#he listens to it while he grades papers. he doesn’t like assigning papers but he has to assign at least 2 out of a requirement | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keeksandgigz · 9 months ago

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around�� you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

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Grading Papers

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You are Dr. Reid’s TA. One night, he asks you to stay late and help grade papers, only to see you worked up. It’s a good thing he has the perfect solution for that.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, age gap (20s/40s), sexual tension, thigh riding, praise.

Word Count: 1.2K

Kinktober Day Twelve: Thigh Riding

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Whenever Dr. Reid had approached you about staying a little later after your class to assist him in grading papers, you reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t like you were uncomfortable with him, in fact it was the complete opposite. Ever since you’d been placed as a TA for his class, you had a massive crush on the older man. Every person in your class did, honestly. There was a reason he had the most students auditing his classes, he was very attractive and his dumbfounded reaction to learning so many students used the class just to look at him just added to his charming demeanor.

He was an understanding man, always willing to listen and work with any student who needed his assistance. It didn’t help that he had a million dollar smile, one that made your heart flutter when it was flashed in your direction. You were in love with a man who was surely old enough to be your father.. Yet you felt no shame.

You’d had vivid fantasies, ones where Spencer would call you in his office and push you against the wall, taking you right there while proclaiming how he’d had his eye on you since he met you.

You could admit you were a little delusional but nobody could blame you. Who doesn’t want professor Reid to bend them over his desk and-

You were cut off by a throat clear, making you snap out of your thoughts. “It’s good to see you, thank you for coming by. I appreciate you coming to assist me tonight.” He could’ve done it by himself, in all honesty. The papers were quick and easy to blow through, especially with the ability that Spencer had when it came to reading. Instead, he’d invited you here for something else..

“Oh, it was no problem. I didn’t have much else that needed to get done and it is my job to help you when you need it.” You spoke while offering a smile, discarding your backpack before putting it on the floor by his desk. “I’m so glad to hear that. I went ahead and split up the assignments equally.” He assured while passing over a stack of typed up research papers. “I have a chair over here that you can take. My desk is big enough to fit both of us.” He chuckled and gestured to the chair pulled up beside him.

The idea of being so close to Spencer had your cheeks heating up, head nodding as you approached his side and pulled out the chair to seat yourself. It was like you were a horny teenager who was getting worked up just by having your knee touch his, the warmth of your body and the tension bubbling over. “You alright?” Spencer soon asked, an eyebrow raising at how fidgety you were. He was a profiler and you knew that, you’d learned he could see all the tells and read you like a book if he really wanted to. Still, you lied. “Oh! I think I’m just a little scatterbrained tonight.” You tried to save yourself the embarrassment of telling the older man your perverted and sinful thoughts.

There was a huff that fell from Spencer’s lips, his hands coming out to gently grab your hips before tugging you into his lap. The sudden action had your eyes widening, propped up in the male’s lap as you quickly turned your head to look at him. “Dr. Reid!” Your voice came out in a squeak, making the man shrug his shoulders nonchalantly. “You’re free to get up but given your body language, I can tell this is much more than being scatterbrained. Believe me, I know the signs of someone being turned on. As much as most won’t believe it, I’ve been around enough women to know the signs.”

He was chuckling as he brushed your hair off of your shoulder when you made no effort to move. “I have an offer to make. Don’t worry, you won’t be penalized for saying no, I’ll just back off.” He had to preface his point of not wanting to push things too far beyond your comfort zone. The idea was crazy, the man could lose his license to teach and be blacklisted from teaching. However, you felt just a little desperate. That was what made you nod your head slowly. “Y-yeah, okay.”

His large hands were resting against your hips while helping you stand, his hands moving to your pants to get them unbuttoned and tugged down your legs. “You seem so desperate. I bet you think about this a lot more than you’re letting on.” His tone was like velvet, his gaze on the panties that hugged your waist.

“How desperate are you though?” The question made you shiver as his hands were ever so gently lifting you up before perching you on his thigh with a soft smirk. This was him expecting you to crumble, to melt while rubbing yourself on his thigh..

You fed right into it, hips rocking steadily against the clothed thigh. The friction of the creases in his slacks against your clothed clit had electricity shooting through your body, mouth agape. “There we go. Does that feel good? Desperate little bunny.” He cooed, his hands guiding your hips as he was fixing the position of his thigh and pushing it up to apply pressure to your needy pussy. “Surprised you’ve lasted this long. You know, you aren’t exactly subtle with the way you look at me.”

Your face was heating up as he’d caught you, calling you out on your shameless fantasizing whenever you thought he wasn’t paying attention. “You’re so precious.” He began while chuckling softly, his words making your hips speed up on his thigh as you were rubbing your cunt along the creases of his pants, the delicious friction making you roughly grip his thigh.

“Gonna cum on my thigh and soak your panties with your cum?” He questioned, lips now pressing kisses along your shoulder. “Fuck, yes.” You whined, the slick arousal from your panties already seeping through and causing a small wet patch on his right thigh. “Well, what are you waiting for? These papers aren’t gonna grade themselves.” He mused, words dripping with amusement at you, one of his best TAs, left to a whining and whimpering mess while your desperation had you humping his thigh for relief.

The warmth spread over your body, a thin veil of sweat decorating your forehead as you let your head tilt forward, mouth agape while ragged breaths escaped your lips. The rush of arousal shot through your body, nails digging into the part of his thigh that you held as you were hitting your peak, a whine leaving your lips as you could feel the slick seep through your panties, leaving you with uncomfortably wet panties.

“There we go!” He cooed, gently rubbing your lower back as he was letting your shaking body lean back against his broad chest. “You can sit there as long as you want,” He commented with a chuckle as he was scooting his chair up to the desk while he was getting a few papers from his desk to read them.

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trivia-yandere · 1 year ago

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trivia:yandere masterlist

alternate universe (masterlist) | halloween (masterlist)| valentine's day (masterlist) | kinktober (masterlist) |

main account:explicit-tae

all of the works here will contain: (either or/sometimes both) smut, yandere themes and overall dark content that are only suitable for those who are 18+. all of our work will have warnings - if anything is uncomfortable, please click off. it's understandable that sometimes what is written can be triggering to some user - this is the first warning. request are appreciated just please allow time for it to be posted. please do not translate, repost or use any content written from this blog without permission.

ot7 | multi-member

the one that got away: (Part 2) you should've listened when you were told to stay away from the dark web. completed (taehyung x reader x jimin)

lessons: when jungkook asks namjoon for advice on oral sex, he wasn't expecting his hyung to physically show him - you being on the receiving end of it. completed (jungkook x reader x namjoon)

study partner: an alternate world in which the elites rule the world and have everything at their fingertips. at a top elite college, “Study Partners” - the most desirable sexual partners around the world - are assigned to the top 10% of students with the highest grades. completed

red pill: while partying, you decide to take a mysterious pill called "hell on earth" that's said to take you to a whole different dimension; one of pure ecstasy, lust and pleasure. completed (hoseok x reader x namjoon)

jeon | jungkook

visions: you’re convinced by your friends to go to a party and let go of the memories of your ex just for one night. unfortunately for you, jungkook doesn’t want to be let go. completed

the other woman: jungkook decides it's time to take matters into his own hands and figure out how to get you - his sweet, innocent girlfriend, to fuck him. completed

paid in full: (part 1) (part 2) "all debts must be paid in full." says jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eyes. he wouldn't tell your mother of you going against her wishes and sneaking out if you allowed him to have you the way he desired.

nefarious: you knew who jungkook was prior to having his children and marrying him, so you serving him with divorce papers wasn't going to do anything but anger him. part one | prequel

test your morality: jungkook's morality is tested when he's woken from his unconscious state to find you - his best friend - bound before him. completed

best friends!: jungkook doesn't like the idea of you wanting to loose your virginity to anyone that isn't him. completed

seonbaenim!: (idol version of best friends!) your group decides they want to shed the “good girl” image for your next comeback & you confide in your seonbae, Jungkook, in helping you do so. One | Two

sibling rivalry: you visit your dad for a week for christmas and come face to face with your step-brother - who you've managed to avoid - again.

kim | taehyung

two sentence horror story: you ran up to the first person you saw - a man inside his car whose tires screeched upon you jumping in front of it - and screamed how you were kidnapped and blindfolded. completed

fertile: during an annual camping trip with your parents, you venture off deep into the woods and find a man chained to a tree. completed

divine intervention: you'll do anything to have your own baby one day - even to go against your morals and allow a wiccan to help you. completed

park | jimin

two sentence horror story: years ago, your best friend, Jimin, and you made a pact that if one of you were single by the age of 26 that the two of you would just marry the other. completed

creep: park jimin had it all. he was loved throughout the world as an idol apart of one of the biggest groups. he had the popularity, respect and adoration - and a few haters; but what idol didn’t? what park jimin wasn’t expecting for was infamous blogger, Creep, to be reporting on him. completed

word is bond: in order to save your kingdom from perishing, you agree to give your body to the demon king - jimin. completed

bad decisions: you're getting married on valentine's day - but somehow, you allow a stripper to fuck you in front of your brides' maids and maid of honor. completed

kim | namjoon

lessons: when jungkook asks namjoon for advice on oral sex, he wasn't expecting his hyung to physically show him - you being on the receiving end of it. completed

with love, k.nj: ever since you and your mother moved into this new apartment, you began receiving notes from an "admirer", all signed initials k.nj. completed

sentient: you're gifted a high-technology android by an old friend who appears to know everything - even about you. completed

jung | hoseok

ain't no fun: ”Hoseok wouldn’t treat me like this.” is what had Namjoon laughing in your face - because you didn’t know Hoseok like he did. But he’d let you think you did, after all, it ain’t no fun if the homies can’t have none. coming soon...

min | yoongi

dilemma: being single and broke on valentine's day is not what you expected - especially when your dealer is waiting for his payment. completed

kim | seokjin

two sentence horror story: it’s been nearly 5 years since you last saw seokjin. completed

payment plan: your husband and you find yourself bankrupt and dead broke thanks to his gambling problem. his younger brother - successful businessman kim seokjin - offers a helping hand free of charge. unbeknownst to your brother, you would be the one paying seokjin for his charity. completed

autumn of terror: the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin. completed

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sebastianstangirl01 · 2 years ago

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could write a Pete Maverick Mitchell x daughter reader? I was thinking from the first top gun movie but it is your choice. Just something simple like he is at top gun and he gets a call from the hospital saying the the baby sitter had to bring the reader in because she got very sick. So Mav is scared because he just lost Goose and he doesn’t want to loose his baby too. Then when he finally gets to the hospital the reader is scared and all of Mavericks fears turns into the need to comfort his child. Once the reader feels better she is able to go home to finally sleep in her own bed but not without cuddles from her loving dad.

I was thinking maybe the daughter/readers age is around 3-4

Thank you and 100% your choice

Fatherhood Fears

Title: Fatherhood Fears

Pairing: Pete “Maverick” Mitchell x Daughter Reader

Summary: When Mavericks 3 year old get sick and rushed to the hospital by Carole while he is working as an instructor at Top Gun, Maverick is beside himself with worry and immediately rushes to the hospital. He realizes that he needs to put his fears behind him so he can be there for his little girl.

Warnings: sick kid, mentions of throwing up, dehydration, the flu, worried Mav

It had been a pretty normal day so far for Maverick, he and Goose along with Iceman and Slider are permanently stationed at TopGun as instructors who only go on high profile missions. If you would’ve asked Maverick 3 years ago after his time as a TopGun student if he thought he would be here today, working as an instructor he would’ve called you crazy.

He’s Pete “Maverick” Mitchell for gods sake, the man that can’t be tied down. That was until his little girl came along. The little spitfire Y/N Mitchell was a surprise to Maverick, after things with Charlie didn’t workout and she went back to DC the pilot went back to his old ways by sleeping with any woman with a pulse. Which then resulted in the little bundle 9 months later of Y/N.

From the moment Maverick held you in his arms he knew he whole world was going to change, but in that moment nothing else mattered to him than you did. He welcomed the change, he settled down and got his permanent assignment at TopGun so he could get a home for you to grow up in so he wouldn’t have to miss a single minute of you growing up.

As you grew older a system was made. Maverick worked 5 days a week and had weekends off so he could be with you, while he worked you stayed with Carole since Goose and Maverick insisted that they had to live next door to each other.

Bradley was in 1st grade so he wasn’t home much when you were there but you always got to go with Carole to pick him up from school and you two always had playdates on Saturday’s and your families had Sunday dinner together. Bradley was like your built in best friend, despite the 3 year age gap. He was exactly like Goose while you were the spitting image of your father. It’s like a match made in heaven.

Days like today were ones that Maverick always dreaded, a new group of pilots were coming to TopGun meaning that instead of spending time in the air Maverick was stuck in his and Goose’s shared office working on new flight strategies.

“I think I would rather get stuck in another dog fight like the one after our Top Gun graduation than fill out one more paper.” Maverick sighed dropping his head to the desk

“If you’d work as much as you wined we would’ve been done by now.” Goose chuckled as Maverick groaned

Before Maverick could retort his desk phone rang he groaned and sat up before answering the phone.

“Captain Mitchell.” Maverick answered

“Mav it’s Carole. Listen don’t freak out, but I had to bring Y/N to the hospital.” Carole said and Maverick could hear the hustle and bustle of the er in the background

“What? What happened? What do you mean you brought her to the hospital?” Maverick sputtered off as he sat up straight catching Goose’s attention

“Shorty after you and Nick left this morning and we got back from taking Bradley to school Y/N got sick. She threw up a couple of times and spiked a fever, it was 103.3 so I brought her to the hospital to get checked out. They took her back a little bit ago and now I’m just waiting.” Carole said

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes.” Maverick said as he stood up

“It’s the one on base, have Nick drive you please. The last thing we need is you in here too because you drove like an idiot.” Carole scolded

“Ok ok. See you soon.” Maverick said before hanging up the phone. “We need to go to the hospital, Y/N’s sick.”

“Let’s go.” Goose immediately stood up grabbing his keys as he and Maverick hurried out into the parking lot after shouting to Ice and Slider to cover for them and that Y/N was sick

When they got to the hospital Maverick and Goose rushed up to the poor woman at the front desk almost giving her a heart attack.

“Can I help you?” She asked looking at the aviators who were still in their flight suits

“My daughter was brought in a little bit ago. Y/N Mitchell.” Maverick explained and the woman nodded

“Right. The woman who brought her in just went back a few minutes ago to see her, she’s in room 213.” The lady recited from the chart

Maverick immediately took off in that direction, leaving Goose to say thank you as he eagerly followed after his pilot. When they got to the correct room Maverick immediately rushed inside and saw his little girl curled up in the hospital bed asleep, clutching Carole’s hand as she sat next to her bed and soothingly stroked her back.

“How is she?” Maverick asked rushing to the other side of the bed and grabbing her hand

“The doctor just left. She tested positive for the flu, they said she was dehydrated and they have her some fluids and medicine to help with the nausea. She should be able to go home in a couple of hours.” Carole explained as Goose came to her side and reached up to gently pat Y/N’s leg

“My poor baby. Thank you for taking such good care of her.” Maverick told Carole thankfully

“Absolutely, she was so brave.” Carole smiled proudly

“Of course she was. Look at who her dad is.” Maverick grinned making the married couple roll their eyes

“Well we’ve got to go pick Bradley up from school, I’ll leave my car here for you.” Carole told Maverick as she handed him the car keys

“Just don’t reck the car please. Or drive it like you drive your bike.” Goose grimaced and Maverick rolled his eyes

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Maverick said as Goose and Carole got up

“We’ll bring over some of my chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight when you guys get home.” Carole said leaning to kiss Y/N’s forehead before kissing Mavericks as well

“Thanks. See you guys later.” Maverick said as they left

Once they were gone Maverick turned back to his daughter who was fast asleep, she looked so peaceful and most importantly not in any pain or discomfort.

“Daddy.” Y/N suddenly mumbled as her eyes blinked open

“Daddy’s here baby. I’m so sorry you got sick, how are you feeling?” Maverick asked as Y/N tried to cuddle into him

“Seepy, my tummy hurt real bad but then the nice doctor gave me some medicine and then she gave me a lollipop.” Y/N smiled sleepily making Maverick smile

“What flavor was it?” Maverick asked and Y/N smiled brightly

“Cherry! My favorite!” Y/N exclaimed and Maverick laughed

“The best flavor.” Maverick smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Auntie Carole told me how brave you were. I’m so sorry daddy wasn’t here baby.”

“It’s otay daddy. Can you pwease cuddle me.” Y/N asked holding her arms out

“Oh baby, because daddy feels so bad about today you can have anything you want.” Maverick shook his head as he carefully climbed into bed next to his little girl, being careful of the wires and her iv

“Really? Can we go to Disney World with Auntie Carole Uncle Goosey and Brad Brad?” Y/N asked giving Maverick her puppy dog eyes

“I’ll see what I can do baby.” Maverick chuckled and Y/N cuddled into his side accepting his answer. “Get some more rest for me, then when we get home Auntie Carole will have her special chicken soup.”

“Otay daddy. I love you.” Y/N mumbled as she snuggled into his chest

“I love you more baby.” Maverick said kissing her forehead

That night when they got home as promised Carole and the Bradshaw boys were waiting with her homemade chicken and noodle soup. After they ate Bradley wanted to make sure Y/N was feeling better so he made her a card and they sat together on the couch watching Y/N’s favorite movie Peter Pan.

When it was time for bed Maverick decided to let Y/N sleep with him in the big bed as Y/N likes to call it since he was still worried about her and wanted to make sure she was alright.

“Goodnight baby sleep tight. I love you.” Maverick said as they cuddled up in bed

“Goodnight daddy. I love you too.” Y/N said as she rested on Mavericks chest with small puffs of air coming from her mouth as she let herself fall asleep

Maverick watched her for a few minutes to make sure she was breathing ok before he let himself fall asleep as well. Just so happy his pride and joy is ok.

#pete mitchell #top gun #pete mitchell x daughter reader #pete maverick mitchell #nick goose bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #carole bradshaw #tom kazansky #maverick #goose

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unknownspecies · 2 years ago

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[Not Shy]

[Mikey x f!Reader]

There were people who were considered shy, socially anxious, or even easily flustered. You were often mistaken for these traits, but you never thought yourself to be any of them. You were just… quiet. You never spoke, and when you did, it was usually no more than just a few words.

Despite being visualized as an emotionally constipated girl, You really had an active social life, always hanging out with friends or playing on your sports team. You were a kind girl as well, never refusing to help out others when needed.

However, you also knew that because of your quietness, no one really sought you out other than your close friends. Which kind of sucked, but you were fine being by yourself sometimes just as much as you liked being with other people, so it didn’t bother you that much.

What you didn’t know was that there was someone whose eye you caught: A well known boy in the school named Mikey. Everyone knew about him, how he was a well known martial artist and how he would “claim” friends even in other schools and force them to hang out with him. Despite some rumors of him forcing friendship onto others, most knew that he was just an idiot who was trying to get to know as many people as possible.

The reason why Mikey never really approached you, though, was because he was intimidated by you. What you weren’t aware of was that your quietness gave you an intimidating demeanor. The way you held yourself with confidence, the way you stayed quiet and listened, and the way you seemed to stare into people’s souls and analyze them was what scared him. Well… he wouldn’t consider himself “scared,” but rather… nervous.

Luckily for him, luck came on his side. After a few months of simply observing you, you were paired up with him, and his best friend, for a science project.

Mikey was excited to say the least. He finally got to interact with the quiet girl that he never really knew much about, and he knew about everyone.

You sat down in one of the chairs of the three tables that were moved together. Mikey’s leg was bouncing on his feet, contemplating on what to say. “So…” He scratched the back of his neck, “I’m Mikey, but I guess you already knew that.” He mumbled the last comment.

You smiled and nodded. You looked at the worksheet for the project outline in front of you and slid it towards Mikey and your other partner, Draken, tapping at the “Project Topic” section with your pencil while giving them a questioning look.

Mikey straightened up, happy that he was saved by his awkwardness by the need to get this assignment done. I guess school is good for one thing. Draken decided to take the lead in the conversation, after internally cackling at Mikey’s flustered attitude.

He leaned back, “We should do something simple, that doesn’t require much work yet gives us a good grade.”

You tilted your head for a moment, mentally searching for topics you three could do. Mikey internally swooned, thinking that the small gesture was so cute. Wait… where did that thought come from? He shook his head, he barely even knew you and he was getting these weird ideas already. Though he wouldn’t hesitate to admit that you were pretty.

Mikey and Draken watched as you lit up and scribbled something on the paper. After a few moments, You slid the paper towards them and they read what you had written.

How effective different cooling sleeves

are at keeping water bottles cold.

They all looked at each other. You looked at them with an expectant look on your face. Oh how expressive you were despite speaking no words, it’s like he knew what you were saying.

Draken nodded, “Seems simple enough. I have a beer can cooler and another thicker one back at home. I think Mikey has one as well.” He turned to his friend, “The pink one with the Hello Ki–” Mikey threw his hands onto his friends loud mouth.

“No no! It’s not mine! It's my sister’s!” Draken pushed his hand aside. “No, it’s yours. Emma gave it to you for your birth–” Mikey shushed him loudly again. If he could kill his friend that moment he would’ve.

You watched them with mirth in your eyes and laid your hand on Draken’s arm that was resting on the table. When their attention went to you, you nodded, and smiled. And it was at that moment that Mikey realized that you were far more than the pretty he had viewed you two minutes ago. You seemed to radiate light out of your skin and that was the moment Mikey decided to win your heart.

Two weeks passed as they did the project. They all decided to do it at your house because it was the best option out of those three. It would’ve been Mikey’s house, but Mikey insisted that the three have it at your place because of some reason where “you have the best fridge model out of all three of us.” He didn’t know what fridge model you had, he didn’t even know fridges had models, but you didn’t care enough to question him further, and simply agreed. (This totally wasn’t a plot to get closer to you and to prevent you from meeting his sister.)

Mikey considered this time to be the best of his life. They really spent a majority of the two weeks chilling together, as they had finished the project within two days. (It was really sticking water in the fridge then checking the temperature when they were put outside with the three different cooler wraps.)

Draken, God bless his soul, easily figured out Mikey’s small infatuation with you and proposed the idea of hanging out with you more often. You accepted, of course, happy to make new friends. And maybe, just maybe, you had also gotten a small attachment to the short blonde who, unknowingly to you, started to think the world of you.

~~~

It all started a month later. you were close to both Mikey and Draken, and hung out with them often enough. You still hadn’t spoken much. They had heard your voice a few times already (Mikey almost fainted the first time, and the second, and the third.), but it still wasn’t common, even the average quiet person spoke a thousand times more than you.

Draken watched as your crushes grew on each other and internally laughed, reminiscing on when he had his own crush on Emma and asked her out. Emma eventually figured out what was happening (read: Draken couldn’t hold the gossip in and spilled) and encouraged Mikey to confess to you as soon as possible.

Mikey actually decided to take the advice, and bought a small bouquet of flowers and a packet of dorayaki to confess to you when school ended.

But God decided to take away whatever luck He had bestowed upon him.

Right as he was about to walk up to you in dismissal, he saw a scene that made him wish he could spoon his eyes out.

It was a boy, about your age, walking up behind you with an affectionate smile on his face. He tapped you on the shoulder and when you turned around, you squealed and jumped on him to hug him.

The stupid, ugly, dumb haircut boy laughed and spun you around before pecking you on the top of your head and ruffling your hair. He saw as you looked up at him with a sparkle in your eye, and then you spoke. You were talking to him?! Just who was this boy? Mikey was itching to grab him by the shoulder and beat him up for taking his crush away from him. You were his, not this random stranger’s. But he stayed his hand, deciding that if you spoke to this guy and not Mikey, then obviously… he didn’t even want to finish the thought, but it came crawling out anyways. …obviously you didn’t like him like you did this boy.

How dare he? How dare this random stranger take you away from him and kiss you on your head, defiling your hair, and walking away with you.

The flowers fell from his hand as Draken came up behind him. Mikey frowned, sadly mumbling, “I guess she doesn’t like me then…” His best friend looked at him, it was unusual. Draken didn’t like seeing Mikey sad like this. Although he never showed it, it broke his heart to see his best friend crumble.

It was strange, Draken thought, on how friendly you acted with the guy. Yet the affection you seemed to show this stranger was different from the affection you seemed to show Mikey. Almost like he was a close friend rather than a romantic partner. He decided to investigate.

One week later, Draken had pulled you to the side. That one week was hell, for all you, Mikey, and Draken.

Mikey avoided you like the plague. Thinking that the less he saw his crush, the less he would feel heartbroken. He really did like you, and it shattered his heart to see you talking to someone else. You never spoke to Mikey. It was always short answers, if there were any at all. Yeah, you always interacted with him. You laughed at him (he loved that sound), you touched him when you wanted to hug him (or smack him), you spoke through your expressions to him. Yet you never verbally spoke to him.

You, on the other hand, were confused. Why was Mikey avoiding you? Have you done something wrong? You realized that you didn’t hang out with him this week, but you were too busy hanging out with others. But still, even when you had plans to go out with other friends, or preferred to stay home alone and have some time for yourself, Mikey never gave you an attitude like this. You yourself became upset as well. You had really liked him, and was hoping to confess to him soon…

And Draken? Draken was wondering how to get information out of you. He was really overthinking the whole thing when a simple question would’ve fixed everything. He asked his friends in other schools about this newcomer in their lives and found out an interesting thing. Apparently he visited you often, which didn’t make the situation any better in the slightest. But the thing is that those friends claimed that he did not have a girlfriend whatsoever, which confused him greatly.

In the end, he decided that talking to you directly was best to clear up the situation. If you were dating this guy, then what’s done is done. The best thing he would do is to help Mikey move on. But…if by chance you weren’t dating him, and he was just a close friend, then he would be more than happy to tell Mikey that you were free to date him as soon as possible.

During lunch, he pulled you to the side.

“Hey, I have a question to ask you.” He stared down at you, a stern look in his eyes.

Your own widened, wondering what warranted this curt behavior from Draken. You kept staring at him, waiting for him to continue.

Draken huffed, “The guy that you left with last week, who was he?”

You tilted your head in confusion, processing the question before it hit you.

“My cousin.” Draken blinked. “We grew up together, so he likes to visit sometimes…” You replied quietly, staring at him as you watched the gears turn in his.

Draken threw his head back and groaned. No wonder things weren’t adding up. This guy was your cousin, not just some rando. Not to mention he seemed like a brother to you. He rubbed his eyes, he was such an idiot. He should’ve pieced this together long ago.

You stared up at him inquisitively, waiting for him to explain. “Um, both Mikey and I thought… that… uh… you and your cousin were dating.” Draken mumbled the last statement so softly you could barely hear it.

…

What?

Mikey thought you were dating someone? You internally groaned. That’s why he’s been avoiding you. You thought that the way he’s been acting a month before the whole incident meant that he liked you back, and you were hoping that you hadn’t been reading too much into it. But with Draken’s unspoken confirmation you felt elated.

You immediately turned and ran towards where you last saw Mikey: behind the school building eating his lunch. Draken stayed behind, letting you take care of the situation from here on out.

When you saw Mikey, he was picking at his food with a sad frown on his face. He looked up at the sound, and his frown deepened when he saw that it was you.

“Oh now you’re here? Don’t you have your boyfriend to go bother?” He hated the words he said, but it was the truth, wasn’t it?

You huffed at his pouting and bent down in front of him, hand resting on your knees as you stared into his eyes. He looked away. Mikey was too intimidated by your stare, too flustered at your beautiful eyes, too sad that you weren’t his.

You grabbed his face with your hands and made him face you. Mikey blushed, you were so gentle, he could barely feel the pressure your hands were putting on his cheeks.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish, searching for the most effective way to say what you wanted to say for the past month.

“He’s my cousin.” He stared at you in shock, barely digesting the words because he was too busy appreciating the tone of your voice. When he did process the message, though, he dropped the bit of food in his hand.

You touched your forehead to his, “I like you, Mikey.” And he swore that he was hallucinating. You liked him? What? Since when? How did he not know this? Why was he so stupid? He should’ve just asked you. You should’ve just told him. Does Draken know? What is going on?

You giggled softly at his reaction before kissing him. You pulled away too soon for Mikey’s liking, and got up.

Smiling at him, you said, “Let’s go to class, then get some ice cream after… We’ll let Draken pay.” You outstretched your hand, smiling wider when he took it and got up.

Mikey then gave the biggest, toothiest grin ever. “Yeah!" He laughed loudly, "I was craving ice cream too. But…” He stared at you in the eyes, not looking away.

You looked at him in silence, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I’d like for it to just be me and you, please.”

#tokyo revengers #mikey #manjiro sano #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #manjiro sano x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #mikey fluff #manjiro sano fluff #tr x reader #tr fluff #unknown records

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aestheticpearl · 7 months ago

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— 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞!

✧·˚ andrew has a hard time coming to terms with his sexuality and his relationship with god

andrew knew he shouldn’t being feeling this way towards another person, let alone another man. he knew how his parents felt about same sex relationships since he witnessed it firsthand with his twin brother, but this felt different, he felt different. these new experiences he was having with isaac made him feel conflicted. his whole life he was told how sinful it is to lay with a person of the same sex.

then why did it feel so good? why did committing a ‘sinful’ act make him feel so loved?

these questions filled his mind and clouded his thoughts which resulted in his grades slipping, which his parents noticed, which then resulted in a lecture on staying focused and a slight guilt trip of how much they of their lives they gave up for him to have a good one. later that night they made him pray with them for him to get better grades and to have no distractions.

unfortunately for andrew’s parents, the ‘distractions’ only got worse.

isaac was originally just a study partner and nothing more than that, but soon he would pass notes to andrew during the study session or in class and at first it was just small things like ‘did you understand chapter 16?’ or ‘do you have an extra piece of paper’ but soon it turned into ‘you look really nice today’ and ‘you free for lunch?’

it was a harmless date but andrew couldn’t help be feel paranoid that someone was watching him, ready to take a photo of him with another man on a date and show it to his parents. he was scared.

“hey are you okay?” isaac places his hand over andrews to bring him back to reality. andrew blushes at the gesture and quickly removes his hand.

“yeah i’m fine, i just remembered i have a paper due tonight and i have to go.” he mumbles a soft apology to isaac as he gathers his things in a hurry before leaving the cafe to go back to his dorm room.

andrew can hear his heart pounding in his ears and he can feel his face flush bright red.

later that night he prays for forgiveness.

something in him is unable to stop seeing isaac and soon enough they start seeing each other in their dorms, in each others bed. nothing good can last forever though and isaac is called back to the states for a job opportunity and andrew is left alone with his thoughts. his heart aches and he die know what to do to stop the pain, so he prays but in the middle of his prays he becomes conflicted.

if god made him this way, why did he make him sinful? why did he make him to fall in love with isaac? if he loves all his creatures why would he hate people who feel differently about their sexuality? does god hate him? will he listen to his prayers?

something in andrew changes, like a flipped switch. why should he mindlessly follow this god? he realizes that he doesn’t want to follow any kind of god that thinks loving any kind of person is a sin. so he stops. he stops praying and starts living his own life.

the beginning of his new life doesn’t have the best start since it begins in a bar. he tries to stop thinking about his ex lover and drown himself in multiple shots to stop the feelings of loneliness growing in his chest. he doesn’t feel great the next morning and ends up staying in bed for the rest of the day while he goes through this rough patch of his newly enlightened life.

years later andrew finds himself praying again, hoping that he’ll get past these feelings of love again. he’s even more scared this time, he might lose his dream job because of this student that has confessed their feelings for him in their essay that he assigned to his class.

a few years later andrew prays for the last time. it’s a small prayer that he just wishes for no harm to ever come to him and his lover that lays in his bed with him. they sleep peacefully in his arms as he thinks of what he went through to get to where he is now and how each action lead him to such a happy life that he didn’t think he deserved.

“sleep well darling, i’ll be here when you wake.” he whispers before kissing their head and closes his eyes to fall asleep.

“i love you.” it’s mumbled but he hears it fall from their soft lips.

“i love you too.”

literally have no idea what possessed me to write this but i had too

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

#pearl’s ❤︎ works #zsakuva #sakuverse #sakuverse andrew marston #andrew marston fluff #zsakuva andrew marston #zsakuva andrew #andrew marston #sakuverse isaac #zsaku isaac rhoades #zsaku isaac #zsakuva isaac rhoades #boyfriend rp #audio roleplay

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exy-shmexy · 2 years ago

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high school au rivals to lovers kevaaron

kevin getting his science test back with a 98 so he smugly turns around to shove it in aaron’s face. aaron raises an eyebrow, lifts up his paper to show to bright 99 with a shit-eating grin (andrew got 100 but will never show it to anyone).

their next class is a history presentation, afterwards the teacher discusses grades (my high school did that idk if yours did too but it was the WORST anyway) kevin gets a full score.

english class arrives and it is set to be a debate, cue the two having an argument-contest of symbolism and meaning of a certain poem they had to study.

one day kevin shows up to the library to find all the seats taken except the one next to aaron. he grumpily considers his options but when aaron looks up from his textbook he turns on his heels and tells himself it’s not too cold to study outside yet.

then they are assigned a presentation for their spanish class. neither of them speaks it very well (they would have preferred being with the weird kid andrew always hangs out with) but they have no choice so kevin tells aaron to come at his place during the weekend to work on it.

it’s a bit of a disaster because they keep bickering but then eventually manage to get an outline for it after way too much time wasted deciding who should work on what. aaron brought his old laptop so they both start working on their part in silence, neither happy to be in the other’s presence but at least working is familiar and comfortable, so much so that they don’t see time pass. kevin’s step-mom comes home and she tells aaron he should stay for dinner with them. he refuses but she insists because “listen i got too much food, what’s one more mouth to feed”.

(little does she know aaron hasn’t eaten anything since the previous evening. his mom is going to be mad if he doesn’t come home but kevin’s step-mom, abby, is very sweet and besides kevin looks constipated at the prospect of him staying so he ends up accepting)

aaron helps get the table ready while kevin chops veggies with way too much force, abby makes small talks but it’s alright, at least aaron doesn’t have to think about the screaming that will be waiting for him at home.

just as dinner is ready, the high school coach, who is also kevin’s father, arrives and stomps in all grumpily because some kids tripped each other on the tracks so he had to take them to the hospital for a sprained wrist and a sprained ankle. coach wymack looks at aaron then at kevin and then huffs. “‘bout time you brought a friend here” “he’s not my friend” “whatever you say kevin”. dinner is pleasant and aaron doesn’t remember the last time his stomach felt so full, kevin’s parents keep asking him questions and he finds it surprisingly easy to talk to them, especially because kevin is silently fuming opposite him.

aaron goes home with a tupperware full of food but as soon as tilda sees him she slaps him in the face because “where the fuck were you”. aaron drops the tupperware in surprise and apologizes profusely, when tilda is done with him he runs to his bedroom and doesn’t get out until the next day. kevin is the first person he sees in class, if he notices the still red mark on his cheek or the stiff way aaron holds himself, he doesn’t comment on it. aaron sits next to him to review their notes and kevin says “you’ll have to bring the tupperware back”

aaron “i’ll bring it tomorrow”

kevin “abby gave me these for you” kevin gives him a small bag of wrapped cookies.

aaron “why?”

kevin “because she has the audacity to like you”

they get an a for their presentation and aaron is invited for dinner again the following friday, kevin starts warming up to aaron even tho aaron keeps his distance until one day it’s just the two of them left in the locker room and oh fuck kevin is shirtless and oh fuck abs.

aaron realizes something about himself in that moment while kevin seems completely unbothered, but then a smirk stretches the corner of his mouth and oh fuck aaron is standing too close. kevin tilts his chin up with one finger and kisses him right there

#an oldie but a goodie #seriously i love this hc a bit too much #what if i wrote a proper fic for it 😳#not that i already have two big wips going on already but you know #kevaaron #kevin day #aaron minyard #aftg #aftg headcanon

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addisonnie · 1 year ago

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Hmmmm i feel like feeding you a little bit so open wide my wittle princesses here’s part 1 of a (depressing) draft I never finished lol.

Nothing in the world is worse than someone who doesn’t have to try at anything in order to be good at it. Especially in academic settings; What do you mean you didn’t study and you got an ‘A’? Eat shit, honestly.

On the topic of complaining, there is also nothing worse than taking a class you believe has nothing to do with anything regarding your major. Yet here you are, in ‘Dinosaurs: What Walked Before Us?’ instead of English 2400. Sure, dinosaurs are cool, whatever.

Ellie Williams seems to really, really enjoy dinosaurs. So much to the point that she doesn’t have to take notes or pay attention to lectures for any reason other than pure interest. Yep, she’s one of those. The auburn haired girl sits directly next to you in the lecture hall, she’s constantly talking to herself under her breath and doodling random dinosaurs and shapes in the blank expanse of her notebook. Not one note has been taken in that stupid spiral-bound notebook all semester and the thought of Ellie actually studying for this class is a mental image you just can’t picture.

She really pisses you off. Her stupid lanky fingers tapping on the desk. Her stupid toned arm reaching skyward to answer the professor's question. Why does she know so much about velociraptors?

“Psst. Hey.” She turns in her chair to look at the side of your face.

You ignore her and continue jotting down your notes. She’s not that easy to shake off, though,

“Hey—hey! Do you have a pen? Or pencil, I’m not particular.” She whisper-shouts in your direction and taps her skinny finger on your notebook. You attempt to continue ignoring Ellie and write down everything the professor says, she’s facing you and breathing really close to your ear and tapping your notebook and— Jesus Christ.

The tip of your pencil snapped off from writing too aggressively, the led resting on top of the paper serves as a taunting reminder that Ellie is still looking at you.

“Ooh. Rough. Hopefully you have two extras.” She smirks at you.

You scoff and turn to dig through your bag, turning to face Ellie when you fish out two pens, one pink and one blue.

“Thanks!” She roughly twists to face forward again, listening intently to the professor once again.

The professor. Shit. Fuck. What did he just say? The largest dinosaur was the what? You’re so fucked. Thank you, Ellie.

———

“You will be working in small groups—pairs of two to be exact. The person seated to the right of you will be your partner for this assignment. And remember, this is a massive assignment, worth forty percent of your grade. Alright, folks, that’s all for today. I’ll see you all next class.” Stupid smug professor. He knew exactly what he was doing! You took a quick look at the girl to the right of you and sighed when you realized Ellie Williams was, in fact, your partner for this massive project.

“Hey, partner.” Your eyes practically roll into the back of your skull when she slaps a hand onto the back of your chair, “you and me, huh?”

Instead of dignifying her with a response, you grab her arm from the back of your chair and aggressively push up the sleeve of her sweatshirt. A tattoo covers the majority of her forearm and the skin beneath it is raised slightly, swirls of scarred skin blur beneath the leafy pattern of ink. Uncapping your pen, you write your phone number on the back of her hand.

“Well, alrighty then. Assaulting a classmate. Nice. ” Her eyes scan the digits written on her hand and when she looks back up, you’re already halfway out the door with your backpack thrown carelessly over your shoulder.

Your phone vibrates in your back pocket while you walk down the front steps of the academic building. Once, twice.

Hey.

It’s Ellie.

————

The library is quiet aside from the incessant rapping and tapping of Ellie’s fingers on the desk between the two of you. Multiple books are strewn across the table, notebooks filled with highlighted annotations rest in the remaining space. You massage your temples and squint, attempting to block out the sound of her fingertips smacking the wood over and over and over again.

“Can you fucking not do that? For literally five seconds.” Ellie looks up from her book quickly and sheepishly smiles, “sorry.”

“Whatever.”

She rolls her eyes, “listen, I know you’re mad about being paired with me, but you don’t have to be such a grouch about it.”

What? You’re not even being a grouch. She’s just annoying as shit.

“I’m not a grouch—“ she cuts you off, “—yeah, you kinda are. Oscar the Grouch.”

Scoffing, you respond, “I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“You just did.” She smirks and you groan loud enough to be shushed by several of the people sitting nearby, “just do your part of the assignment.”

She doesn’t, of course. She spends the next thirty minutes spinning round and round in her desk chair, occasionally stopping to ensure the dizziness dissipates.

“You know,” here we go again. Ellie fully stops spinning, placing both of her hands down onto the table and stares straight at you.

“Instead of reading these boring books, what if we went to the museum instead—“

You cut her off, “no. No way.”

“Oh come on!” She drags out the last syllable, “it would be way more enjoyable than this! Plus, we could get some killer pictures for that hunk of shit slideshow you’ve been working on.”

“Hey—! My slideshow is not a hunk of shit!” Ellie scoffs and rolls her eyes, “it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”

Okay, so maybe your slideshow sucks a little bit. It’s boring and overly colorful with too much information on each slide—yeah, the more you look at it, the more it does look like a hunk of shit.

“Fine. Let’s go to the museum.”

———

The ride to the dinosaur exhibit is arguably the worst part of this project—a whole hour stuck in the car with Ellie, who can’t drive for shit, by the way. An old jeep wrangler parks messily on the street in front of your house and several shrill honks ring out from the old hunk of junk.

Here.

You slip on the shoes closest to the front door and quickly grab your tote bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you slam the door behind you. Ellie doesn’t notice you approach her car, much too enthralled in the music blasting from her busted speakers. You tug on the handle only to find that the door is locked. After knocking your knuckles on the window, the girl jumps and whips her head to face the window.

“It’s locked.” You mouth over the music, she shrugs.

“Guess you’ll have to walk.” A smirk spreads across her face, “I’m getting ready to key your car, Williams.”

She frowns quickly and unlocks the door, “good morning, grumpy! How are you this fine morning?”

You roll your eyes and slouch into the seat, “don’t start this now, please.”

Ellie huffs and turns the music up louder. Her arm reaches across the back of your seat as she turns her head around to reverse without hitting your already-damaged mailbox. Her buff, toned arm. Her tanned, tattooed arm. You can’t help but wonder how it would feel wrapped around you—no. You’re not doing this. Not with Ellie Williams of all people.

The ride is surprisingly quiet before Ellie slams the breaks, her arm slinging out rapidly to shove your body back into your seat. The force of her hit had you doubling over in your seat, wheezing out several coughs.

“Shit—shit. I’m sorry! You…kind of deserve it though.” She chuckles while you swat at her arm, shoving her away.

“You infuriate me. You know that? Like, seriously infuriate me.” Ellie fully removes her arm and drops her hand into her lap, frowning.

“I don’t know why. I think I'm pretty tolerable as far as everything goes.” She sounds genuinely sad, and you kind of feel bad for a moment,

“You just—I don’t know.”

Ellie is quiet for the rest of the ride.

#ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou

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blackfairy312 · 4 months ago

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To Toni, Richie and Vincent:

Are the current Rat, Cat and Puppeteer costumes the original designs or were they completely changed from the original concept? (I guess this question could apply to Vinnie too.)

Oh, my! This is a VERY good question.

The actors that you sent this in for are currently bickering with each other backstage. I can hear all three of their voices through the thin walls as I type this. I've sent Miss Komi over to intervene and try to pacify the situation. So, I will be the one answering this question. I hope you do not mind! As one of the co-founders of the Theater, I believe I will give you an answer that will satisfy you.

Fifteen or so years ago, I met Vincent in college. We shared a dorm together, and immediately hit it off! We'd stay up late into the night, sharing our dreams and discussing our plans for the future. He's a... very imaginative man, I'll say! 😊

There was a project he had to do for one of his classes. I can't remember all of the details at the moment, however, I do recall the assignment had to do with crafting one's very own puppet. Vincent came rushing into our room that day, rambling on and on about what his professor said. He had been writing notes to himself during the lecture, putting his thoughts onto the paper as soon as they had popped into his head. Vincent shared these notes with me, looking at me the whole time, making sure he had my full attention. He did.

For the rest of the night, he kept bouncing his ideas off of himself. I just listened the entire time, working on my own things. He was mainly talking to himself, not to me. Vincent doesn't really have "conversations" with people, you see. He talks so much that the other person doesn’t even need to engage directly, they just need to look and listen.

He was drawing out these designs, while simultaneously writing a short script. Yes, a script. He was going to perform for his presentation. Vincent spent weeks working on that thing, that puppet. He put so much of himself into this wooden creation, that after Vincent had gotten his grade, it didn't feel weird that he decided to keep Vinnie around.

The Vinnie you see him with now is that very same Vinnie.

The same cannot be said for the "Puppeteer" costume. Originally the Puppeteer wore a mask. I believe Vincent said his inspiration came from two figures from Greek Mythology; the Muses Melpomene and Thalia. "Tragedy" and "Comedy." Though, as you all know from pictures, he has chosen to switch to makeup instead. On occasion, he will wear the mask. Only on bad days.

Now, as for the costumes for the Rat and Cat characters... that story is less exciting. It was about seven years ago. Vincent and I were putting together our plans for the Theater. Scouting for actors, hiring set designers, all of that. He had sketched out some designs for the Rat and the Cat, as he had done for Vinnie long ago. Unfortunately, Vincent was too busy to make the costumes himself. So, I had asked then-wife if she'd make protype costumes for our two stars, using the sketches that Vincent had provided.

Then after the divorce, I had enough funds to get them replaced with... better ones. But then they got lost... and we had to go back to the old ones. The ones you see now. They're not the best, you'll notice. Miss Komi is always having to fix them up. Their tails just won't stay on, you see.

Vincent designed all of the characters in the Theater, except for the costume that the Pianist wears. My good friend sticks with his original ideas and builds off of them as time goes on. Vinnie's character has changed over time... gotten more "fleshed out." It excites to see where we will go in the future! 😊

Yours truly, G.E 🍬

Ah! It sounds like the argument is over. I'll go check on everyone... 😊

#ask songs of disarray #fnac 3 #fnac au #oc x canon #puppeteer fnac #five nights at candy's #🍷🔥posting #glenn fnac 3 #glenn eriksen #the pianist komi #komi tchaikovsky #komi fnac 3 #the pianist fnac 3 #the puppeteer vincent #the puppeteer vince #the puppeteer fnac 3 #snuppeteer 🐍🎭

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doeeyeseddie · 2 years ago

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one line, any fic

i was tagged (ages ago) by @rewritetheending @nymika-arts and @littlespoonevan, thank you!!

Rules: Pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the midpoint, pick a line (or a few), and share it! Then tag 10 people.

a place to go

Eddie’s hand on his back is careful, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch. Buck makes a sound that’s almost a sob and turns his whole body until his face is pressed to Eddie’s shoulder, and he’s so embarrassed-

you cause lanterns to light

Eddie is up on the balcony with Bobby and Chim, all of them sitting at the table. He’s looking pale and staring at his hands, palms pressed to the tabletop as the other two talk to him in low voices.

feeling the ache is better than nothing at all

“Because she’s his sister.” Eddie sighs. “You know how they are, Chim. I think it was them against the world for so long, they still sometimes forget to let other people in. Maddie begged Buck not to say anything, I think he was trying to do right by both of you.”

caught up in the war inside

“How’s your head?” he asks instead of continuing the conversation, touching his own temple in the place where Buck got pistol whipped. He wants to stride over, take Buck’s face in his hands and get a close look at the wound, but Buck got patched up at the hospital and it would be nothing but an indulgence.

when the weight we carry breaks us

It’s easier with people who don’t know him as well, which is the only reason he asked Buck to bring Taylor along to dinner the other day. He doesn’t particularly like her, hates thinking about her and Buck together, and it hurts actually seeing them together, but he needed a buffer so Buck wouldn’t have the opportunity to read him the way Eddie knows he can.

whatever i lose is put back by you

He’s already drawn a big, slightly lopsided heart, when he looks over and realizes that Christopher is taking great care copying an anatomically correct heart from his book onto his sheet of paper. Ah. So, probably not art class.

Buck looks down at his own heart and decides to keep going. It’s not like his assignment is gonna be graded, and maybe it’ll make Christopher laugh. Maybe it’ll even make Eddie smile.

used to be a time i thought i had nothing to lose (but now i do)

Buck stumbles to his knees next to him, ripping off the glove of his right hand and pressing it to Eddie’s neck to check for a pulse. He finds it immediately, strong and reassuring, and nearly sobs with relief.

better days are coming

Eddie sighs. “Does everybody know?”

“I don’t know,” Chimney says, “this isn’t actually something we gossip about. I figured there was a reason you were keeping it to yourself.”

pulls our heart towards home

The big dog is less subtle. He gets to Eddie and happily eats all the treats off the floor, then butts his head against Eddie’s knee and licks his hand while his tail thumps on the floor as he wags it. Eddie smiles, charmed, and he’s lucky Buck already married him, because seeing him like that just makes him want to marry him again.

hear the door slam (realize there's nowhere left to run)

“You…Buck.” Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Buck wraps his fingers around Eddie’s wrist and squeezes. “Listen, Eds, I– I have some magic, and I came along so I could protect you, but, um. I think this spirit may be stronger than I am. Which is why–“

it's been so long that i think everyone who wanted to do this probably has done it? if not, you're tagged!

#this is a very random collection of older fics i liked and newer ones i think deserve better dhgjks #it was actually so interesting scrolling to the middle of them #tag meme #p

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187days · 2 years ago

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Day One Hundred Forty-Four

It was really warm today- up near eighty- which meant my Block 2 class was begging me to take them outside for a walk. I told them I would if we had time at the end of the block and I was satisfied with their learning- so no rushing through work just to make sure we had time- and they agreed. Of course, I’d planned the lesson to be short in anticipation of this, but they didn’t need to know that.

We went over a vocab practice assignment I’d given out yesterday, which was also a refresher for what they learned prior to pausing to write their book papers. The last part of the assignment listed four things that I’ve said are crucial to understanding the modern world: colonialism, the World Wars, and the Cold War. That’s how I launched into a lesson about colonialism and its longterm impacts.

Now, I did the same lesson with my Block 3 students, but I predicted two things: by then, they’d have already convinced another teacher to take them outside so they wouldn’t be too upset if I didn’t; and they’d ask so many questions that my “short” lesson would take the entire block with them whereas it only took an hour with the other section.

Was I right? Yes, of course, I’m a wizard.

It was a good lesson, in both cases, and I was able to end it by explaining how it’ll connect to the on they’ll do on Monday (about WWI). You all know I like to make the connections between my lessons explicit, so it’s clear to my students that there’s a purpose to whatever they’re doing.

That skill served me well later on in the day when Dean 1 emailed me to schedule my formal observation; he asked for possible dates, lesson plans for those dates, and context for those lessons.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Oh, and APGOV today was fun, too. A lot of my students were absent- sports dismissals- but the ones who were there learned all about campaign finance law, Citizens United, and the way outside spending is changing US elections. It’s a terrific lesson, one I love teaching, and I thought it went really well.

Track practice went... slightly less well?

One of the challenging things about a lot of high schoolers these days is that they lack patience, have poor impulse control, and tend to hyper-focus on their grades, or their athletic stats, or whatever. It’s a manifestation of the anxiety that’s running rampant in their generation, and, whew, it is rough. If they decide they need to do something, they need to do it RIGHT NOW. They can’t think about anything else until it’s done, and they get angry, frustrated, or some other negative emotion if they’re made to. This means they try to check their grades when they should be paying attention to a lesson, or ignore a current assignment to finish an assignment an incomplete one from like a week ago, or barge into classes while they’re in session because they have to tell their friend A Very important Thing That Cannot Wait.

The one that’s driving The Head Coach a bit crazy is that they constantly ask if they can to do things other than what he, or any of us assistant coaches, want them to do. Like, the jumpers want to keep jumping and jumping when they can’t clear a height or make a distance, the sprinters want to do two dozen block starts or do full sprint time trials to make sure they can hit certain times. They have it in their heads that’s the only way to get better, and they don’t listen to our explanations that doing those things will actually hurt, not help. Again: anxiety is causing their brains to be full of static, I get it. But The Head Coach doesn’t. He takes offense because they’re questioning his expertise and authority, and it’s totally disrespectful, and I get that, too.

I’m not entirely sure how it’ll shake out as the season progresses. It led to a rough start to practice, but once our athletes actually started doing the work- baton practice, mostly, because there’s a relay meet tomorrow- it got better. Here’s hoping the meet goes well!

#teaching #teacher #teachblr #edublr #educhums #education #high school #social studies #i am a wizard #coaching #track #Dean 1 #The Head Coach #day one hundred forty four

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ssareids-coffee · 3 years ago

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professor

professor!spencer x teaching assistant!reader

content: SMUT!! MDNI!!! small age gap, squirting, pussy eating, spit kink, unprotected sex, breeding kink (probably more i went a bit feral on this one)

three weeks of the semester left, which meant three more weeks working with professor reid. Being an exceptional student, you had been asked to be his TA and help with some of his workload, as he still had his job at the FBI, and you were more than happy to oblige. Not only did you find criminal psychology fascinating, but you couldn’t deny you found the young doctor attractive and wanted to savour any time you could spend together. Professor Reid was only a few years older than you, which made the attraction even more difficult to ignore. This wasn’t just another young girl having a crush on her much older professor, it was a woman thinking about her professor, and co-worker, while she touched herself at night. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but flirt with Spencer as the weeks of you working together went on. watching the way the tips of his ears blushed and listening to him stumble over his words as he tries to respond is something you cant resist.

It was a Friday night, you were both sat in his office grading the latest paper he set until it had gone dark outside.

‘a few hundred students doesn’t feel like a lot when you see them in the lecture hall, but oh my god there are so many essays’ you groan as you rest your head on his desk, needing to rest your eyes before going back to grading.

‘Tell me about it’ he replied ‘Why do you think I was so happy when they assigned you to me’

‘You mean it wasn't because you think I am pretty?’ you tease him, putting your hand over your heart faking being hurt. you see his eyes trail down to your chest, lingering a little too long on your cleavage.

‘Well, that was just an added bonus’ he smirks, meeting your eyes before quickly getting back to reading. Your breath catches in your throat- did he just flirt back? Cheeks turning pink, you look back down at the paper you were grading trying to distract your thoughts of what it would be like to kiss the fbi genius in front of you.

“Are you okay Miss L/N? Your looking a little flushed” he asked, walking round his desk so he was now in front of you, leaning against it as he looked down at you.

“Oh, yeah i’m fine, sorry my mind is elsewhere” you reply quickly, standing up and reaching behind him to place the essays back on his desk. You look up at him, closer to him than you had ever been in your months working together. He’s looking down at you, lips parted as he gently brushes a loose hair from your face.

“i should go” you whisper, holding your breath at the way his fingers linger on your cheek.

“what if i don’t want you too?” he replied, taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head upwards.

“i- professor”

“shit, im trying so hard not to kiss you but every time i hear you call me professor i just can’t think of anything accept how your lips would feel on mine” he groans.

“then stop trying, just kiss me” you whisper, slowly moving your lips closer to his. he gently brushes your lips with his before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, as if to gauge whether to stop. you softly touch his mouth with your fingertips before moving them slowly across his jawline and towards the back of his head. curling his hair around your fingers as you look up at him through thick lashes was the final straw for him- placing his hand on the back of your head and pulling your towards him. the kiss started out as gentle, hesitant, but soon any fear went out the window and you both started losing yourselves in each others mouths. he grabs your hips and spins your round so now your sat on his desk, grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards so you are looking into each other’s eyes.

“is this okay?” he asked “do you want this?”

“god yes” you reply before grabbing his tie to pull him close enough to kiss. wrapping your leg around his waist you pull him closer towards you, subconsciously grinding your aching pussy onto his crotch as you let out a breathy moan.

“fuck you sound so sexy when you moan, even prettier than i imagined” he groaned into your mouth as he ripped of his tie and threw it across the room.

“imagined?“ you smile between kisses “you thought about me professor”

“your telling me you didn’t think of me when you got home and touched yourself? didn’t think about how i would feel between your thighs?“ he replies as he starts to kiss his way down your neck, lingering on your collar bone as he gave it a light bite. you can only let out a moan in response, pulling away from the kiss so you can throw your shirt off.

“jesus christ” he groaned, grabbing your tits and gently pinching your nipples, pulling a breathy moan from you “no bra sweetheart? you fucking tease”

“I had to try get your attention somehow, sir” you whimpered as he pushed your skirt up your hips so it sat around your waist.

“baby, you have had my attention from the minute I saw you” he replied while you finished unbuttoning his shirt, letting it slip over his shoulders. raking your eyes over his now bare torso, you bite your lip as you take him in.

“like what you see sweetheart?” he laughed lightly as he took off his belt and pulled you into a searing kiss. tongues fighting for dominance, you can only groan into his mouth as a response. his strong thigh finds its way between your legs and you grind down on it looking for some kind of release.

“I would love to watch you cum on my thigh sometime sweetheart, but right now I want- no I need to taste you”

his hands find themselves on your hips before he pulls your panties down your legs, placing them into his pocket as he smirks up at you from between your thighs.

“just taking a souvenir” he says before licking a stripe from your aching hole to your bundle of nerves.

“oh fuckkk” you moaned, louder than you should have.

“baby, if you want me to keep going your going to need to be quiet, can you do that?” you nod your head vigorously and before you can tell him to keep going his mouth is back where you needed it most. you had expected him to know his way around pleasing a woman, he couldn't look like that and not have had a few flings, but he was exceeding every fantasy you had ever had. his tongue continued to work your clit as he entered a finger inside your aching pussy which pulled a string of moans and curses from you.

“I thought you said you could stay quiet? im gonna have to shut you up so I can finish this sweetheart’ he replied, finger still inside you gently pressing on your g-spot as he shoved his tie into your mouth. he reattached his mouth to your clit and added another finger, and you felt like you were in heaven. back arching on the desk, nails dragging down the wood as you moaned into the fabric he stuffed into your mouth. you were getting close much sooner than you thought, not even able to warn him before a powerful orgasm washed over you. waves of pleasure coursed through your body as you tried desperately to claw onto something to keep you upright.

“Jesus Christ, you squirted” he groaned, putting his fingers in his mouth as he cleaned you off of them “you taste, fucking incredible”

“I-i have never done that before” you reply after he removed the tie from your mouth, still breathless “I want to make you feel good” you reply, pulling his trousers down to his ankles before trying to sink onto the floor.

“I've thought about you on your knees for me far too much, but I dont think I can wait any longer to be inside of your sweet pussy” he moaned, pulling his cock out of his boxers, picking you up and pushing you back down onto his desk before entering you with one swift motion. you both let out blissful moans as he stretches your tight walls in the most perfect way.

“thought you said we had to be quiet huh professor?”

“shut up and kiss me as there is no way I can stay quiet when your sweet pussy is squeezing me like that, shit” he hissed as he smashed his mouth onto yours. the kiss was passionate, primal, filled with tongues and teeth and moans. he pulled out almost completely before pushing himself back inside quickly, setting a hard and fast pace. you had both waited too long for this, there was no way you could slow down. his hands find their way to your ass as he pulls you even closer to him, allowing you to take him even deeper. you whimper into his mouth as your sensitive clit grinds against his body. he was relentlessly fucking into you now, letting out a string of curse words as he wrapped his hand round your throat.

“open your mouth’ he ordered. quickly opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out as he grabbed your cheeks and spat directly into your mouth. you moaned while you swallowed what he gave you, his dick hitting all the right spots and you could feel yourself getting close again.

“shit, im gonna cum again” you whined, back arching so your tits were pressed against his bare chest. waves of pleasure washed over you as you came on his dick, squeezing him as your pussy fluttered around him.

“fuck me im gonna cum, shit, gonna fill you up” he groaned, somehow picking up his pace and fucking you even faster.

“please fill me up, shit I want to be full of you” you moaned, nails digging into his biceps as you tried to hold yourself up.

“my girls got a breeding kink huh?” he replied “you want me to fill you up with my cum? get you full and pregnant so everyone knows you are a slut for your professor”

“yes shit please get me pregnant, want everyone to know I'm yours” you cried out. that seemed to be the last straw for him, thrusts faltering as he spilled inside you with a shout of your name. he looked into your eyes, gently caressing the side of your face before pulling you in for another kiss. this was different though, gentle and almost loving. he pulled out of you and sat down beside you on the desk.

‘so, hi’ he smiled, looking at you with flushed cheeks.

‘I just squirted on your face and asked you to get me pregnant and all you can say is hi?” you giggled as he started laughing with you.

“shit, its really late’ you exclaim, looking at the clock on the wall in front of you as you gently rest your head on his shoulder.

“let me drive you back to my place so I can clean you up properly” he asked as he stroked your head softly.

“as long as we can go for round two after, i never got to show you how good i am on my knees” you reply, placing a kiss onto his shoulder.

“god, your gonna be the death of me”

“you say that like you don’t love it”

“your right, i do”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #hotch smut #professor!spencer #ta!reader

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 3 years ago

Note

Can you please do hcs for the boys with a s/o who is super academic? Like valedictorian track, straight A, always studying type vibe? :D

A/N: I’m one of those kids who was in gifted classes when they were little and now struggle in school/life :D anyway! These were lots of fun to do and I hope you all enjoy!

DARRY CURTIS

You most likely met Darry in high school and you probably went off to college while he stayed to take care of the family

He’s such a hypocrite when it comes to your study habits, always telling you that you need to take more breaks

You turn that knowledge back on him when he starts to get too tied up at his jobs

Darry’s incredibly proud of your hard work though and will actually put your report cards up on the fridge with Ponyboy’s

Sometimes he likes to try and do your homework with you, he’ll just sort of take your papers and work through the question

He’s sort of living his college education through you, y’know? This is the closest he’ll probably ever get and he knows it

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop thinks you’re an absolute genius no matter what you say to him

You could tell him that the sky was actually pink and this boy would believe you in the blink of an eye

He will try and persuade you to cut down on your studying time though, why would you want to stay home, all cooped up and studying, when you could be out at the drive–in with him?

Always offers to help you with your work despite not knowing one single piece of the information

Graduation? You’re named valedictorian? Sodapop is the one clapping the loudest for you, he’s so proud of your accomplishments

PONYBOY CURTIS

You guys are study buddies! Always studying together, consistently partnering up for group projects

Darry really likes you, when you’re studying with him, Pony always ends up getting higher grades

Your brains are very compatible and the two of you balance each other out really well

You guys will sit together, each of you working on your own tasks and just have some small form of physical contact

For example, the two of you sitting in his room working on homework; Pony’s sitting at his desk, diligently writing out an essay for English, you’re by his feet, one of your ankles touching his as you read from your biology textbook

It’s sort of a game? Who can get a higher score on these tests and quizzes and who can get Darry to hang them up first

DALLAS WINSTON

Education isn’t something that is overly important in Dally’s mind, he’s just not into the whole idea of school and actually doing his assignments

Finds your studying boring, would rather have your attention on him than some dusty old textbook or your pages upon pages of notes

Dally is going to hide your books from you when he thinks you’re getting to wrapped up in studying, he’s worried about your sanity and you won’t listen when he tells you to take a break

With how much time he spends at Buck’s it’s not odd to see you sitting at the end of the bar, notebooks spread around you as you’re studying

He can and will call you a nerd/dork/any other sort of geeky nicknames that he wants, he says them all in love

As soon as those names come out of the mouths of anyone other than the gang, Dally is throwing fists, you’re his dork, not everyone can call you that

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny is the most supportive boyfriend a studious person could ever ask for

You have to cancel a date night because you forgot about a test and have to spend the night studying? Don’t worry, darlin’, Johnny doesn’t mind one bit

He offers to study with you! He actually really enjoys to study with you, it’s a very peaceful atmosphere most of the time

Johnny doesn’t bring home the best of grades but he’s not dumb, we all know that, he’s just not the best at school

With your help, his grades do raise up a little bit but he’s never really been concerned about getting better grades, it’s not like his parents care about his grades

But the smile on your face when he shows you a math assignment with a B+ on the front, that smile sort of makes him want to keep getting higher grades

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Y’all probably met because the teachers got tired of his nonsense and decided he needed a tutor, a role model to set him on the right path

Welp, he’s certainly still not on the ‘right’ path but he’s definitely in head over heels in love with you

Two-Bit still only makes appearances at school for the social aspect and to sit in on the classes you take, whether or not he’s supposed to be there, the teachers have honestly given up

God, he’s so in love with your brain, Two’s always asking you questions about almost everything under the sun

Even if you don’t know the answers to his random little inquiries, he’s always pleased by the responses you give him, he loves listening to you geek out

Two-Bit wants to celebrate every A you receive, he knows you work hard for each of them and he can’t help but spoil you

STEVE RANDLE

I can never stress how proud Steve always is to be your partner, this man is literally the king of hyping you up

Is always bragging about your academic achievements even if whoever he’s bragging to doesn’t want to hear about it

He’s not a very studious person, school bores him and he really doesn’t enjoy studying for assignments but he loves spending time with you

You can read just as well sitting in his lap darlin’ as you can sitting in a chair so just come and sit with him

Please don’t stress yourself out about studying when you’re around him, it upsets him to see you upset

He’s so very proud of you but he’s also going to love you no matter what grades you bring home, he’ll love you if you get A’s on your papers, he’ll love you if you F’s on your papers

TIM SHEPARD

Tim’s pretty smart, he made decent grades in school but he’ll never mention it to anyone, he didn’t think it was important

But your grades? They’re something to be celebrated, he gets so excited over your work in school, he’s so proud of you

He doesn’t mean the loud kind of celebrations though, he means holding you tight against him for a solid minute or two, just looking at each others eyes and giving you a few chaste kisses while he murmurs his pride in you

He trusts you with a lot of the decisions that need to be made for the gang, you’re smart and most of the Tim looks to you as an advisor

Somedays, Tim really hopes that your intelligence would rub off on Curly

His doll as valedictorian? He was sure he’d never been more in love with you then when you were giving that speech to your class

CURLY SHEPARD

You’re studying again? For the third night in a row? Curly is not above pouting to get your attention back on him so that he can take you out on a date

He absolutely hates the way you get so stressed out over assignments, he knows you can’t help it sometimes but he really wishes you wouldn’t get so worked up over it

Curly’s intelligence doesn’t lie within the realm of booksmarts, he much more street smart and has a lot more common sense than people expect

For the sake of the above, we’re going to ignore the burning fingers thing with Ponyboy, you specifically told him not to do that

An A? Expect a smattering of kisses across your cheeks and jawline, Curly’s very proud of you

He doesn’t always understand everything you talk about but he knows that he likes hearing you say it

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thesunmeltedthegrayaway · 3 years ago

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The Straight A Student: Preference

A/N: I hope the people who have been requesting things don’t mind that I may be writing request out of order. I ended up getting sick with a head cold. So I thought I should start writing the request that seem short to me because I thought they would be easier for me to concentrate. In all honesty it is a struggle to even keep my eyes open right now lol I feel so exhausted. I’m really sorry!

This is a request! If you would like to make a request take a look at (this post) for all of the characters I am currently writing for.

My Multi-fandom Masterlist

The request is...

Dallas

Teases you all the time about how smart you.

“You keep readin’ that book and you’re gonna end up burnin’ a hole in it.”

But is honestly really impressed with how smart you are.

He’d just never admit it to you out loud.

Will pry you away from a study session whether you seem stressed out or not.

“Dal, I need to get this done.”

“You look like your head is going to explode, take a breather already.”

Since your so skilled in your English classes, you have a way with words that will convince Dally to do almost anything.

And your persuasion will take a few seconds to sink in before he realized what you just did.

“Wait what the hell did I just agree to do?”

“That’s a dirty trick Y/L/N

~~~ Darry

You give him the preview of what his life would be like if he went to college.

Some parts he wishes he could do himself.

But then he sees how stressed out you can get it and is kinda relived he doesn’t have to do that himself.

You’re like a live in tutor for Ponyboy so you take a slight bit of stress off his place.

Because the last thing he wants to do is come home from work and then be stuck helping Ponyboy out with a math assignment he can hardly understand.

He now knows how Ponyboy and Sodapop feel whenever they saw him surrounded by bills at 3 o’clock in the morning.

Because there were many nights he would have to carry you to be because you ended up falling asleep with you surrounded by textbooks and crinkled up papers.

“This cannot become a habit of yours hon.” He said in a hushed voice, he laughed slightly at your askew hair, you face had a slight imprint of the book you had fallen asleep on.

“Even if you do look adorable whenever I find you...”

~~~ Johnny

Your biggest support if I’m being honest.

Showers you with compliments with every A you get.

Is also extremely tempted to copy off your homework.

Because if he’s being honest he cannot for the life of him concentrate in class.

He knows when to reel you in if he feels like your getting too overwhelmed.

You two will have study sessions together.

But they’ll quickly turn into you reading everything while he listens and slowly falls asleep.

“Johnny?”

“...”

“Johnny are you listening?” You say a bit louder giving him a shake. He jumps slightly at the motion before settling back down.

“y-yeah I...” He murmured quietly before falling back to sleep.

You scoff as you look down at his now sleeping form.

“You always do this...” You run your hand through his rarely greaseless hair before smiling. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

~~~ Ponyboy

Is impressed but also feel slightly competitive.

You got an A, he better get one too then.

You aren’t any better than him, you two will battle it out when it comes to your grades.

Because of the friendly competition, Ponyboy begins studying a lot more.

Darry loves the fact that you’re so smart because it encourages Ponyboy to actually do his school work on time.

You two will aggressively study together.

The small rivalry you have with each other is so ridiculous sometimes it makes the both of you laugh.

“What are we even doing?” You asked with a laugh, the notes you had written down look like you aggressively wrote them down.

“I- I don’t know anymore.” He replied, his voice sounded just as humorous as yours.

“I’m still going to get a better grade than you.” You challenge teasingly making him smirk.

“In your dreams...”

~~~ Sodapop

You’re so smart he is intimidated by it sometimes.

His mind feels like it’s going to explode whenever you talk about whatever you’re studying.

“I dropped out for a reason Y/N/N, you’re the brains our relationship.”

“Don’t discount yourself Soda, you’re just as smart as me.”

“Stop lying Y/N.”

Is also extremely proud the grades you get.

“It’s just an A Soda.”

“It is not just an A!”

He can pull you away from studying with ease.

He just has a way about him that can get you to do almost anything.

He’s just an extremely supportive boy who will help you in anyway you can while you’re working.

~~~

Steve

Is proud of how smart you are and will gloat about to anyone who will listen.

But will also force you to quit studying when he feels you’re doing too much.

“Y/N, put the book down.”

“But I-”

“Put it down before I have to hose your brain off the walls.”

He’ll try to listen to whatever you’re currently studying or working on.

But in all honesty it goes in one ear and out the other.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to listen to you.

It’s just that school has never been his first priority.

~~~ Two-Bit

You help him out a lot in school.

You’re a pretty good influence on him.

Like you’ll actually be able to get him to do some school assignments.

But he still won’t do them all.

Could listen to you talk about the school topics your talking about for hours.

“How come you listen so easily to me when it comes to stuff like this?” You asked curiously.

“You’re a lot more fun to listen to than any other damn teacher in that place.”

He tries to make studying funner for you when you get really stressed out about.

He reminds you that not getting an A on every assignment is okay.

“You got one B darlin’ it’s not the end of the world. You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for. Just look at the 100,000 other A’s you get in your other classes.

#the outsiders #the outsiders x y/n #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders oneshot #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston #dallas winston headcanons #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #steve randle #darry curtis x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade

357 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

��

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

��

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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