an instant spark when you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, best friends from childhood. They sarcastically named you Sugar because of your initial rudeness, but the nickname just stuck around after you warmed up to them.

In the Stark Fellows program, life was hard work and hard play. Soon it was down to just you, Bucky and Steve, and life was a dream with parties, booze, and almost anything you wanted, as long as you lent your minds to the work.

Tony Stark tolerated anything that would keep productivity high. He knew that all work and no play would make Bucky, Sugar and Steve dull scientists.

So he encouraged you three to play. And funded it too.

Steve and Bucky were so protective of you, their sweet Sugar. The sexual tension that came with living with them was heady stuff.

You basked in the glow of Bucky and Steve's attention, while observant of the lines of partners at their bedroom doors and the competitiveness between the football quarterback and lacrosse captain.

You swore that neither Bucky nor Steve would ever win you, no matter the plays they made. But they each had you sprung in different ways. And they were so damn competitive.

They both wanted your heart.

It was only a matter of time before you gave it to each of them.

You fell hard for Bucky first. And it was urgent and intense.

But after just a year together, Bucky accepted a position with Stark Labs in Bucharest for a term that stretched into two years as he completed grad school at Politehnica. It happened without warning. You were angry at his choice and trapped in New York by your own contract with Stark for graduate work.

You and Bucky were over. And you were heartbroken.

Steve’s waiting arms were open, and it was effortless and freeing to realize that the golden boy was the one who truly loved you. And he’d always been there. Your heart healed. You thought.

According to social media, Bucky seemed to love his new location, extending his contract beyond the initial year-long contract to finish his degree. It seemed that all he did was work.

Not that you were stalking his IG or anything.

He didn’t communicate with you directly, and with Steve only intermittently. It was like he’d erased his best friend and his best girl from his life.

It made sense, since his best girl was now his best friend’s girl.

Then, during his second year, Bucky's stay in Romania was cut short, he came back to New York, although not in the way you imagined.

Bucky had been critically injured; losing a limb. Tony made sure he had the best care, flying with Bucky to Wakanda for experimental surgery and overseeing his recovery.

You found out via a social media after Bucky was back in town, and not from Tony or anyone else.

You were livid.

You raged at Steve, who had lied to you that he had to go to London for two weeks for work when he was actually in Wakanda at Bucky’s bedside.

The betrayal ran deep.

You and Steve were done after that, although you continued to work side by side at the labs. You felt as if Tony was trying to drive you over the edge, having you work around the clock with your ex. But he didn’t care. He had some insane theory that the tension would yield better results.

Each day, you longed for the hour that you could go to your posh new quarters in Stark tower. Although it was lonely, at least your apartment was private, and you could unwind in peace. Your days were tense, but predictable.

Until they weren’t anymore.

——

One afternoon, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stared into the monitor to watch the results from the latest compound analysis roll numbers across your workstation.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You froze, looking up and out over Manhattan through the window above your station. You couldn’t believe it, but you saw a pale reflection of him in the mirrored glass.

You slowly turned around.

Bucky looked good, his pale complexion not all the result of the blue gray skies over the Hudson. His face had grown more angular, his hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed older, but outside, he was the same Bucky.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

Bucky Barnes seemed whole, except his left hand, the “golden arm” that was the pride of Bobcat football, was now black and gold metal.

Vibranium.

You stared at it as it reached for you.

“So I don’t get a hug?”

Your eyes moved to his face while Steve cleared his throat and reminded you that he was there. You tried to forget his existence most days, but Bucky walking into your lab had erased him from your mind completely. For a moment.

“Sugar–”

You cut him off.

“Fuck you, Grant.”

You looked back at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“And fuck you, James.”

Despite your epithets, you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with emotion.

“How could you…?”

You whispered it into his suit coat, your fingers digging into the material at his back as you cried into his shoulder. Bucky held you tight against him, and he felt harder, more solid.

You realized that under all of the anger and hurt, you were mainly just relieved that he was alive.

Over two years of anxiety and unprocessed feelings were coming out, and Bucky rocked you as your body heaved. Steve came up behind you and hugged you both.

For a minute you relished the feeling, being held by the only two men that you ever had feelings for. You felt safe. But then you remembered the secrets and the lies, and anger flooded you again. You twisted out of their grasp.

“Don’t get any ideas, assholes.”

You moved away from them and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold.

“Do you know how worried I was? No one gave me any information. At all. I had to find out from social media. I felt like a fool, Bucky.”

You scowled at him.

“And you. You knew that, Cap. And you lied to my fucking face.”

You glared at Steve.

You looked from Steve to Bucky, who shared a guilty glance with each other.

“That’s my fault, Sugar. I– I made Tony and Steve swear not to tell you.”

Your dark haired ex boyfriend looked at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his new hand. He held it up and looked at it and then at you.

“Didn’t know how you would feel about this.”

You ignored the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes.

"What do you want? A cookie? A pat on the head? A tear? You are not going to make me feel sorry for you. Not when you let everyone else but me in on your secret."

You cocked your head and gazed curiously at the new appendage, then back at him.

“Bucky, I am stronger than you think. And I loved you.”

Both Steve and Bucky winced at the word ‘loved,’ but both for different reasons.

“I would have accepted you anyway you came. And I would have been by your side while you recovered. But you didn’t want that. But it looks as if you’re fine.”

Steve sat back down at his workstation, resigned. You shook your head at him. If it wouldn’t have cost you a million dollars, which you didn’t have, you would have walked out of Stark Industries and moved across the world. But you had work to do.

“You’re interrupting our work here. You need to leave.”

You wanted him away from you like fire.

“That’s what I’m tryna tell you, Doll.”

Bucky strolled over to the locker area and took off his coat, grabbing goggles and a lab coat.

“I’m reporting for duty. Tony assigned me back to the New York lab.”

—-

Tony leaned against the bar in his office, after he downed the drink that he’d offered you and that you’d refused. It was only 10:46 am. You were trying to hand in your resignation. Or at least ask for a transfer to a new location.

“And just where do you think you’re going to go, Sugar?”

You glared at your boss. Bolstered by anger, this was the least intimidated, and most angry, you’d ever been at him.

“Paris, maybe? Tokyo? Hell, even Des Moines. I’ll take anything. I need space.”

Tony shook his head.

“I need you here. The productivity with Barnes back is about to be through the roof.”

You just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not thinking with your brain. Your heart and what is pounding between your legs are in the way.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“...But the tension between you Barnes and Rogers will make me a lot of money. I’ve studied you since your freshman year. I know what makes you tick, what motivates you to do your best work. And the numbers don’t lie. Being right in the middle of Bucky and Cap makes lots of money for Stark Industries.”

You stared out at the view of New Jersey, outraged.

“Besides. I have the exclusive contract over your mind, body, and soul for the next seven years. Might as well make the most of it.”

You sighed and took the drink Tony offered you this time.

—-

Bucky Barnes was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, second only to Steve Rogers.

Your brain was scrambled when you weren’t working, so you worked that much harder to stay in control. You hated when Tony was right.

Here you were, flanked by two gorgeous men whose work clothes only accentuated their powerful bodies. Bodies that you knew very well. Your tongue had traced every plane of each of them. Your hands explored their broad shoulders and taught, muscular frames. Your fists had clenched their throbbing cocks and you had accepted them inside you.

No matter how mad you were at them, you couldn’t get them out of your mind.

Imagining Bucky crashing his lips to yours as he backed you up against a wall made your core throb. And dreaming about Steve’s hands around your thighs as he lifted you onto a lab table made your nipples tingle.

Working in between them in the lab was torture for your neglected body and soul. You were doomed to work in between the two men who’d fucked you most thoroughly and recently.

You didn’t even want to think about your heart.

You ignored the lingering looks in their blue eyes, the way they gentled their voices when they spoke to you, and the way they tried to come in contact with you for no reason. The number of times fingers lingered over passed specimens, the way space became so tight that they had to squeeze behind you in the lab, and the uncomfortable number of times you ended up between them in the equipment closet made you lose your breath.

Steve and Bucky never pressed you for anything, and all you had to say was ‘excuse me,’ for them to move out of your way, but it was untenable. You would give neither of them the satisfaction of getting upset. You managed made it through work and home to your brand new vibrator every night after long days of fighting their pheromones in the lab.

After a week of forced proximity, you were experiencing the forced Stark Industries Happy Hour. As you waited for your drink at the bar, you thought it strange that Tony had never made them mandatory before Bucky came back. That was quite the coincidence.

You wanted to pace yourself with your drinking as you realized that you had to stay there for another couple of hours to get the bonus that came with attendance. The word ‘happy’ and the names Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers did not go together, so you participated in each round to numb the desire that was plaguing you.

For someone so smart. You were so clueless sometimes.

—-

As you rode the elevator in Stark Tower to your apartment later that evening, it seemed as if the elevator was moving extra slowly. You didn’t know if it was the tequila affecting your senses, or an actual malfunction, so you asked FRIDAY for analytics, but for some reason, she said you didn’t have clearance for the answer.

You were mad and mute for a minute, trying to clear your head for the security code. It was then that one of your fellow passengers, who you were trying to ignore, broke the silence.

“Okay Sugar, truth, or dare?”

You looked at him as Steve watched you both.

“I said, truth, or dare.”

“Truth is Bucky, we’re not kids anymore.”

“So you pick truth. You don’t get to pick the question, though.”

Bucky ignored your ire.

“Which one of our cocks is better, mine or Steve’s?”

Your eyes widened and you gasped as Steve interjected,

“Buck…”

“What, Punk? Remember she rated them before she experienced them. Did that hold out? Or did she tell you that you were the 9.9 too?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching the floor count, mouth set in a thin line. You had not, in fact, told Steve that he was the 9.9.

“Stop being a little shit, James.”

You were rocked, memories flooding back, dysregulating your nervous system even more.

“So you’re saying you won't answer the truth?”

You crossed your arms and legs as you leaned back against the elevator wall. You looked up at the floor indicator lights, trying to stop the emotions from getting to you.

“You can pass. Or you can take a dare, Sugar.”

You huffed, fighting the urge to just say pass. Some lingering adolescent urge refused to let you.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

You spoke it outwardly, but you were talking to yourself, to your riotous body, which was reacting to these two men in this enclosed space in the most alarming way.

Bucky was watching you intently, but Steve hadn’t turned around, just replied in that voice of his.

“Those are the rules, Sugar. You should probably answer the question or take the dare.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you realized what this was. You were dealing with male egos and competitiveness. And they wanted to know the answer, hear you talk about their cocks when for some reason the agave gods were making you horny.

You had to get out of there.

“You’re not making stupid bets and putting notches in the bedposts any longer. Bucky, we were together, and then you left. I thought it was something that it was not. Then Steve and I got together. I loved you both and in return, you both played me. You both won.”

Steve turned around and faced you as Bucky advanced closer. He licked his lips and you wanted, no you needed, to run.

“You think I didn’t love you, Sugar? Shit, I worshiped you.”

The sensation of Bucky’s firm body crowding you in bed, taking up the mattress, leg wedged between your thighs while he delivered hot kisses and a slow grind against your clit came out of nowhere. You missed it. You wanted it again. But you lifted your chin as you straightened your spine, determined to resist him.

“You left me.”

“Stark made me!”

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with emotion.

“‘S’okay Buck. She doesn’t believe I loved her either. Even though I always have. And I caught her when you were gone.”

You looked up at Steve and saw the hurt, and you were preparing not to care, but the feeling of Steve naked against your back, his hands roaming all over you, whispering assurances and praise as he rocked inside and made you come apart in his grip almost made your knees buckle.

You had to move, so you pushed at the rock hard wall of them and they let you move them to get to the elevator controls.

“Why. Won’t. This. Thing. Move!?!?”

You pushed too many buttons at once as Steve and Bucky tried to stop you. The only thing that stopped was the slow progress of the elevator. The small room jolted to a halt, and you stumbled, right into Bucky and Steve’s arms as everything went dark.

“Well now, Sugar. You should have just taken the dare.”

Bucky’s sass enraged you and you cursed and batted their hands away from you as you reached for your purse to find your phone.

—-

A half an hour later, you were all sitting on the floor, Bucky’s jacket beneath you and Steve’s jacket around your arms because the climate control was off. There was no telling how long it would be before someone would find you.

There had been silence since you realized you had not cell phone signal and cursed for 3 minutes straight. You were more than sober now.

God, you wished you were drunk.

“Answer the question. Or take the dare, Sugar.”

This time it was Steve.

“Your fucking competitiveness is so annoying, you know that? Can you two accomplish anything on your own, just for your own pride? Or altruism? Or shits and giggles?”

You could feel their eyes on you in the dark. You fought against them in the darkness, or you were just fighting the darkness, because the lack of sight was enhancing your other senses, and lord you didn’t really want to feel those right now.

“Truth. Or Dare?”

Bucky’s velvet voice was undeterred. You shook your head at it.

“Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone. Dare.”

“I dare you to give up control.”

The response was immediate, as if he were waiting for you to say that.

You groaned, a sound that sounded to sensual, even to your own ears. You were going for annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m stuck in an elevator with my two exes. This is a nightmare. And you’re daring me to give up a concept?”

He chuckled.

“Not the concept of control. I think you know exactly what I mean. Give me control. One long weekend. It will be just like when we were roommates. But without the endless teasing and blue balls. This time you give us both that we deserve.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?”

Your head turned toward Steve, whose voice was on edge.

“I get to watch. You and Sugar, Steve. And direct. And participate…and we find out who is the best…”

“Hold on…”

You could feel Steve shifting in his position on the floor.

“Are you talking about….? Watching me and Sugar… what–?”

“Really Bucky? Do you have a metal brain as well?”

You wanted to fight, but them touching you was out of the question. Bucky was pure chaos.

“If we do this, what would that accomplish?”

“The fuck are you entertaining this nonsense for, Steve? Who the fuck–”

Bucky interrupted your rant.

“Well, you’ve entertained both of us, Sugar, haven’t you? Teased us. Toyed with us. Played us against the other. Wore our clothes and nothing else, slept between us in our bed. Teased us with that body well before we could really do anything about it.”

You dropped your head in your hands, exhausted, as Bucky continued.

“And then, when you finally granted us between your legs, one by one, there was always this spector hanging over the bed, or the floor, or the counter, or the lawn that we fucked on, wasn’t there?”

Bucky paused and you heard the bitterness in his voice.

“The other one of us was always in the closet or the bushes, or in your head, weren’t we?”

"Don't blame me for your twisted predilections, Bucky."

“What about your predilections, Sugar? You’ve played us against each other long enough. Don’t forget. We both know what gets you off.”

Bucky’s voice wrapped around you in the dark, and you wanted to climb on and ride it as your clit began to pulse. You cursed your body’s reaction to him.

“We know what gets you off hard. Steve told me everything. And it was the same as with me. Your fantasies, Sugar…”

Steve spoke up.

“Bucky, this is uncalled for…”.

"Stop being such a boy scout."

“We know you, Sugar. What we don’t know is who you like the best. We deserve to know.”

“Bucky…”

“It would give us all closure, Steve.”

“You’re crazy, Bucky.”

“Put up or shut up, Sugar.”

Suddenly the lights came back on and you scrambled to stand up as the elevator started again, this time moving at normal speed. You looked between one man who was flushed red and the other who had a smirk on his face.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, as you bolted out, you replied to Bucky.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other? That will kill two birds with one stone.”

——

Next part: Simple Sugar

Let me know if you like it! 😊

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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

Text

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint.

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth.

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read.

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison.

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up.

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far.

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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winterrrnight · 11 months ago

Note

12 with rafe I'm begging 😔😔

you ask and I shall deliver 🫡 I hope you like this nada <3 do let me know your views on this! 🩷

especially you

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: there are some things Rafe will do especially just for you.

WARNINGS: established relationship, very much hates everyone but you, the reader is a perfectionist - in constant need of academic validation (it is me guys 😓), fluff, usage of nicknames like babe, baby, sweetheart, minimal swearing

EDITH SPEAKS: this is kind of self indulgent 😀 need me a man who does this for me 😭😭 anyways, yes yes we are kickstarting the fics for the 600 celly! If you were there for my 300 celly, I know how late I got with those requests and I am so sorry about that 🥲 I promise I will try my best to not let that happen this time 🥲

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always appreciated ⛲

a lil note: the song below is used just as the title, and its lyrics aren't used as an inspiration.

PROMPT REQUESTED: “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.”

600 followers celebration || navigation

You sigh as you shut your laptop close, maybe a little too aggressively for your liking, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. You slump your head on the kitchen island in your arms, a headache already starting to creep in your head.

It’s barely week three in your new semester and you’re already piled upon with readings over readings, essays over essays, assignments over assignments, and you barely have any time with yourself or your boyfriend.

“What the actual fuck Kelce!” He groans. “Get your shit together man!” This is just the bare minimum of what he is actually saying. It doesn’t help your situation though, your headache only pulsating more harshly, making you groan in pain.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he’s sitting in the living room, headphones in as he almost yells into the microphone, as his thumbs run rapidly over the controls of the controller gripped tightly in his hands. Curse words followed by his friends’ names leave his lips, as his gaze is fixated on the screen in front of him.

You sigh as you look at him. He does not go to university because just as he graduated high school, his father passed his business onto him.

“No no no no no no!” He yells, “god what the fuck is wrong with you guys?”

His deep voice booms in your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your head in your hands as you gently press your temples, but it does not work; Rafe’s voice level only increases with time, and it bothers you more and more.

“Rafe!” You yell out completely exasperated, from your place in the kitchen island. He doesn’t even look at you, and you realize you weren’t loud enough for your voice to penetrate through his headphones.

You get up from your chair and saunter over to Rafe, gripping his headphones and yanking them off. “Shut up!” You snap, as you toss his headphones to the side and leave the living room, stomping off to your bedroom.

Rafe watches you go away, completely stunned. He takes a deep breath before picking up his headphones. “We’re pausing it for now, and no, I will not hear any shit from either of you,” He fumes in the microphone and shuts off the game before making his way to the bedroom. As he enters inside quietly, he sees you are standing in the balcony, leaning against the railing as you look out, a stressed look on your face.

“Babe,” he says softly as he steps out to the balcony, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter under your breath, not tearing your eyes away from the sky stretched out in front of you to look at him.

When he detects your reluctance to talk, or to even lean into his touch, he lets out a sigh, his arm dropping back to his side as he sits down on one of the chairs in the balcony.

A few moments pass in utter silence, as all you both here is the sound of the birds chirping in the distance, cars rushing past the streets, and the soft breeze blowing against your skin.

Your back is towards him as he watches you stand next to the railing; he can tell you are completely tense from your stance, the way your shoulders aren’t relaxed, your jaw is clenched a bit, and you are gripping the railing a little too lightly.

“Baby…” he calls out softly, “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” He says. He’s determined to not let you go unspoken this time, ready to even pull you into his arms if needed.

To his surprise, you don’t deny as you trod to the empty chair next to him and sit down. His arm instantly wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you in his side. He presses a long, yet soft kiss on your forehead, rubbing your arm in a soothing motion.

“I’m sorry if I was too loud baby,” he mumbles against your hairline, “I absolutely didn’t mean to bother you so much,”

You let out a deep exhale as you shake your head. “It’s okay Rafe, I was just… too tense already and that just put me over the edge, I guess,” you murmur softly.

“What’s been keeping you tense then hm?” He asks, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his feeble attempt to comfort you as much as he can.

“This semester’s already kicking my ass,” You sigh. “I already have a shit ton of work to do, and it’s just the third week? I spend all my day doing this shit and I still can’t catch up with it. I barely have time for myself or to spend with you,”

Rafe’s grip tightens a bit on you as he pulls you in closer to himself. “You know I would typically say that it doesn’t matter, don’t stress too much, don’t work so hard blah blah blah, but I know you well enough to know it doesn’t work on you,” he says and he sees a small smile form on your face. “No matter what I’ll say, you will work hard and put in 120% effort for something which doesn’t even count that much for your grade. And you know how much I appreciate that about you, you’re insanely hard working,” a small smile on his lips as his other hand holds onto yours.

“But you know what I can do?” He continues. “I can take great care of you. You don’t have to worry about your meals; I’ll take care of them. I’ll watch a movie, give you kisses and cuddles, or do anything you want when you take a break; which, by the way, I’ll make sure you take. Whenever I see the moment, I’ll take you out wherever you want to go. I don’t want you to take unnecessary stress of the new semester sweetheart, because I know you’ll make it through it okay? You 100% will, I know that.”

You turn to look at him, a softened look in your eye. All his words slowly sink in you, and you realize you don’t have to take as much pressure of the new semester as you were. You rest your head on his shoulder and softly nod. “Thank you Rafe…” you whisper.

“There’s nothing to thank me for you sweetheart, I am your boyfriend, this is the least I can do,” he smiles as he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You slowly feel your tensions melt away as you sit with Rafe on your balcony under the warm afternoon sun, your body muscles relaxing and the stress laying heavy on your mind gradually withering away.

This is one of the moments where you realize Rafe’s the one.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment

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acowardinmordor · 1 month ago

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Found this is in my drafts when I went to reopen a a different continuation of this. It ends where it ends. At least its not mid-sentence. if it prompts you to something, have fun with it but I'm gonna continue the other one bc I have no memory of what I was going to do with this.

Sort of a second part of this. It is Not Complete, and I'm posting exactly what I found in my drafts:

Idk if this is going to become something usable. But I’m at the best point of an edible, so let’s do this.

Murray and Nancy and Hop working together are only able to confirm the church group that the Harringtons made a recent donation to. Yeah, that’s gotta be where Steve is, but every single lead they chase says that the group doesn’t have anything that could even possibly be “help” for a queer kid.

The Harringtons havent made their son part of their public image since he was 10 years old and cute enough to be useful. It doesn’t stand out that they don’t mention him after they return to DC. Summer goes on, harvesting starts, the kids return to high school, now with El and Will back. No one likes to say it’s because they’re worried the UD is still a threat, but yeah, that anxiety is part of it. Steve is the other part.

Will only got to have one conversation with Steve about the alibi before Steve vanished. He won’t tell anyone what they talked about, and he’s viscerally, constantly scared by where he thinks Steve is. Lucas and Mike are pretty good at acting like they’re not worried. Erica rages. Dustin flips between furious at the Harringtons, furious at Steve, and furious at Eddie. Max hobbles out of the room if anyone tries to mention Steve in her presence.

Robin defers college for a year. She knows she would flunk out if she tried right now. Eddie, on the good days, teases her that if she didn’t flunk out, she’d panic-study and graduate cum laude with six new languages and two degrees. On the bad days they don’t say much at all.

They do start working with a very small group of activists in Indianapolis. Nancy found them on accident while investigating the places Steve could be. They’re the opposite of what she was looking for. A group has started a tiny version of a rainbow railroad, leaving flyers and messages with their information. All of it subtle enough to hide. If they need to get out, get somewhere safe, they can contact, and the railroad will help.

Robin helps with a bit of the research and writing they need. Eddie does some of the follow up calls, using a dozen strange voices to be a dozen random businesses calling to reach whoever asked for help, without raising suspicion.

It doesn’t help Steve. They can’t help Steve. They can’t even find him.

And you’d think that eventually Steve would call the hotline and ask for help, so Eddie could return the favor and save him. No.

Dustin wakes up to a loud noise a few hours after midnight, during a heavy snow storm. It’s in that dead week between Christmas and New Year when Steve comes back. And he goes first to Dustin.

#my writing #hot potato fic #I'll post the other when it gets to an exhale #cause it aint right now

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joequiinn · 10 months ago

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PREVIEW | You Can Have My Hate | b.h. x reader

Summary | Unfortunately, you got stuck with Billy fucking Hargrove as your partner for your final assignment in history class. Also unfortunately, Billy discovers you have a killer body underneath all those baggy clothes…

Author's Note | Billy is a disgusting little man and i love him dearly. as the title says, this is a preview of something i've been working on! the fic is already at 6.5k words and still isn't done, so i decided to put out a little snippet to see if there was any interest, so please let me know if you'd like me to finish the fic!

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, curvy + large chest reader, foul and suggestive language, canon typical Billy bullshit, awful behavior from both Billy and reader, minor allusions to sex but nothing happens (yet)

Music Inspo | Closer by Nine Inch Nails

WC | 1.9k

You let me violate you | You let me desecrate youYou let me penetrate you | You let me complicate you

“Damn, little miss straight-laced,” Billy’s hooded eyes slowly crawled down your body, the corner of his mouthing pulled back in a lecherous smirk, “is that what you’ve been hiding under all those baggy clothes?”

God, you hated Billy Hargrove. Absolutely despised him with every fiber of your being. You knew you should’ve begged your history teacher for a different partner, should’ve gotten on your knees and pleaded for literally anyone other than Billy fucking Hargrove to work on this assignment with you. An idiotic football player or a bitchy cheerleader would’ve been better than this. But no, you didn’t beg and you didn’t plead, so now you were stuck, and god if this wasn’t about to be the worst couple weeks of your life.

Ever since Billy showed up in Hawkins at the beginning of last semester, you detested him. Everything about him screamed disrespectful, hateful asshole, and so having two classes with him meant you had witnessed your fair share of this behavior. Why so many girls wanted to fuck him and why so many boys aspired to be him was a mystery to you, because you could see from the start that he was a no good piece of shit.

But, in a way, you were lucky because you were literally a nobody. And nobodies went unnoticed, which meant not having to deal with bullshit from 90% of your peers. Hell, when your history teacher was pairing everyone off and told Billy who his partner would be, his response was an amused “who?” as if he didn’t believe this person - you - even existed. He had gone the entirety of the school year not having a single clue that you existed, and damn you wish it had just gone on a little longer. You literally had one more month left of senior year, one more month until you never even had to think about Hawkins High again, and the last thing you wanted was to spend half of that month in misery while trying to put up with Billy fucking Hargrove.

This assignment shouldn’t have even been worth shit to you, considering that your grade was nearly perfect and it was your last big project before graduation, but that’s where your history teacher hooked all of you - if this assignment wasn’t completed, then you guys wouldn’t be able to receive your diplomas. Or so he said to deter kids like you from flaking on it - you didn’t know if your boring old history teacher had that kind of authority, but you weren’t about to risk finding out.

And for kids like Billy? Kids who didn’t give a shit, who were already struggling to pass? The grade on this assignment was make or break. Not that it affected you any, of course - Billy could fail his senior year for all you cared. But shockingly enough, he was the one to make a point of its importance to you, the one to emphasize that he had to pass this class and graduate. It was curious to you, since you’d never once seen Billy care about school, but perhaps he was also beginning to feel the fire under his ass to leave Hawkins.

So, for the past week now, you’d been meeting with Billy at the school library, trying your best not to rip out your hair while you did the majority of the work. Hell, you could’ve told Billy just to fuck off and let you work on your own - you’d still let him put his name on the assignment and everything. But for whatever reason, you didn’t and so now you were subjecting yourself to tolerating his bullshit.

And that’s what you were doing right now, sitting across from Billy in the library and using every fiber of your being not to lose it on him. He had been particularly difficult from the moment he sat down, his foot bouncing impatiently and his expression condescending each time you tried to talk to him. He was making it very clear that he’d rather be anywhere other than here. The warm temperature of the library combined with your frustration at Billy was causing you to feel a little toasty, so you caved and tugged your large sweater over your head, leaving you in a tight, black tank top that left little to the imagination.

And said tight, black tank top is exactly what Billy was ogling, making you sneer and immediately regret taking off your sweater.

You never liked showing off your body, never liked the attention it drew you. You wouldn’t say you were self-conscious necessarily, you didn’t hate the way you looked in the mirror or anything like that. But you were very aware of how men looked at women’s bodies, and as someone who hated most forms of attention, you weren’t going to have any of that. So you wore baggy jeans and oversized sweaters, hid your frame under clothes that were always a size or so too big. It kept eyes and hands off of you, and you preferred it that way.

But damn it, it was so hot in the library that afternoon and you weren’t thinking clearly. You couldn’t believe your own stupidity - you just had to take off your sweater in front of Billy fucking Hargrove, a boy who only ever saw women as either sex pots or prudes. His lewd gaze was making you feel even more hot under the collar, but shit did you want to put your sweater back on already despite the heat.

“Will you please focus, Hargrove?” You begged in an exacerbated tone, trying to cross your arms over your chest in a way that wasn’t obvious while looking back down to the textbook open in front of you.

“You expect me to focus now, after you whipped those out?” Billy took such obvious joy in knowing that he was making you uncomfortable. He leaned forward on the table, his eyes once again traveling a salacious path down the curves of your body, “It’s Friday night, I got a pair of double D’s sitting across from me, and you’re asking me to focus on a damn essay?”

“Shut up.” You threatened between your teeth, trying not to raise your voice and draw attention. Your eyes were dark with frustration as you stared at Billy, who simply looked back at you like he didn’t give a damn, like he was just waiting for you to cave to him.

And how the hell could he tell you wore a double D?

You sank in your seat a little while attempting to cross your arms even more aggressively in front of your chest, feeling your cheeks growing red. Billy gave you that smooth, lazy grin that you’ve seen him use before, his eyes hooded as he leaned back in his chair. The feeling of his indecent gaze on your body practically made your skin crawl.

“Fine, Hargrove,” You quickly grab up your belongings and shoot to your feet, fumbling with your bag and sweater to make sure they kept your chest covered, “if you wanna be a prick who won’t focus, we’ll do this next week.”

You started to march out of the library, to retreat to safety. You didn’t like the way Billy was looking at you - it was objectifying and disrespectful and vulgar. Billy never once gave a fuck about - or even noticed - you before, but the second you remove a stupid barrier of clothing, suddenly he’s oh so interested. He was such a pig.

But shit, why was it also… kind of hot?

No, it was not hot.

You couldn’t let yourself even entertain that thought because there sure as shit wasn’t anything hot about it. It wasn’t hot that he objectified you, it wasn’t hot that he drank your body in with impropriety, it wasn’t hot that his tongue ran slowly along his lower lip as his eyes met yours with practiced allure.

No, no, no! You could’ve kicked yourself. Nothing about that should’ve been hot, god damn it.

“Oh, come on, killjoy,” Billy grabbed your wrist, spinning you back around to face him, having followed you through the library. His grip was firm as you looked between his face and hand and back again.

The library wasn’t exactly busy on a Friday afternoon, but you looked around to find that the librarian and another student both looked in your direction. It made you even more nervous to know that eyes were on you; what if you got in trouble, what if the librarian reprimands you both for being disruptive? You looked back to Billy, your brows furrowed in annoyance as you whipped your wrist out of his hold with hostility.

“I’m serious, if all you want is to slack off and look at my tits that’s your business.” You immediately clamped your mouth shut, your eyes widening slightly - that is not what you meant to say at all. Oh god, why the fuck did you say that? Shit, you should’ve just told him that you’d regroup next week, that you weren’t going to put up with him. But no, instead you said arguably the stupidest thing you could, and it was clear on Billy’s face that he was relishing in your stupid words, enjoying them even.

He looked back down at your body, luckily hidden behind your bag and sweater, “My business, huh? Sounds to me like permission to stare.”

“No.” You answered firmly; your cheeks and neck felt so fucking warm. You tried to get back on track, tried to shake off the stupid thing you said just a moment ago, “I just want to finish this project. So, go home and jack off to your Playboys all weekend, and then maybe we can actually get some work done next week.”

Despite your jabs, Billy still grinned wickedly, dipping his head a little as he took a step closer, his voice low, “So, that’s what you’re thinking about, huh? Me jacking off? You enjoying that thought?”

Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to find some quick response to that, but you couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. A sound of disbelief left your throat as you gaped with loathing at Billy for a moment. God, you felt like a damn fish trying to breathe out of water. With a glare in your eyes, you clamped your mouth shut, which seemed to be a great amusement to Billy, whose smile widened as a laugh escaped him.

“God, you make it so easy.” He said, shaking his head, “You gotta lighten up, you know?”

You sigh loudly, eyes still staring at him harshly, “Whatever, Hargrove.”

You attempt to walk away once more, but yet again Billy snatches your wrist, “Wait, wait, wait…”

“Stop acting interested in me all of a sudden,” You try to shake your arm out of his hold again, but this time Billy’s grip is tighter, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Look,” his tone was firm as he instructed, “let’s go back over to the table, get some more work done, and I’ll give you a ride home.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you studied his face, “I don’t need a ride.”

“You don’t have a car.” He countered immediately.

“I don’t need a ride from you.”

“You don’t, but isn’t it generous that I’m offering?”

“More like devious.”

“I’ll be a total gentleman.”

You laughed right in his face, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

#billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things

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jungshookz · 4 months ago

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smitten mean jimin is … 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ it would complete my life if u had made a smol mean jimin drabble 😫😫 love love loveeeeeEeew ur works and have been reading for a long time!

“watch where you’re going!” jimin snaps, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder before scoffing, turning to look down at where you are on the ground

there he was, just minding his own business and making his way to class when all of a sudden you decided to ram yourself right into his shoulder and knock yourself to the ground

and not to mention, he did upper body yesterday at the gym so his shoulders are particularly sore today!

god

some people are so inconsiderate

“watch where i’m going? you’re the one who shoulder checked me-“ you grumble, picking your textbook up from the ground and dusting it off, “thanks for offering to help pick my things up off the floor, by the way, really courteous of you-“

“i didn’t shoulder check you, you were literally in my way-“ jimin pauses, bending down to pick up your student ID by his boot before bringing it up to look at it, “y/n y/l/n.”

“oh, fantastic. now you know my name and you’re going to send your people after me, princess. give me that-“ you snatch your ID from his slender fingers before slipping it into your back pocket, “thanks for making my first day here so lovely, sir.”

“sir- i’m- we’re practically the same age!” jimin rips his sunglasses off with a scoff

sir??

SIR????

his skin is plush and bouncy and glowing and he doesn’t get a snail mucus facial every week to be called SIR by someone whose skincare routine is probably just using the generic drug store brands and rubbing that in with hard tap water

and if this is your first day here then it makes sense as to why you don’t seem to know who he is

because everyone on this campus knows who he is

“yeah… it’s okay to dress your age, you know. getting older is a graceful process, truly-“ you shrug with a shoulder and jimin feels his grip tighten around his bag strap

“we are the same age, i saw your graduation date on your ID-“ he snaps, faltering a bit when he feels your gaze pinning him in place a little, eyes peering at him through your lashes before you blink twice and offer him a sweet smile

“i skipped two grades in high school. maybe we’re graduating the same year but we’re certainly not the same age. and you know what- now that i realise you are much, much older than me, i will go ahead and apologise to you for bumping into you. we really do have to be more caring towards our senior citizens-“

“you- i don’t know who you think you are-“

“well, you already know my name is y/n y/l/n, so do with that information what you will.” you chirp, spinning around on your heel, “see you around, sir!”

for the first time ever, jimin is rendered speechless as he stands there with his mouth agape and his sunglasses in his hands

did you just-

are you-

who are you-

what the hell just happened?!?

🎙️ ask jimin where his sunglasses are from (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!)

#smitten!jimin #smitten!jimin drabbles #teeny tidbits #jimin drabbles #park jimin drabbles #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #university!au #jimin!au #jimin headcanons #park jimin #jimin cute #jimin imagines #bts fic recs #jimin fic recs #bts author recs

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justmeinadaze · 10 months ago

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We're A Family Part 24 (Steddie X You)

A/N: So I am calling this the final part just because it IS the final part of the main story but I'm not done with this little family. I still have a few ideas for them so it won't be the last we see.

Warnings: Dads SteddieX Mom Fem Y/N, SMUT of the passionate tender variety that comes with these three, No real ANGST, Dylan going off to college and the three parents here dealing with that. Some flashbacks of Dylan and the reader struggling with Charlie.

The biggest feels here will come along with anyone who has experienced empty nest syndrome so be aware of that.

FLUFF, The guys talk a lot about how much they love their son and vice versa <3.

Word Count: 4965

Good Neighbors/ We're a Family

Your eyes run along newborn Dylan’s little sleeping face as his tiny hand holds your finger. Charlie had passed out long ago, curled up on the makeshift bed as he softly snored. They could be twins.

“I’m glad you’re finally here. Your daddy and I have been so excited to meet you.”, you coo in a gentle tone. “I promise, baby, you are going to have the best life. I’ll do anything I can to protect you and make you happy just like my dad did. I wish you could have met him. He would have adored having a grandson.”

Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes at the thought. Dylan wiggles a bit in your hold as if he was getting more comfortable as his head turned towards your chest.

Tilting down, you tenderly kiss his forehead and inhale his baby smell.

“I love you so much.”

***

“Hey, sit your little butt down.”, Eddie teases as he lightly tugs on Aurora’s skirt, ushering her to sit beside him.

“But then I can’t see Dylan!”

“Thankfully the ceremony hasn’t started yet so there’s nothing for you to see.”

Vivian chuckles above him as Ro sticks out her tongue and the metalhead does the same.

“She’s definitely got some personality.”

“Yeah, she gets that from her mother.”, Steve jokes as he shifts James in his lap while the little boy continues to play with the man’s tie.

You smile his way but quickly focus back on the students in their seats on the lawn a feet away from the bleachers your family was sitting on. Dylan was laughing with his friends around him and occasionally winking at Daisy from her seat down the way. God, he had picked up way too much from Eddie.

This was a lot harder than you thought it would be. It felt like you were just holding him in arms feeding him a bottle and now suddenly he’s graduating high school. In a week he would be in a completely new state and living his own adult life.

Why did he have to grow up so fast?

The feeling of fingers brushing your hair behind your ear brought you back to realty before you were being pulled to Steve’s side.

“I know, baby. I know.”

A ringed hand encapsulated your own as Eddie kissed the back of it and didn’t let go till the end of the ceremony. Feeling little hands play with your hair, you tilt your head back to see Brody beaming wide before giggling and kissing your forehead.

“Yeah, he’s been doing that lately and we can’t figure out why.”, Vivian’s new boyfriend explained as he lifted him onto his lap.

An accountant, this man was definitely different from Charlie which having been a partner to him as well you understood why she would go down that route. Eddie and Steve liked him even though the metalhead would tease him from time to time when he got a bit too excited when talking about numbers. You and Dylan made sure to remind him that he was the exact same when it came to D&D and he immediately shut up.

“Ed here used to hug people when he was a toddler. Pure strangers, he would just run to them and give ‘em a hug.”, Wayne chimed in making Steve chuckle at the thought.

Your mom and Mrs. Harrington weren’t able to make it to the ceremony due to previous commitments they were unable to squeeze out of but Kierra promised to record everything which she did with her phone held high in the air. Wayne and Mrs. Harrington were honestly surprised Dylan wanted them there.

“They’re my grandparents to. Why wouldn’t I want them there?”

Steve’s mom cried when he told her and Eddie’s uncle turned into the equivalent of goo as he blushed.

Even after the months that had passed, your son followed through with not having Charlie there, the three of you sitting with him in his room as he made the call. He texted you after asking if it would be ok to swing by at least before he left for college and you told him you were ok with that.

Everyone quieted down as the principal walked across the stage and began the graduation ceremony.

###########

Your eyes shift between your husband and your four-year-old son as they pick at the food on their plates. Charlie’s fingers moved quickly along his phone and it killed you. You hated that thing and how much time he spent on it.

“Baby?”

“Hm.”

“Charles.”

“What, Y/N?”, he snaps.

“Why don’t you put your phone down, huh?”

“I’m talking to my boss.”

“Ok. Can he not wait until after dinner?” When he ignores you, your worried eyes glance towards Dylan whose wide observant ones immediately focused back down on his plate. “Charlie, come on. I’m asking for one hour.”

“Jesus.”, he whines as he slams down his device making you and your son jump. “I’m dealing with a big important thing for work…to make us money…for you and Dylan but sure! Let me put everything on the back burner! How was your day, honey?”

Throwing a scowl his way, you try to ignore his sarcasm but he persists.

“No, hey. My phones away, let’s talk! No? Ok, hey, Dil. How was your day?!” Without saying a word, your son gets up and runs to his bedroom. “Well that’s great.”

“What do you expect when you talk to him like that? Why is it so hard for you to be here and present with your family?”, you hiss.

“What the fuck do you want from me, Y/N?! Do you want this fucking roof over your goddamn heads?! That cost money, baby! Whatever. I’m fucking done with this conversation.”

Your jaw tightens as you listen to him get up, grab his jacket, and slam the front door as he leaves.

***

“Dylan? Weirdo, are you ok?” Your heart breaks when he doesn’t answer, pressing his little face further into his pillow. Sighing, you climb in beside him and run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, baby. Daddy didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Rolling over, he wraps his arms around you and you rest your head on his as you hold him tightly.

“Daddy’s always angry.”

“But never at you, Dylan. He loves you so much.”

“And you?”

“Does daddy love me? Yeah, honey, of course.”

“Den why he so mad all da time?”

You genuinely had no idea how to answer that question as you kissed his forehead. Your brain began to wonder as you thought about what would be best. Divorce popped in occasionally but you immediately shook away the notion. You and Charlie both lost your dads. You didn’t want that for him.

You can make this work. Maybe there’s something you could do to get the man you fell in love with back so the three of you could be happy.

***

Dylan excitedly runs in your direction but Aurora and James cut his parents off as they get to him first. The boy effortlessly picks them up with each arm and Steve grins as he takes a picture.

“I’m free!”

“We’re so proud of you, babe.”, Vivian praises as she kisses his cheek before Brody does the same making your son laugh.

“Very proud.”, Wayne smiles, thrown off when Dylan places his siblings down and gives the man a hug. Eddie chuckles through his teeth as his uncle lightly smacks his chest before wrapping his arms around the boy.

“How dare you make me feel old.”, Kierra playfully scolds as she kisses his face.

“A high school graduate and on your first go around!”, the metalhead jokes as he leans in for a hug. “You’re amazing, kid.”

“I guess I can’t call you ‘little man’ anymore.”, Steve says as he takes the boy in his arms.

“You still can and you can never stop calling me ‘weirdo’.”, Dylan replies gesturing towards you.

“You’re always going to be my little weirdo.”

He softly smiles as he bends to embrace you allowing you to circle your arms around his neck as he lifts you off your feet.

“I love you, mom. Thank you for everything.”

#############

A seven-year-old Dylan clings to your neck as you hold him to you against the wall of the pool at the apartment complex. Eddie insisted he could beat Steve in a race and the former swimmer promptly took the challenge.

“1! 2! 3! GO!”, your son shouted, giggling as both men splashed water everywhere as they took off.

“I told you!”, Steve gloated as he beat the metalhead effortlessly. “You went to school with me. You should have known better.”

Eddie pants as he finally reaches the wall beside you.

“Jesus, I need to stop smoking.”

You and Dylan laugh at him as the other boy pulls his body out of the pool and leans down to take the small boy from you.

“I’m starving. Munson is buying dinner since he sucks—lost—I mean lost.”

Scowling his way, the long-haired man helps you out of the water and wraps a towel around your body.

When you four make it back to the apartment, Steve sighs as he realizes he has a couple of missed calls.

“It’s from the store. I just need one minute.”

Dylan’s head hangs as he wraps his towel tighter around him and heads for his bedroom to change. Grabbing his arm, you stop him and move some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead.

“Hey Keith, what’s going on?...You need me to come in…” Eddie’s chocolate eyes watch both of you intensely as you cup your son’s face in your hands. “Ok, well, I’m not free today but if you call Robin she can help today and I can come in tomorrow.”

Your son’s head shot up to look towards Steve as he gave his boss a few more uh huhs before finally turning around and throwing his phone back down on your couch.

“What?”, he asked when he realized you three were watching him. “What’s wrong, little man? Everything ok?”

“Y-You…you don’t have to leave?”

“No? I’m spending the day with you, bud. Why would I even want to leave?”, he chuckled a bit confused. Tears leave the small boy’s eyes as he runs and practically tackles Steve’s legs.

“Thank you.”

“Hey. Go change so you can come back and tell Eddie what you want him to buy you.”, you instructed as you tickle his neck with your finger.

As soon as he disappears, you tackle your arms around his waist and lean your head on his chest.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not quite sure what I did but you’re both welcome.”

Tilting back, you softly press your lips to his.

“Thank you for being you.”

***

After putting Aurora to bed, you stepped outside on to your back porch where Eddie was already into his second cigarette with a beer in his hand. As you sat beside him on the steps, you scanned him over truly taking in how much he had changed in almost 12 years. He looked incredibly handsome in his button up short sleeve shirt and tie with black slacks that Steve insisted he wear to look more formal.

He had his hair pulled back for the ceremony but now it was down around his shoulders. As he brought the cigarette to this lips you couldn’t help but admire his wedding band that blended in perfectly with his other rings.

Visually, he still more or less looked the same with a few new signs of aging in his face and more laugh lines around his eyes but what really shifted was his demeanor. While Eddie always had an air of confidence, he seemed to carry it differently now that he was older. Most of the burdens he held before he no longer had because he was finally genuinely happy. He had everything he could have ever asked for and more.

Silently, he handed you his half-finished cigarette that you eagerly sucked on as he took a sip from the bottle in his hand.

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask as you lean against the rail beside you.

“You.”, he smiles. “Steve. Dylan. Ro. James. My family.”

“Anything in particular?”

His lips pout out slightly as he shakes his head and continues looking off towards the lake.

“When I caught Charlie and Vivian, I remember going off on him and then running out the door. I felt so lost and confused. I didn’t know where to go because I knew if I went home my mom would make me feel bad. I was too embarrassed at the time to go to Kierra’s and I didn’t have any friends I felt comfortable with. I pulled over on the side of the road and sobbed.”

Eddie’s hand reaches out to intertwine with yours making you smile as you glance in the distance was well. You both listened as shoes scooted along the wood, sliding over a chair as Steve exhaled taking a seat. The metalhead lifted his bottle in the air that the other man took and chugged back the remaining liquid.

“If you had told me then that I would be here in this big house where my two other kids are sleeping after seeing Dylan graduate high school and with two men who are not only fabulous husbands and partners but phenomenal dads to a little boy… who just wanted to be appreciated for who he was…”

The metalhead wiped his eyes as the tears began to flow from them both.

“I know…you said once that its easier for me to hold it all in when it comes to him but… Y/N, when his principal said ‘Dylan Munson-Harrington’… it all just hit me. All the memories and the fact that he’s leaving in a week. I mean this kid has been with us since the beginning.”

“Since day one.”, Steve added. “Shit. If you had told us the night before that tomorrow I would open the door to a little boy that would change everything… Y/N, growing up the thought of being a dad scared me but it always felt easy with him.”

“He always wanted to learn and asked me constantly to show him how to play my guitar.”, Eddie laughed. “I remember one of our first conversations was when we came over and I hooked up the video game system. I asked him what kind of games he liked and he just lit up, sweetheart. When he told me Charlie never liked the things he did or played with him he made me think of my dad. Allen was the same way and I didn’t want that for him.”

“And that’s just the beginning. Don’t even get me started on all the other feelings about how he’ll be the first Munson to go to school and get a degree.”, Eddie laughed as he leaned back against Steve’s leg. “I’m so proud of him but I’m really going to fucking miss him.”

“Me to.”

“Me to.”, you add. “Thank you for being you.”

##################

“Dad? Can I ask you something?”, a twelve-year-old Dylan inquires as Eddie starts to walk past his door after putting his sister to bed.

“Yeah, kid. What’s up?”

“How did you ask a girl out when you were my age?”

“Oof. I had all the girls lined up around the block to date me! Oh, wait, that was Steven.”, he teased making his son laugh. “When I was your age I had this huge crush on a girl in my English class. She was one of the popular kids and I was terrified to say anything. But one day we got paired up for a project and I made her laugh. Just started acting like a total dork and she loved it.”

“So…be funny?”

“I mean, there’s a bit more to it but…” Eddie pauses as he starts to panic, fearful he’s giving the boy the worst advice. “Look, Dylan, my dad wisdom to you? Just be yourself. Steve and I had an ex that was so uptight. She hated that I ‘couldn’t be serious.’ Truth was she didn’t like me for me. Your mom on the other hand loves my nerdy ass and my sense of humor.”

Dylan beams as his dad pulls him in for a hug.

“Can I find out who this girl is? I swear I won’t tell Y/N.”

“It’s, um, I kind of…really like…Daisy.”

Eddie tries to contain his giddiness at his son’s admission. Steve had called it a long time ago and you had mentioned how cute he seemed to get every time Daisy would come over.

“Dude, come on. She definitely likes you for you. I see you make her laugh all the time and listen to her when she seems upset. You offered to help her with school. You’re a good dude.”

“But what if she only wants to be friends?”

“Then that’s ok to and you know no matter what the three of us will be here with pizza and beer to cure your heartache.”

“Mom won’t let you give me beer!”, Dylan chuckles.

“Meh, you’re right. Ok, Steve and I will sneak you into the bar then.”

***

It was so soft you barely felt it at first, both their lips kissing and sucking on either side of your neck. When your eyes fluttered open, you took in the scene before you. Eddie and Steve were pressed against your sides, their arms thrown over your body as palms rubbed along your tummy and chest. There was a neediness behind their subtle movements that had you whimpering as you arched your head back to allow them more access as their mouths opened wider to run their tongues along your skin.

Steve was the first to move, placing his body on top of yours and pulling down his boxers enough to free his cock. As he leaned back on his heels to remove his shirt, the metalhead’s lips mingled with your own, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you facing him. After wrapping your legs around his waist, the other man guided himself into your entrance and Eddie mewled as you heavily exhaled at the feeling.

Steve’s large, soft hand traveled to your breasts, kneading your tits as he rolled his hips at steady pace. When his palm finds your throat, his eyes meet yours and you nod earnestly granting him permission before lightly squeezing it between his fingers.

Jumping to the side, Eddie hastily removes his clothes, stroking his cock at the sight of you both as he crawls back in beside you. Opening your mouth, now desperate to taste him, he accepts your invitation, moaning loudly as your tongue plays with his tip and your head bobs.

Slanting his lower half till he was hovering just above you, Steve thrusts into you harder and faster as his own tongue extends out to help you lick his husband’s length. After readjusting himself, the metalhead clung to the other man’s hair as he pumped his dick down his throat causing him to slightly gag and constrict around him while you clung to Steve’s shoulders smothering your moans against his skin.

It was almost too much as your pussy quivered around him and you came, his palm immediately coming to cover your mouth as he fucked you through your high. Eddie laid back down on his side, tilting his head to kiss the lips of the man he loved as he grunted and his warm release filled you up.

Taking you in his arms, the long-haired boy maneuvered you around until you were on top of him with your back against his chest. You couldn’t help but shiver against his body as he ran his leaking tip through your dripping folds, grazing your clit and making you whine.

As soon as his cock entered you, he set an animalistic pace as his dick slammed into your sensitive spot repeatedly.

“Oh, fu--!”

Eddie’s ring covered hand cut you off, covering your mouth as you started to scream at the sudden feeling of Steve’s tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. Your own hand rested on his as your fingers intertwined with the one he had gripping your stomach.

The way he groaned in your ear, you knew the pretty boy was altering between you and Eddie as he played with your nub and sucked on the other man’s balls. It drove him wild as he pushed against your back, forcing you to sit up as he grabbed both sides of your hips and guided your movements.

Steve’s fingers slid into your mouth, hoping to silence you as he continued pleasuring you both. As you neared your climax, it wasn’t enough and Eddie flipped you over so you could shove your face into the pillow and shout as you fell over the ledge. Lying flat against your back, he held your hands as his forehead leaned against your shoulder warming your skin as he panted.

Grunts filled your ears and with a few more rough thrusts, he emptied inside of you.

You laid there quietly until Steve motioned for you both to follow and guided you two in the shower with him. You allowed them to clean you as you watched them carefully, Eddie closing his eyes as he leaned his head back under the hot water and Steve sighing as he pressed his back against the cold tile.

“I’m proud of you two.” Their heads lifted to look at you as you continued. “He may be the first Munson to go to college but he learned that hard work ethic for you, Eddie. You own your own store and work hard to take care of everyone not just us. Steve, you showed him he could achieve anything he wanted by following your dream and becoming a teacher.”

“My son was always a good kid but because of you two he’s happy. I’m going to miss him but I’m not worried about his future because of everything you both have done for him. I’ll never be able to thank you properly…”

As the tears start to flow arms wrap around you from behind and Steve promptly tugs you both forward as he presses your head to his chest.

“I would hold that thought…we still have two kids left to fuck up.”

You and the man in front of you giggle at Eddie’s comment as the heavy air breaks and you shake your head as you turn around to give him a big hug.

#############

A six-year-old Dylan smiles up at you from his place in bed as he waits for you to tuck him in.

A couple of nights ago, Eddie and Steve had come over to spend time with him when his father bailed and that night you three were intimate in their apartment after he had gone to bed. It had been two days since you saw them and you couldn’t stop thinking about them.

“Mommy? When are we going to hang out wit-wit Eddie and Steve again?”

Softly grinning, you climbed in beside him and he promptly curled up at your side.

“You liked spending time with them?”

“Yeah! Mom, Eddie is-is-is so funny and Steve said he would play basketball wit me. I love them!”

“Oh my goodness!”, you tease as you pull him close and kiss the top of his head. “Yeah, they were fun to hang out with and they told me that you’re an amazing kid.”

He blushes as you smile, turning off his little lamp as you continue to run your fingers through his hair.

“Do you like hanging out wit dem?”

“Yeah, baby, I did.”

“Good cause…you seem…different…around dem…”

“Different how, weirdo?”

“Happy.”

***

James and Aurora clung to Dylan’s neck as their dads finished putting the last remaining boxes in the U-Haul.

“Guys, I’m not going away forever and you know I’ll call you both every day.”

“You promise you’ll come home for Christmas and my birthday?”

“Of course, Ro. Unless you get a boyfriend you’d rather hang out with.”

“I didn’t hear that.”, Steve teases making them laugh.

“Love you, bra-der.”

“I love you to, kid.”

“Ok, guys we have to let Dylan go.” Your voice cracked as you lightly pulled on your daughter’s curls. “Rara, why don’t you and James go watch some TV and I will make you guys lunch in a minute, ok?”

After giving them one last kiss, he drops them to their feet and both kids wave before running inside the house. He grins down at you as you wrap your arms around him and he holds you tightly.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you to, mom.”

The sound of the truck clanging shut pulled you both apart as you kissed his cheek and he playfully whined as he lightly pushed you. Both men shuffled slowly around the corner as they waited for their turn to say goodbye.

Smiling their way, you scooted towards the porch and sat on the steps so they could be alone.

“So, let us know when you get there and that you and Daisy are safe.”

“And if you need anything and I mean anything just give us a call and we’ll fly right over no questions asked.”, Eddie added making Dylan grin.

“I know you would and that’s why you’re my dads.”, he replied. “I don’t remember a whole lot from their marriage but I do remember my mom was always trying to keep it together. Always carrying this burden that she thought I couldn’t see. The first time I ever saw her genuinely smile was that first time you two came over.”

“Daisy and I have been talking these past couple of weeks and she feels bad about leaving her mom here with her dad. It wasn’t until she said it that I realized, I don’t have that problem because I know she’s safe with you.”

“Jesus Christ, kid.”, Eddie chuckled as he tried to hide the tears that had fallen. “Still the fucking kid spy for the CIA or some shit.” Everyone laughed including you even though you couldn’t hear their conversation. “You’ve always been really smart and so fucking kind. I know you always used to say how much you loved that we listened to you and cared about things you were into but you have no idea how much it meant to me when you did that for me. The way you listened to me babble about D & D and guitar—”

“Hey, now, the guitar is awesome.”

“Yeah it is.”, the metalhead grins. “What I’m trying to say is I was always afraid of becoming Allen but you taught me that as a father and a man I could be like Wayne… I love you, kid, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He leans in to give his son a hug and you smile as you picture the small kid that played video games with him 24/7. The young boy that ran into Eddie’s arms after his talent show where he had taught him to play the guitar. The little boy who in his most terrifying moment called the metalhead first to come help him because he felt safe with him.

“I know I can be a bit overprotective but…”, Steve laughed breathily as they beamed at him. “…Like Ed said, you were such a good kid and I hated, fucking hated, when Charlie would hurt you. No one ever stood up for me when I was growing up. I was always alone in our big house and anytime my dad was an asshole I just kind of absorbed it. I didn’t want that for you…any of you three. I knew I wanted my kids to have a happy home where they felt safe coming to me. Dylan, you were my son before you even started calling me dad. Even if you had decided to keep your last name and kept calling him dad, you would still be our son. I love you to, little man.”

As they embrace and your oldest begins to cry against his shoulder, you see the six-year-old that clung to Steve when he was in the hospital sick with a fever. The small boy who stood down an adult like Mr. Harrington and scolded him for being rude to “his daddy”. The young man who held him tightly as his own biological parent broke his heart and he listened to the man he now saw as his father defend and protect him.

“Ok, ok. Come on. You have to go. Daisy is waiting for you.” Steve lifts the boys head and wipes his tears with his thumbs as they both grin at him comfortingly. “And you’re right by the way. She is safe with us. Nothing bad is going to happen to Y/N or your siblings, ok?”

Nodding, he gives you one final wave as he hops into the truck and slowly begins driving down the road.

“Are you ok?”, you ask as you come up behind them.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You?”

“I’m sure I will be.”

“Yeah…”, Eddie agrees as he pulls your back against his chest and rests his head on your shoulder. “At least I get my guitar room back.”

“Oh really?!”, Steve shouts as the metalhead takes your hand and the three of you head towards your front door. “I thought we all agree I could have an office.”

“Yes, Steven, because grading papers requires a whole room for you.”

“Eddie, stop it.”, you giggle as you push up on your toes to kiss their lips.

##################

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surftrips · 2 years ago

Text

nervous

pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: what happens when jj maybank develops a crush on the class valedictorian?

a/n: i haven’t written for jj in soo long so here’s this opposites attract oneshot for y’all. set before sarah and john b get together, it’s the pogue’s senior year of high school. lmk if you want more of this dynamic!

"You have a crush on Y/N? She's like the complete opposite of you..." Pope was saying to his best friend JJ.

"Dude, I know. But maybe that's why I like her so much." Maybank replied.

"What do you guys even have in common?"

"Uhhh... well. She likes to read and I- I can read. I just choose not to."

"We're off to a great start here," Pope said sarcastically, "What else?"

JJ thought for a second. "Oh! Her favorite color is green! I like green."

"Whose favorite color is green?" Kiara asked as she and John B. joined the rest of the Pogues at the lunch table.

"This girl JJ has a crush on," Pope explained.

"Ooooh, JJ has a crush? Who is it?" John B. nudged JJ's arm.

"I'm not telling you guys. You're gonna make fun of me," JJ refused.

"Oh, come on! Pope knows!" Kiara reasoned.

"Yeah, no keeping secrets from each other," John B. reminded them.

JJ sighed, "Fine. But only if y'all promise not to laugh or anything."

"Yeah, whatever, just tell us," Kie was dying to know.

"It's Y/N," JJ announced.

Silence. Then, all at once...

"Wait a minute..." from Kie.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" from John B.

and "That's what I'm saying!" from Pope.

"Guys, come on. You said you would be chill about it," JJ was starting to regret sharing his secret.

"Sorry, it's just... isn't she... like smart and responsible and stuff?" John B was saying.

"Literally... the opposite of you, JJ. No offense," Kiara added.

"None taken. But yeah, she is all those things, John B. That's why I like her. I think she would be good for me. Plus she's pretty," JJ replied.

"And you think you can pull her?" John B. asked.

"Come on, who can resist my charm?" JJ said, smiling.

—

For the past week, JJ had been working on a plan to get Y/N's attention. Which was hard considering the two ran in different circles and shared no classes.

So it must have been fate when JJ ran into her in the main office the following Monday. He was no stranger to the receptionist sitting at the desk, used to running late or being called into the principal's office for skipping class. It was for this reason that he almost missed the girl he had been dreaming about all week who happened to rush in right after him.

JJ wondered why a perfect straight-A student like her would be here, but the sounds of her trying to catch her breath and her frantic state answered his question. Little miss perfect was late, just like him.

He couldn't help but smile to himself, finally, they had something in common. Something he could work with.

But before he could turn around to spark up a conversation, the receptionist called him forward. "JJ, how many times has it been this month?"

"Uhhh.. I lost track after the fifth time," JJ shrugged.

"You know I'm only asking because I want to see you graduate, the disciplinary committee is not going to be as nice," she said.

"I know, I know miss. I'll be better next month."

"How about starting tomorrow? You're all set."

JJ turned around, trying to come up with an excuse to hang around the office, but he knew that he was already pushing his limits.

On his way out, he grinned at Y/N. “Fancy seeing you here,” and left before she could respond.

"Dude, you said what to her?" Pope asked, incredulous. It seemed like every conversation JJ had with his best friend these days elicited disbelief.

"Come on! That line is a classic, works every time."

"Name one time," Pope challenged him.

"Uhh that one time with Stacy, or Sasha, I forget what her name was."

"Yeah, great example."

"What's wrong with that line anyway?"

"It's less what's wrong with the line itself and more the situation in which you said it. You probably embarrassed her," Pope said matter-of-factly, chewing on his apple.

"What? How's that embarrassing? I'm clearly hitting on her."

"Because, she was late and probably already stressed out. Y/N is never late, and you just pointed out the obvious to her."

"Shit. I didn't think about it like that," JJ admitted.

"Think about what like what?" Kiara asked, coming over to their unspoken designated lunch room table with John B. JJ was starting to get deja vu.

"JJ saw Y/N this morning," Pope started to explain. "They were both late and checking in at the main office and on the way out he said, 'Fancy seeing you here.'"

Both Kiara and John B. winced. "Why would you say that man?" the latter asked.

JJ groaned. "I wasn't thinking okay! I didn't mean to embarrass or upset her or anything. You think she's mad at me?"

"I mean, you guys barely know each other. There's a chance she might have forgotten already," Kiara tried to reason.

"Somehow that's even worse," JJ said.

"It's alright, buddy. Better luck next time," JB tried to comfort him.

"If there even is a next time," JJ grumbled.

With his luck, there was a next time. This time JJ was in Y/N's territory.

When his teacher asked for a volunteer to run to Ms. Scheer's classroom, JJ's hand immediately shot up. He didn't care what the errand was, all that mattered was that Y/N would be in that room. He knew as much from watching her intently, but from a safe distance in the hallways.

He seemed to catch her attention the second he walked in. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Once again, he was wishing that the circumstances were more ideal. His usual charm seem to dissipate in the presence of teachers.

After handing Ms. Scheer the construction paper she needed, JJ turned to look at Y/N, settling for a wave this time.

To his relief, she softly smiled back at him. He rushed out of the classroom and quickly pulled out his phone to text the groupchat.

JJ himself could not believe it, that someone as beautiful, smart, and amazing as Y/N noticed him. That line has yet to fail me, he thought to himself.

Since it was the end of senior year, there was word of quite a few parties happening that weekend. However, JJ only cared about one. And that was whatever one Y/N decided to grace her presence with.

In order to find out this information, JJ employed Kie to ask around in her circle of kook friends if anyone happened to know where his recent infatuation would be.

It just so happened that John B. was also crushing on a certain kook during this time as well, Sarah Cameron. The two boys hoped that their respective crushes would be at the same place Friday night and waited anxiously by their phones the entire day for a text from Kie.

Click images to see full messages.

Still, JJ found himself looking in the mirror for longer than usual getting ready for Sarah's party. Even just the chance of seeing Y/N there was enough for him to go. Plus, John B needed a wing man because he knew Pope and Kie would just spend the whole time there together.

After taking one last look at his outfit: gray muscle tee, shorts, and his signature baseball cap, he headed out the front door and into Kiara's Jeep.

As they pulled up to the Tanny Hill mansion, JJ started to get a little nervous. Or excited. He wasn't sure which, the nerves and butterflies inside his stomach seemed to be dancing the tango.

Of course he had been to kook parties before, the kooks vs pogues thing had mostly died down by the time they got to high school, but he couldn't help but feel out of place amongst the drunk rich kids of Kildare.

"Are you coming or not?" Kiara asked, already out of her car.

She quickly rushed to meet up with Sarah and some other girls, Pope tagging along as JJ and John B. looked around in search of some liquid courage.

Kie had agreed to put in a good word for John B. after he practically begged her, so all he had to do was sit back and wait. However, JJ would have to be on edge for the next few hours, unsure if Y/N was going to show up or not.

"Dude, you should still have fun, regardless if she shows or not. It's our senior year!" Pope said to him later in the night, seeming more buzzed than usual. That's when JJ realized how sober he was, he was so anxious about Y/N's presence or lack of, that he was only on his second bottle of beer.

He pulled out his phone to check the time, not expecting to see 5 texts from Kiara.

Realizing that the last text was from one minute ago, he left the group of boys he was standing with and ran inside the mansion, making a beeline toward the kitchen.

He slowed down once he was close enough to hear Y/N's voice talking to Kie.

It's now or never, he thought. Entering the kitchen, his eyes immediately caught Y/N's and he swore he saw them light up. Noticing Y/N’s change in expression, Kiara turned around.

"Ah! Just the guy I was looking for!" she said.

"Uh, hey. What's up?" JJ said, trying his best to seem nonchalant.

"Y/N, this is JJ, the guy I was just telling you about."

"Oh, hey! I think I've seen you around," Y/N said, smiling at JJ. His heart melted. Was this real life?

"Kiara, Y/N and I go way back. Remember we were both late that one day?" JJ hoped that he wasn't bringing up a sensitive topic, Pope's words echoing in his mind.

"Oh my god, yeah! That was you!" Y/N responded.

He let out a sigh of relief, "Yeah, I hope I didn't catch you off guard or anything."

"Oh, no worries, it wasn't the first time I've been late."

"Good, I don't know why I thought I made you upset or something," JJ said, scratching his head.

"Why would you think that?"

"My friends, Pope and John B. They said that what I said was stupid and I could've embarrassed you."

"You told your friends about our 30-second interaction?" JJ could see her lips pulling into a smirk and his heart started to race. It was at this point that Kiara slowly began to back up, giving him a thumbs up and a grin when she was out of Y/N's eyesight.

"Well, I only tell them about the pretty girls."

"And how many have you told them about lately?" JJ knew what game she was playing and gladly played along.

"Just the one," he grinned.

"Good, I told my friends about you too," she admitted.

"Y-you did?"

"Yeah, I mean I didn't think much of the day in the office honestly, but after you came into Ms. Scheer's and waved at me, I felt like there was something more going on."

"Well, you would be right."

"I usually am," she said, shrugging.

"What else did you tell your friends?"

"Hmmmm..." she pretended to think, tapping your index finger to her chin. "I told them that there was this super cute guy stalking me and asking around about what party I was going to."

The boy could feel his face growing hot, unsure if it was from her calling him cute or the fact that she knew he was asking about her.

"Aww, no reason to be embarrassed. Guys ask about me all the time," she said.

JJ balked, unsure how to respond to Y/N's candor. She was entirely different from how he imagined her, even better somehow.

"I'm kidding," she laughed. "The truth is most guys are too intimidated by me to even try anymore."

"What? Really?" Sure, Y/N could be perceived as intimidating because of all her accomplishments and positions, but for JJ, that just made her more attractive. He wasn't sure how any single guy on the island could refrain from being pulled in by Y/N's magnetic pull.

"Yeah," she took another sip out of her red solo cup. "But it's whatever, half of the guys on this island are assholes."

"Cheers to that?" he lifted up his half-drunken beer to her cup.

"Haha, cheers to that Maybank," she smiled, downing the rest of her drink. "Wanna get out of here?"

"I was wondering when you were going to say that," he grinned, following her to the backyard.

She led him past the pool where people were throwing each other in, careful to avoid getting splashed, to the edge of the premises where a rock wall surrounded the lawn.

Y/N easily climbed up, taking a seat at the top, JJ following suit.

"I've never been up here before," he said.

"It's kinda like my hiding spot, consider yourself lucky I’m showing it to you."

"Oh, trust me, I do."

"Stop," she gently pushed JJ away. "You cannot possibly like me that much." Though she said it in a joking manner, he could tell that a part of her meant it.

"Oh yeah? Try me," JJ said, desperate to prove himself.

"Okay, name 5 things you like about me. Non-physical things."

"Easy. You're smart. You're ambitious. I like it when you get competitive like at Pep Rally and football games, and I like your sense of humor. Also, your smile."

"Hey! I said non-physical things."

"Yeah, but you don't just smile for anyone. That's what I like about you. Every time you smile, it feels special. Like you meant it for that one person only."

Y/N was blushing now, "You're kidding me."

"Nope, I'm being 100% serious right now. Look, Y/N, in case you haven't noticed, I really, really like you, and even though I just named five things about you, I want to get to know you more." JJ reached out to grab Y/N's hands.

"JJ, you're shaking."

"Shit. Sorry, I just get a little bit nervous around you. I'm usually not like this." Y/N had him acting like he had never done this before, and though he had been with plenty of girls, he had never felt this strongly about them before.

"It's okay," she smiled. JJ thought he would never get sick of seeing that. "I like you too."

"Really?"

"No, I just smile at everyone like this," she laughed.

"So what do you say? You and me on a proper date?"

"Hmmm, where would you take me?"

"Anywhere you want, as long as it's not on school grounds or a fundraiser."

"JJ!" she playfully swatted at him, unable to control her grinning from ear to ear. In the process, JJ was finally able to grasp on her hand and pulled her closer to him.

"Still need verbal confirmation, pretty girl. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal," she whispered, close enough to JJ that only he could hear.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx #outer banks #obx x reader #obx imagine #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #jj maybank x you

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fuckin-wilde · 5 months ago

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Tw for police brutality, murder

One of my high school friends was murdered by our local cops last week. Ive seen absolutely nobody talking about it, and while im sure Bill would appreciate that, i definitely dont. That being said, im making this post for me and anyone else who has lost sleep over Bill's death, nobody else.

Bill was a uniquely wonderful man. If he'd just met you, he'd stick his hand out and say "Howdy, Bill Factor". He would do things for the fuck of it, or because nobody else would, just to laugh with his friends. He was one of two teenagers i knew who didnt think you had to be mean to be funny. He wore this amazingly tacky christmas suit (blazer and pants) for the holidays, which his sister wore to his funeral yesterday. He was barely 25, disabled, native, queer, and a legally ordained minister. He was the only guy i knew who could be in color guard through high school and then rush a frat in college. Truly if the world is ever going to get better, it takes a whole bunch of people like Bill.

Bill was murdered by two cops with less than 5 years of job experience between the two. Supposedly he was hiding on a strangers balcony before he fired a gun at the officers, but - and i know this is an old ass song - thats complete bullshit. He isnt here to explain what happened, he cant tell us what was going on that night, and i hate that how cops abuse this every time they kill someone.

Isaiah Lewis should have been able to tell his mom why he was doing edibles, get grounded like a normal kid, and graduate high school. Bill Factor should be here to tell his mom what he was doing in some karen's backyard. No parent or grandparent should be at their kids funeral. No one person should be allowed the position of judge, jury, and executioner - especially after only doing his job for a year or two.

If you made it through this long ass post and want to help, put pressure on Edmond PD. Let them know we havent forgotten Isaiah Lewis and we wont forget Bill Factor. Ask the city of Edmond and/or the state of Oklahoma for an external investigation this time. Leave a voicemail that just says their names.

And please do say his name.

Bill R Factor. 1999-2024

#police brutality #murder #gun violence #i know i said this post was for me and it started out that way but about halfway through it started being for Gisela #she deserves justice for her son #also. half the service the pastor was talking about how it would be normal to be mad at god right now #and like. babygirl. im mad at cops? im mad at those two guys who shot my friend? and all of their coworkers? who cover their asses???#im mad that nothing was fixed from 2019??? that this shit still happens?? the universe and its forces are fine hon. cops arent #oklahoma #okc

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calciumcryptid · 5 months ago

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Fuck it, We Are Internet Famous AU. Let's go-

After his grandfather passed, Q entered a major depressive episode. He was close with his grandfather, a famous artist, who taught him everything he knew. In a way, he was raised more by his grandfather than his parents (although they deeply loved him). Q retains his desire to paint, to make art, but now it is bittersweet and his grandfather's shadow hangs over every studio session.

He starts streaming to the core five group chat to try and get into the groove. Tan, perpetual recorder, recorded the streams. One night, while bored, Tan edited one with inside jokes and references the group found funny. After a collective viewing experience, Chain suggested uploading the video to YouTube and its how Q's YouTube channel (MaestroQ) was born.

Q has two channels. One is for edited down and planned content, while the other contains his live streams. He gains a bit of a reputation as a semi-anti Bob Ross due to his more sarcastic and snarky remarks despite remaining calm throughout. The live streams gain popularity because people use them to fall asleep, and the shorter videos are edited down down to a process-video and a condensed highlight reel. Art has become fun for Q again.

Meanwhile, Fang and Phum have become popular because they are rich and attractive young men who do some modeling on the side. It doesn't help Phum (accidentally) befriended royalty (Damn Beer) and a popular streamer known for gaming (Mick), which increased the brothers fame.

Matt is another popular streamer known for gaming and art streams, and Toey is his roommate who is known through association. The two have been roommates for years, and Toey crashes Matt's streams constantly (which lead to an iconic series where Matt makes Toey play horror games, except Toey is completely unaffected). Toey finds Q's painting streams relaxing and falls asleep to them.

Now where do the ships fit into this?

Simple: TanFang.

In this universe, TanFang met when they were adults, post-graduation. While I don't have the exact details, their first meeting comes about because Tan approaches Fang due to Fang being vaguely familiar to him. Naturally, Tan assumes Fang went to high school wit him and thought he should say hi. Fang didn't, and is displeased about being interrupted for the fifth time that week. Naturally, this leads to some punches being thrown.

Of course, they get passive aggressive about it.

[ Pun here! Q is sorry about the delay, but we had to take Tan to the doctor. He got punched. Don't worry! He is fine! While he is out of commission, I thought I'd show him up with my editing skills! :D ]

Phum makes a post about taking his older brother to the doctor, and Fang follows up about making a smooth recovery.

Tan and Fang end up having their followup checkups on the same day, where they figure out the misunderstanding. Fang offers to treat Tan to lunch since he was the aggressor, and Tan agrees. Soon they are texting everyday, and a month later they are dating.

They soft launch their relationship and everyone in Fang's comments are commenting about it being the "Maestro Q Editor Guy".

It was a moment in social media.

Out of protectiveness and curiosity, Phum looks up the channel Tan edits for. He watches a couple of videos, but doesn't get that far into the catalogue before he goes to play football with Tan. If Phum got a little farther in the catalogue, he might have seen Peem's little side series where he goes to scenic water locations and does landscape paintings alongside Q.

Instead, Phum finds out about Peem the canon way where he accidentally destroys a painting Q and Peem finished for a video (or maybe a video card). Q and Tan watch in awe as Peem loses it on Phum, kicking him in the nuts, then running off.

Cue more passive aggressive vague posting.

(I think it would be funny if Phum and Q had Internet beef but their fans were unable to figure out why. Randomly one day this accidental influencer and the painter started to quote tweet each other.)

At this point, Toey is friends with Fang and Phum (through MickMatt) and gasps when he realizes Phum is why the latest video has been delayed and bullies his pseudo-older brother into apologizing ("I had a restless night of sleep. Why would you do that to me? *lethal puppy eyes*"). Phum, begrudgingly, does through Tan. Peem mocks him a little ("Now was that so hard?") and says Phum will be forgiven if he helps Peem with a video idea.

Phum agrees ("Whatever you say gorgeous.") and Peem uses Phum as a model for a portrait. Afterwards, Phum asks Peem on a date ("Since I am forgiven, can I take you on a date? *lethal puppy eyes*). Peem agrees because he thought Phum wasn't serious only to be thoroughly swept off his feet. Phum can't stop taking pictures of Peem, and he hard launches Peem as his boyfriend. Peem is pretty, and people need to know Phum scored.

It was also a moment in social media.

Afterwards, Peem becomes fond of Toey, and it (finally) clicks for Toey that he can meet Q through Peem and Tan. Tan is ecstatic for their friend groups to officially meet, unaware of Toey's mission. At the meet-up, Toey harnesses the power of the sun directly at Q. Q, naturally, becomes romantically constipated about this.

Toey suggest Matt should do an art stream with Q, and Matt agrees. The live stream goes well, and Q leaves. Toey notices Q left his pencil box behind, and rushes to give it back. After staring at his pencil box for a bit, Q admits he knows Toey has feelings for him but he has never returned anyones romantic desire before (oh no, where did these demiromantic feelings come from?) and he doesn't know what to do. The two promise to take it slow together, and start dating.

Chain and Pun were the first ones who got together in this timeline, because the viewers picked up on the undertones between and it opened Pun's eyes to his feelings being returned.

Mick and Matt were the second couple to get together in this timeline, as they were online gaming rivals who were teamed-up at a convention's live gaming event. After they won, they started dating. Toey has never third-wheeled harder.

#tanfang #phumpeem #qtoey #chainpun #mickmatt #we are #we are series #we are the series

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