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alisonsfics · 5 months ago

Text

words unsaid

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after months of flirting and unconfessed feelings, you and carmy get in an argument when a customer gives him her number.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, angst, carmy being completely unaware of everything

After wiping down your stations for the night, you and Carmy headed to the lockers to grab your bags. You both were exhausted after a hectic night.

“You have any plans for the rest of the night?” Carmy asked, curiously. You shrugged, looking over your shoulder at him as you fiddled with your locker. “You mean besides eating leftover pizza and then passing out from exhaustion?” You joked. You heard a small chuckle from Carmy.

He noticed you were tugging at the locker and the door seemed to be stuck. “Here, let me help you with that.” He offered.

You stepped out of the way and let Carmy take a shot at it. He jiggled the handle a few times and then was able to tug it open. “My hero,” you teased, as he walked back to his own locker.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the pink tint on Carmy’s cheeks.

“Anyway, did you want to maybe go grab a drink. I mean, only if you’re okay with postponing your pizza plans. Those sounded important though,” he teased you. You were one of the few people that Carmy would actually joke around with.

You jokingly scoffed at him. “My commitment to my leftover pizza is none of your business, Berzatto,” you responded, trying to maintain a serious tone. Once again, the sound of his soft chuckle met your ears.

“Hey, guys. Our last table wanted to personally thank their chefs.” Richie said, sticking his head around the corner.

Carmy gestured towards the door, politely letting you walk in front of him. Richie guided you both to the booth that currently seated three women. They were the only remaining customers from the dinner service.

Richie quickly introduced you both to them, and then he headed back to help with clean-up.

You noticed that two of the women seemed to be smirking at their other friend. “The food tonight was absolutely amazing.” One of them perked up and complimented you both.

You politely smiled, letting Carmy take the lead since he was the owner. You saw his posture shift as he went into customer service-mode.

“Thank you very much. Thank you for coming to visit us tonight. We’re glad you liked it.” He said, putting on a polite smile.

Carmy didn’t see it, but you noticed the two women quickly raise their eyebrows at their other friend. She then directed her attention to Carmy.

You knew where the conversation was going, and you hated how it tugged at your gut. You felt a heavy weight on your shoulders, and it took a lot for you to fake a smile.

Carmy was an attractive guy, and he was a chef, which was a pretty good recipe for success. You saw customers fawn over him constantly, but it never got easier.

That being said, Carmy wasn’t technically yours, but he was. He wasn’t your boyfriend by any means, and you weren’t his girlfriend. But, he dropped everything any time you called, and he’d do anything for you.

Your relationship was sometimes flirty, but neither of you had ever taken it further.

“Yeah, the food was really excellent. You’re an amazing chef. I definitely have a reason to come back.” The woman said, coyly.

You forced yourself to bite the inside of your lip, so you could keep your pleasant facade. You noticed their check sitting on the table and decided to use it as your excuse out of there.

“Thank you again for coming,” you said, smiling, grabbing the check, and heading back towards the kitchen. The woman looked like she finally realized you were standing there.

Carmy quickly thanked them again and followed right behind you.

Once the kitchen doors closed behind you, you turned to Carmy. “Being a chef does it every time, Berzatto,” you teased him.

Instead of being met by his usual grin, you saw him tilt his head as he tried to figure out what you were talking about.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked, when he couldn’t figure it out. You waited for a second, almost thinking he was playing dumb. “She was hitting on you, Carmy.” You told him. His eyes widened as he looked at you. “No, she wasn’t,” he argued.

You looked down at the check you were holding, which confirmed your suspicion when you saw a phone number written across the bottom of it.

“Really?” You asked, sliding the check into his hand. Your hand grazed his as you did, which almost made Carmy short circuit. He looked down at the check in his hand and saw the phone number clear as day.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked you. From his perspective, he was asking how he was supposed to let her down and tell her he wasn’t interested. You didn’t take it that way.

“Well, if you’re interested, you call her.” You explained. He was speechless. He stood in front of you, not having a single coherent string of thoughts in mind.

“Wh…what—what do you mean?” He stumbled over his words.

You were practically fuming. You thought that you and Carmy had a thing going on, but he seemed to be pretty interested in asking this girl out.

“Are you interested? Do you want to go on a date with her?” You asked, your tone coming out a little more hostile than you intended. You were just jealous and even more unsure of where your and Carmy’s relationship stood.

“I…I don’t know,” he stammered, taken aback by this whole situation. He was getting love advice from the girl he wanted to be with, but was getting love advice for a different girl.

“Well, you’re the only one who can figure that out,” you huffed and quickly walked away from him. You knew if you continued the conversation for another minute, you’d start crying.

You grabbed your work bag and slammed your locker shut. “Woah, you okay?” Sydney asked from beside you. You hadn’t even noticed she was standing there. You took a deep breath before responding.

“Not really, you wanna go get a drink?” You asked her. She could tell that something had really gotten to you. “Yeah, of course. Is it about Carmy?” she asked, quietly. You just nodded, biting down on your lip and trying not to tear up.

“It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” she said, wrapping her arm around you as the two of you walked out the back door.

Still stunned from the whole encounter, Carmy walked into the office to hopefully clear his head. He sat in there for thirty minutes, continuously replaying his conversation with you in his head. He knew you were mad, but he wasn’t sure why. He was also thrown off by why it seemed like you were encouraging him to go on a date with the other woman.

After wracking his brain for answers, he still had nothing, so he headed towards the back alleyway to smoke a cigarette. He found Richie doing the same thing.

“You okay, cousin?” Richie asked, clearly being able to see how on edge Carmy looked. “Fuck no,” Carmy mumbled.

“Is this about your girl?” Richie asked, having already gotten a text from Sydney that explained what happened. “She’s not my girl, Richie, but I think we’re in a fight, and we’ve never been in a fight before. I just don’t know why she’s mad.” Carmy explained.

“You don’t know why she’s mad?” Richie asked in shock. Carmy looked at him with a confused look and shook his head.

“You two have been flirting and hanging out more and more. Then, you tell her that you maybe want to go on a date with this other girl. You don’t think she’d be hurt by that?” Richie asked him. Carmy didn’t understand why everybody was suddenly an expert on his relationship today and why he was so out of the loop.

“What do you mean, we are just friends.” Carmy argued, not being able to admit anything to the contrary, “wait, how do you know about our conversation?”

“Sydney told me. She’s busy trying to cheer Y/N up because she’s pissed at you.” Richie said, quickly brushing past it, “how does the idea of her going on a date with someone else make you feel, cousin? Like when you watch those customers that stare at her,” he asked.

Carmy hesitated. He knew the answer. “I fuckin’ hate it, but I’m just being protective. We’re friends, and I care about her.” Carmy replied, still in denial.

“Cousin, do you really think colleagues go out for drinks after work and get coffee together before work as often as you guys do? You know all her favorite movies, and her favorite flowers, and the words to all her favorite songs. And that big dinner you made for her birthday,” he told Carmy. Hearing all of it like that made Carmy realize how special your relationship was, but he was having trouble admitting it out loud.

“I’m a chef. I make food for people. It’s what I do.” Carmy argued, not even believing his own excuse.

“Yeah, because it’s like your fuckin’ love language, dickhead. How did you not see this?” Richie asked.

Carmy didn’t know what to think. “So are we like together?” He asked, stunned. Richie shook his finger at Carmy.

“Not until you finally grow a pair and actually make a real move. Ask her out to dinner, tell her how you feel, give her some grand gesture.” Richie told him.

Carmy stood still for a moment, processing what he had just heard.

“Where are her and Syd right now? I need a ride.” He told Richie, desperately. Richie quickly grabbed his car keys, and they both headed out the door.

“I know we’re not dating, but I just don’t understand why he didn’t say he wasn’t interested. Like, surely I can’t be imagining all of the flirting and how sweet he’s been.” You rambled to Sydney, taking another sip of your drink. Sydney nodded along.

“Maybe he felt like he was put on the spot because I’ve seen how he looks at you. He really cares about you but just has a shit way of showing it.” Sydney mentioned.

You looked down at the bar, slowly stirring your drink around. The front door of the bar quickly opened, slamming against the wall. Both yours and Sydney’s gaze went right to the loud noise.

You both saw Carmy burst into the restaurant. His eyes searched around until they landed on yours. He rushed towards the end of the bar where you and Sydney were sitting.

He stopped in front of you and caught his breath for a minute. “I am so fucking sorry. You are my everything, and I really fucked it up. And I don’t even know what I was saying.” He started to ramble.

You were shocked to say the least. “Carmy, you wanna go talk outside?” You suggested, assuming some privacy for this conversation was probably a good idea. He quickly nodded and held out his hand to help you down from your seat.

Sydney gave you a reassuring smile, and then you felt Carmy’s hand on the small of your back as he followed you outside. Now that he had a better grasp on your relationship, he felt much more confident, which made him more affectionate. And you loved it.

He rushed in front of you, so he could hold the front door open for you. You both saw Richie waiting outside. “Syd’s inside. Can you give us a minute, cousin?” Carmy asked him. Richie quickly nodded and headed inside to freak out with Sydney that they were so close to getting you two together.

“I didn’t mean any of that earlier. I was just confused, and it felt like you wanted me to ask that girl out. So, I was questioning if you felt the same way I feel about you.” He apologized. He had to stop himself from grabbing your hands. He wanted to, but he wanted to apologize first.

“Enough of what I want. Tell me before I waste anymore of my time. Carmen Berzatto, what do you want? Do you want to be with me?” You asked him. You felt like you were being harsh, but you wanted everything to be out in the open.

“I want to be with you so fuckin’ bad.” He said. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He used his other hand to cup your cheek and close the distance with a kiss.

Richie and Sydney saw the kiss through the window and had to stop themselves from cheering.

You stumbled forward a little since Carmy had pulled you towards him so quickly. He tightened his grip around your waist, while smirking into the kiss. You let your hands rest on his forearms, feeling his biceps flex under your fingertips.

The kiss was rushed, fueled by months of pent up feelings and the fear of losing each other that you both had experienced. Neither of you wanted to let the other go.

His lips tasted like spearmint as they moved effortlessly against yours. There was a loud clap of thunder above you both, and the sky opened up as it started pouring.

You both pulled out of the kiss in shock at the freezing rain that was hitting your skin. You both just grinned at each other, knowing how picture-perfect this moment was.

“You wanna go inside?” He almost had to yell for you to hear him over the rain. You just shook your head. You wanted to enjoy every single second.

He grabbed your hand and spun you around in a circle, watching as the rain droplets flew off the ends of your hair.

You were smiling and giggling. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back into a kiss. “You are perfect,” he mumbled as he kissed you.

He finally pulled out of the kiss when he noticed you shivering. “This is magical, but I’m not gonna let you get sick.” He said, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you back inside where you were met by the smiling faces of Richie and Sydney. They both immediately pulled you into a hug.

“You know how hard we had to work for this to happen because you both wanted to be in denial for months that you’re head over heels for each other.” Sydney teased you both. You just smiled at Carmy, and all you could think about was how the rest of your coworkers were going to freak out when they heard.

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#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fic #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #the bear #the bear fanfiction

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

Text

fake fight

words: 800

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dry humping

“come on baby, you were the one who was so sure that you could beat me in a fight.” rafe says, whipping his shirt off. you know it’s going to give him an advantage, always getting distracted by his bare chest.

it was mostly a joke. you know you’d never actually beat rafe in a fight, but you’re stubborn and continued to say that you could, that while rafe was obviously stronger, you were quicker and had better reflexes. you should have known it was a mistake and rafe would actually call you out on your bluff.

“fine.” you shrug, taking your necklace off, with a diamond ‘R’ on it, gifted to you by none other than the man you know you’re about to lose to. he’s cleared the living room, pushed all of the furniture back so you have plenty of space to spar.

“alright. i’ll go gentle on you.”

you drop the fake overconfidence. you really don’t want rafe to go hard on you, not that he would anyways. you know in your ‘fight’ that rafe would never actually be rough with you.

you give a nod, signaling that you are ready. you move quickly, knowing that you’re going to get maybe one chance to get rafe before you’re on the ground.

you manage to strike out at his shoulder before he can pull back, but then his arms are around your waist, lowering you to the floor, a hand coming up to the back of your head to cushion the fall. rafe drops on top of you, using his body weight to keep you down. he grabs your wrists, holding them on either side of your head.

“i expected it to be quick, but not that quick. tap out.” rafe laughs, right in your face. your brow scrunches, too proud to give up just because you’re pinned. you test if you can get your arms free, but it’s no use. he just pushes them harder into the carpet until you stop. you wiggle your hips instead, seeing if you can get free that way, but all that you manage to do is rub against rafe’s hips.

rafe lets out a half moan half grunt, and you’re suddenly aware of how your wiggling is affecting rafe. your eyes widen as rafe smirks, hips suddenly pushing forward, thrusting his clothed cock over your covered cunt.

you shouldn’t encourage him, but you can’t help it. you wrap your hips around his legs, feigning like you're trying to flip him over, but all it does is make you grind against rafe.

he rubs right back, directly over your clit now that your legs are spread wide for him. you hold back a moan, trying again to flip so you’re on top.

it feels so dirty, both getting off during the (albeit fake) fight. you know you’d look insane to anyone who walked in, rafe shamelessly rubbing his cock against you while you’re pinned to the floor.

“give up.” rafe says. “give up and i’ll fuck you.”

“no.” no matter how bad you want it, you're too headstrong to agree.

“fine.” rafe resists the urge to kiss you, moving his hips away and then back in as he practically fucks you, if only the clothes weren’t in the way.

you squeeze your eyes shut, testing the hold on your wrists, but rafe still has an iron grip on them.

“good try, princess. only way you’re getting out is if you tap out.” rafe says. you shake your head no, so rafe just shrugs, bucking his hips. he won’t last long. it’ll be embarrassing, cumming in his shorts, but you just look so small and helpless underneath him, trapped, unable to get away even if you wanted to (which you definitely don’t at this point).

you’re not unaffected by this either. rafe grinds against your clit, and you know you’re close as well.

“fuck.” rafe grunts out, completely losing his cool demeanor when you start to wiggle against him again, bucking your hips to join his thrusts.

rafe cries out as he spills in his shorts, cum spurting into the fabric just as you also reach the edge, clit pulsing as you moan, rafe grinding against you as you both ride out your orgasms.

rafe takes a deep breath and then sinks into you, body going slack. it’s your chance. you’re exhausted from the struggle and the orgasm, but you manage to flip over so rafe is on the bottom, and you’re sitting right in his lap.

rafe smiles, proud that you got the jump on him. he could easily flip you back over, but he’s tired and just wants to actually fuck you, so he slaps his hand against the ground twice, tapping out. “i win!” you squeal, bending down to kiss rafe. “i told you i would win.”

“you were right, honey.” rafe laughs. “let me help you celebrate.”

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joequiinn · 7 months ago

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 7

[chap six] | [all chapters here] | [chapter eight]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Sooo, I did not mean to take a three week hiatus from this fic :) I had so much of this chapter written within a couple of days and then abruptly stopped writing entirely, literally couldn't work on any of my stories. But now the writers block has passed and we FINALLY have an update, and boy these chapters just keep getting longer as the story goes on. I hope this one makes up from my recent absence~

wc: 6.6k

Chapter Seven

Wednesday morning was supposed to start like it always did - small talk with your mom over a bowl of cereal and then running out the door before the conversation whittled down to awkwardness. You wish you could appreciate your mother’s efforts to try to connect with you, but she never asked about anything beyond school and skating - once those two subjects were exhausted, it was as if you two had nothing more to talk about.

But today was different. Today, your dad was actually sitting at the breakfast table instead of rushing to his office before you even came downstairs. Today, your head was a little fuzzy from drinking the night before. Today, you wished you had just run out the door and skipped breakfast, because you could see right away that your parents wanted to have a conversation.

You paused briefly in the kitchen entry, looking between the two before trying to act casual, walking towards the pantry and preparing a quick breakfast. You could feel their eyes following you, and damn did you wish someone would just say something. Your father always acted like this before a serious conversation - he stayed silent to intimidate you, to put you on edge in hopes that it would make you more pliable to what he had to say. You’d always assumed he did this to clients and business associates as well, as if to suggest some kind of dominance over them. Well, you weren’t going to let it get to you that easily, you never did before.

You sat at the opposite end of the table from your father, your mom hovering at the kitchen sink although there were no dishes to be cleaned. You started to eat as if you were totally unphased by their watchful eyes, as if you were entirely oblivious to their stares, although you knew neither of them bought the act for a second. One of you was going to cave eventually, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.

Sure enough, your mom spoke first as she approached the table, just like you expected her to, “You have practice after school today?”

You gave her a critical look before nodding - you knew that she knew you always skated on Wednesday, making that a pretty pathetic attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

“Are you actually going?” Your father asked in an accusatory tone, although he maintained a neutral expression so as not to give away what he was thinking.

You couldn’t help the mean look in your eyes as you met his intense gaze. Your tone was stubborn and cold, “Yes.”

“And will that boy be there?” The disdain in your father’s words was clear as day. Your brow knotted at the question, both because you didn’t like his tone and because you wondered how he found out about Eddie already.

“Boy?” Your tone was mocking - you weren’t feigning ignorance, but rather presenting your father with a challenge, daring him to elaborate on what had gotten his mood so twisted. And it was clear in his face that he didn’t appreciate your attitude one bit.

“Mrs. Redford saw you two together on Friday.” Your mother chimed in, hoping to serve as the calm mediary considering that you and your father were both intense, mean people.

Of course it was Mrs. Redford who told your mom about Eddie - she was such a damn gossip, and with her daughter participating in your skating lessons, you should have known she would have noticed you leaving with Eddie that night. She was drawn to drama and gossip as if it was the air she breathed, so it was certainly no surprise that she ran off to tell your parents about this new boy that she spotted you with.

“Why does it matter?” You dropped your spoon in the forgotten breakfast that sat in front of you, slouching into your seat in growing frustration.

“Because he’s clearly a troublemaker.” Your dad’s tone matched yours, causing you to roll your eyes, “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.”

Your jaw clenched at the threat in his voice, “How could you possibly know someone is trouble without even meeting them?”

Your father pressed his palm to the table firmly, “Because I know his type - a lazy punk only interested in skating by and disrespecting the establishment. I’m a good judge of character.”

“How?” You insisted with exasperation, causing your father to look down on you as if you were some stupid kid.

“You were out way past curfew last night - were you with him?” Your dad glowered, and evidently your expression gave him the answer he wanted, “You ran out the door without telling your mother where you were going or who you were with. She saw you climb into some van, for Christ sake. And the way Mrs. Redford described this hoodlum? The leather, the hair, the tattoos? What’s gotten into you?”

You held your ground firmly, glaring as you crossed your arms, “I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue is you’re acting out, you’re avoiding us, and this boy you’re seeing seems to be encouraging this behavior!” Your father raised his voice, “I don’t care that you’re eighteen now, you still live under my roof.”

“You don’t care about anything!” You can’t help but shout back, “You only care now because you’re worried I’ll make you look bad. You’re worried about stupid gossip!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“We’re just worried about you,” Your mother tried to intervene in an even tone, drawing the attention of the both of you, “We don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important just because of a boy.”

You throw up your hands in defiance, your voice harsh, “What important things am I ‘losing sight of!?’”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother!” Your dad jumped back in, “The last thing you need your senior year is some punk distracting you from school, from skating. You need to consider your future. Don’t you want to get into a good school? Don’t you want to skate?”

“I don’t know what I want!” You admitted angrily, “Maybe I don’t want to go to college or skate or do the shit you tell me to! Maybe I just want to enjoy life a little.”

“Enjoying life doesn’t get you anywhere.” Your father glared, “We tell you these things to help you. So, stop hanging around this boy and start focusing on your future.”

“You didn’t care what I was doing before, why do you care now?” You challenged coldly, “You didn’t care when I was out late with Duncan, you didn’t care when I’d miss practice because I’d be out with Amelia or Janet. You only care now because it’s Eddie.”

You instantly realized you shouldn’t have mentioned his name. Not yet, at least, not in the middle of this argument. Yes, you wanted your parents to know you were “dating” some new, troublesome guy, but you didn’t want them to actually know who he was yet - you had hoped to build up a little more suspense first, a little more tension between you all. You hoped your face didn’t give away what you were thinking.

“Eddie?” Your father laughed as he said the name, “You call things off with this Eddie now, do you hear me?”

You looked between your parents’ faces - your father looked as stern and condescending as ever, and your mom looked like she was away somewhere in thought. Perhaps she was trying to pinpoint any Eddies she’d heard of before and figure out who the hell he is.

A frustrated sound leapt from your throat as you rose to your feet aggressively, the legs of your chair making a grating sound on the floor.

“Whatever,” You spun around to leave, seeing the time on the wall clock before shooting your parents a mocking look, “I’m going to be late. Great job getting me back on track.”

You knew just how rude your tone was, so you practically ran out of the kitchen to avoid your father’s wrath.

“Excuse me!?” His offended voice shouted after you. You scooped up your school bag and your car keys, running out the door without looking back.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Just like you suspected, you were late for your first period class, receiving a reprimanding from your teacher, which only served to piss you off even more. Today just wasn’t your fucking day. So, by the time you walked into your math class a couple hours later, it was actually something of a relief to see Eddie already there; why you were actually pleased to see him was a thought you weren’t quite ready to entertain.

He grinned once he spotted you, but the way you flopped into your seat caused his face to immediately twist with curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs situated in the aisle between you two.

“Feeling hungover, princess?” He asked with only a small jest in his tone, as if he could tell that you weren’t in the mood right now. His eyebrows furrowed together as you glared, although you knew he wasn’t the one that deserved the cold look.

“No.” You groaned, your jaw clenched tight enough to hurt your teeth. You sighed through your nose, trying to collect yourself - it was stupid to let this frustration eat at you, although you were always prone to holding onto grudges.

Eddie nudged your knee softly, so you met his eyes again. He stared at you patiently and inquisitively, “So, what’s wrong?”

You considered for a moment whether or not you wanted to tell him. With a sigh, you sat up in your seat, turning so that you mirrored Eddie, legs in the aisle and knees brushing his. You let your knees rest there, allowing the small amount of contact as if you needed it to ground you, as if you even enjoyed it.

“It’s my parents.” You start, looking down at where your knees met his. Your skirt was short and his jeans were ripped, so you were skin-to-skin. It didn’t matter, of course, you were simply trying to find something else to focus on, “They aren’t thrilled about you.”

“Oh, so you told them?” Eddie gave you a small grin, hoping to lighten your mood a little. And you wouldn’t admit it, but it was already beginning to work.

“One of my neighbors saw us together.” The bell rang in the middle of your sentence, but neither of you faced forward, eyes staying locked on one another.

“You seem pretty worked up about it.” His quiet tone had a hint of question to it, clearly wondering what exactly happened with your parents. Your teacher began going down the attendance sheet and the focus of today’s lesson.

“My dad’s a dick.” You responded in a whisper, “Just grilling me about shit - about you - as if I were a damn criminal or something.”

The sound of your name on your teacher’s lips drew your attention, and you harshly met her stare, “Would you two like to join the class now?”

You rolled your eyes as Eddie smiled lazily, the both of you turning to face forward. He reached out to give your knee one more playful nudge, as if to assure you that all would be well.

As the teacher began her lesson, you and Eddie kept stealing glances at one another conspiratorially, which helped to slowly ease the tension in your shoulders, to slowly relax your mood. After another couple of minutes, Eddie held a folded piece of paper between the two of you, obviously intending for you to read it. You slyly took it from him, fingers brushing against his as you wondered what he possibly had to say right now.

I think I can win him over.

The silly little doodle accompanying the note emphasized the joke, and you couldn’t help but grin at it just a little. You side-eyed Eddie, catching the way he smiled mischievously at you. With a roll of your eyes, you scribbled down a reply and handed it to him.

All the charm in the world wouldn’t win him over.

You watched Eddie’s face out of the corner of your eye, awaiting his reply with a hint of eagerness. The note was back in your hand once again.

So you admit I’m charming?

A small huff of a laugh escaped you as you rolled your eyes, beginning to write a response. But a presence walking down the aisle drew your attention, noticing your teacher was walking right to you. Your stomach dropped a little, realizing you were caught, but you simply looked up at her as if you did nothing wrong.

“Is there something you two would like to share with everyone?” She asked accusatory, crossing her arms in reprimand. You held her eyes with a challenging stare - god, this day just kept giving you hit after hit.

“Nothing in particular.” You retorted, hearing someone in the room make a nonplussed sound. Your teacher glowered at your attitude.

“Then I suggest you follow along or take this little conversation to detention.”

You gave her a mean, mocking smile, baring your teeth almost as if it was a threat, “I’ll take the detention, please.”

Again, more surprised sounds from the teacher and from students. You dared to look over at Eddie, who looked both taken aback and impressed at how difficult you were being today.

“Excuse me?” Your teacher challenged you.

Your eyes were dark as you stood your ground, “Detention. Please.”

The teacher looked between both you and Eddie with a huff, but a moment later a decisive look crossed her features, which put you on edge.

“Fine, if that’s how you want it to be. You can go to detention. Mr. Munson will stay here.” You gaped, your eyes glaring at the back of her head as she turned to walk back towards her desk, “No point in sending the both of you, right?”

You hated the fact that even your teacher was now mocking you, resented the fact that this day just kept piling more shit on your shoulders. You shared a look with Eddie, who looked sorry for landing you in trouble; you thought that you should’ve been upset at him for it, but you weren’t. It seemed like Eddie was the only person not getting on your last nerve today.

You rose to your feet as your teacher walked back towards you, a slip of paper in her hand outstretched to you. Haphazardly, you threw all your belongings in your bag before aggressively snatching the note from your teacher.

“You give that to the detention attendant, I don’t want to hear that you ran out on it.” She instructed with that hint of satisfaction in her tone. You glowered back at her.

“Bite me.” You spun on your heels as various students made, yet again, sounds of excitement at the harsh tone and words you threw at the teacher. As she started spewing some kind of reprimand that you weren’t listening to, you marched out of the room.

What a fucking day. You stomped down the hall, steam practically coming from your ears with how pissed off you were. In annoyance, you balled up the detention slip and tossed it at the nearest trash can, although you missed, which irritated you even more.

You’d never gotten detention before. Under different circumstances, you probably would have been thrilled to be sent to detention, to finally be enough trouble for a teacher to send you off. But after the morning you’ve been having, all you could feel was frustration.

Less than a minute after you stomped out of math class, you heard a door swing open and hit a wall somewhere behind you, prompting you to turn towards the noise. And once you saw who it was, you couldn’t help but smile with a surprising sense of glee.

Eddie Munson, your knight in shining armor.

He dashed down the hall to catch up with you, smiling just as widely as you were as he practically skidded to a halt in front of you. A small laugh escaped you as he hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath. He looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” He instructed simply, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall with him. You allowed yourself to be led through the school, your smile settling into a simple, pleased smirk, relieved to have Eddie’s company.

“And where are we off to?” You asked, receiving a shrug from Eddie. Once you two had turned into a new hallway, he slowed so you could walk side-by-side, experimentally sliding his hand into yours. Once again, you still felt hesitant at more intimate contact such as this, but you allowed it without cringing too hard.

“Anywhere but here, you troublemaker.” He teased with a content smile, guiding you towards the school exit.

“So, we’re skipping?” You inquired, and you had to admit the idea really appealed to you right now - you’d had enough of today, and if you didn’t escape you thought you might explode with utter frustration.

“If that’s alright with you, princess.” Eddie gave you a silly expression while bumping your shoulder.

“Please get me the hell out of here.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The most time you’d ever spent in a video arcade was for one pathetic round of Galaga while on a date with a boy your freshman year. Following that, you decided arcades weren’t for you - they were always crowded with a bunch of kids running around and shouting, and you’d branded all the adults that spent time at arcades as total losers. What could possibly be so appealing about games designed for children?

So, when Eddie pulled up in front of the Palace Arcade, you gave him a critical look, which he chose to ignore entirely as he stepped out of the van. He rounded to your side and opened the door, offering you a hand like a royal stepping out of a coach. You looked between his hand and his face for a moment, still judging the choice to come to an arcade. Reading the look on your face all too well, Eddie pulled his own affronted expression.

“What, too good for arcade games?” He put on an over-the-top, almost Shakespearean tone while placing a melodramatic hand to his chest, “But I’ve brought you to the Palace, the finest establishment in town for the ice princess.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh at him, unwilling to admit that even Eddie’s dumbest jokes were starting to win you over. Nonetheless, you took his outstretched hand with a large sigh, stepping out of the van despite your lack of interest in this place. Eddie, of course, smiled triumphantly, closing the door behind you and leading you into the arcade.

Given that it was only about noon, the place was virtually dead, which was quite the relief - no need to worry about loud, annoying kids getting in the way. Aside from the two of you and the Palace employee, there was a group of three college-aged boys clustered around Frogger and a lone man focused on something called Paperboy. None of the patrons looked up when you and Eddie entered, and the only reason the employee took any note of you is because it was simply his job. Of course, once he spotted you, he did a double-take.

The employee’s jaw hung slack as if in disbelief, and he nervously greeted you two, trying to keep his attention on Eddie. It appeared that the two were familiar with one another, and you wondered if Eddie really spent that much time here or if maybe this was a guy that used to go to school with the two of you. Either way, their interaction wrapped up quickly, and Eddie dragged you to the change machine.

As Eddie inserted a few bills, you looked around at the other arcade patrons, who finally seemed to take notice of you. In the group near Frogger, one of the boys nudged his friends, insisting they both look up; none so subtly, they all looked at you as the music from their arcade cabinet seemed to signal game over. You looked back with a raised brow and cold eyes, causing them all to quickly look away, although you were certain you’d probably catch them spying again. As you gazed back at Eddie, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips - there was something about being the only chick in the arcade that amused you, something about being totally out of place and totally out of Eddie’s league.

Eddie stashed the change in his pocket, holding out a few quarters that you tentatively took from his hand.

“What first, princess?” You looked at him with a judgmental expression, causing him to narrow his eyes critically, “Come on, this’ll be fun.”

“Sure…” You looked around and assessed the arcade, pointing at the nearest cabinet without any consideration, “That one.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh at your choice while shaking his head, knowing you didn’t care one bit what game you started with, “Dig Dug, huh?”

You made another face at him, so he simply rolled his eyes and led you towards the game. He leaned against the cabinet while crossing his arms, giving you an expectant look; in turn, your brow scrunched.

Eddie shrugged, “Well, go for it - this one was your idea.”

“I don’t want to.” You responded as if affronted by the suggestion, “You play.”

Eddie once again rolled his eyes with an exacerbated grin, “I don’t play Dig Dug.”

“Then play something else.” You instructed stubbornly.

“You aren’t getting out of this one.” Eddie countered, motioning towards the cabinet he still rested against, “So, be a big girl and play the game.”

You gaped at his response, feeling a slight stir at his word choice. There was a challenging glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t going to back down easily, that he could volley with you all damn day. As you closed your mouth with a small purse to your lips, you looked around the arcade with a raised brow.

“I don’t want to play that one.” You crossed your arms, to which Eddie once more smirked at your stubborn determination.

“Then choose a different one.” He responded while mimicking your body language.

You narrowed your eyes at him before your gaze studied the rows of arcade cabinets, recognizing none of the names. This was something you were grossly uneducated on, arcades making just about as much sense to you as a foreign language. It wasn’t until you finally recognized the name of one that you allowed yourself to meet Eddie’s stare again.

“Okay. That one.” You once again pointed past his shoulder, so Eddie twisted around to see which cabinet finally caught your interest. A faint laugh escaped him as he looked back to you with an amused expression across his face.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong.” His tone seemed to be daring you to argue, to prove him wrong. You pulled another face at him.

“I don’t like any of these. But I’ve seen that stupid monkey before.” Eddie shrugged in acceptance of your response as he continued to grin, pushing off the Dig Dug cabinet.

“If you insist.” He taunted while turning to walk towards Donkey Kong, you following behind him with a huff. But as you were nearly there, the gang of college kids beat you to it, causing both you and Eddie to halt; he began to turn to you, prepared to ask what the new plan was now that the one cabinet you showed interest in was taken.

Of course, you weren’t about to have that. Sure, you didn’t care an ounce about these video games and you had zero interest in actually playing, but you’d already had enough today, and you’d be damned if you let these guys play Donkey Kong instead of you. So, you brushed past Eddie with a determined look, marching up to them with all the authority in the world.

“Excuse you,” You started rudely, drawing all their eyes in your direction. None of the three really looked like the nerdy type, so none of them backed down from you the way that you were used to, “I’m playing that one.”

They shared a laugh, clearly amused by your attempt to intimidate them. One of the boys countered, “You’re outta luck, we were here first.”

You insisted more firmly, “Just move.”

One of them looked between you and Eddie, provoked by your attitude, “There’s a whole arcade, go find something else to play.”

They returned to the arcade cabinet as if you weren’t even there, which pissed you off even more. You groaned loudly, looking at Eddie and pointing harshly at the boys as if there was something he could possibly do about them. He simply shook his head and grabbed your elbow, lightly tugging you along.

“They beat us to it.” He said as if there was some unspoken arcade rule that you weren’t familiar with. You glared at the boys as Eddie led you down the row, grinning as if to calm you down, “Come on, I got something I think you’ll like.”

“Doubtful.” You countered like a child, catching the way Eddie smiled to himself, both amused and enervated by your attitude. The two of you came to a halt in front of something called Tapper, and you glanced up at Eddie, awaiting an explanation.

“This one’s easy,” he started while presenting the cabinet to you, “Just serve drinks.”

“Okay…” You took in the pixelated graphics on the screen, hesitantly holding up a coin as you considered the game.

“Come on, just give it a try.” Eddie urged. You looked at the simple instructions next to the joystick while finally loading the coin into the machine. As the game began, Eddie turned his attention to the next cabinet over.

Eddie was right about this game being easy, at least for the first few rounds, although once you reached the first “game over” screen you groaned with frustration. That didn’t stop you from inserting another coin and trying again, much to Eddie’s amusement. You were getting the hang of this and, although you weren’t ready to admit it, you were coming to even enjoy Tapper.

Eventually, you ran out of coins, so you returned your attention to Eddie, who had been caught up in his own game. You watched him for a few moments before realizing the college boys were no longer at the Donkey Kong cabinet. Although you shouldn’t have cared so much, you nonetheless felt a sudden eagerness to run over and hog the game you previously missed out on. Hell, you didn’t even know what that game was about, but considering your previous snub, you now simply had to play this damn game.

So, you turned your gaze back to Eddie, who was incredibly focused on the shooting game he was in the middle of, “Donkey Kong is open.”

“So, go play.” He responded with a far off tone, clearly caught up in what he was doing.

“I don’t have any coins.”

In an almost silly motion, Eddie nudged his hip in your direction, “I have some in my pocket.”

You looked down towards his hips, wondering why he didn’t simply pull his hand from the game for a moment to give you a few coins.

Impatiently, his eyes flicked over to you for only a moment; he could tell what you were thinking, “Just reach in and grab a few.”

“Uh, no.” Your voice oozed with attitude.

“Then no Donkey Kong.” He replied with a simple shrug. With a slight glare, you looked between his face and the screen, watching his hectic game for a few long moments. Your gaze drifted back towards Donkey Kong with a mild longing, but you quickly righted yourself - you did not care that much about a stupid arcade game. You could wait until Eddie was done, you didn’t need to play it that bad.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention as a new man entered the arcade, and your first thought was “shit, is he going to play Donkey Kong?” Why the hell did you care so much? But you couldn’t risk missing out on the game again, so you returned your attention back to Eddie, taking him by total surprise as you reached into his pocket and extracted a handful of coins quickly before you could think about how intimate that action was.

“Jesus, warn a guy before you go digging around in his pants.” Eddie chided with a playful grin, not allowing his gaze to stray from the shooter in front of him.

“Shut up.” You countered while marching towards Donkey Kong, determination etched across your face as you relished in the stupid victory of finally being about to play this damn game.

Of course, you very quickly learned why Eddie had told you before that you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong. Your dumb little man in overalls lost all his lives within the first minute of you playing, and you let out an exasperated sigh as you slapped your hand down on the control panel. With a glare, you loaded another coin in, but due to your frustration you died even quicker than you had the first time, letting out another upset sound before you marched away from Donkey Kong as if the game had personally offended you.

Eddie was still focused on Robotron as you returned to his side with a huff, the sound causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. You glared at his face, “That game is stupid.”

“I told you.” He answered simply, amused by how easily you gave up on it.

“Why doesn’t it work?”

“Have you considered that you’re just bad at it?” Eddie’s eyes briefly look at you, that annoying grin of his not faltering for a moment. Your glare darkened as you turned to walk off, but Eddie’s voice stopped you from going anywhere, “Oh, come on, just wait. I’ll show you how to play the stupid monkey game.”

So, you waited impatiently for Eddie’s game to end, your eyes repeatedly drifting over to Donkey Kong as if in fear that someone else would take the machine from you. Once he was finally done with Robotron, Eddie gave you a teasing look, knowing that you were eager to return to the game that you supposedly didn’t like. With an adamant look, you spun around and marched back towards the machine, knowing that he was following right behind you.

“Just watch, I’ll play the first level for you.” Eddie instructed while loading in the money. He craned his neck back and forth, shaking out his arm as if he were warming up for some epic fight; you nearly smiled, but kept it to yourself. You leaned over Eddie’s shoulder a little as he began, “You have to be fast - this machine has a bit of a lag, so you need to think ahead.”

So, you watched Eddie play, annoyed at just how easy he made it look; evidently, he had a fair amount of practice. And with the first level completed in what appeared to be record time, Eddie stepped back, yanking you quickly in front of the screen to take over the controls. Just as quickly as the level started, though, you lost a life, jumping right into the line of a pixelated enemy. A frustrated noise left you, causing Eddie to laugh from behind you.

“You’ve got two more lives,” He stepped up closer to you, reaching around to put his hand over the jump button, “Lemme help.”

Working together, you managed to make a little bit of progress, but you all too quickly lost again, shoving the joystick in the wrong direction. As you huffed in annoyance once more, Eddie placed his free hand on the small of your back as if to remind you to calm down, the touch nearly causing you to jump from its gentleness.

“Okay, new plan.” Eddie stepped behind you, close enough that your back bumped against his chest. Your shoulders stiffened as he settled his hands on top of yours, your heart skipping as you realized you were pinned between him and the stupid Donkey Kong machine. Thank god he was behind you, because otherwise he would’ve seen the way your cheeks went red, the way your eyes widened with surprise.

You could feel Eddie’s breath against your ear, practically causing you to shudder, “Alright, let’s do this.”

As the level started again, you were grateful that Eddie was taking the reins, controlling your hands with his own, because your brain was way too jumbled to think clearly. Why the hell were you so nervous? How was Eddie Munson doing this to you? You were certain it had more to do with your disdain for people touching you, but you were far too confused to even begin to entertain why you felt so anxious with Eddie practically flush against your back.

You were so zoned out that you hadn’t even realized that the level was complete until Eddie stepped back, a victorious little laugh escaping him. Before you had time to even get your head on straight, the third level began, but you all too quickly fumbled, your game coming to a pathetic end. Composing yourself, you meet Eddie’s eyes with total coolness, hoping that the redness of your cheeks had gone away. His expression didn’t seem to indicate that he noticed anything off about you, so you took a deep breath.

“Help me again.” You instructed as you fished a coin from your pocket. Eddie looked mildly surprised by the instruction, as if he too was just realizing how intimate his assistance was the first time. You simply raised a brow at him while loading the machine with money, straightening your shoulders as he came up behind you once again.

You tried to focus on the game this time as Eddie placed his hands on top of yours again, doing your best to ignore how warm he was behind you, the way his cheek brushed against the crown of your head, how his grip on your hands seemed to be a little bit more firm. You took a couple of deep breaths and focused, approaching this the same way you did skating - with attentiveness to the goal. And your goal was to ignore Eddie and actually beat a level of this god damn monkey game.

So, you watched your little man run and jump across the screen studying the timing as Eddie moved your hands with his own, noting the subtle delay between the control command and the character movement on the screen. Even as you began to understand, you still recognized that it wasn’t going to be easy for you to beat as a total novice to gaming. As the first level came to an end, Eddie began to step back, his hands hovering just over yours, but you turned your head quickly, practically bumping foreheads as he stopped pulling away.

“Wait, one more round.” You instructed, his face so close to yours that you practically went cross-eyed trying to meet his gaze. You saw Eddie’s jaw clench slightly before you faced forward again, his hands settling on top of yours once way.

By the time you two completed the second level, you were grinning triumphantly, satisfied that you were winning, even if only because Eddie was helping you. As the screen went black for a brief moment, you glanced at the content expression of Eddie behind you, feeling his chin move against your head as he, too, smiled largely.

Instead of pulling away, Eddie asked simply, “One more?”

You hummed in agreement as the third level started, once more studying Eddie’s timing as he breezed through the game as if he’d played it a hundred times. For all you knew, he probably had. Just like with his guitar, Eddie’s hands moved with expertise, guiding yours with ease as you two once again completed the course on screen. This time, you let Eddie step back, feeling a little nervous as you realized you had to face Donkey Kong alone again. You also felt a very mild wave of disappointment, but you quickly shoved that aside so you could focus on your game.

But, of course, you struggled without Eddie’s assistance, fumbling the jump time and losing a life. You took a deep breath through your nose as you tried to focus, feeling Eddie’s gaze burning into you as the level started over. You tried to ignore the intensity of his stare as you started again, running through the level as fast as you could. You managed to get much farther than before, but you nonetheless made another mistake.

You looked towards Eddie, prepared to ask him for help, but he shut you down before you got a word out, “Oh no, you wanted to play this, remember? I can’t keep playing for you.”

You pouted only for a moment, returning your attention to the screen, trying and failing once more to beat the game. You threw your head back with an annoyed groan, stepping away from Donkey Kong while crossing your arms.

“I don’t see why people play this stupid game, it’s impossible.” You whined, causing Eddie to laugh while rolling his eyes.

“That’s the point - it’s challenging. You can’t be a winner all the time.” He teased while dipping his head down closer to yours, seeing right through your frustrations. To Eddie, it was obvious that you weren’t used to losing, and he loved how worked up you were getting over an arcade game of all things.

“If I’m not going to win, then I don’t want to play.” You countered childishly, your eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment on that. You spun on your heel and began to walk away from the offensive game cabinet, hearing Eddie following behind you.

“That’s part of the fun, ya know.” He started. You half expected him to sling his arm over your shoulders as he normally did, but this time he refrained, as if all that contact during Donkey Kong was just a little too much for one day. You threw him a look.

“Well, it’s not fun for me.” You weren’t sure where the hell you were walking off to considering that there wasn’t anywhere in the Palace to hide, but you were too caught up in simply being stubborn. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes with a hint of fondness as he lightly snagged your arm and stopped you. You met eyes, Eddie grinning at your attitude that he was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“You say that now, but I guarantee you’ll be asking me to bring you back.” He teased, receiving a small glare from you in response. He shook his head a little, “Let’s go, your pouting is making this no fun.”

You could tell Eddie was just taunting you, so you gave his shoulder a small shove while pulling away from his hold. You wouldn’t dare admit that you actually had some fun, so instead you began for the exit, your tone nonchalant as you responded, “Thank god, if I stay here any longer the nerds might try to convert me.”

Behind you, Eddie shook his head fondly as he followed you out.

additional a/n: shoutout to Tapper for being my favorite arcade game

taglist: @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

378 notes · View notes

literaila · 1 year ago

Note

peter and sad!reader ? anything you want to write about them

at least there’s that

tasm!peter x reader

warnings: sad reader, annoyingly happy peter

peter’s lingering in the kitchen. you know this because you can feel him, the same way you feel it when you’re forgetting something, or when you wake up late and immediately know it.

and because you can always feel him—not that you’ll admit it—even if he’s not here.

but tonight he’s actually lingering. literally sitting with his back against the wall, trying to pretend like there’s something important you’re supposed to be telling him.

“are you sure you trust me enough to pick?” he asks, for probably the seventh time.

“yes, peter.”

“i might pick a youtube video of cool spider-man clips.”

“i’ll watch it.”

“really?” he’s closer now, sneaking towards you like you can’t tell. his aura is impending.

you turn towards him with a fake smile. “with my eyes closed, obviously.”

“obviously.”

this might be the end of this discussion—because peter was supposed to be picking a movie while you compiled the snacks, five minutes ago—but it never is with him.

“are you sure that you’re sure?”

“go, peter. you’re scaring the popcorn.” you mutter, no effort in the joke. but you mean it when you tell him to leave.

you just want to be alone for a minute.

he must sense this in your tone, because he finally says “okay, okay” with his hands up and leaves the room.

you feel guilty for the way you slouch as soon as his absence is apparent.

you wanted this, you think, this time with him. but now that you have it, it’s nothing like you expected.

you’d wanted to be in a good mood. to quip with him and laugh into his mouth at some funny movie. to throw popcorn at each other. to tackle him and stay there for the rest of the night.

instead, you’re kind of hoping that you fall asleep ten minutes into the movie. kind of hoping that he gives up and goes home for the night.

which is ridiculous, because really you just want to tether yourself to him. skin to skin, eye to eye.

but you don’t want to drag him down, so it’s probably best if he just leaves.

you lean against the counter, rubbing your eyes. you’re not going to tell peter any of this, obviously, because he’ll try to fix it like the sweet guy he is.

but there’s nothing to fix. just you in this kitchen, all alone.

the microwave beeps, the popcorn ready. the assortment of weird sodas the peter brought over have been equally divided into your best glasses. the candy peter also brought in fancy little bowls. it’s all ready.

just waiting on you now.

peter must think the same, because he calls from the other room. “babe! what about up?”

“nothing that’s going to make me cry please.” you walk into the room then, trying not to seem suspicious.

“‘oh yes, peter, i trust you to pick the movie.’” he grumbles, doing a terrible impression of you.

“there’s ground rules.”

he smiles over at you, jumping up. “do you need help?”

“no, peter,” you shoo him away, even as he takes the popcorn bowl from him. “did you pick a movie?”

“yes.”

you nod, sitting down next to him so that your thighs are touching. but you sit back before he can put an arm around you. “what?”

“i thought you trusted me,” you glance at him, his eyes wide, and a ridiculous pout. “close your eyes.”

you sigh. “really?”

“yes. lest you doubt me.”

you do close your eyes, and feel that tearing in your chest. some type of exhaustion that’s excluded from medical books. that kind that makes you want to crawl into your room and cling to your bed like an antidepressant.

the movie begins playing, dramatic opening music filling your living room. but you don’t open your eyes.

just one more minute.

peter nudges you. “did you fall asleep?” he asks you, amused.

it takes a moment but you open your eyes, coming face to face with him and his squinted eyes. “no, sorry.”

“are you tired?”

“i’m excited for this movie,” you correct, unenthusiastically. “un-pause it.”

peter looks dubious but he does as you ask, still looking at you as you watch the rolling credits.

after a minute of this you sigh. “why are you staring at me.”

“somethings wrong.”

“you chose the movie.”

“with you.”

you look at him, with his brow furrowed in concern. “no, peter.”

“what’s going on, bug?” he asks, ignoring you. he moves closer, even though you hadn’t thought that was physically possible.

“nothing.”

“you’re a terrible liar, c’mon. you’re all drowsy.”

“i’m fine.”

he rolls his eyes like you’ve already been over something and he’s repeating himself. “you sure you want to watch a movie? we could talk. or just cuddle. i’ll take a nap with you.”

“give me that,” you grab the remote from him, frustrated. you press play and stretch away from peter.

he doesn’t protest as you move away from him and hide between the cushions of the couch.

but you know that he doesn’t look away.

“okay,” he says to you, very softly. “we don’t have to talk. just let me know if you need anything.”

you nod, stiffly, and peter finally begins to watch the movie.

and your apartment is comfortable at its 72 degrees, but you suddenly feel very cold inside. missing something that you didn’t know was there.

there’s something scratching your throat, like a physical aptitude of desperation. the movie begins to blur, and your eyes hurt. your chest hurts, like someone’s punched you, but you know that there’s only one person to blame.

just you, and your shivering heart.

you swallow, looking to peter. he’s watching the movie peacefully, throwing popcorn into his mouth.

you feel bad for him. and for yourself.

but it doesn’t stop you from sliding over to him, your arm brushing his.

“peter,” you whisper.

“hmm, bug?”

“will you cuddle with me?”

peter looks over to you, his face soft and his eyes watching yours carefully. “of course.”

his arms goes around your shoulder before you can blink, and he’s crushing you into him. he smells like butter, but his shirt is warm.

you don’t mind being smushed to death, so you just move into him.

he puts his other arm around you too, moving into some type of makeshift hug. “good?”

you nod into his chest.

the two of you sit for a moment. just blissfully holding onto each other, peter squeezing like he’s worried you might disappear.

at least you’re not cold. that feeling is still there, but dimmed, because the feeling of peter is much more welcome.

the movie is irrelevant, and your eyes fall elsewhere, thinking about nothing. and everything. as usual.

peter starts to run his hand up and down your arm and you shiver, making him laugh.

you hope that it’ll bleed into you. that somehow, skin to skin exposure will spread whatever sort of easygoing disease he has. but probably not.

still, peter leans down, resting on your head “hey,” he whispers to you.

“hey,” you say back, as response.

“i love you, you know?”

“i know,” you repeat, smaller now. “i know.”

“okay,” peter smiles down at you, kissing your hair. “as long as you know.”

you sit with that for a moment, still not wanting to say anything to peter about any of this.

but you relent. “will you stay the night?”

peter nuzzles into you, his nose writing words into your scalp. you can feel his heart beating in time with yours. “whatever you want,” he says.

at least there’s that.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 14 days ago

Text

Habits 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Andy Barber, Cole Turner (Professor AU)

Summary: your life is thrown into chaos after a night out goes awry.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

Professor Barber wraps up the lecture. You sit near the front despite your urge to hide from everyone and everything. You slowly pack up as the rest of the class does the same. They’re faster than you. Your next class is an hour off and you don’t have much else to do.

You check your phone. Even if Mercedes messaged, you wouldn’t answer and yet the fact that she hasn’t irks you even more. Is she still sleeping off the night or does she not even realise what happened to you? You can’t help but ask why she wasn’t there waiting for you to wake up.

“Hey, you okay?” The deep voice draws you out of your trance.

Your bag strap catches on the armrest before you can turn. You untangle it and peer down the few rows to the front of the hall. The professor stands looking expectantly up at you. You blink and glance around. Everyone else is gone.

“Yeah, sorry,” you walk along the row to the centre aisle and descend the steps, “heading out.”

“I’m not chasing you off,” he insists, “Coral, right? You were in my Intro class last year.”

“Uh, yeah, I was,” you reply.

“Well, happy to have you back.”

“Yeah, good to be back,” you say.

“You sure everything’s alright?” He asks.

“Super,” you lie and fake a smile. “Thanks. Have a good day, Professor.”

You leave before he can interrogate you. He's experienced enough that you’re sure he could make you crack just as if you were on the stand. You might not have anything you have to do, but you do need another coffee before you face your next lecture.

Your second class is in a smaller room. Instead of the typical rows of crowded chairs and lap desks, there are full tables. You sit at one, notebook out, phone face down, ready to forget real life for that three-hour block. Your mother’s voice rings in your head; ‘fuck-up’.

You’re going to prove her wrong. You’re going to prove everyone wrong, even yourself. You can do this. You’re not stupid, you’re just... careless. Last night was a lesson and you came to learn. You sniff and subtly swipe away the tears before they can fall.

The professor gives you a ten-minute break. Your stomach is acid and your body is brittle. You’re starting to really feel it all. You go the bathroom and whimper as you sit. You didn’t feel the bruises before. You’re used to a bit of chafing between your thighs but ouch, those are tender.

You wash your hands and head back to class. You take your phone out of your pocket. Still no message from Mercedes, but there is one waiting for you from an unknown number. You move out of the way of another student and unlock your phone.

You tap the conversation. ‘Still think of last night’. The message floats above a video. You hit play and watch. Your knees buckle.

You see your own drunken face reflected in a dirty mirror. You recognise the club counters as you bend over the sink, body jerking as a large hand holds your head up. You moan senselessly as your eyes droop and your tongue lolls out. The man behind you keeps his face out of frame as he grunts and thrusts into you.

You spin so your back hits the wall and you cover your mouth with your hand. Your head spins and you turn to sprint back to the bathroom. You burst in, ignoring the other girls at the sink and race into a stall. You spit bile into the toilet.

Holy shit. No. No. You woke up in a fucking hospital and you didn’t even realise what happened to you. You didn’t even think of it. How fucking stupid can you be?

You brace the seat of the toilet and heave. You steady your breath. In, out. You flush and go back out to wash your hands and mouth. You block out the world around you.

You go back to class and sit down. You stare at the whiteboard and wait for the lecture to continue. It’s all you can do to keep from falling apart.

By the end, your notes are mindless scribbles. You can’t focus. You leave, the first one out unlike the last class.

You can’t stop. You don’t know where you’re going, you just need to be alone. You can’t think. What are you supposed to do? Do you tell someone? Show someone the video?

You stumble and slump onto a bench. You bend over and cradle your head as you try to contain the chaos. Why would you do that? You’re going into law, you know what happens to people like you. No one listens and if they do, the odds of something being done is low. Minuscule. That’s why you’re doing PR law, not the criminal brand.

Your eyes tinge as you sit up and stare off into the distance. You went out, got drunk, took a pill, did everything they warn you not to do and you got exactly what you asked for. This is the consequence of your own behaviour. Even if that creep took advantage of you, you served yourself up on a platter.

You pull out your phone. You’re deleting it. The conversation, the video, the everything. You can only be grateful that your mind already wiped the memory. It’s the only thing you have to be grateful for.

You bring up the conversation, trying not to see the video, but another message is there.

‘Did you have a good class?’

Fuck no. Delete. Gone. Whoever he is, he can rot. You don’t want to know, not ever. And no one else can know.

It never happened.

#cole turner #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark cole turner #dark!andy barber #dark!cole turner #cole turner x reader #andy barber x reader #series #drabble #habits #au #professor au #defending jacob #ghosted

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mosaickiwi · 1 year ago

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Sick Nasty

Rendacted is (love) sick who cares if it's cute and weird get him to a doctor!!! Kinda drabble. GN reader.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

You wanted to surprise your boyfriend early in the morning to get breakfast, but he didn't answer the door. He hadn’t responded to your text messages either. So you simply used the key he’d given you months ago to let yourself in. But instead of finding him awake and distracted by something else, a concerning sight greeted you in his bedroom.

[REDACTED] was splayed out face down on one side of his mattress, in an unusually deep sleep. His tank top had ridden up a little, exposing his lower back. One tattooed arm dangled off the edge of the bed, while the other was slung over a body pillow—decorated with a particular sweatshirt you hadn't seen in a while. That didn't actually concern you too much. What did, however, was the strange halo of plushies and more of your clothes stacked around his head. Several hoodies, another sweatshirt, and some sweatpants that you'd left for whenever you were staying the night encircled his dark hair like a summoning ritual.

You looked down at him with mixed feelings, but silently pulled out your phone anyway. "At least I have evidence of your crimes now," you hummed while snapping a few photos. Once that was taken care of, you bent down and shook his shoulder. He felt surprisingly hot.

He mumbled and rolled onto his side, disturbing his shrine. His blue eyes were clouded as he roughly pushed his messy bangs back. He sucked in a breath before giving you a tired smile. "Oh, Angel? G'morning," he yawned. As he sat up and stretched, he looked down at the clothes and stuffed animals strewn across his sheets. It took a moment for his eyes to widen a fraction, as if he wasn't quite sure he was awake yet. "Shit. I can explain."

You ignored him and grabbed both his cheeks, worriedly studying his face. He immediately drifted into careful silence at your touch, eyelids fluttering closed. His skin felt like it was on fire. There was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. And despite just waking up from what must've been a coma, he looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes far worse than usual.

A frown pulled at your lips. "You're sick."

"I was going to wash them," your tired boyfriend mumbled in a hazy voice, his head falling forward slightly. "The scent just helps me sleep—"

"I'm not talking about my clothes, you thief. You have a fever,” you emphasized and pulled away, standing back up. He whined in disapproval, leaning forward to follow your retreating hands. You held still so he’d calm down before continuing, “Do you have any medicine here? I’ll have to go to the pharmacy if not.”

“I don’t think so. ‘Can go with you.” He weakly tugged you close and pressed his head against your stomach.

“No.”

You felt him groan into your shirt, “I’ll wait in the car.”

“You can wait in your bed.”

“Angel, please. Y'hurting me.” He squeezed a little tighter, but you knew it’d be much easier than normal to get out of his grip.

Even so, you relented with a fake sigh. Letting him have his way at the moment would hopefully make him more agreeable later. “I can just get it delivered. Scoot over,” you demanded and gently nudged him. He excitedly moved away to make room as you crawled onto the covers. You made a point of gathering all your clothes into a pile at one corner of the bed. They’d have to be dealt with later. “Since you’re sick, I won’t take these back just yet.”

[REDACTED] innocently smiled—without even a hint of shame—but didn’t say a word. Instead, he draped himself over your lap to relish in his victory. You sat back and scrolled through your phone to place the delivery order. It didn't take long.

“We’ve got 20 minutes. Can you try to be a bit more reasonable by then?” you asked and dropped your phone to the side. You busied yourself with his hair, threading through the dark strands as he closed his eyes.

He barely mumbled a ‘hmm’ in response, much too content with your fingers massaging his scalp. Unfortunately for his immune system (and your legs), he had no intentions of getting out of your lap.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo writing #so i wasn't sure if i should say drabble or not cause like #how come google defines a drabble as 100 words or less #definitions don't mean anything #anyways i am ~normal~ about he <3 #i want all his germs

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its-all-papaya · 4 months ago

Note

landoscar + 41? 🧡 maybe fake/pr-dating-turned-real-dating coded, so maybe even + 56? like, they realize the fake wasn't that fake anymore 🙈 (insert i am in love are you in love audio here)

they are both in love, anon.

(because i found it kind of impossible to explain without adding sooo much exposition... oscar is not a driver. he's just... a guy. that mclaren found. to date lando. suspend your disbelief, idk)

send me a ship and a number and i will write a kiss

41. to pretend (or is it?) | landoscar | 1.2k

Lando is in over his head. His aching, pounding, hurts-so-bad-it’s-making-him nauseous head. If he’d known one throw-away trip to the club in Miami was going to complicate his life so irreparably, he would have tucked his P1 trophy into bed next to him and gone straight to sleep like a good, boring boy. Instead, he’d gotten catastrophically fucked-up on any number of things he doesn’t remember and tossed himself dick-first into an entire publicity nightmare. That’s the worst part, probably: Lando doesn’t even remember. He remembers taking shots with Max and Danny and he remembers – barely – stumbling to the bathroom, and the next discernable point on that mental timeline comes at approximately 6:45 a.m., when he’d woken up to go vomit and found his lock screen so full of notifications that it’d made him forget to wonder where the man he’d gone to bed next to had pissed off to so early.

Since then, every minute of Lando’s life not spent in the car has felt full wall-to-wall with interviews, and meetings with crisis management, and saying “I’d prefer not to comment on that” so many times he hears it on repeat like an ear worm when he’s falling asleep at night. And also Oscar. There’s been a lot of Oscar.

He’s waiting in the lobby of McLaren’s hospitality when Lando arrives down from his driver’s room after qualifying in Brazil. Lando wonders how he got in, if their bosses have finally decided he’s trustworthy enough to walk around unchaperoned. It’s funny that he ever didn’t have a pass, actually; he is technically a McLaren employee. Probably. Lando thinks he gets paid. They’ve never talked about the specifics.

Either way, however he got there, Oscar is by himself in the lobby, leaned back in a chair, thumbing at his phone. He looks up when he senses Lando’s arrival, and Lando must look even more pathetic than he even thought, because Oscar’s face immediately goes soft with concern and he leaps up to take Lando’s bag off his hands.

“Hey, you alright?” he asks. He slides the backpack onto his own shoulders and then steadies a hand in the middle of Lando’s back, thumb tracing comforting little circles near his spine.

Lando could lie, but there’s not really any point to that, so he lets his face fold into the grimace it wants to be in and presses his thumb between his eyebrows.

“Head’s killing me,” he says. It comes out weak.

Oscar makes a sad little sound in sympathy, and the palm on Lando’s back shifts to his side so Oscar can tug him closer. Lando doesn’t have the energy to fight Oscar on these things at the best of times lately, so he’s definitely not going to when he’s exhausted and sick with the pain behind his eyes. Even though there’s really nobody around to see them.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, then,” Oscar says, and Lando has never agreed to anything faster.

Oscar leads the way out of hospitality and through the paddock, fingers linked securely between Lando’s own. It’s baffling that he’s already been around this circus long enough to know the way without help. Nice, though, because Lando’s not really in a state to be of any.

They run into a few people along the way – fans or sponsors or employees. Lando doesn’t get the chance to tell which are which, because every time somebody new greets them, Oscar’s fingers tighten around his own and he talks the both of them cleverly out of the conversation before Lando can even consider what he would say if he was left to his own devices. It feels nearly impossible that less than six months ago, Oscar could barely say two words to Lando without being directly asked to.

“Oscar!” he hears as they’re nearing the exit, and they’re so close to relative quiet that Lando can’t help but groan about it. Oscar squeezes his hand again like an apology as he turns to address whoever it is.

"What’s up?” Oscar asks. When Lando lifts his eyes from the pavement, it’s Max stood before them. Both of his hands are hooked in the straps of his backpack and his chest is heaving just a little, like he’d jogged to catch them up.

“You’ll of course be at the race tomorrow?” Max asks. Lando’s not sure where this conversation is going, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t have to happen right now. He hopes the look he’s giving Max is sufficiently irritated.

It must do the job, because Max’s eyes brighten and he says “Not pleased about that, Lando?”

Oscar’s hand goes from Lando’s palm to his back again, quick, and before Lando can open his mouth, Oscar’s saying, “He doesn’t feel good.”

“Ah,” Max says. Lando can’t figure out the look he’s being given.

“The race tomorrow?” Lando presses. If they’re going to chat about whatever it was right now, they could at least get to the point.

Max nods, shifting his gaze back to Oscar, “You are staying, yeah?”

“Yeah," Oscar says, "Why?”

It’s taking too long. Lando squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead against Oscar’s shoulder, hoping the counterpressure might do anything at all for the hot ache in his brain. Oscar’s hand goes immediately to the back of Lando’s neck, like it’s habit, and his thumb starts drawing firm lines down the muscle there, hairline to nape. It feels…really, really nice, actually.

“You’ll fly back with us after,” he can make out Max saying, “to Monaco. Lando and I and a few others.”

That doesn’t really make sense. Oscar’s been planning to go home for a bit over the mini break, Lando knows, they talked about it nearly right away when the agreement was drawn up. Far be it from him to argue that point, though, not when Oscar’s saying “Yeah, thanks, mate,” and his thumb’s still easing the pain in Lando’s skull. Lando would blame it on the headache, but it’s not like he’ll mind the extra time with Oscar, either. Which Max knows.

Lando cracks his eyes open and shifts enough to squint suspiciously at his friend, but Max is just grinning happily at the pair of them.

“Very good,” Max says. Sure.

“That’s all?” Oscar asks. His thumb finally stills. Lando does not whine about it, but it’s a close thing.

“Yes,” Max says, “you can take grumpy home now.”

Then, before Lando can decide whether that’s worth getting upset over, Oscar squeezes the back of his neck and nudges him up off his shoulder. His eyes are apologetic when Lando meets them, and he kisses Lando once on the forehead as he slides their palms back together.

It’s nice. Domestic. Very convincing, probably. Oscar’s gotten really good at his job.

“We’ll see you, mate,” Oscar says.

Max clasps Oscar’s hand for a second, then squeezes Lando’s shoulder on his way by.

When he's a few steps off, Oscar says, “Ready?” like Lando hasn’t been begging to go this whole time.

Lando says yes, please and he can tell it's a little whiny, because Oscar says "Hey, okay love, I'm sorry" and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. Lando thinks Max is probably too far away to see it, but Oscar would know better.

It’s not until they’re finally settled into the back of the car, sides pressed together, that Lando remembers:

“Max knows about everything. You didn’t have to… he knows.”

Oscar’s gaze is soft and maybe a little sad, for some reason, but he smiles past it and combs his fingers through Lando’s hair until he settles.

“Yeah,” Oscar says as Lando’s head falls back against his shoulder, “He does.”

#answered #ask game #kiss prompts #soph writes #ficlet #landoscar #my landoscar #lando x oscar #landoscar fic #landoscar fanfic #does this even make sense #i can't tell if it's actually kind of bad... who's to say #“write fake dating without 2k of background and stakes” challenge level: impossible #i wrote this instead of sleeping or working or packing for my holiday

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aryesdanger24 · 5 months ago

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Who would everyone be at a convention....?

Laois: the overly obsessed fan over at the merch center, critically thinking whether the anatomy is off on characters solely for the fact that he is bored of waiting for his friends to get their pictures taken by people. Then he gets really into anything he actually knows and tells you EVERY DETAIL of why a print is so good at this particular stand.

You end up having to wait on Laois after everything because he keeps thinking and talking about that particular merch stand.

Reliable for holding stuff, not reliable for his constant change in location, and need to touch cosplays despite everyone telling him no. The cosplayers don't mind since Laois is not sexualizing them but often admiring their big props and asks questions that delight others to answer.

Marcielle: A person who loved the idea of cosplaying her favorite character and actually being them (horribly trying to act before giving up) only to realize she is the only cosplayer in the group and now she has to deal with people wanting her photo (she is proud yet shy and exhausted by the idea but has put too much effort into it already).

She constantly stares at any companion cosplayer, wishing to take a picture with them but being unable to do so, then she stares, then she stops staring because she realizes that she was. Ensue embarrassment for the rest of the day.

Senshi: the backpack man with everything from snacks to sewing needles to absolutely ridiculous amounts of water bottles. He basically lives at conventions and enjoys helping people out.

He is knowledgeable enough to do a panel about nearly anything that is basic knowledge but he feels better helping people physically rather than just teaching....he likes people passionate about things so he doesn't know much about any hot topics in media at the moment, he just enjoys atmosphere and likes to cook even in hotels. He is happiest when everyone is eating and retelling the highlights of the day.

Chilchuk: the veteran who manages to corral the group solely on his ability to multitask. He is someone who scopes out the area for food places and ends up getting hotel tickets since the others are unreliable in his eyes. Along with being a retail manager who pinches pennies and scoffs at every absurdly strange purchase his friends make, he has the most fun watching people and still enjoys the scarier and complex cosplays he sees.

He has a soft spot for idols because sometimes his daughters used to go to conventions and he would always take a picture to show his girls when he got home....he also gets a souvenir if it's in his budget.

Izutsumi: Cat girl by trade but not by heart (behaves like one but never buys any cat items, instead is gifted them frequently) she is the type of person to stare at something she wants for a while, then walking around before going back to buy it later.

She records any bullshit that happens on her phone for fun and is the type of girl that often wants to do anything that has competition (fake sword fights, martial arts, Parkour training, stunt man behind the scenes, racing, etc...) Anything that has a chance to be violent, she wants to watch or participate.

She is also the sore loser of the group and the one who voices her opinions directly. Not afraid of venturing on her own and catching up with the group later when she wants to.

Falin: Every group members dumb nerd who is interested in a little of everything. Money is tight, so she tries to trade items and often ends up actually succeeding.

She sometimes sells art but often forgets to do a lot of things for the booth, so she decided to enjoy being a vendor of weird things she makes.

Out of the group, she is the most directionally challenged yet somehow ends up where she needs to be at the right time (right answer, wrong equation person but with directions). She can be a mom at times and the child at others. She is also the one who often asks to take pictures of people, but all of them are terrible, so someone else takes a picture for her in the group.

Who is always hungry in the group?

Izutsumi because she wanders off the most and often comes back solely to get food from Senshi, but Marcielle is a quick second with how much she gets into things and forgets to feed herself.

Who drives everyone there?

Falin weirdly enough despite her directional horrors, but she is okay since Laios helps her....(they both get turned around however if they are in a deep discussion and miss a turn if no one else is in the car yet) and on occasion Chilchuck when he is farthest from the convention or wants to control when they leave. Also, Marcielle is no longer allowed to drive them after she almost got them killed because she thought there was a squirrel on the road.

Who buys the most stuff?

1. Marcielle (no contest, has many Fandom and has a weak self control if left alone)

2. Laois (often buys strange things that cost more than they should, has a high standard for items despite their strangeness)

3. Izutsumi (anything that is of interest to her she buys and often doesn't have a money limit)

4. Falin (Doesn't buy anything much, she likes looking the most, but she likes to buy smaller things and collects fun car stickers)

5. Chilchuck (Learned from the past and limits his spending. He doesn't spend much on food but occasionally finds an item that piques his interest).

6. Senshi (Only buys food, the items are just nice to look at but he doesn't need things to know what he likes, he only likes practical things)

What are their favorite items they've bought from a convention:

Laois: A fake Minotaur ring that you can put on your nose that is proportionally sized with Celtics markings

Falin: A collection of stickers involving a florally looking dragon dropping flowers from a small basket, it is on her bumper across the whole thing.

Marcielle: A beautiful hand crafted wooden staff of her favorite character. It is the only prop she owns that was not made by her or a friend.

Senshi: A blank cookbook that is covered with tree animals and plants from front to back with its own holder to help keep the book open.

Izutsumi: A real black metaled ninja sword she got that has red markings and and has an engraving of her family name.

Chilchuck: An idol print that his little girls love that he had signed and framed for his kids' 13th and 11th respective birthdays.

If lost, where would you find them at?

Laois: Artist Alley, gabbing up to anyone about their art

Marcielle: At any panel involving her interest that is informational

Izutsumi: Gaming Room or a room with a contest. Occasionally is just sitting on the floor in a hallway.

Falin: Merch/Vendor room, constantly looking and talking to other artists

Senshi: How-to or 101 sessions about crafting, if none available then he is in the viewing room.

Chilchuck: Often watches performances. If bored with them, he goes into the viewing rooms with Senshi. Both just commenting on how anime has changed or having nostalgia on how things used to be in their day.

Whose feet start hurting first?

Marcielle by far, she isn't used to standing but she walks all around the merch tables in cosplay so it's a bit heavier on her too so sitting isn't an option much.

If they held a panel, what would they all do?

Laois - The Best and Worst of Fantasy Creatures (Anatomy edition)

Marcielle - How to Make Elf Ears 101

Senshi - Fantasy Meal Guide (the Do's and Dont's of Cooking Unknown Recipes)

Izutsumi - Ninja Training (A Crash Course)

Falin - Drawing Dragons (and Other Fantasy Creatures)

Chilchuk - Rating Your Cosplays (Not for the faint of heart!)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi group #laois dungeon meshi #laois touden #senshi #izutsumi #laois #chilchuck #chilchuk tims #marcielle #falin touden #falin dungeon meshi #chimera falin #dunmeshi falin #dunmeshi

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whatdudtheysay · 2 years ago

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One night stands

(PT.2)

(Satoru Gojo x f!Reader)

Context - Gojo can't resist you. Not after he's already had a taste. So when he sees you entering campus pretty late, he doesn't hold back

Requested by @yaesstuff ❤︎ (not proofread)

Part 1

CW - Unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, squirting, semi-public sex, sloppy makeout

Gojo was watching you like a hawk all week. You really were confusing him. I mean. He literally fucked your brains out last week and you were acting like it never happened. Of course sukuna teased the fuck out of him too when getou snitched.

"Pft, couldn't make her cum, huh? Don't worry, satoru. Not all guys can make girls feel good." Sukuna hummed, focused on the videogame that he and Getou were playing.

"Shut the fuck up sukuna." Gojo spat, checking his phone and going through his many messages on Instagram.

Sukuna just rolled his eyes. "What? Bet I could make her squirt within fifteen minutes."

Gojo suddenly got up, catching the attention of the two boys.

"I'm going out to get more drinks."

"But we just bought-"

Gojo cut getou off by leaving the dorm, ruffling a hand through his hair as he made his way to the exit, the cold air prickling his skin. Obviously Gojo had no plan of getting more drinks, he just wanted to be away from sukuna. The way he talked about you made him feel.... Weird.

Gojo went into auto pilot, walking around campus whilst lighting up a cigarette, blowing puffs of air into the nights sky. He was going to continue doing laps around campus but then he spotted you, stopping dead in his tracks while he stared, watching as you ended the phone call you were on and adjusted your bag on your shoulder before pushing the doors open to the business department. Gojo contemplated what you'd be doing back here so late but figured you'd forgotten something.

Without thinking, his legs started making his way towards the entrance, entering after you and walking down the hall, peering into the few open rooms to no avail. He would've been oblivious but he then heard the sound of papers falling and your voice.

"Fuck," you cursed. Gojo walked further down the hall and peered into a door on his left, showing you in an empty I.T classroom, hovering over your computer whilst aggressively typing, your bag on the floor beside you.

Gojo walked in silently, stopping once he was behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, making you jump.

"You look frustrated." Gojo commented.

"Geez! Gojo-"

"Satoru. I think we're past formalities." Gojo corrected, grabbing a nearby office chair to sit on.

You lightly rolled your eyes before sitting down yourself, continuing your work.

"Did you follow me?" You accused.

Gojo put on a fake look of disbelief. "Me? I'd never."

You hummed softly, returning to what you were doing, Gojo peering over your shoulder.

"D'yu mind?" You asked, continuing to type up work.

"Not at all. Also you made a few errors."

You turned to face him, annoyance on your features. "What?"

Gojo pointed at the computer.

"The company you're working on didn't profit from those sales. They made too many products and not enough sales."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, your head slamming against the keyboard, a groan leaving you which almost made Gojo chuckle.

"I need to get this coursework done! I'll have to retake the class if I don't..." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face before focusing on the computer once more.

Gojo hummed thoughtfully.

"I'll help you. Besides. Finished mine few days ago."

You looked up at him, a big smile on your face. "Really? Ok thanks! Now help?" You rambled, moving the monitor closer to him.

You half expected Gojo to act smug about it but instead he actually helped you, telling you what to add and where you need to make changes, helping you complete a large portion of your project in the hour you were both there.

"Sheesh, 'm exhausted." You sighed, logging out of your account before grabbing your bag.

Gojo hummed in agreement before looking at the time.

1:00am.

He looked towards the open door and then at you, looking inside your bag to make sure you had everything. Gojo casually walked over to the door to close it before returning to you, making you look up at him.

He didn't give you a chance to question him this time, instead cornering you against him and the table, his hands running up your sides before he brought you into a warm kiss. You instinctively bit down on his lip, Gojo cursing as he retreated slightly, his tongue lightly slipping out to glide over his bottom lip.

"The hell was that for?" You asked, trying to ignore the warmth moving to your cheeks, instead looking at the blood on Gojo's lip.

Gojo didn't answer at first, instead staring at you silently.

You raised a brow and he finally sighed. "Isn't it obvious, pretty girl?"

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. "Seriously satoru?"

Gojo didn't answer, instead caging you between him and the table again, his mouth instead moving to your neck, making you gasp, your hands reluctantly moving up his chest to rest on the nape of his neck.

"Wait, satoru-" you tried to pry him off but he didn't show any signs of letting up on the attack he had on your neck. "someone might come in-"

Gojo just hummed, biting down into your flesh, a whimper leaving your lips. Gojo eventually began to trail down, pulling your shirt over your head to reveal your bra which he easily unhooked, slipping off the straps and letting the restricting material fall to the floor.

"Satoru-"

"Shh," Gojo hushed, looking up at you momentarily, "If you wanna stop just tell me, Kay?"

You nodded your head lightly, letting him continue. Gojo wasted no time, sucking and biting on one of your breasts whilst his free hand massaged your other mound, making sure to give them both equal attention whilst switching between them, leaving you gasping and whimpering. By the time he continued to trail lower, he'd gotten to your skirt, pulling it down along with your panties without any trouble.

You let out a frustrated whimper, making gojo look up.

"This is embarrassing, 'toru.." you mumbled, your hands moving up to cover your breasts.

Gojo realised you'd called him that nickname, a smirk stretching across his lips.

"Don't worry baby. I'll make you feel so good,"

You already knew that was a fact, so you stayed silent, letting him lick a stripe up your mound before kissing your clit lightly, chuckling to himself when you shuddered.

Gojo then let his tongue venture through your folds, lubricating you with his saliva and a mix of your slick.

"Wait- feels so good," you sighed, a hand moving to venture through Gojo's hair.

Gojo just hummed against you, continuing to make out with your pussy, enjoying the sudden jolts you did when his tongue prodded at your aching clit. Gojo then moved his hand up, letting his index finger slide through your folds, collecting your juices before moving to your entrance, pushing it into you, a broken whine leaving your lips, your hands tightening on his hair.

Gojo continued working you open, letting his middle finger slide in before he curled them, a loud moan coming from you, causing you to slap a hand around your mouth, your brows knitting together as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

"Satoru, I'm close-" you whimpered, your legs starting to shake as Satoru continued to lap at your clit, his fingers scissoring in and out of you at an almost rapid pace."please-"

"Please what?" He asked, moving away from your clit, allowing you to see how much your juices had soiled his face, your arousal dripping down his chin. The whole scene was too hot for you.

"I'm gonna-" you cried, not getting the chance to finish your sentence before you let out a loud whine, your eyes clamping shut as you came around his fingers. Once you rode out your high, you slowly opened your eyes, shocked at how soiled Gojo's shirt was now.

"Fuck- baby." Gojo commented. "Thought you were just a creamer."

Your eyes widened in realisation, your face warming even more.

"Well," you panted lightly. "You made me feel... Really good-"

Gojo couldn't hardly handle it anymore, rising to his full height to capture you in a rushed kiss, this time you allowed it, letting his tongue glide with yours, the taste of your arousal tickling your taste buds.

"Fuck, y/n. Can't wait anymore." Gojo groaned, grabbing your hand to lead it towards the bulge in his pants. "Think you can take me?"

You bit your lip, looking down at the print before meeting his eyes, nodding slightly, earning yourself a grin from Gojo.

"Alright. Bend over pretty thing."

You did as he said, bending over the table you were both previously working over, hands locking with each other as you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen.

Gojo rubbed your rear, his tip pushing against your entrance lightly, making you let out a shaky sigh. He suddenly snapped his hips into you, making you yelp in surprise, hands holding the table as he quickly rammed into you.

"Fu-Fuck, forgot how amazing this pussy felt-" Gojo lightly whined, groping your ass tightly.

"Don't- fuck, don't bullshit me," you groaned, trying your best to speak properly with the way he was pounding into you against the desk.

Gojo leaned over you, a hand moving toy with your clit.

"Don't believe me pretty thing?" Gojo whispered, his movements slowing down, making you bite your lip out of frustration.

You shook your head resulting in Gojo humming before he picked up his pace, making you moan aloud once more, your hand moving over your mouth as a last resort to keeping your lewd actions hidden.

"toru-" you cried, feeling your orgasm creep closer.

"Gonna squirt on my cock this time?" He questioned, hands rubbing your clit harder, making your eyes gloss over.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chanted, feeling yourself about to tip over.

Sadly, Gojo stopped his movements, making you look back at him, a frown on your face. He pulled out of you, large hands manhandling you so you were on your back, his hands securing you in place.

Gojo couldn't help but smirk at the frown and glare you gave him. Almost identical to the one where he had you under him in his car.

"Don't worry, pretty girl.." Gojo chuckled, taking in the sight of you. "I'll let you cum..."

He slid back into you, both of your mouths falling open at the feeling. Your toes curled at the feeling of Gojo's dick splitting you open, your legs instinctively moving to wrap around his waist.

"Satoru, feels so good-!" You whimpered, hands moving to tug at your jolting breasts as you looked up at him. Pure lust behind your eyes.

And Gojo loved every second.

"Shit, you're such a good girl. I'm the only guy that's ever fucked you this good, huh?"

You nodded frantically.

"Only you Satoru -"

He's heard that countless times from different side chicks or fuck buddies but from your mouth, It sounded even better to his ears. Gojo rutted into you harder, enjoying your eyes rolling back and your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, hands moving from your chest to rake at his chest.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum-" you moaned, your legs locking tighter around Gojo's waist.

"Fuck, princess, easy," Gojo cooed, even though your reactions only fueled his ego further.

You couldn't handle his harsh thrusts anymore, the coil in your stomach snapping, resulting in your mouth hanging open, drool lightly spilling from a corner as you squirted around his cock, Gojo's hips still ruthlessly ramming into your poor cunt, your orgasm making a huge mess on both you and the table.

"Fuck, that was so fucking hot," Gojo moaned, his hips reaching deeper into you, the overstimulation making you arch your back.

"Too muchh, 'toru," you mewled.

"Shit, gonna cum, just give me a minute."

You bit your tongue, letting Gojo use you as he pleased only turned you on further, the overstimulation finally settling, the discomfort slowly being replaced by pleasure.

Gojo on the other hand was on the edge of losing himself. He could tell by your moans getting louder that you were getting closer to another orgasm with the way you were sucking him so hard.

It felt like he was the one about to tap out. Your moans, your pussy giving him a death grip anytime he tried pulling out and the amazing warmth of your walls. He hadn't even cum yet but he felt like he was being overstimulated.

"Shit, satoru, I'm gonna-" you whined.

"Me too, princess." Gojo moaned, his thrusts becoming so rough to the point where you were scared the computers would fall off the table.

Your eyes quickly shut as you came around Gojo once more, a loud moan coming from both of you as your orgasm made yet another wet mess on the both of you, Gojo's hips lightly stuttering before he spilled his cum deep into you.

Both of you shivered as Gojo slowly pulled out, his dick covered in his cum. Gojo sighed deeply, watching as you slumped off the table and down to your knees, catching him off guard when you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip before you sucked against the underside, only stopping when you'd fully cleaned all of the aftermath off.

"You can consider that a 'thank you' for the help." You smirked, grabbing your clothes from the floor.

Gojo just hummed, still in the euphoric buzz of pleasure.

"Well..." He began, his breath uneven as he redressed himself. "If you want anymore help on coursework, you know I'm here."

You nodded thoughtfully as you pulled up your panties and skirt.

"Is that your respectful way of saying you wanna fuck again Satoru?"

He shrugged, his smirk returning.

"Well. We could always continue this at your dorm.."

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #satorugojo #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo x you

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shortcakecuties · 3 months ago

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Madoka magica x Twisted wonderland! (And reader >u<)

Summary, In which the madoka cast stumbles upon a mirror, leading them to somewhere unknown...

I will write a part 2 to this or make hcs to this !!

Ask by @themoshi666 ♡

The quintet was on daily witch patrol, just like any other evening. As they all entered the entrance to a labyrinth, they were greeted with a sweet lullaby.

"I thought these labyrinths were supposed to be scary, this witch is definitely is gonna be a cake walk." Kyoko commented confidently, her voice echoing in the elegant halls. The halls looked similar to a castle from a fairy tale, having huge windows showing fake scenery.

"I feel like a princess in here! Whoever turned into a witch definitely had taste." Sayaka mentioned, completely captivated by the beautiful architecture.

They finally arrived to what seemed the entrance to the main part of the labyrinth. All of them prepared their weapons to attack. Homura pulled the giant wooden doors and there it was, the witch. The majority of it was a mirror, with a face? Some of the quartet was distracted by the strange coffins levitating and the paintings of famous childhood stories decorated all over the strange patterned walls. "Its like someone's childhood here..." madoka mumbled. Sayaka agreed, "I kind of feel bad trying to kill this witch." Homura quickly interjected their conversation. "This is a witch, it's not human anymore. let's go."

No doubt that they were being bested by this witch. One by one they were getting exhausted. The labyrinth kept changing from a castle littered with hearts and checkered floor to an ocean with fish of all kind swimming around. With each place change, it kept getting stronger. It didnt help that their soul gems were getting quite clouded with darkness.

Kyoko yelled at everyone, "We have to go! Were getting nowhere with this fight!" Madoka looked over just for second and suddenly felt a sharp pain behind her. The tentacles of the sea witch had hit her. Homura caught a quick glance of it and yelled "Madoka!"

She fell to the floor hard near where they had all entered. Homura quickly came to her aid. The rest had given up quickly and rushed to the entrance. The wooden doors was now a huge coral blocking the entrance. Mami tried shooting at it but it wouldnt budge. Before everyone knows it, they were cornered. They all thought their last moments would be near as the sea witch swung her tenticals their way. Before they could feel any pain, a blinding light overtook their senses.

☆

Spending after school cleaning with ace, deuce, and grim was not on your plan today... Yet they somehow managed to drag you down with them. You sigh as you wipe down the mirror in the mirror chamber. Hearing them bicker for the 10th time today was getting to you. "It was not my fault! Those hedgehogs have a mind of their own!" Ace complained. Deuce followed up with, "all because you wanted to take a break...yeah, definitely not your fault." Grim snickered at ace and once again they continued to fight.

Suddenly you noticed something weird about the mirror it had a faint glow to it...maybe its just your imagination? The glow started to intensify little by little. You wanted to ask the trio about, "Hey-" before you could even finish, a blinding white light enveloped the room and you felt something push you down.

Multiple grunts of unfamiliar voices filled your ears. Once the light died down, there was revealed to be four, no..five girls? You were frozen in place once you saw one of the girls point a gun at you.

"Where are we?" Homura demanded. Ace and deuce tried to get closer but homura pointed the gun at them instead.

"Damn! You don't have to be hostile! You're the ones who came out of nowhere!" Ace argued back. Mami held her arm out, blocking homura's aim of fire.

"I dont think we're in a labyrinth anymore. These are actual humans." Mami stood up and apologized "Sorry, we were previously in a battle before this, were kind of shaken up."

Deuce finally spoke up, clearly confused, "then why are you guys in school uniforms?" To their dismay, their transformations faded. Quickly the rest of the girls stood up and walked up to mami,

"our soul gems look fine but I cant transform!" Sayaka panicked. Then quickly asked the boys, "how can we go home?! We're completely magicless here!"

You lift yourself up from the floor and walked over to the group, "all you have to do is go up to the mirror and say where you came from." You spoke, you had a gut feeling that it wouldnt work and they'll maybe end up just like you.

Madoka went up to the mirror and sternly told it, "bring us back to Mitakihara city!" The mirror did nothing. It only replied, "there is no such thing as Mitakihara city."

Everyone just stood in silence as they took in the information. You hate how you're always right.

☆

#mahou shojo madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica #madoka kaname #homura akemi #mami tomoe #sayaka miki #twsited wonderland #twst #disney twst #ace trappola #x reader #imagine #crossover #fluff #crack #serenity 💫#twst x reader #twst x yuu

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themadlu · 10 months ago

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Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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asirensrage · 2 months ago

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Saudade - Chapter 10

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Mikey x OC, Hanma x OC, Ran x OC, Mikey x OC x Draken Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Warnings: swearing, violence, threats of violence, murder, smoking, sex, consensual sex between teenagers, alcohol, recreational drug use, mention of trafficking, torture, family neglect, mentions of sexual violence. isekai OC. memory loss. unbeta’d **warnings are not exhaustive** Summary: No one seems to realize she doesn’t belong until she finally runs into her “new” brother, Hanagaki Takemichi. Now, hearing his story, Takara makes the choice to help him and hopefully find her way home, but faking it til you make it only lasts so long when you start losing the memories of the life you had before. As Takemichi becomes the only family she’s ever known, how far will she go to protect him?

notes: Thank you all so much for reading this and for your comments. They mean the world to me. I'm so glad you're enjoying this. Please let me know what you think about this chapter. I'd love to hear your theories about what's going to happen. 😏

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She doesn’t sleep.

How can she when she has to sort through the shit in her head? She doesn’t regret her choice to threaten Taiju. He nearly killed Takemichi and she’s not prepared to let him die, now or in the future. She’s already planned to do whatever it takes to keep him alive. Accepting Toman’s help would be another shackle around her neck. She’d be subjected to the orders of Mikey and the other leaders…including Kisaki. On her own she would have less protection, but she’d be free to make her own choices.

She ignores the texts that make her phone buzz and instead buries herself in her blankets. It would be easier if she didn’t give a shit about her brother, but Takemichi is the only one she has. He’s the only one who knows she doesn’t really belong here and that…he’s the only one who actually sees her. She has to protect that.

🏍️

By the next morning, the bruise on her face is mostly yellow with some splotches of red, but the one on her side where she took the direct hit was a mix of red, dark blues and purple. It is a bit hard to see. It hurts like hell though now. The lack of sleep didn’t help, nor did the call demanding her presence at a meeting she definitely didn’t belong at. She was also warned not to bring her roller blades which felt like a punishment already.

“What happened to you?” Takemichi cries out the moment he sees her.

“A funny thing happened on the way to the market…” she says lightly, hoping she could avoid telling him. Considering the order she received to follow her brother to the meeting, it isn’t likely. “I met the Black Dragon giant last night.”

Takemichi drops the cup he’s holding in shock before darting over to her. “Are you alright?! Did he do this?! Was it because of me?”

She winces and steps out of his hold, shoving his hands down so he stops touching her face. “Knock it off. I’m fine. I just had something to tell him.”

“What could you possibly need to tell the leader of the Black Dragons?” he asks, looking at her incredulously.

“That if he ever touches my family again, I’ll kill him.”

Her brother’s mouth drops open, staring at her in shock. “What?!”

She ignores him, grabbing something to eat for breakfast. She gets enough to make some for her brother as well. She goes through the motions of cooking, keeping an eye out for their parents. None of them are around, or if they are, they’re avoiding them. It feels weird. Parents should be more invested in her opinion. Or maybe that’s just what she was used to.

“Takara, tell me you didn’t threaten that monster!”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Taka!”

“Take!” she quips back. “Hurry up and eat. I gotta go with you to your meeting because of this,” she motions to her face.

“You’re like five feet tall! He’s ginormous! He could kill you, Takara! He wanted to kill me!”

“Yeah, but you’re the idiot who doesn’t know how to duck.”

“What?!”

🏍️

They continue to go back and forth, heading to meet the others until Takemichi stops her to admit that she’s not the only one who did something without thinking last night.

“You told Chifuyu?!”

“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out and then the next thing I knew, I was saying everything!”

“And he believed you?”

“Yeah, he said it made sense. That it was like I was two different people at times.”

She falls silent. It was true. The Takemichi standing before her now is familiar and comfortable. It’s the one who actually feels like her brother. His present self that returns when he leaves back to the future…it doesn’t feel the same.

“This will be good,” Takemichi says. “Another person on our side! Who can help me.”

The way he says it rankles, digging into an old wound when it sounds like she’s not good enough. She swallows the feeling back, knowing her brother is an idiot and probably didn’t mean the way it sounds. “Sure.”

“On the inside,” he says quickly as if he realizes he made a mistake. “With Toman.”

She sighs. “I get it, Takemichi.” Takara shoves her hands in her pockets and continues to walk, her brother following quickly behind. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure? I really didn’t mean that you can’t help me! I just meant that having someone in the gang who knows the people better than either of us do…”

She tunes him out. This Takemichi doesn’t know that she’s been dragged into a friendship with Draken and Mikey. He doesn’t know that Hanma has hounded her for her attention and that there’s a bet out there to sleep with her. It’s driving in the reminder that she’s alone in this world, that she doesn’t belong here.

Takara hasn’t made friends outside of being adopted by her brother’s friends. Her parents here have only acknowledged her when she was arrested after trying to save Baji. The only reason she’s not failing school is because it was driven into her as a child that failure was not an option. All she has is Takemichi and the sports she keeps telling herself she’ll join again but she hasn’t because it’s not the same. She doesn’t have anyone telling her she needs to do something. She’s left to her own devices and she’s floundering.

🏍️

The only ones who don’t look surprised to see her when she shows up at the executive meeting are Mikey and Draken. Hanma stands instantly, gaze darkening as he takes in the bruise on her face but he’s prevented from heading towards her both by Kisaki’s hand on his arm and Mikey calling her forward.

She straightens her shoulders, ignoring the looks of concern she’s getting from Mitsuya and his vice-captain she knows she’s met before, and the confusion from the others she doesn’t completely recognize.

Mikey moves forward from where he’s sitting, perched above the rest like a king on his throne. He leans down, face turning as he inspects the damage. “It’s not that bad.”

Draken has his arms crossed, watching them. “Lift up your shirt.”

“Hey!” Takemichi protests. “That’s my sister!”

“Not like that!” he shouts back, sounding annoyed at the accusation. “She’s injured.”

She glares over at Draken but he stares back, unimpressed. She exhales sharply as she lifts up the side of the shirt she’s wearing, trying not to wince at the pain the motion creates.

Someone swears.

“Takara!” her brother cries out. “You said you were fine!”

“I am fine!” She jolts to the side when Mikey pokes her bruise. “Ow!” She swipes at his hand, forcing it down instantly. “Stop that!”

He moves back to his perch. “What happened?”

“You mean Draken didn’t tell you?”

“I want to hear it from you. Everyone here should.”

“Your choice will impact ours,” Draken says, reminding her of what’s coming.

She can practically feel Hanma’s gaze burning into her back. “Fine. I came home yesterday to find my brother beaten to hell. He told me what happened. I…picked up my bat and left, tracking the giant asshole down, which wasn’t hard by the way,” she admits. “I rolled up on him, broke my bat across his head and gave him a warning that if he ever touched my brother again, I’d kill him.”

There’s a moment of silence as her words are processed. Someone behind her laughs.

“The bruises are because he managed to hit me once on the side. I crashed into a wall,” she motions to her face.

“You’re saying you hit Taiju Shiba?” She looks back to see that the one who asked was one of the guys she doesn’t recognize with blond hair.

“Princess does pack a strong hit,” Hanma grins. “Especially with a weapon.”

“It’s sports equipment,” Takara says. “And yeah, I hit him.”

“You’re…tiny.”

“No shit.” She turns back to Mikey. “I ran into Draken after. I didn’t know about the rules or anything like that. He told me I gotta choose which direction I want to go in after that.”

“What?” Takemichi interrupts. “What choice?”

She ignores her brother.

“Did you?” Draken asks.

“Yeah,” Takara nods. It was an easy one when it came down to it. “I’ll remain unaffliated with Toman.”

“You’re sure?” Draken asks, looking between her and Mikey who hasn’t looked away from her. “You know what that means.”

“Yeah. No protection but it’s fine.”

“It’s fucking stupid!” She rolls her eyes at Hanma’s voice and doesn’t bother to turn to look at him. “Come on, princess!”

“I don’t need your opinion,” she snaps, glancing back at him.

He scowls darkly. “What? You think the fucking Haitanis are going to protect you?”

“Haitani?” Multiple people ask, a mixture of confusion and accusation.

“You running with another gang?” the blond one she doesn’t know asks. It sounds more like an accusation.

“I’m not running with any gang,” Takara says, looking back at him in confusion. “I went to a rink and they found me. They just wanted to talk,” she shrugs.

“About what?” the blond asks before taking a step towards her.

“Mucho!” Draken snaps. “She’s not a traitor.”

“Can’t betray anything I’m not a part of,” Takara adds. She rocks back on her heels slightly, wishing she was wearing her skates. Despite the confidence she has in her brother having her back, he’s a terrible fighter and she’s starting to feel cornered.

“Are you sure?” Mikey asks, eyes meeting hers as he ignores the others. He’s steadfast as he waits, exuding confidence as he acts as the leader he is. It’s such a contrast to how she’s seen him when it’s just her and Draken.

Takara nods. “I thought about the pros and cons last night. I’d rather be free and face the consequences. No offence.”

“None taken. Wait outside.”

She nods again and leaves, ignoring the stares that watch her go. She can practically feel both Hanma and Takemichi wanting to say something. It’s a miracle her brother doesn’t.

🏍️

She makes her way outside, sitting down in the dirt and leaning back against one of the walls. Her legs ache like she needs to stretch but the pain of her side and face are enough to ignore it.

Looking back, it was a bad idea to go after the giant. Still, she couldn’t get over her anger that led to her lashing out. Takemichi faced not only death now in the future but incarceration as well. He refused to tell her where she was, only that they weren’t close, and her day earlier with Ran and Rindou had been ruined by Hanma’s arrival. Mainly because of the possessive way he spoke about her to them and the fact that she knew it was only going to get worse if she enacted her plan.

She leans back and closes her eyes, letting out a sigh. She wants to be back on the ice, a hockey stick in her hand and…and..she wants her family back. Her friends. She wants to not have to worry that her brother is going to die and there’s nothing she can do about it. She wants…to be able to remember what they look like. In detail. She can remember her brothers, her mother and father, but her friends' faces are slipping away. When she thinks of her friends, she only thinks of the people she knows here.

A lump grows in her throat and she takes a deep breath, swallowing it back. It’s a constant ache that leaves her feeling empty and the worst part is she knows something is missing but she doesn’t know what it is. It’s like the way she likes things now she knows she didn’t before, not who she used to be.

If she’s losing pieces of herself…what is she left with? Is she anyone except Takemichi’s sister?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She jolts in surprise, looking up to see Hanma storming towards her. The grief slips to the back of her mind as she forces herself to her feet to face off. “The fuck do you want?” she snarls back, instantly on guard. She sees the others coming out of the shack they had their meeting in, but they’re all moving slower than Hanma and she doesn’t see her brother yet.

He moves closer as if he can force her back and corner her.

She digs her metaphorical feet in and doesn’t back down. He’s not the first to attempt to cow her into submission with his size and he won’t be the last. “What the fuck do you want?” she repeats, slower this time, sharpening her words to a point as she glares up at him.

“Why didn’t you come to me for help?”

“Why would I?” She asks, almost genuinely curious. “We’re not fucking friends, Hanma, and in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want you around.”

“I would have helped you, princess,” he says, voice slightly softer than before as he stares down at her. Takara stares back, confused at the insistence and the way he’s looking at her.

“Fuck off, I don’t need help.”

“Yeah, you made that fucking clear when you refused Toman’s. Why didn’t you ally with us?”

“Why the fuck would I trust you?” She asks, glaring up at him. “You forced a kiss on me the second time we met. You fought against my brother. You want to help me? Suck my dick.”

“Kara-chan. Come.” Mikey calls out, breaking the tension between the two of them. He’s emerged from the shack with Draken at his side and both her brother and Chifuyu following.

“What am I, a dog?” she mutters before shoving her way past Hanma to join him. She gives him the finger before ignoring him completely as she follows Mikey.

“Takara–”

“We’ll talk later,” she murmurs to Takemichi as he tries to stop her. “Don’t worry.” She smiles at him before heading to meet Mikey at his bike. He climbs on and offers her a hand to get on behind him. He waits until she’s ready, feet on the pegs and arms wrapped around him, before he takes off, leaving everyone else behind.

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#fic: saudade #oc: takara #tokyo revengers oc #tokyo revengers fic #tr fic #tr oc #tokyo rev oc #haitani ran x oc #hanma shuji x oc #sano mikey x oc #sano manjiro x oc

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