#it just drove the nail further in I guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

love-kurdt · 11 months ago

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This is Me Trying (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

warnings for this chapter: none really, ngl. just very honest and open conversation. but same as all the other warnings in previous chapters, just be cautious if you see anything that may trigger you. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around him, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day Mike took off his watch. His hands were shaking, the anticipation inside him about to explode like fireworks. He balled his hands up into fists and put them in his sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because he could feel his palms getting sweaty.

Mike glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. He raised his hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at him. He watched her run further and further away until they were out of his line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. He turned his attention back to the door, and lifted his hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before he was able to, Will opened the door.

Mike froze, his hand still in the air. He lowered his arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before he was met with a faceful of door. He should have seen that coming. He leaned his head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” he hesitated, digging his nails into his palms. This was likely going to be his first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but Mike figured he might as well get everything off his chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

Mike closed his eyes with his head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when he felt a light thump right next to his face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to Mike’s ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. His stomach nervously flipped as he cleared his throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” Mike trailed off. What was he trying to say? How could he reduce his love for Will into a single sentence? How could he explain himself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? He couldn’t. He was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. He asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” He tried to add a bit of humor to his voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. Mike set his hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” Mike felt the doorknob click below, and he lifted his head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and Mike were little, they functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, Mike was happy. When Will would cry, Mike would cry with him. Now, Mike felt like he was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed himself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

Will crossed his arms across his chest, and looked down towards the ground, still on the defensive. But his voice betrayed him when he said, “No, please don't worry about me. It’s fine. And I…” his voice wobbled, “I’m sorry for slamming the door. I was just so…”

Mike nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

He took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. Mike wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” Mike heard himself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of them began awkwardly laughing while still crying. Mike had to refrain from thinking too much, because if he did, he’d get all sentimental about how this was the first time he’d laughed with Will in… he couldn’t even remember.

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought his approval, after everything. Of course Mike liked it. Mike liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had Mike falling flat on his face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” he told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” Mike thought of that one time he’d walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded Mike…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” he apologized, picking at the nails of his index fingers with his thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Will replied quickly, eyes wide. “I was being a total asshole that day. I know this doesn’t excuse what I said to you, but I’ll have you know I’d just failed an English test–”

“Did you not read the material?” Mike smirked, and Will smiled back up at him, their eyes fully meeting for the first time.

“You know me too well,” he said, and Mike’s heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

Mike gawked at that, his eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” Mike ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than he remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. His gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and his mouth went dry when he realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt Mike had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“But yeah,” Will continued, “leave it to Matt Winters to ruin the one day of the year where I don’t feel like shit. So when you called, I’d just gotten back home. And I felt so guilty for snapping at you and hanging up that I didn’t call you back after the fact, because I was afraid you’d be mad at me.”

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” Mike emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and Mike feared he’d said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to Mike’s forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then they’d need to call an ambulance. Because Mike was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” Mike deadpanned at the joke, despite himself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could Mike be mad at Will for that? Why would Mike be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like Mike had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if Mike did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, he’d be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. He figured he’d come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why he was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should he say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” Mike’s focus shifted down to his shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But he didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. Mike’s head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at Mike’s biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” Mike quipped back. He decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and they were back in Mike’s basement again. Those were Will’s last words to Mike before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where Mike tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” he listed off what he’d endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. He tacked the only thing he could think of onto the end of his list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. Mike wished it was his hand instead. As he took in Will’s jarred reaction, his world went cold. It made more sense when Mike shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on his eyelids. He lowered his gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” he concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and Mike diverted his eyes back to the ground. He watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. They were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting him out for the last time, giving Mike the closure he’d practically begged for. Mike lifted his head so he could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for him?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and Mike raised his eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if he’d ever seen one. He took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. Mike took off his mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if he tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. He expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, he took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that Mike knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. Mike walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. He peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. He knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. He smiled to himself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one Mike had on his desk, the photo that Jonathan took of Mike on Will’s handlebars. Mike felt like crying again, so he looked away before that could happen. His attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. He guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” Mike asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what Mike thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

Mike hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

Mike shook his head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards Mike.

“I had one, Will!” Mike tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?” He phrased the last part of his sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to Mike in order to poke his chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and Mike feigned offense as he felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in his sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch his entire torso. Will was close enough that Mike could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. His eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and he fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” he breathed, and Will processed what Mike had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

Mike observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of him. He hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made him think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, Mike thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” Mike said as he glared back at Will, giving away his joking nature with a small lift of his lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. Mike gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next.

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told Mike, ambition in his tone. Mike wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. Mike shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to him.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking Mike’s much larger hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” Mike felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Mike glanced down at their connected hands as Will spoke again, but he didn’t hear what he was saying. He blinked, pulling his attention back up to Will’s face. How was he supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when their palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less.

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now Mike had to say yes. He gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of Mike’s hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last Mike for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making him pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed Mike standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for Mike to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on Mike.

They made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while Mike hopped up on the counter like when they were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed him from where he stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to Mike, who took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way Mike took his coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how Mike felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and Mike died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” Mike frowned, sipping his coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to Mike as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— Mike’s sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. Mike set his coffee down next to him and shifted so his hands were squished under his thighs. That way he wouldn’t be able to do what he truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove his tongue down his throat as he ran his fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, Mike thought, but held his tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. Mike preened at the praise as he pulled one of his hands out from under his leg to pick up his mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on Mike for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. Mike watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. He was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking Mike out.

“But what about you?” Mike asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. Mike nodded at what Will was telling him, but something else dwelled in the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” Mike asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” Mike remarked slowly, trying his best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed Mike a plate, and Mike thanked him as they dug in, the two young men standing at (and sitting on) the counter as they ate. Mike cut into his pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with his fork and swirling it around in the syrup on his plate. He looked up when he heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met Mike’s gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. Mike blushed when he realized he’d been staring, and quickly focused back on his own plate. He chewed the piece of pancake he’d cut and confirmed to himself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes he’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

He turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at Mike already. Will’s eyes jumped from Mike to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to Mike all within the span of five seconds. Mike held his attention this time when he licked his lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, Mike felt like he was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, Mike noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once they’d finished their pancakes and put their dishes in the sink, Mike and Will headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break Mike’s heart.

Mike admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before he came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. Mike remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to Mike’s house to celebrate, Will had brought their friends into a secluded area of the house and told them he was gay. Mike, who had been head over heels in love with his best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in his head. Maybe he had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure Mike knew it. So Mike withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing himself along like he had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” Mike said more to himself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to him, close enough that their arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at Mike, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take him back in time to before his world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” He looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face Mike before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

Mike didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember it. Hell, he didn’t want to think about it. But Mike took a second to reason with himself, because Will was standing beside him, Will was asking something of him, and the least he could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So Mike told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and Mike was lying on the basement couch with his legs hanging off the edge. His eyes were closed, and he wore his headphones which were attached to his Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as Mike had from the second it fell into his hands back in 1986. He felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. He cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when he registered that it was Will who was entering his space. He always loved when Will came to his house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” Mike sat up, pulling his headphones fully off his head and resting them around his neck. Then he saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. Mike’s eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? Mike thought he’d hidden them well enough. Apparently, he was sorely mistaken, because Will held Mike’s letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. Mike couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” Mike wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” Mike squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and Mike flinched. He’d never seen Will this angry before. He stood up then, his face on fire with inferiority from when he’d been on the couch as Will towered over him. Now, Mike was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” Mike kept his tone soft, what the Party called his Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. Mike was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on his mind when he thought about Will. When he thought about Will, he felt safe, he felt hopeful, he felt valuable, and he felt worthy. What he felt for Will was pure love, and he’d say it out loud… if he didn’t hate himself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” Mike told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” he continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when he had Will caged in between his arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto Mike’s wrist, their watches positioned side by side. Mike closed his eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting himself in preparation for what he was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Mike opened his eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, he could hear Will’s heartbeat. He licked his lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, Mike leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of Mike’s life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. Mike wanted to kiss Will forever. He allowed himself, for once in his life, to take what he wanted, and moved his hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of his pent-up passion, holding him close. He felt Will’s hands meet Mike’s shoulders, and… he was pushing Mike away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to Mike? He’d just bared his soul to the love of his life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of Mike. He wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” he said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like he’d always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook Mike’s hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of Mike’s reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” Mike pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” Mike took back what he’d thought about not being afraid of Will. He was terrified. He watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. Mike put a hand up to his mouth, muffling a sob.

What had he done?

Mike stopped his pacing for a moment to breathe. He’d gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. He looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at Mike with that same blank expression, and Mike wanted to scream. But he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting Mike where he was at, and placing a hand on his arm. Mike didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning him caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took Mike’s chin and moved it so their eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

“Because I had convinced myself that you could never love me the way I loved you. But all of a sudden you were telling me that you loved me romantically and wanted to be with me forever! How can you blame me for being thrown off?”

Mike shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And he meant it; he couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because Mike had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held his chin lowered down to the space between his neck and his shoulder, and he went to reply, but Mike spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along Mike’s sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” Mike’s tone was rough as he crossed his arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” Mike softened his voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of them at once.

Mike looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking his eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to Mike and pulled his hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath Mike’s skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and Mike looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” he admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as he spoke. He was not proud of the person he’d become. He relived every single one of his mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured him like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. Mike slowed his movements before confessing something else, something he never thought he��d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and Mike was quick to comfort him, his hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” Mike hesitated, uncertainty flooding his thoughts, but he swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” he asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

Mike pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling his body instantly as Will’s head fell against his chest, right over his heart. He could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that his heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up Mike’s back, pulling him down slightly by his shoulderblades. Mike nestled his nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, he opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only he would remember it happening. As they stood there, their bodies flush against one another, Mike knew he didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Mike and Will held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what Mike had been waiting for. Just this. He finally felt whole again.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but he was sure of the fact that both of them were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” Mike laughed, practically slapping his sweatshirt sleeve up to his face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and Mike remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of his emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” Mike continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto Mike’s chest again as Mike’s hands ran up and down Will’s sides. He memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing his hands upwards until his hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” Mike said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from Mike’s chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on Mike’s hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around Mike’s lower back.

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told him, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” Mike felt his jaw drop, barely able to process what he was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around Mike’s brain, and he might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. He needed Will to pinch him, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn't real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for him, he pinched himself, and felt butterflies erupt in his stomach when he didn’t snap his eyes open to the sight of his bedroom back in Indianapolis. He was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding him rather sensually, and Mike felt so fucking alive.

“So… where do we go from here?” Mike whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. Mike backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of his mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on him. He’d gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” he said, almost a reflex at this point in his life. He always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing Mike’s wrist before he could get too far. He pulled Mike back in sharply and grabbed him by the back of his neck, tugging him all the way down until their lips collided. Mike let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as he shoved his hands into Will’s hair, raising his head as he leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While Mike’s hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved Mike everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from Mike’s lower back, up his torso, past his chest, around the back of Mike’s head to brush the nape of his neck, through Mike’s long hair, then back down to grope Mike’s ass. Mike squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through Mike’s body and set him ablaze. Mike lowered his grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way he’d wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss then, smirking up at the taller man. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” Mike tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to Mike’s lips, turning them around and backing Mike up until his calves hit the base of Will’s bed. Mike was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and Mike whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed Mike backwards until his back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. Mike had thought Will would only call him that in his dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. Mike watched as Will climbed on top of him, one leg on either side of his waist, and leaned down to kiss him, nice and slow. Mike ran his tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let Mike in immediately. They continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted Mike’s arms up so they were pinned above his head, and Mike quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down his neck. He smiled at the ceiling. Mike Wheeler loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved Mike Wheeler. All was right with the world.

But Mike would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

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#byler #byler fic #byler fanfic #byler tumblr #byler nation #byler endgame #will byers #mike wheeler #will x mike #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #thisismetrying1 #thisismetrying2 #thisismetrying3

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wandafiction · 7 months ago

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Your Flaws Are Your Strengths - Just Us Chapter 54

Warnings: Little Angst, Self Depreciating Thoughts, Overthinking, Fluff

Word Count: 3015

Series List | Chapter 53 | Chapter 55

================================

"Thank you." I take the suit cover from Paula. It's Friday afternoon. Wanda is at my penthouse, as the boys are at Visions this weekend, getting her hair and make-up sorted while I grab her new suit. I walk out of SAKS with the suit bag, the clothes hanger on my finger and the bag over my shoulder, heading towards the G wagon which I drove so there is room to hang this thing up. As I get situated in the car, my phone goes off and I look down to see Wanda Facetiming me so I put the phone on hands free as I start the car.

W: Hi baby, are you on your way back?

Me: I am, the suit looks amazing. You're going to look amazing. Did you call just to ask?

W: No, I missed your voice.

Me: I have literally been out for like 2 hours.

W: Oh well. So you're going to come back, we get changed and then we go right?

Me: That's right. And then because you have girls night tomorrow, we can head home after the party just so we don't have to rush around tomorrow.

I see a fuzzy smile grow on Wanda's face, her eyes searching around the screen.

Me: What has you smiling like that?

W: You called my apartment home.

Me: I did, huh. Well it has become a second home to me basically I haven't really left the place this week.

W: Mhmm, about that. I was thinking of getting you a key cut. So you have a key for home .

Me: I can't say no to being able to let myself in the place whenever I want.

W: Might rethink my decision.

Me: Too bad you love me too much not to give me a key. Did you plan this as well?

W: Plan what?

Me: Well it's officially been a month since we have known each other and you are giving me a key to the apartment.

W: Sure, we will go with yes to answer your question.

Me: Hmm. Right I'm just pulling up to the garage so I will lose you, see in a few minutes princess.

W: Love you baby.

Me: Love you too.

As soon as the elevator door opens up to the penthouse, Wanda slides on her socks across the tiles, her arms waving at the slide to try and keep her balance. She ends up colliding with me, her arms wrap around my torso but her legs continue to slide so her body almost falls backwards. Luckily I was quick enough to put my arm on her back and keep her from hitting the floor, our position currently looking like a dip you do when dancing. Her hands move to cup my face as she gets her legs back underneath her standing on her tiptoes, as I stand up straight, smothering my face in wet kisses.

"Well hello to you too Princess." I laugh as she kisses me one more time on the lips.

"Hi baby. Is this it?" Wanda's eyes light up at the suit bag that's hanging over my shoulder.

"It is. Are you ready to get into it?" Wanda nods as she takes it from my hand making her way to the living room. "You look beautiful by the way."

"I'm wearing your sweatpants and hoodie. I look like a slob." She lays the suit bag on the back of the couch and starts to unzip it.

"Doesn't matter what you wear. You always look beautiful, just thought I would tell you."

"Mmm, thank you baby." Her jaw drops at the site of the suit. "I thought it would look good, but woah. This is amazing. What do you think?"

"I think I'm going to struggle not wanting to rip it off you." Wanda's eyes flick up to me then back down to the suit with her lip between her teeth.

"Well you're going to have to wait till we get home."

"Guess I will." I smirk as I make my way behind Wanda wrapping my arms around her waist as my hands snake under the hoodie to touch her bare skin. Her body moves closer to mine, her back pressed to my front as I start to scratch my nails up and down her front. I start peppering kisses along her jaw and down her neck, her head turning to the side to give me more room to work as her breathing starts to pick up.

"Y/n." She sighs out as my hands make their way up further, dragging my nails across her skin.

"What's up princess?"

"We have to get ready...ready to go." She swallows harshly as my hands move to cup her breasts, my teeth nibbling teasingly at her pulse point.

"Mmm, I guess you're right. No time for fooling around." She moans her back arching against me as I give her breasts a gentle squeeze. Her head falls back onto my shoulders as her hips push her butt into my front more, her back arching perfectly as I beautiful moan leaves her lips. I move my lips to her ear, taking it between my teeth before I whisper to her. "The quicker we go the quicker we can go home. How does that sound, baby."

"I...mhmm…" I smile against her ear as I let my hands move back down her front making sure my nails stay in contact with her skin before completely removing them and taking them out of the hoodie. Her head turns to the side as she looks up at me with half lidded eyes. "You called me baby."

"I did." I lean down to connect our lips into a loving kiss before I pull my body completely away from hers causing her to stumble backwards slightly.

"I like the way it sounds. Can you use it more?" I smile down at her as she turns around to look at me, my hands cupping her face.

"Of course I can. Baby." She smiles up at me.

"Again." I roll my eyes but lean down so my lips ghosts hers, my eyes looking directly into hers is hers flick left to right to look in mine.

"Baby." Her eyes dart to my lips as I whisper out the words gently, then back to my eyes as she smiles wide.

"I love you." She whispers back.

"I love you too." I peck her lips once. "Now let's go get changed, then we can head out."

"Sounds good." She pecks my lips once as she grabs the suit bag and we make our way to the room where my suit is. I guess we are getting changed together. It's adorable that she wants to do all the little things together, maybe she never had this sort of closeness with Vision and it makes me want it even more.

Wanda practically pulls me into a side room that acts as a walk in closet hanging the suit bag up on one of the rails. She unzips the bag completely, removing the jacket from the hanger to lay it neatly on the small island counter in the middle of the room. She turns to look at me as I go through the collection of suits I have trying to decide which one to wear.

"Wear the one that you were wearing when we first met." I hum in thought as I take the hanger with that suit on it and lay it next to Wanda's jacket, it matches nicely so I send a thankful wink to Wanda as I take my current top off.

As I pull my top off I can feel Wanda's eyes trail my body, a small whine leaving her lips when she sees my black and red lace bra; and I have to hold in a laugh. I smirk to myself as I hear her sigh, and decide to take my pants off next. I hear a very small moan leave her lips when she sees the matching underwear glad I chose to wear lingerie. I may or may not have wanted it to be a surprise tonight. However, hearing her breathing hitch at the sight of me gives me a whole lot of confidence and I am very glad she decided to change with me.

I grab my suit pants, putting them on, leaving the zip and buttons undone so I can put my white dress shirt on. I turn to Wanda as I pull it on, starting to do the buttons up and my playful eyes meet her lust filled ones. I stop buttoning up my shirt and make my way over to her, lifting her chin with my finger.

"We will be there for a few hours. Then we can make some excuse and go home, you just have to wait a little longer princess." Wanda's hands move to button up the last few buttons, silently I watch her every movement. When she is done with the buttons she straightens out the collar, and begins to tuck the shirt in from the back. Once she makes it to the front, she zips up and buttons up my pants, her hand lingers there for more than what is deemed necessary before turning to finally get herself changed.

I pull on my waistcoat and start doing up the few buttons it has, as I watch Wanda look at herself in the mirror now she has taken her top off. Her hands move over the stretch marks she has, her fingers following the patterns across from her right side to her left side. Her brows furrow as she wraps her arms around her waist slightly, hiding it all behind her arm. I watch her in the mirror as she tilts her head, chewing at her lip as she starts blinking rapidly. As soon as I see her whole confident demeanor change, I move over to her wrapping my arms around her waist once more. This time it is for comfort, nothing else. She doesn't need anything else right now.

I move my arms on top of hers, my hands resting gently on hers as I push my fingers between the gaps in hers. I bend down slightly so I can rest my chin on her shoulder so we are standing level, as her eyes make contact with me in the mirror. They move back to look up and down her body one final time before I see her eyes gloss over.

"Your beautiful Wanda." She sighs, shaking her head slightly as her bottom lip starts to quiver.

"How can you say that? I mean look at these marks. I hate the way I look sometimes.' I squeeze her tighter, pulling her against me more trying to get her to relax slightly.

"You Wanda, are more than beauty itself. What I see when I look at you I am in awe of. I can only hope to whatever God is out there, that when I am of your age that I look half as beautiful as you do. You Wanda are ravishing. You Wanda are irresistible. You Wanda, you are exquisite, you are heavenly, you are divine. These marks, well these marks you should never be ashamed of or want to hide. These marks show the hardship of you going through pregnancy and then childbirth, and that is something you should be proud to show off. You Wanda are so fucking perfect, and I love you, I love everything about you."

I look up to see Wanda's water eyes searching my face for any sign of a lie or deceit, a few tears escaping as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth to try and stop it from moving as her breathing becomes shaky. I spin her around so she can't look at herself. Her arms are still hugging around herself, as I move my hands to cup her face, tilting it upwards so she is looking at me. My thumbs rub at her cheeks to get rid of the falling tears, her eyes flutter at the feeling. I move my face down to hers as I bring our lips together to try and convey how much I love and care about her, her lips happily moving against mine. I pull away slowly after a couple of seconds, leaning my forehead against her as we both look into each other's eyes.

"You Wanda are beautiful and I will remind you that every day for as long as I live." She nods against me, her hands moving to hold my wrists. "What brought this on?"

"It's, uh...nothing. It's nothing." She brushes my question off instead turning back around to grab her white button up shirt, choosing to put it on as she avoids looking in the mirror.

"Baby." She ignores me instead choosing to take off the sweatpants, before hurriedly putting on her suit pants. "Princess." Her movements halt for a second, but only for a second as she moves to the mirror now her body is covered as she tucks the shirt in. "Wanda."

Her body turns on a swivel at my stern voice, fresh tears leaving her eyes. Her make-up starting to run, so I slowly bring my hands up to her face using the pads of my thumb to wipe away her tears. Her hands are pulling at the bottom of her shirt repeatedly, as her eyes look at everything but me. I move my hands down to hers, gently prying them from her top as I pull them against my chest, as soon as they make contact she grabs onto my waist coat pulling my body closer to hers. Her head now rests on my chest, and my arms snake their way around her back as I hold her close. Rubbing my arms up and down her back, as I say sweet nothings to her, seems to pay off after a few minutes as she slightly pulls away to look up at me.

"Talk to me Wanda."

"I'm sorry. It's just Vision."

"What did he do?"

"When he came to pick up the boys, I had my bag by the door and he asked where I was off to. I told him none of his business, but he just replied it is my business if it affects the boys. At first I didn't really get it, then Billy told me that Vision had overheard him and Tommy talking about the Friday we spent at Nat's." She takes a shaky breath before continuing. "He told me he doesn't see how anyone could love me for me when I care too much about what my body looks like."

My blood boils as the words leave her lips, and I instantly pull her against me with my lips resting against the top of her head as I give her soft kisses. Her arms snake around my body as she holds onto me for dear life as she cries against me her sobs loud and causing her body to shake. I stay quiet as she lets her emotions out, only moving my hand to her hair so I can start weaving it through the red locks and scratch at her scalp. It takes her a few minutes, but once I feel her slowly calming down against me I decide to speak.

"You Wanda are nothing but beautiful to me. You are also strong, you are compassionate, you are devoted to your boys, you are supportive and you are someone who I cherish. You are loved. You hear me. Me and the boys, we love you. Everyone has what they would deem flaws Wanda, whether that physical or not. I have them, you have them, everyone has them. But those flaws aren't flaws, they are your strength. They are your story, and only you know the meaning and the story behind each and everyone of your strengths. Your strengths are beautiful, they don't make you any less beautiful in any way shape or form. You are the only one who can call your strengths anything other than strengths but when you feel that way. When you feel these strengths start to become flaws, you come to me and every damn time I will make sure you come out with those strengths feeling stronger than they were before."

Wanda doesn't say anything, her hands fly to my face down into an intense emotion filled, slightly salty (from her tears) kiss. My hands fly up to hold hers against my face as I try and translate all my love for her through the kiss. Her lips don't leave mine until we are both breathing through our noses, and when she pulls her face from mine her arms wrap around my neck as she buries her face in the crook of my neck. I can feel her tears fall from her face onto and down my neck as she lets it all out. I don't care that her tears are soaking through my top, I have lots of other ones, what's important is she knows how much I love her and she knows how beautiful she is to me.

Once again I let Wanda pull out of the embrace, her tear stained, red cheeks, with puffy eyes looking up at me. Her hands shake as she pulls them away from me to wipe up her tears, laughing slightly at the make-up that's coming off on them. She waves her hands in the air as she scoffs, rolling her eyes at her make-up stained hands.

"Now I have to do my make-up again." We both laugh out as she finally relaxes, she turns to look back in the mirror, a wide smile growing on her face as she looks at me through the mirror as I look at her.

"I love you baby." A soft smile grows on my face at her words as we both stare at each other in the mirror.

"And I love all of you too baby."

================================

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #just us series

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 2 years ago

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If I Could Turn Back Time

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Cross-posted on Wattpad and Ao3

Chapter 10

The news of a student’s possible death had spread like wildfire. Every resident of Jericho knew there was some kind of monster lurking about, and, as always, all fingers were pointed at Nevermore.

“I knew Wednesday was making it up.”

“I literally saw Rowan this morning.”

Every class I had Monday morning, students were whispering under their breaths about their classmate. It was the hot topic of the entire week.

“But why would she lie about a student’s murder, Larissa? It makes no sense.”

The pair of us sat in her office on Thursday, the sun long set by now as we lounged on a loveseat in front of the fireplace.

“I don’t know,” Larissa sighed, taking a long sip of her wine. “Rowan’s body was never found, that’s what’s so weird about the situation.”

“I’m sorry it’s taking such a toll on you,” I responded. “Is there anything I can do?”

A mischievous grin appeared on Larissa’s face and she set her wine glass down on the floor before moving closer. “You can kiss me,” she said, her voice dropping.

“Well, I guess if it’ll make you feel better it would be rude of me to say no.” I smiled as I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. When she refused to pull away I giggled and set my glass down. She pulled me into her embrace, deepening the kiss further. When she finally relented, I said, “Feel better?”

“Not quite,” she said, and her grin reappeared.

With her lips on mine again, her hands grasped at my hair and my tongue moved to run across her bottom lip.

She pulled away briefly and hummed. “Oh, I knew you were a naughty girl.”

Heat filled my gut and if she asked me to take my clothes off, I would have–right then and there, no questions asked. I felt dazed as she held me close before gently pushing me onto my back. My arms wrapped around her neck and my nails dug into her soft skin.

“God, I love the taste of wine on you,” I murmured.

As the minutes went on and our hands began to wander, something in me grew anxious and I pulled away abruptly, concern in Larissa’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated with my hand on her chest. “I think…just…the wine is getting to me.”

She sat up and took my hand to assist me in following. “Of course. If you need to, please, use your quarters. If something happened to you while driving I’d never forgive myself.”

She flashed a soft smile and moved over. I stood up, taking my wine glass and downing the rest of my drink. “I’m sorry, Larissa.

She shot up from the sofa, towering over me as she looked into my eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Not one bit.”

A quick smile graced my lips and I took her hand, placing a soft kiss on it. “Goodnight, Larissa.”

Shame sat in the pit of my stomach. I don't know why I felt so awful for turning Larissa down. Perhaps it was because I could sense an air of disappointment in her when she told me it was alright. Of course, I cared about Larissa, but in all honesty, I hardly knew the woman.

The following morning I quickly drove to my apartment to feed my poor cat, who instantly started yelling at me when I walked through the door. When I looked in the mirror, I was a mess: smudged eyeliner, mascara under my eyes. It was awful.

Freshly out of the shower, I pulled up to Nevermore about ten minutes late. I practically ran to my classroom, and just as fate would have it, I ran directly into Larissa.

“You’re late,” she giggled.

“Astute observation,” I huffed. “But I think after last night I should get a pass.”

“Fine, but use your passes wisely. Otherwise I might have to punish you for being late.”

She gave me a subtle wink and I blushed madly. “Duly noted, Principal Weems. We can’t have that.”

“No,” she smiled, “we can’t. Have a good day, Miss Foster.”

With a curt nod, she walked away and I sighed. Jesus Christ, the things this woman does to me.

“I want to welcome you all to the Edgar Allen Poe Cup!”

Larissa’s voice rang out through the crowd. For the past week she had been telling me how excited she was for this event.

“It’s my favorite Nevermore tradition,” she had said at lunch.

There was something about her being giddy that made butterflies erupt in my stomach. That bright smile on her face, the way she shared fond memories of her time as a student competing for the Cup, and how she stumbled over her words when talking about it all made my heart flutter.

As soon as the gun fired, the students were off. Larissa looked at me as the crowd’s cheering died down and the boats grew small in the distance. She stepped off the platform and wove in out of the crowd to stop in front of me. “Miss Foster,” she said, all professionalism and no flirt. “I was wondering if I could speak to you in private”

Part of me was confused, and part of me was worried. In the month that I’d know her, Larissa had only used her professional facade a few times. But, I still followed her to a secluded place, right in the treeline behind a large oak with orange and red leaves.

“What can I d–”

I was cut off by a heated kiss. All of the tension left my body and I relaxed into her embrace, deepening the kiss and sliding my tongue in between her lips.

She accepted gratefully with a light hum, smiling into the kiss and pulling me close. I broke away and looked up at her, my voice low. “I think I could listen to you announce the Poe Cup all day.”

Larissa leaned in, pecking me on the lips lightly. “Is there anything else you’d like to hear from me?” she muttered. I smiled and kissed her again but Larissa paused and looked at me. “What’s the matter? It seems like there’s something wrong.”

“I…” My voice hesitated as my hands rested on her hips. “Larissa…I want you so badly.” I could practically see her heart drop and I continued. “But I…I hardly know you. We’ve had lunch dates and whatnot, but I want to take you on a real date. I want to get to know you before we go further.”

She sighed, a relieved smile coming forth as her hand came to cup my cheek. “I think that is a wonderful idea.” Larissa kissed me again. “Perhaps we could get brunch? Outreach Day is soon and all of the students will be off at their volunteer work.”

#gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie x reader #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #wednesday

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wrencatte · 1 year ago

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is the leverage one a leverage au?? + not me trying to figure out which one is drove through ghosts!!

also while i'm at it, friendly reminder that you're writing is so SO good and encompassing,, absolutely lovely

yes!! It is! I mainly thought of it because Tim being a thief and a grifter are like my go-to roles for him instead of the more obvious hacker. also, thank you <3 I'm glad you like my stories <3 drove through ghosts is under it's own folder "ghosts" here's a snippet from chapter....7! Which is bruce's chapter because we are NOT going to talk about Dick's chapter that bastard

Until he comes across one slightly ajar, light and music filtering through. He stops, almost continues walking pass, but he carefully knuckles open the door instead.

It opens to a dimly lit bar. Music and murmurs in Mandarin, the haze of smoke in the air. Bruce steps through, eyes sweeping over the gathering of people, until they land on an almost-familiar figure tucked in the corner of the counter. He doesn't know what Jason looked like at seventeen – he imagines he probably looks the same as he does at twenty-three, as he did at nineteen.

The face in front of him is slim, like it had been when he first came to Gotham and tore off his helmet. Those cheeks then had been sunken in, his expression wary and weary and oh-so-angry.

Now, he looks haggard, like he's been eating only enough to stave off starvation, chewing on his lip in a bad habit Bruce doesn't want to be relieved to see but he is. Gods, he is. Because that's Jason. That's his son. Still there.

Staring at a beat up, ancient, corded phone like it's going to bite. No one's talking to him. The bartender is giving him side-eyes that aren't necessarily antagonistic but aren't friendly. Jason's head tilts when a conversation gets loud and boisterous, something calculating flits across his expression – and that's when Bruce realizes this is a mission.

His eyes don't leave that phone though. His nails tap the hardwood countertop. His drink sweats in front of him, untouched. His shoulders curl in further and further the longer he stares.

Then, finally, he picks the phone off the cradle, presses it to his ear.

And punches in a number without a single second of hesitation. Memorized it, Bruce guesses. Whatever number that is. He's memorized it.

The line ringing loudly makes Bruce jump, looking around before he realizes it's just Jason's line. Whatever this is – memory, his brain supplies, this is a memory – has keyed him into the call.

It rings and rings. The unusual sharpness of Jason's canines score through his lips and make them bleed. Bruce comes closer, sees the little white marks and indents around his mouth from getting used to them.

Are those a Pit thing? Or are they a whatever brought Jason back thing? He never got an answer. He almost doesn't want an answer. Getting an answer would acknowledge that he doesn't know what brought his baby back from the dead because it wasn't him who did it. It wasn't him to tried. A hero vigilante of decades who's seen the rise and fall of multiple heroes and villains, and he couldn't figure out this one little thing?

Jason grips the phone with a white-knuckled fist, his eyes getting misty. He closes them when the line rings again, resignation flickering across his expression.

But then it clicks, connecting. And –

"Wayne Residence. This is Alfred speaking."

Bruce and Jason freeze at the same time. The butler's cool, crisp accent comes through as he says "Hello? May I ask who's calling? Hello?" the longer Jason stays silent.

Jason breathes out shakily, scrubs his shirt sleeve over his eyes, and hangs up.

#asked and answered #my writing

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yoshhii · 2 months ago

Note

i was wondering if you could possibly make a monoma x fem reader where its like an enemies to lovers kinda thing cause there is not enough of them x

sorry this took so long i haven’t been checking my inbox! i hope this was to your liking anon

FALSE HATRED— n. monoma

YOU COULDN'T STAND HIM.

every time monoma opened his mouth, it was like nails on a chalkboard. the way he taunted, the arrogance that dripped from his words, and his incessant need to compare himself to class 1-a, it drove you mad. and yet, despite your best efforts, he seemed to target you more than anyone else.

“look at you, already falling behind,” monoma sneered as you landed on the ground after a training exercise. his sharp eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction, arms crossed as he hovered nearby. “are you sure you belong in this class?”

you scowled, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “and here i thought we were done for the day. guess i was wrong, since a pest still hasn’t shut up.”

he smirked. “such a temper. are you always this sensitive, or am i just that special to you?”

his words grated at you. monoma had always been like this—since day one, really. he always had some biting remark, some insult ready to fire at you the second you were in his line of sight. at first, you thought he hated everyone equally, but it quickly became apparent that he had a special focus on you.

over time, your annoyance turned into something deeper, more intense. his quips and challenges sparked something inside you—a desire to prove him wrong, to beat him at his own game. you trained harder, pushed yourself further, but the more you did, the more he seemed to enjoy getting under your skin.

today was no different.

“you know,” he continued, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “i could offer to tutor you. it’s not your fault you’re struggling, really. not everyone can keep up with me.”

you clenched your fists, the irritation building in your chest. “i don’t need your help, monoma. and i’m definitely not struggling.”

“right,” he said with a low chuckle. “keep telling yourself that, maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, made your heart pound in a way that had nothing to do with anger. you hated that. hated how he could rile you up so easily, how his presence affected you more than it should. but there was also something else—a spark of recognition that confused you.

you weren’t sure when it had started, but there was a tension between the two of you that wasn’t just fueled by rivalry anymore. somewhere along the way, the animosity had shifted, morphed into something complicated.

he took a step closer, his smirk softening into something more genuine, but still teasing. “you’re really fun to mess with, you know that?”

your heart skipped a beat, and you mentally cursed yourself for the reaction. this was monoma—annoying, egotistical, infuriating monoma. and yet… there was something about the way he was looking at you now, his gaze lingering just a little longer, that made your pulse quicken.

you opened your mouth to retort, but the words caught in your throat when his expression changed. his smirk faded entirely, replaced with something serious, almost curious.

“you’re different,” he said suddenly, his voice lower, softer than before. “i don’t know why, but… when i look at you, i can’t help but want to push you. to see how far you’ll go. you always fight back, and i—” he paused, as if debating his next words. “i respect that.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. monoma never complimented anyone. at least, not sincerely.

“what’s your game, monoma?” you asked warily, narrowing your eyes. “you don’t actually respect me. you’re just saying that to mess with me again.”

he shook his head, his usual arrogance replaced by something more earnest. “no games. not this time.”

for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. the tension between you two felt different now, charged in a way that was both unsettling and… exciting. you hated him, didn’t you? and yet, standing here with him now, that hatred felt like something else entirely.

monoma took another step closer, his proximity sending a jolt through you. his gaze dropped to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

“you hate me, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yes,” you replied, but your voice squeaked, betraying you.

he smirked, leaning in ever so slightly. “are you sure about that?”

before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss. you froze, processing what was happening.

you quickly kissed him back, your hands fisting in his shirt as you poured all your frustration, your confusion, your hidden feelings into that one moment. he responded in kind, his grip tightening around you, pulling you closer as if he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

when you finally pulled apart, breathless, monoma’s usual smirk returned, but this time it was softer, more real. “looks like i was right,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “you don’t hate me as much as you thought.”

you glared at him half-heartedly, still trying to catch your breath. “shut up, monoma.”

he grinned, his hand slipping down to entwine with yours. “whatever you say.”

#mha x reader #monoma x reader #bnha x reader #monoma neito x reader #mha x you #bnha oneshot #mha oneshot #monoma neito #mha monoma #bnha monoma

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bylightofdawn · 2 years ago

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Guess whose body punked her and decided to take up at like 6:30 and then refused to go to sleep?

This chick.

Oh and NOW I am feeling exhausted and wanting to go to sleep but I have to stay awake now because I made plans to be at mom's in like 3 hours.

Realistically I could sleep till noon and then rush to shower, get ready and prolly get there in time but my hair prolly won't dry in time and I wanted to play around with it.

I'm to that experimental phase when o wash day I just throw a bunch of shit in my hair and struggle bus trying to make it actually do something I want it to do.

I've tried pomades, and sculpting putty, today I went out and got2be glued wax which is supposed to be a 'spiking wax' hoping I would get some actual volume in my crown.

Ya'll that shit is hot garbage. My hair took one look at it and laughed it into oblivion. I have some expensive ass Kenra texturing spray, this bullshit wax, MOUSSE in my hair and I can't get any lift.

My hair is so damn thick and heavy it's just...frustrating. I think I need to invest in a hair dryer but I don't want to start that damaging cycle on my hair by using hot tools.

And I'm SURE it's not the product's fault, it's me. I don't now how use them because I've always ignored my hair and let it do its own thing. Mainly because it's so thick volume-wise that it will not be tamed by mortal man. The texture is fine there's just A LOT OF IT. Every hairdresser I go to is like "Damn that's a lot of hair" and I always ask them to thin it out with thinning shears. I don't know if the chick who cut my hair used any even though I think we had that conversation. Do I just take the risk and purchase thinning shears and see if I can thin it out myself? How badly could I really fuck it up? It's just gonna...cut random bits right?

She says before she becomes an example laughable enough to be featured on a Brad Mondo reacts video on YT

Though I stand by that 'wax' being hot garbage. It legit wasn't even firm. It was like a cream.

I just checked in on my hair and it's not magically improved in the past ten minutes. I do have volume in the front because I did a deep part comb-over which is to be expected. But literally, no texture or lift in my crown at all.

I'm going to shower, pray my hair dries in two hours so I can try and maybe do something with a straightening iron.

EDIT: Circling back to this for a hot second to ramble further now that I've spent my shower thinking about my frustrating lack of ability to do basic shit like style my hair. I spent the first let's say 30 years of my life just coasting. I was always a bit of a tomboy. I rejected femininity in a lot of ways and was blessed with great skin, passable looks and hair that doesn't look bad even if I never did anything more than braid or put it up in a ponytail. I never DID the girly things teenage girls do like really play with makeup or do my nails or learn how to do shit with my hair.

I've always been blessed with a sort of 'take me as I am or not, I don't fucking care' confidence in my looks which is HILARIOUS since I'm a neurotic mess in near all other parts of my life. I don't even know if I would label it as confidence but more apathy. I just gave zero fucks what people thought of how I looked. I also have zero fashion sense which will surprise exactly no one. Jeans and solid colored t-shirts and sandals is my go to look. Drove my mother insane and she's legit given up on me when it comes to fashion.

So I reach my 30's, chopped my hair off and for the first time in my life and kinda went through a mini-transformative phase in my life. I stopped rejecting my femininity. Started with teaching myself to use makeup because I was annoyed my eye looks kept looking like shit.

I applied myself, invested in actual makeup, and went through a real beauty guru phase. Then I was like I am sick of not being able to paint my nails for shit. So I made the decision that I was going to buckle down and teach myself how to paint my nails/actually try and take care of my nails etc. Genetics kinda fucked me hard in that regard, I have super brittle nails prone to like thinning at the ends and then they just snap off. So I will never have that long nail fantasy life and I've made peace with that. Long nails are kinda a pain in the ass anyway. I did start taking hair skin nail supplements and it's helped a little with my nail breakage but point is, I'm taking action to try and improve something I am displeased with myself about.

This is perhaps one of my best and worst traits. If I find I lack the knowledge or skill to do something and it annoys me enough I will move heaven and earth to fix that gap in my knowledge base. I despise my own personal ignorance and constantly seek to improve upon it. I don't give two fucks about other people's ignorance unless it's like overt and toxic. Yes I will get annoyed watching people repeat their same mistakes knowing they just need to change their approach to the problem but it's their journey to figure that shit out and I have my own shit to concentrate on.

HOWEVER when it comes to me? Must be eradicated if at all possible. It's great at times but let me tell you it's a fucking burden I would not wish upon anyone else.

My long, bloviated point being my hair has become my new 'I will fucking conquer this conceived weakness/gap in my knowledge base and I will learn to tame you' mission.

And I will succeed at this because when I set my mind to something I plow forward with all the big damn Capricorn energy until I reach my goals.

-eyes the 100K fanfic she's written in 3 months- Yeah maybe that's why I went so hard these past three months now that I'm thinking about it.

#the life and times of exhausted el continues #may she ride eternal into the sunset begging for the release of death #or a damn nap #this post now brought to you by big cap energy #and el making a promise to herself to fucking tame her hair no matter the cost apparently.

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love-kurdt · 9 months ago

Text

This is Me Trying (Mike's Version) (byler): 3

word count: 6,996

in short: if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, please dni.

The world buzzed with static around me, each second feeling like an eternity. Time stood still, just like the day I took off my watch. My hands were shaking, the anticipation inside me about to explode like fireworks. I balled my hands up into fists and put them in my sweatshirt pockets, but immediately pulled them back out because I could feel my palms getting sweaty.

I glanced around, and saw the nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk. I raised my hand in an awkward greeting, and she smiled back at me. I watched her run further and further away until they were out of my line of sight; a minute had definitely passed by now. I turned my attention back to the door, and lifted my hand again, going to knock one last time.

But then, before I was able to, Will opened the door.

I froze, my hand still in the air. I lowered my arm slowly, and took a mental photograph of Will’s awestricken face before I was met with a faceful of door. I should have seen that coming. I leaned my head against the door, exhaling with a shaky breath. “Will… I know I’m the last person you want to see. I just…” I hesitated, digging my nails into my palms. This was likely going to be my first of many fumbles. “This is going fucking splendidly already, Jesus Christ.”

There was no response on Will’s end, but I figured I might as well get everything off my chest, even if Will wasn’t there to hear it. Saying it out loud could probably suffice. “Uh… I guess I should start by saying I’m sorry. For everything. For hurting you with my words, with my actions, for being so fucking reckless with my life. I’ve accumulated a lot of regrets over the past few years, but…” here goes nothing, “loving you will never be one of them.”

I closed my eyes with my head still on the door, but jumped back a bit in surprise when I felt a light thump right next to my face. “... Will?”

“I’m listening.”

The faint sound of Will’s voice was music to my ears; low and velvety, with a hint of rasp. My stomach nervously flipped as I cleared my throat, continuing on. “I’ve been a mess without you. I don’t know who I am without you. This is me trying to say…” I trailed off. What was I trying to say? How could I reduce my love for Will into a single sentence? How could I explain myself in a concise, yet bold form that wouldn’t scare Will away? I couldn’t. I was doomed regardless of how the conversation would unfold. I asked Will the first thing that came to mind: “... You ever been to a college party?”

“Yeah, a few.” Will replied.

“Well, I just failed out of school because I went to way too many of them. I just drove here directly from my last one, actually.” I tried to add a bit of humor to my voice, but it ended up coming out sounding pathetically broken. Fumble number two. Fuck it all. Everything was going down in flames. I set my hand on the door, caressing the painted surface as if it were Will’s face.

“But here’s the thing— it’s hard to be at a party when you feel like an open wound. You’re all I think about, and it’s like I can’t… I can’t let go. It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you. And even though you don’t love me, and even if we can never be friends again, I need that closure, Will, and I need you to understand that I won’t move on if that never happens.” I felt the doorknob click below, and I lifted my head up just as the door opened again. Will emerged, tears lining his cheeks. Motherfucking fumble number three. When Will and I were little, we functioned as a unit. When Will was happy, I was happy. When Will would cry, I would cry with him. Now, I felt like I was five years old again, getting choked up at the sight of Will crying, and mentally cursed myself. “Fuck, now I’ve made you cry for the umpteenth time in our lives. What else is new?”

I nodded in sorrowful understanding. “Yeah.”

I took a good look at Will, noticing how Will’s hair had finally grown out of the bowl cut, falling into his eyes in loose copper waves, ending just above his strong jaw. His eyes, even obscured with tears, looked green as ever. I wanted to drown in them.

“You changed your hair,” I heard myself say. Will let out a small smile at that, brushing some of his bangs out of his eyes, along with some tears that had attached themselves to his eyelashes.

“Yeah, the bowl was kind of… archaic.” Both of us began awkwardly laughing while still crying. I had to refrain from thinking too much, because if I did, I'd get all sentimental about how this was the first time I'd laughed with Will in… I couldn’t even remember.

“You like it, though?” he asked. He still sought my approval, after everything. Of course I liked it. I liked Will’s hair no matter how it was cut. But this style that Will was sporting currently had me falling flat on my face; and not literally, for once.

“Yeah, it really suits you,” I told Will, who was flattered at the compliment.

“Thank you. I mean, Mom’s skill set with scissors was… limited, but she tried.” I thought of that one time I'd walked into the Byers household unannounced back in junior year of high school. Will was sitting on a chair in the middle of the kitchen with a literal bowl on his head as Joyce shuffled around her son with a pair of kitchen shears. Joyce was an incredible mom who loved both of her boys unconditionally. Which reminded me…

“How’d you get my number?”

“Your mom gave it to me over Christmas break.”

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry for letting her give me your number,” I apologized, picking at the nails of my index fingers with my thumbs. “And I’m sorry for calling you on your birthday. I should’ve respected your space.”

“Did you not read the material?” I smirked, and Will smiled back up at me, our eyes fully meeting for the first time.

“You know me too well,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. “But then, when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me.”

I gawked at that, my eyes narrowing. “On your birthday? That’s ass.”

Will leaned against the doorframe. “Mike Wheeler, everyone: ex-English major, literary nerd, and author.” I ignored the not-so-subtle roasts in favor of Will’s muscles, which were even more defined than I remembered. Will had obviously become well-acquainted with the gym. My gaze trailed along the divots of his biceps, and my mouth went dry when I realized that Will was wearing… the blue sweatshirt I had sworn had gone missing during senior year.

“Are you kidding? I could never be mad at you. Ever,” I emphasized. “And we both know I’m not a good person when I hold grudges.”

Will’s strong eyebrows furrowed, and I feared I'd said something wrong, but Will rose up onto his tiptoes, lifting his hand up to my forehead in mock-concern. “Mike, are you okay? Do you need medical assistance?” Yes. If Will was going to act all flirty and cute and tiptoe-y and forehead touch-y, then we’d need to call an ambulance. Because I was down bad.

“Haha. You’re funny,” I deadpanned at the joke, despite myself.

Will retreated back to his spot in the doorway. “But seriously, I just told you that I have a real live ex, and you’re not mad?” How could I be mad at Will for that? Why would I be mad at Will for that? It wasn’t like I had any right or say as to who Will dated, and if I did so much as judge Will for any romance-related decisions, I'd be the biggest fucking hypocrite to ever walk the earth. I figured I'd come clean to Will about this one. It was the whole reason why I was here, after all.

“Will, I hooked up with four guys…” Should I say this next part? Sure, okay, whatever– “And all of them had the initials ‘WB’.” My focus shifted down to my shoes, too humiliated to see Will’s reaction. But I didn’t even have to see it, because Will giggled. Like, high pitched and adorably. My head snapped up and Will, having gotten caught laughing at my biggest shame, slapped his own hand to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

“No way,” Will said, his voice still suppressed with his hand.

“Way,” I quipped back. I decided to try something new then, reaching up to Will’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. His beautiful lips were curved into a shy smile.

Will shook his head, crossing his arms again, but not in hostility like he had before. “I don’t believe you.” And all of a sudden, it was August 1989, and we were back in my basement again. Those were Will’s last words to me before he’d stormed out, never to be seen again. And a year and a half later, Will became thoroughly aware of the aftermath, where I’d tried and failed to fill the Will-less void with–

“Wyatt Bowman, Wes Butler, Walker Brooks, Warren Blakeley,” I listed off what I'd endearingly dubbed The WBs™, but now in retrospect viewed as fucking pathetic, and watched as Will exhaled sadly. I tacked the only thing I could think of onto the end of my list to lighten the mood: “... And there was a guy named Elvis.”

Will snorted. “Like Presley?”

“Exactly.”

“Jesus,” Will whispered, running a hand through his hair. I wished it was my hand instead. As I took in Will’s jarred reaction, my world went cold. It made more sense when I shivered, looked up, and felt a few snowflakes land on my eyelids. I lowered my gaze back to Will, avoiding the impending guilt with lighthearted bluntness.

“Yeah,” I concluded unceremoniously, “so, you have an ex-boyfriend, and I have a disturbingly high body count. I think that makes us even.” Will’s lips formed a line, and I diverted my eyes back to the ground. I watched Will’s feet, clad in fuzzy socks and slippers, shift backwards. The moment was finally here; this was the end. We were not, in fact, even; Will was shutting me out for the last time, giving me the closure I'd practically begged for. I lifted my head so I could at least say goodbye properly, but saw that Will was… waiting for me?

“Wanna come inside?” he asked, and I raised my eyebrows in shock. Well, that was a plot twist if I'd ever seen one. I took a deep breath, muttering a slow “Yeah… sure,” and followed Will into his house. I took off my mud-caked shoes at the front door, remembering how much of a neat freak Will was, and imagining his reaction if I tracked the past seven or so hours into the house. I expected it would probably begin with “Michael James.”

Once situated, I took a look around the living room. There were multiple swirly, wooden furniture pieces that I knew Will wouldn’t have picked out in a million years, but he’d still managed to make the apartment his own. Framed movie posters, a black couch, and a few bookshelves were sprinkled modestly amongst the otherwise very feminine decor. I walked over to the bookshelves, which were fully stacked with comic books and picture frames. I peered at one of Will posed with Ivy and Hannah, who gripped onto either side of a metal pole that Will had perched atop his shoulders as he lifted them in a white muscle tank top. I knew he’d started working out. God, Will was attractive. I smiled to myself, moving on to look at the next photo. It was the exact same one I had on my desk, the photo that Jonathan took of me on Will’s handlebars. I felt like crying again, so I looked away before that could happen. My attention was drawn to the ceiling, which was lined with Christmas lights. I guessed the passage of time had thankfully worked in Will’s favor, as well.

“So Kate’s at work?” I asked, and Will whipped around from where he’d been organizing one of his other bookshelves, like he cared about what I thought in regard to his preference of alphabetical versus publisher order.

“How do you know about Kate?”

I hesitated, expression sheepish, “I… I ran into your friends Ivy and Hannah on campus. They’re how I found you.”

Will blanched. “Oh God. What did they say to you?”

I shook my head in reassurance, taking a step towards Will. “Nothing out of the ordinary. I think they were just worried about me, because I was… kind of lost.”

“You didn’t think to get a map?” Will, the little shit, teased as he took a step of his own towards me.

“I had one, Will!” I tossed a hand up in exasperation. “I just… couldn’t read it correctly?” I phrased the last part of my sentence more like a question, which Will must have thought was funny, because he moved a few inches closer to me in order to poke my chest.

“Okay, that tracks,” he grinned, and I feigned offense as I felt Will’s fingerprint burn a hole in my sweatshirt, the fire expanding to scorch my entire torso. Will was close enough that I could hear Will breathing lightly through his nose, and could see the freckles scattered like constellations across his neck. My eyes traveled up a bit to land on the one mole above Will’s lip, and I fought the urge to kiss it.

“Ivy and Hannah said to tell you they said you’re welcome, by the way, whatever that means,” I breathed, and Will processed what I had just told him before bringing his hands up to his own face as he turned beet-red.

“Of course they did.”

I observed Will’s reaction, pushing down the bit of hope that bubbled up inside of me. I hadn’t a single clue of what Will had told his two friends, but the way he reacted made me think that maybe it wasn’t all terrible.

“Wait,” Will brought a hand up to lightly smack his forehead, “I’m so stupid, I should have asked when you first came in.” You’re not stupid at all, if anything I’m stupid, but go on, I thought. “Do you need anything to drink or eat? You look like shit.”

“Wow,” I said as I glared back at Will, giving away my joking nature with a small lift of my lips. “But sure, water is fine, thank you.” Will stood there for a moment in contemplation. I gulped, feeling incredibly anxious as to what Will would say next.

“I’m gonna make you pancakes,” he told me, ambition in his tone. I wasn’t even supposed to be there, yet there Will was, taking on the role of hospitable host. I shrugged, leaving the option up to Will as to if he really wanted to be that kind to me.

“You don’t have to.”

Will was the one who shortened the distance between them this time, taking my much larger hand in his own, intertwining our fingers and gently rubbing his thumb along the back of it. “But I want to.” I felt lightheaded.

“Well, I didn’t say it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I glanced down at our connected hands as Will spoke again, but I didn’t hear what he was saying. I blinked, pulling my attention back up to Will’s face. How was I supposed to concentrate on what Will was saying when our palms were brushing together with intentionality? And of Will’s own volition, no less.

“Wait, sorry, what?”

“I said, I’ll have some too, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Well, now I had to say yes. I gave in, and Will nodded in approval before letting go of my hand. Those few sweet seconds would have been enough to last me for another year and a half without him, but now Will was making me pancakes. There was no turning back after this. Will headed to the kitchen, turning back when he noticed me standing in the middle of the room and gesturing for me to follow him, chuckling to himself.

Damn Will for being so aware of the effect he had on me.

We made it into the kitchen, and Will headed to the pantry while I hopped up on the counter like when we were kids. Old habits die hard. Will eyed me from where I stood, grabbing the box of Bisquick. He ritualistically walked around the kitchen, grabbing eggs, milk, vegetable oil, and a bowl before setting them all down on the counter. He paused in what he was doing to reach over to his coffee pot, pouring a mug, grabbing the sugar bowl and dumping whatever was left into the mug before handing it to me. I took it with gracious hands. He’d remembered the way I took my coffee. Black, no cream, and a diabetes-level fuck ton of sugar.

“Thank you.” That didn’t even begin to cover how I felt about it.

Will hummed in response as he got to work, cracking an egg into the bowl and whisking it around. “So what have you been up to? I mean, besides hooking up with the entire male population of Indianapolis and failing out of school,” Will asked, and I died a little on the inside. The truth hurts sometimes, Wheeler. Deal with it.

“Jeez, Will. Harsh. Warn a guy next time,” I frowned, sipping my coffee. “I’ve been working on a novel.”

“Ooh, do tell!” Will exclaimed, turning to me as he stirred the batter, the sweatshirt he wore— my sweatshirt— stretching as his muscles flexed underneath the fabric of the sleeves. I set my coffee down next to me and shifted so my hands were squished under my thighs. That way I wouldn’t be able to do what I truly wanted to, which was to grab Will by his waist and shove my tongue down his throat as I ran my fingertips over Will’s arms.

“Um, it’s a mythological coming of age, with a bit of a twist… the protagonist is gay.”

“Ohhh my god,” Will grinned, all teeth. “That is great. I love that.”

I love you, I thought, but held my tongue. “Right? But yeah, I’ve been working on that, and… journaling. A lot.” Well… journaling was a synonym of writing dozens upon dozens of love letters, right? But Will didn’t have to know that.

“Mike Wheeler using a therapist-approved coping mechanism? I’m proud of you,” Will said. I preened at the praise as I pulled one of my hands out from under my leg to pick up my mug.

There was a beat of silence, and Will stood there, his eyes fixed on me for a strangely long time as the pancakes sizzled. I watched Will’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. I was either hallucinating, tripping, or Will was checking me out.

“But what about you?” I asked, effectively snapping Will out of his trance, “Any groundbreaking endeavors I should be caught up on?”

Will shrugged as he plated the perfectly congruent, golden pancakes he’d made. “I’ve been working on this new painting for a while now… it’s a watercolor piece, so it’s kind of out of my comfort zone,” Will explained, turning to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of Canadian maple syrup. I nodded at what Will was telling me, but something else dwelled in the forefront of my mind.

“Yeah, you’re more into oils on canvas, right?” I asked, and Will’s eyes snapped up to meet his, establishing an understanding between the two of them. “I saw the painting,” I remarked slowly, trying my best not to freak Will out or make him feel ashamed of it. “I’ve gotta say, you flatter me, Byers. I am not that attractive.”

Will couldn’t hide his smile. “Shut up. Yes you are.”

Will handed me a plate, and I thanked him as we dug in, the two of us standing at (and sitting on) the counter as we ate. I cut into my pancakes, stabbing a bite-sized piece with my fork and swirling it around in the syrup on my plate. I looked up when I heard a similar scratching noise and saw Will doing the same thing. Will met my gaze, light smile gracing his face as he lifted the fork up and popped the piece into his mouth. I blushed when I realized I’d been staring, and quickly focused back on my own plate. I chewed the piece of pancake I’d cut and confirmed to myself only after one bite that these were the best pancakes I’d ever had. These were pancakes of reconciliation.

I turned towards Will to compliment his culinary skills, which would inevitably be shot down with a humble, “they’re just pancakes, Mike,” only to see Will staring at me already. Will’s eyes jumped from me to the floor to the kitchen cabinet to the floor and back to me all within the span of five seconds. I held his attention this time when I licked my lips, and Will watched intently as the syrup disappeared.

God, I felt like I was in high school all over again; those four years had felt like a romcom movie montage of staring, quick touches, and flirting back and forth. The only difference between those movies and real life was the reserved, cautious nature behind every single stare, touch, and flirtation. But this time around, I noticed, Will seemed more confident in himself, more purposeful in the way he carried and expressed himself. Everything lingered for longer than normal, than acceptable, than usual. It was a promising sign.

Once we’d finished our pancakes and put our dishes in the sink, Will and I headed to Will’s room. There was something intimate about entering Will’s space like this; something sacred, something previously unattainable. That was the dresser that held all of Will’s clothes. That was the desk Will drew at. That was the bed Will slept in. That was the phone Will had used to break my heart.

I admired the dark blue walls, decorated modestly with a few more posters, before I came across Will’s framed Hawkins High School diploma. I remembered that day vividly; after everyone in the Party had walked across the stage and gone back to my house to celebrate, Will had brought all of our friends into a secluded area of the house and told us he was gay. I, who had been head over heels in love with my best friend for over five years at that point, was having a crisis, because oh my God, Will was gay, and the flirting might not have all been in my head. Maybe I had a chance. But every interaction between them following that day was strictly platonic, and Will made sure I knew it. So I withdrew after a while, not wanting to keep stringing myself along like I had been.

“Little did I know that everything would change,” I said more to myself than to Will, but Will walked over to stand next to me, close enough that our arms brushed.

“Why, because I came out?” he asked, looking up at me, who didn’t reciprocate the action, but instead kept staring straight ahead at the diploma, as if it were a portal that would take me back in time to before my world imploded.

“No, not because you came out. Because… because then, I fell under the delusion that I could finally have you.” I looked down at Will then. “But then I fucked it all up in August.”

Will turned his body so he could fully face me before saying, “Okay, I’m confused. I’ve gotta ask. What’s your recollection of that night?”

I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to remember it. Hell, I didn’t want to think about it. But me took a second to reason with myself, because Will was standing beside me, Will was asking something of me, and the least I could do after everything was oblige to Will’s one request. So I told him.

It was the summer of 1989, and all was well. Hawkins was no longer nationally renowned as an extra-terrestrial hybrid between earth and hell, but simply as a small town in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. It was the summer of 1989, and I was lying on the basement couch with my legs hanging off the edge. My eyes were closed, and I wore my headphones which were attached to my Walkman, playing Will’s mixtape on repeat, just as I had from the second it fell into my hands back in 1986. I felt the thumps of the opening and closing of the basement door, followed by light footsteps treading down the stairs. I cracked a singular eye open, but opened them both fully when I registered that it was Will who was entering my space. I always loved when Will came to my house unannounced; there was a certain element of familiarity, of family, of domesticity.

“Mike, we’ve gotta talk,” Will said, his voice a bit edgier than usual.

“Okay, what’s up? Are you–” I sat up, pulling my headphones fully off my head and resting them around my neck. Then I saw the look on Will’s face. He looked livid.

“What the fuck are these?” Will spat. My eyes widened at what Will held in his hands. Fuck. How on earth did he find them? I thought I'd hidden them well enough. Apparently, I was sorely mistaken, because Will held my letters, all twenty-six of them, all addressed to Will, in his shaking hands. I couldn’t even begin to explain, mouth hanging wide open.

“Dear Will,” the boy with the bowlcut began with a snarl, “when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Dear Will, why does loving you feel so wrong yet so right? Dear Will, I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.” I wanted to die. “I don’t know what to… Why the hell are these addressed to me? And why… Why are there so many?”

“Because…” I squeaked out, eyes wide with intimidation, “they were for you. You were never meant to find those, I swear to God.”

“Are you making fun of me or something?” Will snapped, and I flinched. I'd never seen Will this angry before. I stood up then, my face on fire with inferiority from when I’d been on the couch as Will towered over me. Now, I was the one looking down at Will, whose chest was heaving with unadulterated rage.

“Come on, Will! I’m your best friend, and you really thought I’d make fun of you for being gay?” I kept my tone soft, what the Party called my Will Voice™, trying to calm Will down. It worked, at least a little bit, because Will’s breathing became more regulated, and less metaphorical smoke escaped his ears. But his eyes were still a menacing shade of green, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, no,” Will’s voice was lower this time, laced with venom, “but that does not mean you get to fuck around at my expense.” Will could not have been more wrong. I was anything but fucking around. Malice was the last thing on my mind when I thought about Will. When I thought about Will, I felt safe, I felt hopeful, I felt valuable, and I felt worthy. What I felt for Will was pure love, and I'd say it out loud… if I didn’t hate myself so much.

“I poured my heart out in those letters,” I told him, taking a step forward. Will stepped back. “I didn’t write them for shits and fucking giggles, they were genuine,” I continued, following Will as he backed away, stopping only when I had Will caged in between my arms, back against the wall of the basement. Will held onto my wrist, our watches positioned side by side. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath, collecting myself in preparation for what I was about to say next. Confession time. “I wanted to send them so badly… I just didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

I opened my eyes, drinking in the expression on Will’s flustered face. He blinked slowly, lashes fluttering, and fuck, I could hear Will’s heartbeat. I licked my lips. Afraid of what? I’m afraid of the world. I’m afraid of our country. I’m afraid of this town. I’m afraid of my family. I’m afraid of your dad. I’m afraid of myself. But I’m not afraid of you, Will. I’m not afraid of you.

And with that, I leaned down and kissed Will.

Those were the best five seconds of my life, by far. Will’s lips were smooth, yet firm. They were warm. I wanted to kiss Will forever. I allowed myself, for once in my life, to take what I wanted, and moved my hands down from the wall to Will’s hips, gripping them with all of my pent-up passion, holding him close. I felt Will’s hands meet my shoulders, and… he was pushing me away. Oh no.

“What are you doing, Mike? Is this a joke?” What was it with Will thinking everything was so fucking funny to me? I'd just bared my soul to the love of my life, but Will had interpreted everything as simply cruel humor. That was what Will thought of me. I wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, Will, I’m in love with you,” I said in full earnest, grabbing Will’s hand, just like I'd always done throughout the years whenever Will felt angry, alone, or scared. In turn, Will aggressively shook my hand away like it burned him.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that, you don’t mean it.” What the hell?

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“I just… you’re…” Will forced his words out in a state of panic, ducking out of my reach as he headed for the stairs. “I can’t do this. Not now.”

“Please don’t go. Hear me out,” I pleaded, getting desperate now. “Will, you’ve got to believe me.”

Will turned around from where he stood, halfway to the basement door, his gaze ice cold. “Well, I don’t, Mike. I don’t believe you.” I took back what I’d thought about not being afraid of Will. I was terrified. I watched Will stomp up the rest of the way, slamming the door behind him. I put a hand up to my mouth, muffling a sob.

What had I done?

I stopped my pacing for a moment to breathe. I'd gotten it all out, and by some miracle, without breaking down. I looked over at Will, who rested his chin on his palm as he sat on his bed, staring into space. “I never got the chance to explain myself. You just… shut off.” Will blinked a few times, looking up at me with that same blank expression, and I wanted to scream. But I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy.

Will breathed out hard through his nose, getting up from his spot on the bed and meeting me where I was at, and placing a hand on my arm. I didn’t move; all this talk about Will abandoning me caused some of the resentment to return. But Will took my chin and moved it so our eyes could meet again. He looked sad.

I shrugged, resigned. “I can’t.” And I meant it; I couldn’t blame Will for being thrown off, because I had gone through the complete opposite, having felt led on and let down. “But you also can’t blame me for waiting so long to say something. I literally hated myself for years for being gay.” Will’s hand that held my chin lowered down to the space between my neck and my shoulder, and he went to reply, but I spoke faster. “And when you came out, I thought maybe I could, too. But then, another part of me didn’t want to say anything, because coming clean about my true feelings for you would’ve destroyed everything we worked so hard to build back up after California.”

“Well, I didn’t make it any easier by keeping you at arm’s length after I came out,” Will said as he ran his thumb back and forth along my sweatshirt sleeve. “I tried to convince myself I was okay with being just friends in order to protect myself, you know?”

“Yeah,” my tone was rough as I crossed my arms, and Will pulled away. Nice going, Mike, you fucking asshole. “I mean…” I softened my voice, “I get your thought process. I just felt so… rejected. And after August, it felt so final. Like, I really thought you had zero feelings for me, and that I had severely misread things.”

“You didn’t. Believe me, Mike. You didn’t,” the words tumbled out of Will’s mouth, startling both of us at once.

I looked down, feeling the beginnings of tears pricking my eyes. “I’m trying to.”

Will reached out to me and pulled my hand up into his own, his fingertips gently mapping out the veins that spread out beneath my skin. “Do you still hate yourself now?” he asked, and I looked up slowly.

“I’m not gonna lie, yeah, I do,” I admitted, playing with Will’s fingers as I spoke. I was not proud of the person I'd become. I relived every single one of my mistakes on a constant loop, with each day bleeding into the next. The shame devoured me like a hungry beast. Every waking moment without Will felt like suffocation. I slowed my movements before confessing something else, something I never thought I’d ever be able to. “But I hate living my life without you even more.”

Will let out a small sniffle at that, and I was quick to comfort him, my hands flying up to cup his face and swipe his tears away. Will leaned into the touch, his voice breaking. “I hate living my life without you, too.”

“Can I…” I hesitated, uncertainty flooding my thoughts, but I swiftly pushed it away. “Can I hug you?” I asked. Will nodded, laughing wetly as he said, “Yes, of course.”

I pulled Will into a tight embrace, warmth filling my body instantly as Will’s head fell against my chest, right over my heart. I could only imagine what Will was thinking, granted the fact that my heart was thrumming at record speed. Will ran his hands up my back, pulling me down slightly by my shoulderblades. I nestled my nose in Will’s shaggy hair, breathing him in. He still washed his hair with the coconut shampoo he’d always used. In order to avoid the temptation to inhale Will’s scalp like a vacuum, I opted to place a feather light kiss there, so light that in the future, only I would remember it happening. As we stood there, our bodies flush against one another, I knew I didn’t need a watch to tell that time as an entity ceased to exist. Will and I held each other tightly as the rest of the world fell away. This was what I had been waiting for. Just this. I finally felt whole again.

I wasn’t sure how long we’d been clinging to each other, or who pulled away first, but I was sure of the fact that both of us were crying. Again. “Goddamnit,” I laughed, practically slapping my sweatshirt sleeve up to my face to absorb the tears that fell there.

“Since when have you been a Frequent Crier?” Will teased, and I remembered that Will had never been exposed to the outcome of my emotional revolution before.

“What can I say?” I continued the bit, “Their loyalty program has really good perks.”

“Can’t argue there,” Will laughed, leaning his forehead onto my chest again as my hands ran up and down Will’s sides. I memorized the feel of Will’s improved physique, trailing my hands upwards until my hands met Will’s chest.

“Also,” I said into the silence, causing Will to twitch slightly, but not enough to remove his forehead from my chest. “The Heart? Didn’t know I was still held in such high esteem.” Will’s hands, which had been resting on my hips, moved forward until they were wrapped around my lower back.

“You’ve always been my heart, Mike,” Will told me, voice steady and sure. “You never really stopped.” I felt my jaw drop, barely able to process what I was hearing. The words that left Will’s lips ricocheted around my brain, and I might have forgotten how to breathe for a minute. I needed Will to pinch me, so he could wake up from this… if it wasn’t real, it would be a nightmare. Instead of asking Will to do it for me, I pinched myself, and felt butterflies erupt in my stomach when I didn’t snap my eyes open to the sight of my bedroom back in Indianapolis. I was still here, in Will’s room, and Will was holding me rather sensually, and I felt so fucking alive.

“So… where do we go from here?” I whispered, and Will lifted his head, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. I backed away, fear slowly entering the peripherals of my mind, all possible worst-case scenarios threatening to cave in on me. I'd gone too far, been too forward, taken Will for granted, given off the impression of an ulterior motive.

“Sorry,” I said, almost a reflex at this point in my life. I always had something to be sorry for. Something to make up for. Something to–

“Me too,” Will whispered, grabbing my wrist before I could get too far. He pulled me back in sharply and grabbed me by the back of my neck, tugging me all the way down until our lips collided. I let out a little noise in absolute shock, but not wasting any time as I shoved my hands into Will’s hair, raising my head as I leaned into the heat of Will’s mouth. While my hands remained pretty central to Will’s upper body, Will’s hands roved me everywhere they possibly could. They lifted from my lower back, up my torso, past my chest, around the back of my head to brush the nape of my neck, through my long hair, then back down to grope my ass. I squeaked into Will’s mouth, and he responded with a low hum of a laugh that sent vibrations through my body and set me ablaze. I lowered my grip on Will’s shoulders to his biceps, squeezing them the way I'd wanted to since Will opened the door earlier that morning. Will broke the kiss and looked up, smirk on his lips. “You really like my arms, don’t you?”

“Yeah, how’d you notice?” I tried to be sarcastic, but ended up sounding breathless. Will pressed a chaste kiss to my lips, turning us around and backing me up until my calves hit the base of Will’s bed. I was sure I had died and gone to heaven.

“You wouldn’t stop ogling. You were being so fucking obvious, it was hilarious,” Will teased, and I whined a little in embarrassment, but Will was having none of it, so he pushed me backwards until my back hit the mattress. “Don’t worry, babe, it was cute.”

Babe. I had thought Will would only call me that in my dreams. But this wasn’t a dream. I watched as Will climbed on top of me, one leg on either side of my waist, and leaned down to kiss me, nice and slow. I ran my tongue along Will’s lower lip, and he let me in immediately. We continued like that for a few minutes until Will lifted my arms up so they were pinned above my head, and I quietly moaned as Will began to kiss down my neck. I smiled at the ceiling. I loved Will Byers, and Will Byers loved me. All was right with the world.But I would have a lot to explain over Christmas.

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#byler #byler fanfic #byler fic #byler tumblr #mike wheeler #will byers #will x mike #mike x will #stranger things #stranger things fic #thisismetrying1 #thisismetrying2 #thisismetrying3

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seyaryminamoto · 5 years ago

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What do you think about the allegations against Aaron Ehasz?

Well, I’m pretty disappointed in him. For a very long time he appeared to even be a driving force in featuring more strong and prominent female characters in his shows (both Azula and Toph were supposed to be male characters by Bryke’s vision, Ehasz’s input is often credited for making them who they are), so I guess it goes to show that what you present in your storytelling isn’t necessarily a display of values you hold in real life.

I’m not going to condemn TDP or Wonderstorm as a whole for his actions, but there’s one Twitter thread of allegations that are far too detailed to be dismissed as just “distorted and exaggerated” without genuine proof that that’s all they are. Taking the “innocent until proven guilty” route in these situations only ends up fostering the feeling that this kind of behavior is irrelevant in the face of the grand artistic achievements people like Ehasz can offer the world… and I’m sorry, but it’s simply not the case. I’d like to believe it’s possible to be a decent human being and a good storyteller on equal measure. Presenting yourself as a champion for equality and respect only to completely disregard those values in your personal life means you’re merely selling and promoting ideals you don’t honestly believe in, and it pretty much damages every possible message you could be trying to convey through your story.

I’ll continue to watch TDP, but I admit, this has soured things quite a lot for me and, I imagine, for a lot of people. Ehasz has the opportunity to genuinely reflect on his actions and take a different approach to his future as showrunner, writer and altogether human being. I truly hope he takes it… but I’m not holding my breath. However I may be thankful for some of the brilliant things he gave ATLA, I won’t hold that above the wellbeing of real people.

On another note… something that really bothers me about this situation is how it really brings to light that representation in media has turned into pretty much a tool for showrunners, storytellers, media conglomerates and whatnot. You may have all the rep for all sorts of minorities… but that doesn’t reflect, necessarily, what you truly believe in or how you behave in real life. And if there’s something everyone ought to learn with this, and with other similar fiascos, I suppose: you can’t just trust the real people behind the shows you love to be 100% true to what they’re preaching. More representation of minorities in media is great, but the more it’s pressed on that it’s a matter of QUANTITY rather than QUALITY, the more we’ll see situations like Ehasz’s own, where he can present himself a champion of LGBT rights by featuring female LGBT characters in his show while simultaneously firing or laying off all his female LGBT employees when no one’s paying attention.

Representation and diversity are being turned into a tool to get in with the “cool crowd”, to get the fans to throw all their money and support for a show with zero regard of the quality of said representation. Ultimately, I guess fandom needs to be more critical in the ways that matter. And I don’t mean “instantly hate on everything that doesn’t portray minorities as perfectly pure and morally flawless individuals or groups” or “boycott everything where minority characters die”: what I mean is that people need to start taking storytelling more seriously as what it is, storytelling.

Stories aren’t just a vehicle for political agendas of any kind. Stories are meant to show you different worlds, to let you live different lives through them, to experience existence through someone else’s eyes. In many cases, storytelling can be an exercise in empathy, and that’s what makes it ripe ground for representation of all sorts… but if you don’t care for what kind of story you’re being told, if you only privilege “how much rep I’m getting” over “what kind of rep I’m getting”, this trend will never stop. Big studios, big writers, they’ll keep on giving you what you want, breadcrumbs, just to keep you buying, watching, spending time on their stuff when they have to make the minimum effort for it.

I was recently thinking about it… I’ve been working on a story for close to 7 years now. I’ve made countless efforts to keep my storytelling consistent and solid even if it seems I’ve failed more often than not. I’ve slid through the cracks and weaved whatever extra worldbuilding was needed for the story I was writing… and yet I take one look at how the showrunners behave, and just today I ran into an interview where they basically just implied “We set things up mediocrely so fans could do the rest of the job for us”. The whole notion of readers and viewers interacting with art to “fill the gaps” has been misconstrued and completely defaced in recent times: they don’t have to work for it. They barely need to make any efforts to sell their ideas to fans. All they have to do is create something, promote the shit out of it, make sure people are watching it, and then reap the rewards as fans go crazy interpreting so much more than what’s really there. And they keep getting away with it… because we’re here putting in the efforts they don’t care to.

I think the entertainment industry, as a whole, needs to change. I’ve already started pondering a few ideas on how that change could come about… but I’m not exactly in a situation where I can make it happen anytime soon, let alone can I guarantee that anything I come up with will work for good. But I’d like to think we’ve had too many wake-up calls in the recent years, and as much as media is doing better with representation as of late, there’s a lot of ground to cover still. Two seconds of representation don’t make up for an entire show written without any of it in mind. Filling in the gaps for showrunners and creators is fun except for the fact that you’re putting a fuckload of work into something that will result in no real change beyond what you may affect within your fandom, because those showrunners and creators will disregard what you do (especially if it’s fanfiction) and every interpretation and perception you may have of their characters and world, because you’re just a tool for them.

Sounds so very fatalistic of me to say all this, I know… but Ehasz being in a startup company kind of had me thinking he’d be innovative, different from the big names in entertainment, and so far the way TDP’s fandom had been treated had definitely looked like something new to me. Now I can’t help but think fans are just another cog in the machine. And if we don’t want this to continue, we need to start looking for media worth promoting, worth defending, complex, smart, written not for profit but for genuine love of storytelling. Maybe the efforts we ought to make shouldn’t be about hounding popular creators to cater to our needs, or about doing their jobs for them by filling the gaps they left in their stories out of laziness or carelessness… but to promote the unpopular ones who are glossed over or forgotten when they’re actually making the kind of content we’ve been looking for. Until this changes, I don’t think Ehasz will be the only story we’ll see along these lines in the coming years.

#anon #aaron ehasz #if someone wants a read more I'll add one just let me know #I'd been thinking about this stuff for a long time to be honest #long before this mess happened #it just drove the nail further in I guess #something's rotten in fandom culture #and big showrunners have taken advantage of it #and will continue to do so #unless we do something about it

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fatuifucker · 2 years ago

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afab!reader pegging a trans!scara.. (sorry lmao)

sub kitsune! trans! scaramouche x service dom kitsune! fem-sex reader

SUMMARY = your harbinger/master accidentally gets turned into a kitsune and he suddenly goes into heat. as his kitsune familiar, it's your duty to help him, right?

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader giving), heat, breeding mention, dacryphilia, master/servant relationship, spoilers for scaramouche’s real name, reader refers to scara a “master”

W/C = 0.9k

A/N = you should never apologise for giving me the chance to write this idea that i’ve been burying dead within my head :)) just a warning, this is more feels than actual smut bc i wanted to try something different

TAGS = @zen-daydreams, @edenialucas, @urcatbf, @nejibot, @midnxght-sweet-time, @honeyjetcoaster, @ventriloquistz

When you rushed into you and your master’s shared bedroom, you certainly weren’t expecting to see him…biting on your clothes? And touching himself?

Worry made its way into your brain as you shut the door and approached the harbinger. “Master, what happened—”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare come closer…” Scaramouche snarled, digging his nails into your jacket as he retreated back, his behavior akin to that of a cornered prey.

His tails straightened as he glared at you. Yes, tails. From what you gathered from the Fatui recruits, Dottore was messing around with some enhancements to the Balladeer’s body. Something went wrong and now he’s a kitsune just like you. But from his erratic state and this pungent scent, he’s not just a kitsune. He’s in heat.

You glided your foot across a tile to not alarm him, but it only seemed to heighten his frantic state. “Kunikuzushi. We both know that I’ve been through his thousands of times. Allow me to help you.”

You took another step. Your words didn’t seem to pacify his anxious mind, but he showed no further sign of defiance. His hands and teeth clutched onto your jacket with a hold that could only be described as a deathgrip. Wet stains — stains from crying — dyed his fair cheeks and you could see more tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. His tails were puffed up, likely from a mixture of uncertainty and fear at this foreign predicament. If a stranger were to witness Scaramouche in this state, never would they have guessed that he was the 6th Harbinger.

You felt pity. As a kitsune yourself, you know how much it hurts to be in heat. Even though Scaramouche puts on an intimidating front as a harbinger, he’s a vulnerable soul. A vulnerable soul who suddenly shifted forms and was thrusted into experiencing a terrifying and unfamiliar sensation.

“(Name)...” he panted. “the strap…I need it…”

You immediately walked over to the bed, flipping the bedsheets over and grabbing the item from underneath the bed frame. Scaramouche didn't waste any time in laying back and spreading his legs out, gritting his teeth as he waited for you. You’ve never seen him like this. And the more you heard his strangled cries, the more you felt a need to soothe him. To breed him. Wait, no, no, you couldn't think like that. Your master needed your help, you needed to alleviate his pain.

Hovering over him, you swiped away the stray strands of hair that were sticking to his face. “Shh…Kuni, it’s okay. I’m going to help you. You can trust me.”

In one swift trust, you drove your entire cock inside him, earning a garbled moan out of the harbinger. Scaramouche wrapped his arms around you, clawing at your back as he pulled you close to him. You felt him shaking under you, and you were shivering as well. To be in close proximity to another kitsune in heat was making your instincts act up. It’s the reason why your head was filled with thoughts of breeding him, of claiming him. It ached, but it is nothing compared to what Scaramouche is experiencing so you drown those thoughts down.

But Scaramouche isn’t your partner for nothing. He has been by your side for over four hundred years, and you’ve had sex with him for definitely more than four hundred times. Noticing your hitched breathing, Scaramouche moved his hand to cup your chin, raising it to face him. “Hey, this– ah! H-hurts for you too, right?”

“I can bear with it.” You kissed his neck for reassurance. “We can sort that out later. You’re a higher priority.”

At last, the Balladeer relaxed underneath you, entrusting you with complete control in caring for him. Although the two of you have been bonded for decades, this was a rare occasion. Even with you, he hides his weaknesses and pretends to be this confident egomaniac.

Maybe it’s because of your adoration and admiration for him. Maybe it’s because he feels the need to be this way because he is you’re his familiar. Even so, you swore that you would care for him and love him forever, both as a familiar and as a lover. And you are determined to fulfil that oath.

You bit into Scaramouche’s neck, suckling on that sensitive spot just as he liked before moving to lick at his fox ears. Your hands intertwined with his; a habit for the both of you whenever you engage in intercourse.

You thank yourself for requesting your master to install soundproof walls because archon knows how you would be able to face your servants later if they heard the sound of you rapidly ramming into your harbinger’s pussy while he is moaning out your name like a prayer. You shared a gaze with him: the man who saved you, the man who you swore your life to. No words were needed, for you both understood. What more is needed when you’ve been bonded with your mate for hundreds of years?

‘Thank you for being my partner.’

Your lips pressed against his as he cums, squirting out his essence as he gasped into your mouth. Smiling, you pulled out of him to admire the sloppy mess. “That was fast.”

Scaramouche scoffed. “I’m in heat, what do you expect?”

Giggling, you took the strap off before setting Scaramouche on your lap. Now that he has calmed down, you finally got a chance to admire his new ears and tails. Your hands made their way to his ears, petting them as you summoned your own tails to lace them with his. “You made me horny…” you cooed as you nuzzled into his neck.

“Mmm…how do you want it then?”

“Rub your clit against mine?”

Scaramouche chuckled, chirping a little as he got off you. “Fine, but I’m eating you out after this.

#scaramouche smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin scaramouche smut #genshin scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut

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negansbackdoorwhore · 3 years ago

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negan x reader where reader somehow convinced negan to let her paint his nails and she’s gossiping and he joins in and shares his own gossip pieces <3

love you and your writing as always bbg <3

thank u bby! im glad you enjoy my content ❤️❤️❤️

“Negan! I’m bored!” You say as you crawl into his lap and make a pouty face. He kind of giggled and held your body.

“The hell you want me to do about it?” He said as he leaned further into the couch. Your arms wrap onto his thick neck and gently caressed his skin. He wore a smirk and you leaned to kiss him.

“Maybe you could let me do a little makeover?”

“No way. Out of the question.” He said in disapproval and removed his arms from you.

“C’mon! Pretty please.” You beg as you kept a tight hold on his body and started planting kisses over his face and neck.

“Please Daddy.” You whisper and feel happy as he tries to bite back a smile. You knew the things that drove him crazy.

“I guess. If it will make you happy.” He sighed out and groaned as you squeezed him into a tight hug.

“Yes! Let’s do your nails.” He was then drug to the kitchen table as you brought out different colors of polish for him to pick.

“Pick a color.”

“I don’t fucking know. There’s too many.”

“Well then we’re going yellow.”

“Ah no! That won’t flatter my skin, do black.”

“For someone who’s not into this, you sure know your shit.” Negan rolled his eyes and placed his hands flat on the table as you carefully started to paint his nails.

“You happy?”

“I am now babe. Can’t say too much for others.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well there’s a coworker who’s in the middle of a big breakup.”

“Do tell me more.”

It was just simple office drama between the new manager and her husband. But she’s been all moody and spilling out her guts to everyone. So why not tell your boyfriend. You kept going on and focused your eyes on his hands. So far, they were looking great. Little did you know that Negan knew the boyfriend of your manager. It was crazy. Negan spoke about how thar boyfriend had been bragging about seeing two girls and shit. He didn’t care much because he was at work but knowing this, he will definitely pay more attention.

“Okay, you’re nails are done but keep still so they’ll dry.”

“They look good babe.” You put away all your polishes and went into your bedroom. Negan noticed you had been gone for a few minutes and walked while still being cautious of his hands. He held them a good few inches away from his body as he went to see you laying bed.

“You good baby?”

“Oh I’m just fine Daddy. I just wish someone would join me under these covers.”

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath as his hands still needed to dry.

“You are going to get it when this shit dries!”

#jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan #jeffreys thirst squad #negan x reader #the walking dead negan #jeffrey dean morgan x you #negan smith #negan x you #jdm fanfiction #twd negan #daddy negan #negan x y/n #negan fic #negan smith x reader

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loki-lover84 · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 7 Season 3 Episode 6 Part I

We climbed into Butcher’s car and he drove us to a dingy looking motel, I mean they’re all in some way dingy looking but still.

“You two are staying here until further notice.” Butcher says firmly as we climb out of the car.

“We could’ve just stayed at my apartment.” I complain.

“No we couldn’t, we broke your bed.” Ben whispers to me as we share a laugh.

“Fine.” I say as we wait for Hughie to get our room sorted.

Hughie comes back over to us and leads us to our new residence. I throw myself on the bed whilst Ben stays stood up looking intimidating to the duo.

“We’re hungry.” He states expectantly.

“Look, we’re not your fucking-” Butcher begins.

“And we can’t go out in public so…I guess that makes you our errand boys if you want us to help.” I observe logically.

“Fucking supes.” Butcher grumbles as we give him our food order, request of clothes and a few ‘other’ things. “Hughie keep an eye on them.”

“We don’t want a cuckold.” Ben counters glaring at Hughie.

“I-I could come with you, make sure you get everything?” Hughie suggests as Butcher gives in.

“Fine. We’re going now.” Butcher says despite it being at least two a.m.

Hughie rushes to join Butcher as they stroll out leaving us alone. Once they’re out of sight Ben sits down on the bed ad relaxes as I sit up to join him wrapping my arms around him and nuzzling my face into his neck placing a few delicate kisses on his neck as he moans against me. I’m tempted to ask him if he’s okay, I know he’s not and he knows I know it’s a pointless question.

“How can I make it better?” I ask running one hand through his hair as he relaxes into my touch.

He remains silent before looking down and grabbing my left hand from his waist as he massages his thumb on the back of my hand as he notices I put my ring back on.

“Do you remember when I gave you this?” He asks.

“Yeah it was a year to the day that we met.” I laugh. “You said it’s a promise.”

“It took us four months to find a gap in our schedules, for me to fulfil that promise.” He sighs nostalgically.

“Gunpowder was doing his first feature film so I got Black Noir to be our witness.” I add.

“The only thing he did well…he stood in the same room as us as we eloped. That was his greatest achievement.” Ben grumbles with a hint of venom.

He never liked Noir, I however classed him as a friend at the time but now…every surviving member is awaiting their overdue execution.

“Do you reckon we have time?” He asks turning his head to look at me a wicked gleam in his eyes as his smirk held every hidden desire.

“No…doesn’t mean we can’t do other stuff though.” I say placing my hands on the side of his face pulling him in for a passionate kiss as I start to lie down pulling him on top of me.

He bites my lip making me gasp as he takes the opportunity to snake his tongue in, we fight for dominance for a minute until he tugs my hair stealing the advantage. He begins grinding against me and I feel myself getting wetter and wetter as he grows harder and harder. Ben breaks the kiss grunting as he lowers the bottom half of his suit, pushing my silk underwear to the side quickly thrusting in.

“Shit…” I can’t help but cry at the sudden intrusion before he claims my lips once again.

“You know you want this.” He teases as my hips meet his thrusts.

“What if they comeback…” I say feeling a little anxious.

“Never bothered you before.” Yes it wouldn’t be a first I mean he created Herogasm for fucks sake just so we could fuck without judgement.

“I-It’s been a while since…I can’t.”

“Don’t be getting all embarrassed on me now, Sweetheart. You know you love it really.” His hips start moving faster and harder and I once again hear the bed springs scream before breaking.

“We’re gonna break this bed.” I whine as he bites down on my neck lifting us off the bed essentially ramming me into a wall as hear is creak with each movement.

I cling to his neck, nails breaking his skin as light trickles of blood trail down his neck coating his suit as his body automatically heals.

“Shit…I’m close.” I scream tugging his soft hair.

The door creaks open and I hide my face behind Ben’s shoulder. Felling my discomfort he stretches his back out his muscular build blocking me and them from view, well aside from my legs that are wrapped around his waist.

“You look at me. They aren’t there it’s just you and me.” Ben coos reassuringly as my eyes lock on his hypnotic green eyes.

“Fucking hell. We can’t leave supes alone for two minutes.” Butcher complains his irritation evident.

“Knock next time.” Ben yells over his shoulder never once slowing his thrusts. “Get the fuck out, you fucking perverts.”

The door slams shut.

“Cum…baby, be my good girl and cum for me.” Ben encourages as I re-focus on us.

I can feel myself getting closer again, my stomach fluttering as I stare into my husband’s eyes clenching around his member as pleasure washes over me spasming against him as his cum fills me up and he growls in satisfaction.

“Good girl…you did so well.” He praises carrying me back over to the bed finally slipping out of me as he readjusts himself and readjusts my underwear. “Keep that inside.” He whispers kissing my forehead before opening the door to an agitated Butcher and mortified Hughie.

“Clothes, food and drugs.” Butcher announces dumping everything on the table.

Ben drags the table towards the bed with everything on grabbing our clothes helping me stagger into the bathroom as we change into the oversized comfy clothes. It was so good finally getting out of my suit as we re-enter the room Ben emptying the bag of greasy fried chicken and chips onto the table.

“Where’s the Chop Socky Oriental sauce?” Be asks looking rather displeased.

“They don’t have that…anymore.” Hughie replies cautiously.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Uh, many…many good reasons.” Hughie says clearly just making up his answer.

“Did you get the other shit?” Butcher reaches into another brown paper bag placing a bottle of whiskey and drugs on the table.

“Here you go, guv.” Butcher says as Ben grabs the pills emptying three onto the table.

“Man. I missed bennies. It’s how we won D-Day, you know. We were wired to the fucking gills.” My husband says using the handle of his blade to crush the pills.

“Listen, let’s have a little chat about this team up, yeah?” Butcher says standing far too close for comfort.

“Yeah, what the hell do I need a team for? The last one handed me to the reds.” He states as I hold his free hand.

“And we got you out of that little pickle.” Butcher insists and I can’t help but scoff.

They wouldn’t have known a fucking thing if it weren’t for me however, I did need their contacts to find out what happened and where he’d be.

“We wrapped up Crimson Countess and delivered her like a fucking Christmas turkey, and I even sorted Gunpowder for you.”

“Why am I supposed to be impressed with that? That’s like killing Emmanuel Lewis.” Ben mocks with a snigger before snorting his drugs.

“Yeah, well, he grew up a bit since you last saw him.” Butcher says as Hughie fails to pick up the shield.

“Hands off the fucking shield.” He says still looking intimidating to Hughie even with the white powder on the side of his nose.

“Anyway you want payback on Payback, don’t you? Well it just so happens that we are experts at exterminating shitbag supes.” Butcher says putting his arm round Hughie forcing him closer to us. “You see, it’s a whole different world out there now, son. We’re here to help you find your way.” Butcher pitches.

“I have Y/n for that.” My husband says taking a bite of his food as I do the same.

“Are you sure?” Hughie asks flashing me a pleading look. “Do you know what a GPS is? Or-or Bluetooth? Or, I mean…the internet.” Hughie chuckles at the end.

I hope he remembers his lesson with my smart phone but I know he won’t.

“You made those words up.” He answers confidently and I can’t help but face palm gaining his focus.

“No he didn’t, remember I was showing you at my apartment.” I try biting back a grin.

“Before or after we broke your bed?”

“After. Remember we were looking at new beds on the internet?” He looks at me trying to focus before shrugging.

“See? You need us.” Hughie tries again.

“Y/n can still do it.” Ben insists as I nod in agreement.

I do want to see Homelander and his all powerful mightier than thou self destroyed, I don’t like the idea of Butcher using Ben.

“All we ask is that you add one more name to the list.” Butcher says sitting down his confident charade not once wavering.

“Who?”

“A right cunt, named Homelander.”

“I’ve seen pictures, who is he?”

“He’s the want to be new you.” I chime in.

“No one’s the new me.” Ben says calmly. “But why him?”

“Let’s just say, you’re not the only one that wants payback.” Butcher says sounding ominous.

“Hmm…All right. You help us find the rest of my team, and we’ll help you with this Homelander.” Ben agrees snorting another line.

We finish eating our food and I get up to turn the TV on before sitting back on the bed snuggling next to Ben, who acts disinterested due to Hughie and Butcher’s presence but still wraps his arm around me. After the show ends ‘Red Thunder’ begins playing and I can’t help but laugh at the bad acting and terrible script. Butcher leaves to be have a productive day, tracking down the twins

“These fucking twins. You know they couldn’t hit their fucking marks.” Ben complains swigging his whiskey. “Fucking unprofessionals is what they are.”

It’s a bit awkward with Hughie sat on the sofa in the corner monitoring Ben’s radiation levels and looking like a scared kid whenever Ben gets annoyed. I snuggle up to him more placing an arm over his stomach.

“It’s alright, they’ll be dead soon.” I say kissing his jaw and his beard scratches against my lips.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at me kissing my forehead.

“Hey, uh, yeah Butcher’s gonna find them. Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you get some sleep?”

“No. I’ve slept enough.” My husband dismisses as an ad for Starlight diapers plays with a man with a baby carrier on. “Do men really walk around like that?”

“Yeah. I mean dads do.” Hughie answers.

“Okay, well Bill Cosby is America’s dad, and, tell you one thing he wouldn’t be caught dead in that pussy gear. The Cos…that’s a real man, holy shit did he make some strong drinks.” Ben chuckles. “But, seriously, what classes as a man today? Christ on a cross.”

“He’s not a good topic of conversation nowadays.” I intervene. “Besides I think you’d look great wearing one.” I tease earning an unimpressed look whilst he pours himself another cup of whiskey.

“I read that we were ass up in Afghanistan. The fuck is up with that? They were the good guys. I mean, when I left, it was uh…”

“Yeah, you know…” Hughie tries to cut in.

“I mean, goddamn it, we-we were ten and one, you know? I lead the 116th onto Omaha Beach. I was in the fucking eagle’s nest. I fought for this country!” Ben says standing up in frustration. “I fought for this country.” He sighs under his breath. “And what did I get for it? Forgotten. Left to rot by my own team.”

“You weren’t.” I insist standing up. “I didn’t forget you I’ve spent the best part of my life looking for you. The world mourned you. But you were never forgotten…not by the people that actually cared about you.” I snap at him fighting the urge to slap his handsome face, as Hughie sits there not knowing where to look.

I kiss him instead, it’s the only act I can commit if I’m not to hit him. His hand gropes my but as he leans down with the motion deepening the kiss before we slowly separate sitting back on the bed. Hughie looks at us still bewildered before adjusting.

“You know, we always wanted some rug rats of our own.” Ben says to Hughie.

“We had one…but Vought fucking stole him from me. I still haven’t found him.” I say clenching my fists as Ben holds me.

“Now, we can start again. Have some boys raise them up to be real men.” Ben says once again reassuringly.

“Hey, um, can I ask you something?” Hughie begins. “What happened in mid-town?”

“I don’t know.”

“I mean your team wasn’t there so did someone do anything or, say something?”

“I said I don’t know.” Ben raises his voice glaring at Hughie.

“Okay. Okay, yeah.” He says cowering.

“There was some music playing.” I add.

“I blacked out. About ten minutes. When I came to, the damage was done. I didn’t mean to hurt those people. I’m not a bad guy.” He says solemnly.

“That won’t happen again, right?” Hughie questions.

“Only if they’ve got it coming.”

“Oi, oi.” Butcher says entering the room.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Not mine. Got an address. We’re going to Vermont.” Butcher declares.

Ben and I suit up in the bathroom, coming out in time to see Hughie and Butcher shooting up temp-V like drug addicts.

#soldier boy x reader #Soldier Boy #angst #fluff #smut #reader #supe reader #Season 3 rewrite #Butcher #Hughie #temp V #drug use #cute #love #The Boys #mentions of Herogasm #drinking

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

Text

The Match - Part 9

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky brings you and Mackenzie with him to an important meeting.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Uhhhh hmm work tension, sexual tension, idk Bucky and Mackenzie being annoying as usual lmao

A/N: ALSO I know I haven’t mentioned what the fuck Bucky’s company is all about because c’mon, I didn’t expect I’d get this far lmao so IDK there might be continuity issues or inaccuracies or whatevah, just ignore it lmao it’s fiction. ANYWAAAY, I just want to say how GRATEFUL AND OVERWHELMED I am with the amount of attention that this series is getting. I appreciate every feedback, every ask and every freaking debate about this shit lmfao. I love you guys. I can’t put into words how much I appreciate you all askcnasjkcnak bye

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Don't let Bucky or Mackenzie get to you.

Mark's advice rang in your ears like a chant as you watched Bucky and Mackenzie's exchange about the project. Joining them in the conference room for a major brainstorming session was you and a couple of people from your team with Beverly taking down the minutes of the meeting.

The upcoming project was a huge one, given that Barnes Group of Companies was a huge name in the automobile industry. Meanwhile, Wilson Enterprises is one of the biggest autonomous vehicle technology companies out there. This partnership was one for the books, possibly an industry changer too.

You wanted to be a part of it, wanted to spearhead the entire thing and watching Mackenzie take the reigns on this one was truly making your blood boil.

"That sounds like a nice idea, Kenzie." Bucky praised, nodding his head.

Mackenzie shrugged, "It's what I do, Buck." she said.

"Yeah, it's a great idea. I do have some comments though, if you don't mind?" you asked.

Bucky and Mackenzie exchanged glances before turning to you. You glanced at Bucky for a quick second before ignoring the way he was eyeing you with genuine interest.

"I know that bringing in a celebrity to endorse this brand new model would definitely create noise around the partnership. Although I think that would take the spotlight away from the actual product we're creating here. We want customers to focus on the brand new car model and the technology that Wilson Enterprises will be providing it with, not on the celebrity endorser." you explained.

Mackenzie hummed, "I get where you are coming from. That's a good point, actually. But a celebrity endorser will pretty much do everything for the brand. Have him up on billboards and different advertisements and you're all set." she further explained.

You chuckled, "But then how will people understand what the entire partnership is all about? Aren't we supposed to be communicating a certain message to our consumers? Wouldn't it be better to hold an event to launch the product instead? Invite the press and key opinion leaders to spread the word. Have Bucky and Mister Wilson talk about this partnership. They're famous and powerful enough to get the message across. Why waste the budget on a celebrity when we literally have everything we need to make noise?" you shrugged.

The entire room was silent after your feedback, even Mackenzie wasn't able to respond to your suggestion. Glancing over at Bucky, you saw that he was giving you the look-- the one with half-lidded eyes matched with a head tilt, the one that often resulted to him giving you a very nice reward once office hours are over.

Feeling your breath hitch in your throat, you quickly looked away and shrugged your shoulders, "I mean, that's just my two cents. Having worked here for years, I just based it on my experience. You're the expert here, Mackenzie." you offered a proud smile.

Mackenzie tried to brush it off and turned to Bucky, "What do you think, Buck? I'm still into the idea of hiring a celebrity. That's good publicity. And let's not get worried about the budget now," she said, placing a hand on top of Bucky's that was resting on the table, "I have a lot of connections so I can definitely get an endorser for a much lower rate." she reassured.

"We may have a huge budget for this, but that doesn't automatically mean that we have to use it all up. We can allocate it somewhere else, maybe start a CSR campaign as well? We are, after all, coming out with an environmental-friendly model." you suggested.

You heard Bucky when he took a sharp inhale, bringing his hands up to rub his lips as if in deep thought. He then turned to Beverly, however, his eyes remained on you.

"Take note of everything she says." he reminded her before standing up.

He asked everyone else in the room of their opinions, whether it was your or Mackenzie's idea that the company will go for. The team was divided in half, some of them preferring Mackenzie's celebrity pitch probably because they didn't want to do a lot of work.

Bucky nodded, "Well, I guess we'll have to discuss both ideas with my partner Sam and let's see where we will go from there. I have a meeting with him this afternoon, I need you and Kenzie with me there." he said, looking at your before turning to Kenzie with a charming smile.

Don't let them get to you.

You've never wanted for the ground to swallow you up until this moment as you stood behind Bucky and Mackenzie in the elevator. This felt so much more uncomfortable than when you shared it with Bucky after swiping right with him on Tinder. There was still tension and it felt so much worse now because you didn't know whether it was between you and Bucky or him and Mackenzie.

Fucking Mackenzie and her nicely manicured nails which always seemed find its way around Bucky's arm. You eyed her hands as they squeezed his arm, the both of them talking in hushed voices as if you weren't standing behind them.

"I've been dying to try this restaurant, I heard they serve good food. Do you want to go have dinner there sometime this week?" she asked Bucky.

"I'll check my schedule, which restaurant is this?" he asked.

When Mackenzie uttered the name of that restaurant where you celebrated your promotion, you and Bucky choked on your own spits at the same time. Warmth crept up to your cheeks at the same time Bucky's ears reddened.

"Oh, what's going on?" Mackenzie asked with a nervous chuckle as she looked at you and Bucky, struggling with your coughs.

You recovered first and shook your head, "Sorry, I get allergies. Anyway, I've been to that restaurant. They do serve good food, the staff was very hospitable as well. I'm sure Bucky would enjoy it there." you said with a smile, pushing your way past them when the elevators door slid open.

Mackenzie asking Bucky whether he was up for dinner was the last thing you heard. Good luck explaining to her why he's banned from there, you thought to yourself.

Bucky led the way to his car and it instantly brought certain memories back. You weren't going to lie, you missed the fucking and how Bucky always made sure to take care of your needs. Seeing his car was enough to make your thighs clench at the memory of him fingering you as he drove.

His gaze was on you when he opened the door to the passenger's seat, his eyes inviting as you approached him. And just as when you were about to slip in, he turned over to Mackenzie and gestured for her to get in.

What a fucking asshole, you thought to yourself as you took a step back to ride in the back instead. You tried to keep your expression stoic when you saw that Bucky checked for a reaction. He seemed perplexed when he saw that you didn't react that much to what he did.

One hundred points to Gryffindor.

The location for the meeting was at a nearby restaurant so you didn't suffer that much during the entire ride. Mackenzie was busy with her phone anyway, typing out messages with those manicured fingers you were beginning to hate.

By the time all three of you arrived, Sam was already there. He donned a navy blue suit and he was rocking it. You'd seen his photos on the internet and knew that he was good-looking, but seeing him in the flesh, you were stunned at how gorgeous he was. Sam stood up when he saw Bucky, offering a kind smile to you and Mackenzie.

You weren't sure whether you were just being assuming or what, but you noticed how his eyes lingered on you longer that it did with Mackenzie.

"Sam." Bucky greeted, shaking his hand before introducing you and Mackenzie.

Sam shook Mackenzie's hand first before he turned to you. You took his hand and introduced yourself, "Mister Wilson." you said.

"Please, just Sam." he told you as he gently squeezed your hand before letting go.

"Have a seat." Sam said to Bucky and Mackenzie before pulling out the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down.

You thanked him and sat down; straightening up, you were met with Bucky's watchful gaze as he sat down across you. Your attention was taken away when Sam asked what you wanted to order, he even suggested a certain dish and immediately went to discuss that it was his favorite thing to order.

This was going to be an interesting meeting.

And interesting it truly was, because you didn't expect for Sam to be so laid-back and easy to communicate with. He wasn't one of those uptight CEOs who were very intimidating to work with. Simply put, he was the complete opposite of Bucky. While Bucky was ice cold, Sam was sunshine and warmth with his attitude.

When it came down to pitching your and Mackenzie's ideas to him, you suddenly got nervous. Sam wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth; from what you've read, he started off working regular jobs before he climbed his way to the top. He was a self-made man and he had extensive knowledge in the marketing industry, having a doctorate degree in the said area.

Mackenzie was the first to discuss her strategy about hiring a celebrity endorser. She said it was fast and straight to the point. When it was your turn, you started off a bit shaky but eventually found your pacing.

"We wanted to ask you how this should go on about. I know that the offer for a partnership came from our end and that we're supposed to pitch the details for it. But we wanted you to be involved in this as much as we are." Bucky further explained.

Sam nodded and let out an amused chuckle, "I really appreciate this, Buck. I was going to ask you if I can contribute with the planning as well. I'm very particular when it comes to marketing our products." he said.

"That being said, I loved both ideas. I think hiring a celebrity endorser is good." he said, making Mackenzie smile proudly.

"But I would rather hold an event to launch the product. You understand the product and what we want to do with it. It's not just a brand new car, it's an innovation and the messaging is very important. I'm very impressed." Sam said, his attention geared towards you.

"Wow, I'm honored." you laughed. "Coming from you, I mean I've read about the marketing studies you did. Pretty big deal to receive a compliment from you." you admitted.

It was meant to be a genuine reaction, really. You had no ill intentions for it, you didn't do it to make Bucky jealous or get the upper hand. However, your passion for your career and area of expertise seemed to favor you. It had Bucky on edge, seeing you and Sam get along so well.

You didn't even need to check for Bucky's reaction because he simply cleared his throat and excused himself to go to the restroom. Mackenzie seemed unbothered though, when Sam favored your pitch over hers. You couldn't read her, sometimes she'd come off competitive but right now, she was unaffected.

When Bucky got back, he was quick to finalize the meeting, "I guess it's a done deal then. We'll work on the details of the launch and maybe we can set another meeting for the major presentation for your approval?" he asked Sam.

"That sounds like a plan. I'm looking forward to working with you." Sam told everyone, although he did seem to be directly addressing you.

"Alright, I'm leaving too." Mackenzie announced after Sam left the restaurant.

"Oh, you're not heading back to the office with us?" Bucky asked.

Mackenzie shook her head, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "I have another meeting. You know how it is with freelance work." she said as all three of you stood up to head outside of the restaurant.

"My Uber's here, I guess I'll see you both sometime this week." she said and waved at you before turning to Bucky and pressing a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm counting on that dinner, okay?" she reminded before slipping into her Uber, leaving you and Bucky to head back to the office together.

Alone with Bucky. In his car. The exact same car where plenty of fucking happened. Again, you chanted Mark’s advice in your head over and over again.

Don’t let Bucky get to you. And most of all, don’t cave in.

You quickly slipped inside the front seat of Bucky’s car before he could even open it up for you. The air was thick between you and Bucky and it almost felt like it was suffocating you. Reaching for the seatbelt, you tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing to yourself, you tried again but to no avail.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing. Seatbelt’s just stuck.” you grunted, using both your hands to pull down at it.

“Here, let me.”

Suddenly, Bucky reached over to your seatbelt and tried to fix it. His face was inches away from yours and you literally felt your insides jump at how you were immediately drowned in his perfume. If you moved forward so much as half an inch, your lips would already be pressing against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. And that thought was sending your senses into overdrive.

Do not. Cave. In.

The loud click of the seatbelt made you relax and thank goodness that Bucky was quick to move away from you, fixing his suit before starting the engine. The office may just be nearby but the fact that you and Bucky were together was making it feel like it was going to be an hour-long drive.

“So what do you think about Sam?” Bucky asked out of the blue.

He was gauging you, trying to get a reaction from you. Maybe he was expecting you to be flirty with your response, or be defensive even? You weren’t going to give him that.

“I think he’s great. Like I said, I’ve read his marketing studies and they were very insightful. I learned a lot.”

Plain, simple and safe. There was no hidden meanings and no malice; you were doing great at this whole not letting Bucky get to you thing. You made a mental note to thank Mark for his advice.

“He seems interested in you.” Bucky said again, shrugging his shoulders a bit and trying to be as nonchalant as he could.

“Well we are in the same field of expertise and I was very straightforward about admiring his skills. I’d be disappointed if he brushed off my ideas.” you slightly chuckled.

“I liked Mackenzie’s idea better, honestly.” Bucky blurted out.

By this time, you had Bucky’s plans figured out. He was coming for your job, using it as a bait to get a reaction out from you. He knew how much your career meant for you, how competitive you were in your field. Whenever his other tactics wouldn’t work, he’d always go for the career aspect.

“It was good.” you agreed, turning to Bucky with a small smile. “I think we can do that for other campaigns. Just not with this partnership. I like her.” you said.

“You do?” Bucky asked in surprise before he cleared his throat upon realizing that he sort of broke his facade.

You shrugged, “She’s a headstrong woman. She reminds me of myself actually.”

If you were alone, you would have given yourself a high-five because that statement truly made Bucky think. His forehead creased as he drove, his hand rubbing his chin and his jaw clenching as if he was in deep thought.

It was silent inside the car for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by the trilling of Bucky’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket but before he could even answer it, it slipped out of his hand and disappeared beneath his seat.

“Fuck.” Bucky cursed, both his hands on the steering wheel as he continued to drive, his attention divided between driving and searching for his ringing phone.

“Shit.” he hissed again, not knowing how to get his phone while driving. He quickly glanced at you before focusing on the road again. “Baby, can you get it for me?”

You almost missed the term of endearment. Almost. It was obviously a slip of the tongue because he genuinely didn’t seem to realize that he called you that. Bucky was more focused on the road rather than processing what he just said. You chose to ignore it the same way you did to the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Yeah, okay.” you said and reached over to him, bending down to look for his phone.

In a split second, your face was right in front of Bucky’s crotch as you tried to reach beneath his car seat. You tried to ignore the bulge that was staring right at you and let your hand do the searching.

“Can you reach it?” Bucky asked.

You straightened up, “No. Can you pull aside?” you asked.

Bucky checked the surroundings and then the rearview mirror, “We can’t. We’re at a no loading and unloading zone.” he explained.

The phone continues to trill and it doesn’t seem like it would stop any time now. You sighed and removed your seatbelt before stretching your body over Bucky, slipping underneath his arms on the steering wheel so you can fully reach under his seat.

From another car’s view, you looked like you were giving him a blowjob. Not that you haven’t done that before, in this same car.

Finally, you felt his phone at the tip of your fingers and stretched further, your free hand coming to grip Bucky’s thigh unintentionally. It was only when you felt his muscles flex beneath his trousers that you realized how near your hand was to his crotch.

“Did you,” Bucky cleared his throat. “Did you get it?” he stammered.

You still have a certain effect on him, how very nice. Biting back a smirk, you hummed in response before pulling back and then handing him his phone casually. Mackenzie’s name was flashing on the screen as the phone continued to ring.

“Sorry, can you answer it and put it on speakerphone?” Bucky asked again.

You shrugged and did as you were told, holding the phone near Bucky as he continued to drive.

“Hey, Kenzie. Sorry, I dropped my phone. What’s up?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, so my meeting got cancelled at the last minute. I was thinking maybe we can grab that dinner tonight instead?”

Bucky stole a quick glance from you but your face remained stoic, your hand steady as you held out his phone.

“Sure, how does around 7pm sound? I can pick you up.” Bucky offered.

“Sounds great. So are we checking that restaurant I was talking about?”

Bucky’s ears turned red again but he quickly recovered, “I was thinking of trying out a different one. I honestly didn’t like their dessert.”

Huh, that was weird. You and Bucky didn’t even make it to--

Fuck, he was talking about you, you realized. Clenching your jaw, you tried to keep calm. He was trying to get a rise out of you, don’t give in. Don’t react. Bucky’s conversation with Mackenzie didn’t last long and ended when they settled the location for their dinner.

The ride back to the office was quiet again, until your phone lit up from a notification. Bucky was already parking in the basement when you checked your phone, an audible gasp slipping past your lips upon reading the notification from LinkedIn.

Samuel Wilson wants to connect with you.

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag @weird-mumbling @propertyofpoeandbucky @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @mostly-marvel-musings @squishybabies @megzdoodle @suchababie @annathesillyfriend @xhollycowx @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @5-seconds-of-mendes @gogolucky13 @countonthesun @iloveshawnieboi @learisa @borikenlove @scarlet-natasha89

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @im-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky

#bbb writes #the match #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

ok so can I get a scenario with a sub fem reader getting railed over Muichiro’s desk I’d say more but I’m in a rush thank you for your time

‘game on’ / Tokito M. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, unprotected sex, almost exhibitionism?, Mui is a little shit

words: 1,320

(a/n): Muichiro is 18+ in this

“Jesus, guys, cover my fucking six, won’t you?”

“Maybe if you didn’t run right into enemy territory you wouldn’t die so fucking fast.”

“Right? Fucking scrub. Think about the rest of us!”

At that, Muichiro rolls his eyes. The others bitching at him through his headset are getting way too annoying. Well, they were always annoying to begin with, but he needs some sort of team to level himself up, you know? Still, he charges forward since he’s the one carrying this team. Fingers poised over the WASD buttons and hand gripping onto the mouse, Muichiro’s in the perfect state for complete concentration.

The thing is… Well, he isn’t concentrating.

Granted, he’s still better than the others despite his… problem.

Glancing downwards, he’s greeted with the sight of his bare thighs and your pretty head nestled between his legs. Your eyes are closed, eyelashes kissing your cheeks; it’s those very cheeks that are hollowed around his cock, wrapping around him in a wet heat that’s to die for. Perhaps you feel his stare – your eyes crack open and meet his darkened gaze, flick over his flushed features and the delightful pout of his bottom lip.

He bites back a groan as your tongue flicks his glans before it travels the length of the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. The slurping noises breaking free from your puffy lips are enough to spur him on him further. Fuck, he’d love nothing more than to hold your head in place while he drove his cock deep into your slutty throat, make you choke while he shoots his load into your mouth.

Fuck, you’re so sexy that it’s driving him nuts. For a brief moment, his hand leaves his mouse, opting to caress your cheek instead. Good girl, he mouths down at you. Suck.

“Oi, Misty, you still there, man? You went silent.”

Mumbling a curse, Muichiro’s hand leaves your cheek and he clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I just got… distracted.”

“Jesus, dude. One minute you’re bitching at us to cover you and then you say you’re distracted? What the hell, man? Get your head out of your ass!”

“Suck my dick,” Muichiro spits.

“Already doing that,” you murmur, drawing away from his cock and pressing your lips to his balls instead.

Muichiro’s teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as another moan threatens to burst from his throat. Shit, it’s too good, so fucking great that his head’s gonna explode (that, or his insides – whichever comes first).

“Uh… You okay, man? You don’t sound too good.”

“Seriously? You’re taking his side? What about the match?!”

“Mui,” you purr, skimming your nails against the insides of his thighs, “I can hear your teammates through your headphones. It sounds like they’re giving you a hard time.” And, as if your pun couldn’t be timed any better, your hand wraps itself around his cock and starts jerking him off in a languid, steady pace.

“Fuck yeah,” Muichiro grunts, thighs subconsciously spreading further apart.

One of his teammates on the other side of the line stammers. “What the fuck was that?”

“Christmas - don’t you know when to shut up?” Muichiro snaps. “All you know how to do is suck at a damn MMORPG and bitch about everything.”

“You fucking twat-“

Before he has the chance to finish, Muichiro throws off his headset and leans back in his chair. “You see what you did?” he drawls, peering down at you through heavy lashes. “Now my gaming buddies are all pissed.”

You crack a tiny smile. “And is that a problem?”

“No.”

Your smile only continues to grow as Muichiro practically yanks you up off the floor; a slight gasp leaves your mouth as he spins you around, pinning your arm behind your back, then promptly bending you over his desk. The game on his screen continues to go on, a large, faded box in the middle asking if he’d like to respawn. There’s muffled yelling coming from his headset.

Muichiro’s always been the direct type, both inside and outside the bedroom. Frankly, it’s because he simply doesn’t care, but there’s those certain times when it seems to amplify itself and he nearly becomes a whole new person. Already he’s slipping his other hand into your pants, sneaking past the band of your panties and brushing against your slit. Warm breath fans over your ear as he releases a sigh.

“You got wet from sucking me off? Good girl,” he whispers. “Sucking my cock like your life depends on it – you looked real good, you know? I wanted to fuck your throat real bad.” He pauses and licks his lips. “But I guess I’ll have to settle for this instead,” he says, dipping a lithe finger into your pussy.

“Mui…”

“Listen to that,” he murmurs, pretty lips brushing against the shell of your ear, “they’re still yelling. I have an idea to shut them up.” He bobs his head towards the abandoned headset sitting on the desk. “Go on, baby. Put it on.”

At his suggestion, your velvety walls clamp down around his finger, making him suck in a breath through his teeth. With the hand not pinned behind you, you grab onto the headset with shaking fingers and slip it on.

“Misty, you little bitch, I know you’re still online. What the fuck are you doing, man?”

“Bro, I’m telling you – what if he got sick?”

Jeez, no wonder Muichiro gets so annoyed when he plays online. Talk about a pain in the ass.

You nearly whine when your boyfriend promptly shoves two more fingers inside of you. You can feel your arousal sticking to the insides of your thighs, hear the wet noises as he thoroughly fucks you with is fingers. They’re long and thin, perfect for playing the piano, but fuck they’re even better when they’re playing with you. Muichiro easily works you into a gasping, shivering mess; little murmurs of his name and pleads slip past your lips, all so sultry and perfect. You don’t notice when the other two fall completely silent on their sides of the line, stupefied over just the hell is happening.

“Please, Mui, fuck me already,” you purr, pressing back against him. “Stuff me with your fat cock.”

“Since you asked so nicely…”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Muichiro yanks your pants and panties down, exposing your heated skin to the chill in the air. You cry out as the head of his cock grazes against your slit, spreading your slick all over you and himself. A quiet fuck graces the air and then he’s moving, pushing himself into the welcoming heat and groaning as you clamp down around him possessively.

“Ah, shit,” Muichiro grunts, halting his movements and allowing you to adjust. “So fucking tight.” He drops down, then, the loose strands of hair falling from his ponytail brushing against your neck and the side of your face. “This pretty pussy is all for me, eh? Sucking in my cock like that – yeah, baby, it’s all yours. Take it all in.”

“Muichiro-“

You cut yourself off with a moan as he begins to drive his cock in and out, hips moving erratically as he fucks you raw. The steady slap of skin against skin echoes throughout the room, mixing with your slutty moans and the string of curses spewing from Muichiro’s lips. He’s acting cockier than usual, more… feral. It’s only then that you realize that his microphone is still turned on.

Another round of obscenities bursts from Muichiro’s mouth as you tighten even more around him. This little brat was planning this the whole time, wasn’t he? Oh, but there’s something so hot about it, so fucking dirty that it practically has you shaking against his desk. You can feel him smile into the crook of your neck.

Shit, if it’s a show he wanted to put on, then you’re happy to oblige.

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tokito muichiro #muichiro tokito #muichiro tokito x reader #tokito muichiro x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #request

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

Text

eren jaeger x reader.

includes : smut, college au, bad plot, enemies to lovers-ish, hate sex, mention of anal play, swearing.

wc : 3k.

thank you for 700 followers ! and since it was just mr. jaeger’s bday, why not a little fic ?

—

"This is your fault, you shouldn't have let the door shut, the door gets jammed."

"How was I supposed to know?" he replies coolly, you shove past him, frantically grabbing the doorknob and turning it, back and forth. It was no use, the old wooden door was jammed tight into the frame, not even he could get it to budge.

"Are you hard of hearing?"

"Out of all people, I get stuck in a dingy bedroom with you."

—

It wasn't the best. It was border-line decrepit, all sorts of unkempt; but admittedly, it was all you and your friends could afford.

Doing what you could to stay afloat with rent, not to mention your thousands of dollars in college debt, you couldn't necessarily afford to stay on campus; so, you sought out any possible preventative strategy not to go back home, what any adolescent college student would do.

"Well, it's homey... I guess?" Connie announces, cautiously seating a box on the ground.

Beside him, Jean wipes his forehead, "are we getting paid for this?" he questions.

You raise an eyebrow, "Yeah, sure, whatever you want."

"Thanks, boys, that's enough for now, hungry?" Sasha smiles, placing a pizza box on the kitchen counter.

Truly, the house wasn't that bad, though there were some problems like any old home, like the creaky floorboards which dipped downwards in some areas of the house, or the shudders Jean had to nail back into place, or maybe that one non-working bathroom.

Yes, there were some issues, and you knew one thing for sure.

Do not close your bedroom door.

It jammed, and it jammed easily, which you found out the hard way when you had to have your two roomies pry the door open the previous day, hence the rock from outside being positioned to stop the door from closing entirely.

You all sit on the floor in the living room, devouring pizza and drinking as you all conversed and laughed.

While Connie is getting up to pour himself another drink, there's a knock on the door, "oh, finally- thought he was gonna bail on us!"

Connie quickly places his cup down and jogs to the front door, all eyes follow him.

"Eren!"

"What took you all day? Connie and I did practically everything!" Jean complains. Your face heats, fists clenching.

"I did not invite him." You grit, Mikasa glancing at you, concerned.

"Calm down, he's more man-power."

"We've done so much without him, why does he even bother?"

Eren dismisses your complaining, he sits down and grabs a piece of pizza, "it's not like a chose to come here, Mikasa wanted me to."

Your eyes drill into Mikasa's skull, she knew how you felt about him, and she knows how he feels about you. She brushes off your daggers.

"I'm not here to help you," he proceeds, "you wouldn't catch me dead."

"Well, while Jean and I run to the store to get more nails, how 'bout you help the girls?" Connie says, ignoring Eren's last remark.

"I don't need his help, I'm okay on my own."

"Y/n- take his help." Sasha nudges, "free labor."

Your perspective of Eren was nothing short of revulsion, his only conversation piece is how many women he's slept with, how he struts around like he owns the place, he's quite contemptuous, selfish, and arrogant.

He felt similar towards you, often the first one to ruin his day. The way you were so prideful, he too thought you were arrogant, he hated how you made him feel inferior, you were a challenge- you both were complacent and it drove him fucking nuts, as did you.

Standing from the floor, you brush your hands on your shorts, "I'll be in my room," you mutter, trudging up the stairs.

"You outta' help her, Eren," Sasha says, watching you walk up the stairs, "please."

The brunette shakes his head, "hell fuckin' no."

"Eren," Mikasa speaks lowly, her tone compelling, he rolls his eyes.

Picking up the screwdriver from the floor, pushing your hair out of your face, you get down on your knees and lift the bottom half of your bed frame, the little screw in your empty hand, you groan.

"Need a little help?"

Your head snaps around, "get out of my room, now."

"I thought you were this rough-tough- independent woman?" he ridicules.

You ignore him, "can't even put a bed together, how pitiful."

He steps closer, leaning against the door in your room, which was propped against the wall with the rock, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, "get out of the way."

"No. Eren I got it."

"Just get up and let me do it."

"I'll ask Mikasa, she's stronger than you anyways."

"Give me a break, how about you swallow your pride for once, you can't do everything, y/n."

He scoffs, attempting to absorb the insult, "plus, she isn't here, she and Sasha left." Your eyes widen, feeling much more uncomfortable than moments before. You gently place the bed frame on the floor in front of your knees, sighing, "let me do it-"

He slowly stands from his position, his foot knocking the rock out of place as he leans off the door following behind him, as he steps further into the room, you leap towards the shutting door.

"Eren! The fucking door!" you cry, seeing it shut mere inches from your grasp, "it doesn't open from the inside!" you shout, scrambling to your feet, Eren quickly turns, his hands landing against the old wood as he tries to pull it open, but it was too late.

"This is your fault, you shouldn't have let the door shut, the door gets jammed."

"Are you hard of hearing?"

"Out of all people, I get stuck in a dingy bedroom with you."

"Spare me your kind words, Jaeger." You grumble.

"Where's your phone? Call Mikasa or Jean." Eren pats his pockets, in search of his phone.

"It's downstairs- my phone."

"So is mine," he sighs, sticking his hands in his pockets, "aren't I lucky; stuck in a room with a prissy bitch."

"Do you like making me mad, Eren? Because I'm not one of your hoes you can insult and get away with it." Gritting your teeth, he smiles cheekily, God you can't fucking stand him.

He remains silent, while tensions rise within the walls of your room, avoiding his eyes, you uncomfortably shuffle your feet, looking at the wood flooring beneath you, Eren is beside you, pacing, "I'll break the fucking thing down."

"You better not. Or else you're paying for it."

"I'm not paying for shit," he contends, "it's your shitty house, your shitty door, my shitty luck.”

You face him, he rolls his eyes, "if you break my door, Jaeger..." you threaten, sticking your index finger in his face.

"What are you gonna do? Y/n?"

You cross your arms, he shrugs and turns around on his heels, grabbing the doorknob and trying to pry the door open, he steps back and cracks his knuckles, "Eren, don't you fucking do it." You grab him by the back of his shirt, he stops.

"What are you gonna do?" he leans down to meet your height, tilting his head, "gonna punish me?"

You gulp, "how about I fix your bed while I'm here, since I'm so nice."

"No." You spit, "I'll do it, you stay in the corner and shut up." Pushing him away, but he stands still, a smug look still on his face.

"Why be so difficult?"

"Why do you always need the last word?" anger seething within you, little pieces of hair falling from the loose bun the hair tie he had holding back his bangs, you looked in his eyes, just waiting for him to speak.

"Do you like being stubborn?" Eren steps closer, as a result, you're stepping backward, and soon he figuratively has you backed into a corner.

Eren returns the glare, your heart thumping out of your chest, throat dry and closing by every second he kept his brutal eyes on yours.

You swallow, "always trying to make me mad, right?"

"Not everything is about you, Jaeger."

"No, but it is about you though," he hums, "don't you want me to shut up? How about you try to shut me up- since it's always about you."

You hadn't picked up on the sudden rush of adrenaline that pumped into your veins, which made you - quite literally - want to crumble, but you remained dominant. His rather vibrant eyes were tough ones to overpower, you guys just stood there, trying to wield your dominance over the other.

You two were power-hungry.

Eren on the other hand was trying like hell to prevail calm, you made him so mad, made him fucking furious, he contemplated leaping out of the second-story window, though one thing was keeping his feet grounded, looming over you.

And that was defeating you.

"I reckon you have more of a problem with me rather than the other way ‘round, you don't like it when I argue with you, Eren?" you teasingly pout, snickering in his face.

His eyes are low, seductive even, you had never seen him in this light, he looked restless, but he was undoubtedly annoyed.

It's his turn to smile, his fingers snaking around your wrist, pulling you down onto the mattress which lacked pillows, sheets, and a headboard.

You comply, his fingers anchoring into the back of your hair, pulling your head back, your neck training, “you gonna shut me up? Y/n?" you're speechless, seems as if he beat you to this little game.

“You piss me off. Jaeger.” You sneer, he leans down, face inches from your own.

“Yeah? I make you mad?” he purrs, dipping his head down towards your neck and pressing his lips against your ear lobe, chills erupt on every inch of your body.

You're left speechless once again, breathless as his hand slips down the curve of your waist, up to your thigh, stopping at your knee, “yeah... You do.”

He uses your knee to push your legs onto the bed, his hand guiding you, he swiftly gets on the bed, back against the wall; placing his palm on the back of your neck, pulling you between his legs, trapping you as he's kissing you firmly.

You're taken aback, but return the kiss, his soft lips colliding with yours, he tasted amazing, but you wouldn't admit that to him.

As if the gates had finally bursted open, your motions are picking up speed, he’s fiercely pulling at your shorts and without a second thought, you're rushing to tug his shirt over his head, giving hardly a second for air before you're kissing the man again.

What’s gotten into you?

You adjust so he can pull your shorts over your knees, flinging them across the room, your hands wandering up and down his chest, feeling his toned stomach beneath your fingers.

His big hands are grabbing you by the back of the thighs, pulling you closer to him so he can easily pin your back to the bed. With a huff, he kisses further down your neck, his lips tickling your skin as he begins to lift the thin shirt towards your chest, kissing down your stomach.

Eren can't take it anymore, all that was going through his mind was how soft your skin was, how good you smelled, the way he felt you shiver under him when he kisses the sweet spot on the side of your neck.

He uses the pad of his thumb to press against your damp panties, you gasp, his thumb locating your clit instantly and applying pressure on the swollen nub.

“Stop teasing, Eren.”

He smirks, slowly applying little circles over the thin undergarments, pinning one thigh down at the same time, he watches your face scrunch.

He leans down between your legs to kiss you again, pulling down his jeans in the meantime, you feel his erection through his boxers, pressing against the crevis between your thigh and cunt.

He sits up, yanking down your panties along with his boxers, your eyes nearly fall out of your head, catching a glimpse at the sheer size of the man.

He spits in his palm, messily stroking his cock a few times before making sure your leg is secure on his shoulder.

No words needed to be spoken- no conversation could be made at the fact things were moving so fast, similar to hungry animals, like a switch flipped and here you two were, soaking for a man you despised.

His tip slips up and down towards your entrance, repeatedly teasing you against your folds with his throbbing tip.

Finally, he gradually slips past your entrance, his head rolls back, body virtually falling weak as he soaks in those spongy tight walls, sucking him in immediately, “fuck,” is all he can sputter out, taking his time to seep deeper inside you.

He stretches you out, Eren’s veins which were wrapped around the base of his cock pressing against your electrified nerves, your back arching, quietly moaning as he eventually stuffs you with as much as you can take.

“You hate me? This pussy sure doesn't.” he grunts, retreating before rocking his hips back against you.

Your leg drops from his shoulder, “on your hands and knees, now.” he demands- not having to tell you twice, he’s quickly grabbing you, and with ease, you're now on all fours, exposed from the waist down, Eren’s hands spreading you open, pulling your ass apart so he can get the perfect view of his cock fucking into you.

This gives Eren the chance to now fit his whole length into you, crying out into the bare mattress, feeling his tip stab against the entrance of your cervix.

He pulls out, one hand steadying your waist and the other holding your ass, “such a tight cunt, can't even fit it all.”

Eren splits you open, thrusting into you while simultaneously pulling your hips against his, skin slapping, the both of you moaning as you're already releasing cream all over his cock.

You feel his thumb caress the skin around the valley of your ass, “such a pretty little hole, want me to fill this one too?”

With no hesitation, you're crying out a sloppy mantra of ‘yes’, and he follows your decrees, his thumb slipping past your unoccupied hole.

You instantly clench around him, the pressure of another hole being stuffed.

Nearing another orgasm, he ruts his hips against your thighs, seeing white, your stomach tightens, body attempting to escape the harsh pressure, unraveling from the arch you were trying hard to maintain.

“Again?” Eren’s amazed at the sight, your cum seeping from your pussy, soaking the little patch of curly hair above his cock, down your thighs and onto the mattress, your leg quivering as he spares you no mercy, shamelessly fucking into you.

He holds your hips steady, “Eren, s’ big, I can't-”

“Can't what? Can't take it? I thought you were such a strong girl?” he taunts, cruelly rutting into you.

You're drooling, tears falling down your face as he fucks you senseless, “fuck you,” you mewl, he slows, but still keeps up his strong and stabbing thrusts, your body still jolting every time his cock hits your cervix.

“Fuck-in’ hate you, hate you s’much.”

“Yeah? You hate me? But look at you,” he hooks his thumb deeper into your asshole, “you’re crying for more.” You wail, gasping for air, you craved more, the way his hips knocked against your ass, sending shock waves throughout your body.

“I think I love this sloppy little pussy, too bad you're such a bitch.”

He grabs you by the roots of your hair, fingers hooking and balling your hair into a tight fist, pulling you upwards, gasping for air, “Eren-” you moan, balls slapping against your slick folds and raw clit.

His thrust becomes more sporadic, nearing climax, he savors your warm and squeezing walls before you hear him hiss loudly, his head falling back, eyes screwing shut as he's dumping a load into your abused and stretched little pussy.

“Such a good cunt for an annoying bitch.” He mumbles.

Eren rocks his hips into you, making sure your cunt is sucking and every ounce of his seed is emptied from his cock.

He swears, softening cock slipping out of you as he quickly drops down onto the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead, you're barely able to flip over, holes still twitching.

All you two can manage to do is catch your breath, the air knocked out of both of you, his seed mixed with your own still oozing out of your cunt, and onto the bed.

He sits up, chest still quickly rising and falling before he's moving off the bed and throwing his clothes on, throwing you your shorts, “get up so it looks like we did something productive,” your head in the clouds, you try to put your shorts on, he sees you and mutters indecent things under his breath, “what? Did I fuck you stupid or something?” you stand off the bed, and he quickly lifts the bed frame off the floor and pops the long screw in.

You peek out the window, the sky a dark milky blue- and to your surprise, there are your friends’ cars.

“Connie, you owe me twenty bucks!”

“Eren, I think they're already home.” You mumble, pulling open the window to get some air before walking back towards the door of your bedroom, pounding on the door, “open the door for me please!”

You give it a few moments, standing there in a daze- legs trembling.

You try to maintain the steadiness of your legs before someone struggles to push the door in, essentially un-jamming the door. Jean is there, with a clown-like grin on his face, Eren looks at him and groans, shaking his head before Jean begins to speak.

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