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crescentblossom66 · 7 months ago

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Mafia Party!

The second of the two fics that I submitted to @anachronism-ahitzine Check out the other artists and their amazing pieces.

The gentle noise of waves drifting to shore and the squawking of seagulls that were normally so prevalent among the hardly busy port of Mafia Town, were now being drowned out by the loud honking of three incoming cargo ships, a rarity, as the small port usually only await one ship per day. The Mafia aboard all looked merry, as they slowly docked the ships and unloaded their cargo, working a lot harder than they normally would. The burly men were even humming a song, which would have been ear grating to others due to them being notoriously off-key, but none of them seemed to be bothered by that as they lifted the heavy crates and brought them over to the marketplace. One Mafia Goon seemed to be confused by the word “Kidney” being on the crate that he was carrying and started to make his way toward the black market with it, only to be stopped by his fellow Mafia. “Fellow Mafia is going the wrong way, we bring crates to marketplace.”

“Label says 'Kidney', we don't need kidney at festival.” Another of the men pointed at the other side of the crate.

“Label reads 'Beans', beans need to be brought to kitchen.” With confusion, the Mafia Goon that carried the rather vexing crate turned the wooden box and held the crate with one hand, scratching his bald head with the other.

“Mafia confused. What is crate containing, bean or kidney?” A more active and impatient goon decided to enforce a simple rule that their boss made up 'When in doubt or confused, simply punch the problem', so he did just that and punched a hole into the top of the crate revealing kidney beans, which resulted in a collective “Oh!” from the confused men.

When the group reached the marketplace, the preparations were well on their way. A few Mafia were standing on very puny-looking stools to hang up garlands, others were preparing a pyramid of wooden barrels for one of the main attractions of the festival, which was adequately yet plainly named 'Mafia Arrival Day', which was held every year in commemoration of the day they overtook what was formerly known as the City of Calcite and Adventure, or simply Calcite City for short. A group of them were straining to put up the golden statue of their leader, they had tied ropes to it, and were trying to make it stand upright. Due to their high strength it was fairly easy for them...but what they had in brawn they certainly lacked in brain, as the statue was now upside down, it's feet in the air.

“What is this?! Can't you do anything right?!” The boss of the Mafia arrived to inspect the preparations and was furious to see that they had somehow flipped his statue-self. “Put it upright, now!” He stomped his foot in anger at the incompetence that he had to deal with every single day, not even the jolly atmosphere or the beautiful, sunny day, brought him into a better mood. The Mafia men hurried to fix their error, when the statue landed on its side with a loud clang, he grit his teeth and let out a screech that made the blood in the bald men's veins run cold.

“Sorry boss, Mafia couldn't read instructions because of other Mafia dropped it in water. Ink got very messy, make everything look like chicken-scratches.” One of them explained, but their boss had none of it. Even if their boss was a lot smaller than the other Mafia, he had glare that was piercing their souls. “Don't glare at Mafia, please, Mafia want to keep soul. Mafia not want to end up like victims of eerie ghost in Subcon.”

The boss of the Mafia raised an eye brow in confusion, not really sure what his subordinate was talking about, but whatever it was seemed to have greatly disturbed not only him, as he could see some of the other Mafia Goons shaking. “Pull yourselves together, men! We won't be afraid of some apparition! I- I mean, we, will soon rule the whole planet!” The smaller man flashed a smile and stood rather proudly, his cockiness almost became his downfall as he barely dodged a huge meat one a bone that came barreling down the road and nearly flattened him on its way. “Concentrate, you morons! You'll ruin the whole festival!”

As the sun started to slowly set in the horizon, the marketplace of Mafia Town was finally ready, the garlands were all in place...albeit a little crooked, the barrels were organized, more or less, some somehow ended up on the floating platforms that none of them had access to, and the statue was placed the right way up this time. The majority of the Goons had decided to relax at the beach, one of them even brought a grill to serve grilled fish and hamburgers, he even managed to only burn himself twice this time! Other Mafia have turned in for the night while others were watching their favorite shows on TV. Everyone was relaxing after the hard day of work, but their leader was still out and about, making sure that faucets were all tightly closed, preventing the lava from flowing. It was the one job that he really didn't trust anyone with but himself, given the track record of his rather intellectually challenged men, it was likely a very smart move on his part.

As soon as the sun started to rise the next day, the normally rather relaxed and more or less easy going Mafia Goons rushed to the marketplace to light the torch on the hand of the statue of the Mafia Boss, which signaled the start of the holiday. The festivities were started off with the first of the three activities, the race! The starting point and end were different each year, but this year, the race would start in the back alleys and go all the way to the beach. The Mafia that were not participating watched their boss make his way to the white line to start off the race. If asked why he never participated, it was due to the fact that he would easily win, no question, so he deemed it unfair to his fellow Mafia. (The slightly smarter members of the Mafia knew however, that it was simply because he hated losing) As there wasn't really a requirement to how the participants needed to get from point A to point B, some found rather unconventional means of transportation. One stuck to the original way, opting to simply run to the goal, while the second was using a meat on the bone that he was balancing on top of, while the finally Mafia Goon was using...a rocket.

The Mafia Boss was nearly flattened once again, when he gave the signal to start, and the meat on the bone nearly crushed him. A 'Sorry, boss!' was heard when the Mafia realized his mistake and heard the growls of frustration that came from the short, red-clothed man. The Rocket Goon apparently had trouble starting his risky vehicle and jumped off of it kicking it once and recoiling as he came to realize that kicking solid steel was quite painful. “Stupid rocket, start!” He yelled at it, to no avail. The burly man scratched his scalp, contemplating what to do, meanwhile, the running Mafia and the balancing Mafia were a quarter and half way to the finish line respectively. “Wait Mafia forgot important item Mafia need fire to start rocket.” He checked all the pockets on his person, even his breast pocket which had a pink handkerchief in it, thankfully for the Rocket Mafia, none of onlookers seemed to have noticed this rather unmanly item. In a moment of brilliance, very uncharacteristic of the bald men, the Rocket Mafia realized that he could get a fire easily from the statue! The way to and from the marketplace took the risk-taker so long, that his competitors were already close to the finish line...one at least. Despite going at a moderate 3km/h (1.86 mph), the exhausted Mafia, that was using his own two legs, was still far ahead of the other that had an issue with getting his unconventional means of transportation past a bridge, as the huge piece of meat was way too big to fit on it.

With a loud bang and a cloud of black smoke that left the audience covered in soot and ashes, the man on the rocket indeed became the fastest man alive, gaining more and more speed as he made his way to the beach. 'Mafia fastest man alive, Mafia easily win race!' were the men's thoughts as he tried to smile while trying not to fall off what was clearly the most Mafia of all vehicles! His smile, however, quickly faded when he dashed way past his goal and out to sea. It was at that moment that he realized that his plan was very flawed.

Some of the Mafia at the beach were in awe, watching the Rocket Mafia get smaller and smaller on the horizon, while some of their fellow Goons were congratulating the Walking Mafia on his victory.

Between the first and second major activity was a time to just relax and enjoy the day, enjoying the island that they had forcefully taken away from the previous inhabitants. Some Goons were relaxing by the fountain in the marketplace, chatting while looking at the sloppily placed decorations. Others took the chance to enjoy some food in form of grilled fish, hotdogs, and steaks that had the face of their beloved leader carved into it. Miraculously, not a single man died of food poisoning that day.

The second contest of the day was the barrel throw. It was held on the marketplace and used the barrels from the pyramid they had prepared the day prior. The Goons from the casino had opened a stall, where the Mafia in the audience could place bets on their favored contestant. When the first contestant grabbed a barrel and barely managed to lift it, the audience erupted in laughter. “Come on, son, make Mafia proud!” One of the men shouted from the sidelines, trying to cheer the young Mafia on, before turning his head to the person next to him. “Mafia know son is too weak to win, never strong enough to punch even old lady, but Mafia is trying to be good father. Mafia told son that he has chance to succeed, but Mafia know son never succeeds, son must learn lesson, builds character.”

The young Mafia threw the barrel as far as he could...but only managed to toss the heavy wooden object a meter. (3.3 feet) far. He sighed and hung his head as he walked off, feeling like he had failed his father. Nobody doubted for a second that the second contestant, an average looking Mafia Goon, would easily throw the barrel further. He likely would have done so...if the general clumsiness, inherent to most Mafia, hadn't caused him to trip and drop the barrel right on his foot, which resulted in everyone breaking out into hysterical laughter yet again. A very muscular Mafia Goon, with a comically large torso and in comparison very stubby legs, had easily garnered the favor of everyone present, even the Mafia Boss had placed his bet on the man. He lifted the barrel as easily as one would pick up a small pebble, and readied himself to throw it way out of bounds of the contest. Victory was far from his grasp, however, when a flock of seagulls decided that it was payback time for one of their brethren, that the muscular Mafia had punched for trying to get a fish for their kid. He flailed around as the vindictive birds swarmed him and bit him, causing him to drop the barrel behind him, netting him negative points.

Everyone was quiet for a moment, in utter disbelief of what had just happened, until one burst out in laughter and the others joined...aside from their boss, who was raging and stomped on his hat repeatedly, because he had lost the bet. To his surprise, and even more so to the surprise of his father, the young Mafia was deemed the winner.

As the sun was starting to set, the arm wrestling contest started and Mafia Boss was once again the referee, which caused a lot of nervousness for the participants who were more afraid of his sharp gaze, rather than the brute strength of their opposition. In the end, nobody won as the Mafia started to flee after seeing a slimy space alien that crashed the party.

The alien repeated “Leave the island, or I'll curse you all!” multiple times as it attacked the Mafia, jumping on their heads while snickering. The only one who seemed mostly unfazed was their leader, who chased the alien away with his daggers after scolding his goons for running away in fear from a small and wimpy-looking mud monster. After that small foe was vanquished, the festivities resumed with just a little unease still present, it was visible the most in the Mafia that were lighting the rockets for the fireworks, who burned themselves on the fuse of the rockets each time they were lighting it.

“Alright, men, listen up!” The boss of the Mafia climbed onto a crate to give a speech like every year, his voice reaching even the Goofy Mafia that had been thinking about alien conspiracies up until that point and had been stuck in his thoughts. “It marks three years now since we made this island our new home. Thanks to the continues efforts of ME...and you, we're close to finishing up the improvements necessary to bring our families over here!” The goons cheered after that message.

“Mafia finally be able to see wife again, Mafia missed being nagged at for forgetting to take out trash.” One Mafia wiped away a tear and was consoled by the one next to him, who put a hand on his shoulder.

The boss rose his fist to the air. “Let's work hard on reaching that goal, no slacking this year!” Most Mafia cheered aside from one in the back.

“Mafia wasn't slacking, Mafia was working hard on repairing building while Boss was sleeping on throne.” Thankfully for that Mafia Goon, his boss didn't hear him.

All in all the festival was a big success and once again served it's purpose, bringing the Mafia together, even if it usually resulted in monumental chaos.

#anachronism zine #ahit #ahit fanfic #ahit mafia boss #ahit mafia goons

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cluelessatthispoint · 2 years ago

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Can I have headcanon of how each mercs deals with stressed s/o

I’m so stressed and tired of collage :(

I know how you feel! I hope that you have some time this week to take care of yourself. <3

Hope this helps!

~~~~~

How the Mercs Would Take Care of Their Stressed s/o

Sniper:

Sniper quickly takes notice of your current state. He may not know how to interact with people on a regular basis but as a sniper, he knows body language. He makes you a warm cup of herbal tea and takes you to his camper. He lets you have the comfiest spot in the van and he will sit beside you. Sniper doesn't pressure you to talk, but if you feel like sharing he will gladly listen to what you have to say. He wraps his arms around your shoulders and motions you to lean back into his chest. His calloused hands comb gently through your hair.

"It's gonna be okay roo, oive got ya."

Heavy:

He can tell right away when you're stressed. The way your hand shakes and how your voice goes higher in pitch only confirms his suspicions. Heavy knows to give you space, he also knows that being alone for too long when stressed can be a bad thing. When he sees you he will bring you a glass of water and some crackers to eat. Heavy knows that being stressed and hungry at the same time can be overwhelming. He will gently encourage you to take short breaks. These breaks consist of either sitting and cuddling together or walking around the base for a while.

"The fresh air will do us both good, da?"

Spy:

In his profession, he has lived with stress for many years. Stress to him is the very key component for staying alive during intense high-stakes missions. Spy understands that most people can't handle that type of stress. much less any other kind of stress. When he sees you stressing out he knows exactly what to do. He puts on some calming classical music and makes you a nice warm bubble bath. If you are stressed he will go out of his way to make you comfortable. After the bubble bath, he will lay out your favorite pajamas for you to change into.

"Tu te sens mieux maintenant, ma chérie ?"

(Do you feel better now darling?)

Demoman:

When you're stressed he's stressed. That's all there is to it. He gets stressed thinking about you being stressed. He wants to make you feel better, but when he's also stressed he doesn't really know how to do that. You both work together to make each other feel better. You make a nice cup of tea while he gets the television set on. From there you both will spend hours watching the tv or just listening to it as background noise. Sometimes you both just sit together in silence. The feeling of you sitting on his lap with your head leaning against his chest grounds him. The same goes for you when he holds your hand and presses his cheek to your temple.

"Aye, we'll be fine together."

Pyro:

He doesn't like seeing the pained expressions that you make. The way your eyes fill up with tears and how you force yourself to continue on studying makes his heart break. He will gently pull you away from your work to walk to his room and sit on the bean bag by the bed. He grabs you blankets and pillows and all manner of snacks he can find. He understands how stressed out you are but demands that you take a break to recover. He will lean against the bean bag and lay his head on your chest. During these moments he will hold your hand and trace little designs on it and hum a soft melody.

Scout:

He doesn't know what happened to make you so stressed out but he will do his darned best to make sure that you feel better. He will stop you from continuing whatever it is that you're doing, grab a couple of sodas from the fridge, and tell you to follow him. Where he ends up leading you is a small patch of grass that's a good walk away from the base. You both enjoy how the sun feels on your skin and how the breeze feels beneath your hands and feet. You both stay out there as long as you please.

Soldier:

Soldier doesn't immediately understand that you're stressed. He continues going about his day til he notices that you are close to your breaking point. From there, he places his large uniform jacket on your shoulders and hoists your form into his arms, and carries you to your bed. He tries his best to make you feel better, he brings you a cup of tea, some snacks and The Art of War. He lays in the bed next to you and reads the book outloud. The way his usually loud voice dones on, relaxes you to the pint of sleep. Having achieved his goal Soldier scoopes you into his arms and drifts off as well.

Medic:

Medic always tells you to come to him if you need anything or feel unwell. He cares about your physical well-being as well as your mental well-being. When he notices how stressed you are he gently takes your hand in his and takes you back to where his office is located. He closes the door behind you and turns to where the radio is, picking the most relaxing music he can find. He grabs your hand in his and guides your free hand to his shoulder. From there he'll start to slowly sway with you in his arms. The repeated motion of swaying from side to side and the calm atmosphere that the music provides has you leaning into his embrace in a matter of minutes. With your stress melting away you both stay like that for however long you need.

Engineer:

Engineer takes notice of every little thing that you do. How could he not? From the way that your arms sway when walking, or how you bite your lip in deep thought. He always loves how all your little mannerisms unique to you shine through. When he notices how you've been acting lately his mind only comes to one conclusion: stress. He gently urges you to take breaks whenever you feel ready to take them. He knows how sometimes you try to power through the pain, but it doesn't work. He should know, he's an engineer. He grabs his trusty guitar and plays outside your door. When you're ready to come out he will place his guitar away and take you to his room to relax. He will pick out some relaxing music and give you the best darn massage that you've ever had in your life. The way his large hands feel on your sore back muscles chase away all the built-up tension. He loves the way that your body melts into the mattress.

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nehswritesstuffs · 2 years ago

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Baratie: Home to Chefs, Strays, and the Occasional Sword Goblin - Part 2

We’re back!

First chapter on [tumblr] - [FFN] - [AO3]

It’s a new day, and how is Sanji going to explain this kid to the rest of the Baratie? Let alone the geezer? How is he going to handle... childcare...? [3884 words]

Waking earlier than normal, Sanji realized that it wasn’t the threat of an earthquake that was shaking him awake as in his dream, but Asido jumping up and down on the empty side of the bed. The boy bounced about, wide a-fucking-wake, making Sanji feel exhausted already.

“Don’t do that,” he warned halfheartedly. Asido threw his legs in front of him and landed on his rear, bouncing himself still. “Sleep good?”

“Kinda,” the boy replied. “Are you gonna bring me back to Mom today?”

“I doubt it, but I am going to see what the hell it is I’m dealing with,” Sanji said. “Let’s get you into clean clothes, alright? Time to meet the geezer.”

“The who…?”

“Trust me: I want this as much as you do.” Sanji cringed inwardly at the idea of leaving his newfound nephew in the care of Zeff of all people, but he also figured that there wasn’t much he could do with such a small child… and, well, the asshole raised him, didn’t he? Though to be fair, he had been older than Asido back then… “Hey, kid, how old are you again?”

“Four and a half!” the boy proudly proclaimed. “Mom says I’m more like I’m six because I’m so big and smart, but Miss Cosette thinks something else, even if she never says it.”

That caught his attention. “Miss Cosette…?”

“Yeah! I used to stay with her when Mom was at work,” Asido said. He allowed himself to get dragged to the bathroom and washed, after which he was allowed to fish fresh clothes from his bag. “Mom said that Miss Cosette needed to get back to her other job, which was why we were going on our trip. What did Miss Cosette do?”

“She’s a cook,” Sanji nodded idly. “She’s so skilled and talented that I’d trust her with this restaurant if I had to, and she doesn’t even have fancy training.”

“Well yeah… all her food is yummy.”

“It really is—just a few lessons in haute cuisine or some time abroad and she could even be amazing… and I don’t throw that sort of compliment around all the time.”

“’Cause you’re a cook too!”

“That I am.” Once Asido was fully clothed and looking presentable, he brought the boy out into the corridor and knocked on Zeff’s door. “Oi, we have a visitor.”

“At this fucking hour?!” Yeah, it was a good thing they had a floor to themselves. Zeff threw open the door, all scowls and a thousand different threats ready on his tongue. Instead he looked down, saw Asido, and blanched.

“Eggplant…? What did you do…?”

“Blame. My. Sister.”

“That lass has plenty of explaining to do normally,” Zeff grumbled. He noticed that Asido was staring at his peg leg and chuckled lowly. “What’s your name, little azuki?”

“Not azuki, it’s Asido!” the boy insisted.

“It’s a bean—get used to it, ‘cause he won’t let it go.”

“How do you know?”

“Hasn’t dropped my plant-based nickname yet.” Sanji pushed Asido in past the door and shut it behind them, making sure no one coming up the stairs would see or bother them.

“Why?”

“He’s my dad—it’s what dads do.”

“It is…?”

“It’s what you aim for, anyhow.”

“So…” Asido looked at Zeff. “You’re my grandpa…?”

“No.” Sanji was getting exasperated at this point. “He’s my dad, not your mom’s dad. It’s… complicated.” He then pointed over towards the window, where the sun was beginning to rise. “Hey, why don’t you watch out for ships? This room’s always been good for that.”

“Uh… okay…” The boy dragged a chair over towards the window and stood on it, pressing his nose into the glass. Zeff gave Sanji a critical look and stepped to the side.

“What the fuck is going on?!” he growled, his ire punctuated by a coughing fit.

“Listen: I wasn’t consulted, or warned, or nothing. Here.” Sanji took the letter out of his pocket and let Zeff read it. “Now you know about as much as I do, which is frankly not very much at all.”

“Here—now we can be on the same page.” Zeff grabbed a newspaper from underneath a stack and shoved it out towards Sanji. “I don’t care if it is about some wastes of cum… just read it already.” Sanji looked down at the paper and Zeff tapped on it.

WEDDING OF THE CENTURY – GERMA PRINCESS TO WED NOTICE MERCHANT HEIR IN SUMMER CEREMONY

Ah—it was worse than he feared. Reiju was not just forced into a marriage for Judge’s power grabs, but a money grab as well. Whatever, whomever, the poor idiot was, there was no way he was prepared for the sort of shit their family was going to put them through. Sanji skimmed the article and frowned.

“Reiju’s just the first,” he noted. “Ichiji in the fall, then Niji next spring, and Yonji next winter. He’s pairing them all off.”

“Thought he realized how big of a mistake it was when the bastard tried doing that with you.”

“Tch… don’t remind me.” Sanji dropped the paper on the sidetable and exhaled heavily. “The kid’s not even five yet. I don’t know what my sister’s been doing, or who she’s doing things with, but she helped me get out of there, and now she needs the same thing for her son. I need you to watch him while I get our meals together, but I’ll make sure to find a sitter so you’re not ruining Chopper’s timetable.”

“Wouldn’t want to make the reindeer upset, would we?”

“No, we don’t.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll… be back, alright? We can talk about this some more.”

Zeff grunted and allowed Sanji to leave, with the latter returning with their food in almost record time. Sanji found that Zeff had Asido sitting at the table with him, watching the boy stumble over reading the comics section out loud.

“Put that away for now—it’s time for breakfast,” he said. Asido looked up from the paper, his eyes wide.

“Uncle Sanji, I’m reading about a superhero! He’s from the North! Like us!”

“Oh yeah?” He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the newspaper—of fucking course Zeff would have him reading that shit. “Sora, eh? That’s been running since I was little. Used to be you could find a Northern kid by just shouting his motto into a crowded street, but it’s so popular that now everyone can read it.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Asido grinned as some fruit-laden oatmeal was placed in front of him. “I wonder if I can read it from the beginning…”

“I’m sure we can find the compilations,” Zeff chuckled. He threw Sanji and shit-eating grin as he ruffled the boy’s hair. Not even twenty minutes and the old man was already sabotaging the entire thing. “So, the azuki and I agree that the first thing we need to figure out is what we’re doing with him today. Any thoughts, Uncle Eggplant?”

“Ha, ha—he’s staying with me,” Sanji replied. “I already have Patty and Carne on their maintenance split-shift in the main kitchens, so I can just use the day to get to know my nephew a little better. There’s a lot that letters can’t tell you about a person.”

“That’s true!” Asido piped up. “Maybe that’s why Mom wanted me to stay here, so I can know you better!”

“I’m sure that’s a big part of it,” Sanji said, forcing a chuckle. He and Zeff exchanged a quick look—getting answers from Reiju was going to need to become a priority. “I’ll show him around, and then keep him while doing paperwork, but I will need a little bit of time this afternoon to make a snail call.”

“Why?”

“I can’t stay with you all day, every day,” Sanji explained. “As much as I’m going to enjoy hanging out, the geezer can’t watch you when I’m working; I’m going to get you a babysitter.”

“Oh…” Asido shuffled his oatmeal with his spoon, pensive. “Like how Miss Cosette watcheded me for Mom?”

“A little different than that, but you’re correct—I already know exactly who to call for a recommendation.”

“Not the long-nose brat,” Zeff groaned.

“Do I have any other friends nearby with small children?”

“Last time those lads of his were over, I had to reupholster four booths in the dining room.”

“Part of the process is going to be asking if they’ve grown up at all these last couple years,” Sanji deadpanned. “Just let me do this, alright?”

“We’ve got plenty of comics to read in the meantime, eggplant,” Zeff said.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, old man,” Sanji barked. “Either magically find someone else who can recommend a sitter, or do it yourself and risk Chopper keeping you locked up here for another three months before physical therapy.” Zeff grunted and glared at his son, knowing he was right, though not wanting to give him the dignity of hearing it out loud.

“This is a large undertaking, brat,” Zeff warned. Sanji scoffed at that.

“I know, but this year is about what needs to get done, not what I’ve been chasing,” the younger man said. He waited until Asido was finished with his food before clearing their plates. “Come on, azuki—got to introduce you to the morons before it gets too busy. After that, I’ll show you around the place.” A sinking feeling plopped inside his guts. “How are you with directions?”

“Pretty good, I think,” the boy nods, dutifully following. “I don’t really get lost, but Mom and Miss Cosette were always there too.”

“Well, it’s pretty hard to get lost here once you know it for a bit, so don’t worry,” Sanji said. He led the boy out into the corridor and down the stairs. At least it didn’t sound like he was working with someone of the Mosshead’s caliber… but then again, the kid wasn’t even really old enough for school yet.

As expected, the very moment that Sanji walked back into the kitchens, all the attention was diverted to him and, subsequently, the child poking out from behind him. Daily prep froze immediately, all eyes filled with questions.

“Listen up, assholes!” Sanji scowled. “My nephew got dropped off last night while I was wrapping up with closing. He’s gonna be staying here for a while, so don’t freak out if you see him wandering around.”

“‘Nephew’, huh?” Patty smirked, raising an eyebrow. He stared at Asido, then glanced up at Sanji, and looked at the boy again, sizing up how much of this he believed. “We’re not as stupid as you think, kid.”

“He is my uncle!” Asido snapped, his brow furrowing in what was a frightening accidental imitation of his only relative on the ship. “He looks like Mom! But taller! And different hair! They have the same eyebrows! He’s not lying!”

“Hey, calm down,” Sanji said gently, placing his hand atop Asido’s head. The boy realized he was not behind his uncle and then retreated, glaring at Patty as he poked his head out cautiously. Sanji then shot Patty a pointed look of his own that tore through the other man before turning his attention back to the kitchen at large. “His name is Asido and he hasn’t been away from home before—be nice or I’ll feed you to the Sea Kings. That goes for all of you.”

A muttered chorus of “yes, chef” was heard, to the point Sanji figured it was going to do for the time being. He passed off his tray to the dishwasher and ushered Asido out into the dining room. Sunlight was fully illuminating the space now, making it feel leagues different than it did the night before.

“Don’t worry about them,” Sanji said. He brought Asido outside and took the opportunity to suck down his morning cigarette. “A lot of those morons have been here since I was a kid—they’re nothing special.”

“Are you sure? That one guy sure did look at me funny.”

“He looked at you funny because you look like me, but you and I both know that it’s because we look like your mom as well. They’d know better already if they’d seen her.”

“Then… why didn’t she stay?” Asido looked up at the ship’s height, eyes growing wide. “Whoa, wait, we were that high up?!”

“That we were,” Sanji chuckled, glad for the topic shift. He pointed at a balcony, where he could see Zeff settling in with his book. “See where the geezer is? All the way up there?”

“Wow! Grandpa Zeff looks really small!”

Sanji smirked at that and filed the name away for another time when the geezer was being particularly obstinate. “We’re going to make our way back there, alright? This ship will be your home as long as you’re with me, and I want you to feel comfortable wandering around in it. Now, how do you think we get back?”

The two then spent the next few hours wandering around the interior of the Baratie, with Asido learning the layout of the ship and Sanji coaxing him through their adventure. The blond described the different kind of ships and boats that were moored there, the sorts of customers that would come to eat there, how he and Zeff made it a wonderful place where people would come from miles around, just to have a meal. He put thoughts of caring and comfort into the boy’s head, because if Reiju could not, then who would? The boy was taking the entire situation in-stride, and his uncle was going to make sure that something good came of it.

Eventually, Sanji left Asido upstairs with Zeff and returned to the kitchens to get together a lunch for the three of them. When he arrived, he was met by Patty and Carne commiserating lowly in the corner, the pair looking at him suspiciously.

“What the fuck do you losers want?” he snapped while tying his hair back.

“Nothing—I was just telling Carne about your guest,” Patty shrugged. “Since when do you have a sister?”

“Since always, not that you two are allowed within five hundred kilometers of her,” Sanji deadpanned. He wondered why they hadn’t read it in the papers, why they hadn’t figured it out by that point, but then again… it would involve them reading and he wasn’t entirely certain either man could do that without it being related to a recipe. “She lives in the North Blue, and, wouldn’t you want a kid to not grow up in that frozen hellscape if there was a chance for otherwise?”

“It’s just… convenient, is all,” Carne shrugged. “He supposedly looks like you…?”

“Yeah, because my sister and I look a lot alike… you know… like siblings often do.” Sanji considered throwing both men overboard, but he really wasn’t feeling like adding a senior staff shortage to the list of things he wanted to deal with at that current moment. “I’d appreciate if you both took what I say as fact for once, because it’s looking very likely you’ll be watching him grow up as well.”

“You make it sound like your family sucks balls,” Carne noted.

“Why do you think growing up with you two as babysitters was preferable?” Sanji quipped. He had them there, and they didn’t even fight back after that—for all they hated about each other, there was a twisted version of respect that lingered in their fractious relationship. “It’s alright—I got a new family now, and the kid is going to be part of it.”

Patty and Carne both shrugged and went back to their discussion, this time it being about one of the newer hires. Sanji proceeded to put together some lunch and brought it up to Zeff’s room, the older man having announced with that shitty grin of his that he figured out a way to get all the collection books of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Sanji didn’t have to ask to know that the geezer was doing it just to fuck with the Vinsmokes, not like he was really going to complain.

After lunch was done and cleaned up after, Sanji locked himself in his bedroom, knowing that one of the last things he wanted to do with an audience was contact one of his crewmates. They had dealt with enough of his fucked-up family issues, so why was he so nervous about this time? He stared at the transponder snail for a bit before sighing in resignation—if he didn’t do this before leaving the room, he never would, and he possibly wouldn’t get relief until Chopper came, which was a long time to be juggling more than he could properly take on. Dialing Usopp’s number, he waited for the other end to pick up as the snail buzzed. A tiny voice broke the wordless wait, brimming in overconfidence while still stumbling slightly over the words, the snail copying a bright expression.

“Sogeking Projectiles and Explosives—how may I direct your call?”

“Merry, darling, it’s Uncle Sanji—I need your dad.”

The small child gasped, presumably dropping the snail. “Dad! Dad! Dad! It’s Uncle Sanji!”

“Oh, shit!” Usopp fumbled to pick up the snail and the one on Sanji’s end grew exasperated. “Hey—I didn’t think you’d be calling so soon.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase: I’m in the middle of a jam and I need your help.”

“My help?” There was shuffling on the other end of the line and Usopp’s voice dropped—he was hiding. “What can you possibly do that would require my help?”

“It’s more of who you have who can help me.”

“Eh…?”

“I need to borrow one of your lads, maybe all three. Soon as you can. They can take turns.”

“Why do you need to borrow them?” Usopp wondered. “Do you need repairs done around the place Zeff doesn’t want Franky overembellishing? Some extra hands serving and dishwashing?”

“I need a babysitter.”

The transponder snail went quiet, peering suspiciously at Sanji. The blond’s eye twitched as he tried to keep it together.

“I know you have them watch your spawn—I need a babysitter.”

“Since when?”

“Will you stop looking like you’re the cat that caught the fattest fucking canary and just send them over? I’ll let them stay for free, I’m that desperate.”

Usopp whistled. “That is a tall order, but I’m afraid I can’t. Sorry. They’re prepping to head out on their own adventure soon. If you’re in that desperate of a need, I’ve got a houseguest who I think might do a great job.”

“At this point, I’m not in a position to be picky. I can’t take him for too long, and it’s safe to say that Zeff’s not supposed to have him, which leaves me in a tight spot.”

“What about the other chefs?”

“I barely trust them with allemand, let alone an actual child.”

“I did not understand that, but send me your coordinates, give me three to five business days, and you’ll have yourself a temporary live-in babysitter that’s great with kids until you can find a permanent solution.”

“You sure you’re not just dumping an unwanted houseguest on me? I’m not getting a weirdo, am I?”

“No.” Oh, there was a laugh in there.

“…it’s not your father, is it?”

“No, no, just trust me, alright? And if you don’t trust me, trust Kaya.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

“Asshole.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll give this rec of yours a chance, but it’s on you if this doesn’t go well.”

“I, Usopp, World’s Greatest Sniper and Chillest Bestie, solemnly swear it’s no one I wouldn’t leave my own kids with, and that’s a fact.”

Sanji sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you our coordinates, and you’re getting a new Vivre Card when you do show up, so that we don’t have this issue anymore. You’re worse than Luffy.”

“Tell the literal toddlers wandering around to stop stealing and eating my shit and we’ll have a deal.” The two exchanged location information and confirmed that it looked like Usopp could be there late the following afternoon if the winds stayed favorable. “Oh, and Sanji…?”

“Yeah…?”

“This, uh, kid… where’d it come from?”

“It’s, uh, probably too long a story for the snails to handle.” Yeah, it was a private snail network, but there was a decent chance that their communications were constantly being tapped. A location, he’d give up, but that just meant that he’d be ready for trouble on the receiving deck, not sending trouble to where he couldn’t fight. “We’d be here for a while.”

“Fine—I’ll hear the story when I get there—fucking asshole. To think I’m giving you a babysitter.”

“Yeah, yeah; see you soon, Usopp.”

“See you then, Sanji.”

The transponder snail fell asleep and Sanji knew that the call had ended. He leaned back in his desk chair and silently stared out the window.

Late tomorrow.

It still did nothing in regards to the mystery of where in the hell Asido came from, let alone what he was going to do with him. The kid was much too young to be in the kitchen—shit. What sort of schooling did he have up until now? Was struggling over reading Sora, Warrior of the Sea right where he should have been, or was he ahead? Or behind? Fuck… way to make it complicated, sis.

After checking to make sure that there was a News Coo resting on the eaves, Sanji went into his desk and pulled some paper and a pen out—at least he wasn’t going to take this laying down.

‘Reiju,

‘I got your package. It’s a shame that you couldn’t hand it to me yourself, but I understand the sort of time crunch you’re in. Guessing by what the gossip columns are saying, you’re extremely busy and Father would notice if you were gone long enough to visit properly. If you can, then you should. Visit properly. Call me sentimental, but I’d like that. I’ll make some manju with all these azuki beans you gave me—the geezer probably won’t stop laughing. He hasn’t yet.

‘Not that I don’t appreciate you thinking of me, but it was very out of the blue to get the azuki. When you visit, you’ll have to explain your reasoning behind it, how you came across them. Funny as this might sound, I don’t get to see them every day. One would think how I am, I’ve procured plenty… but you’d be surprised. You gave them to me, however, and I’ll use the experience wisely.

‘I hope to hear from you soon.

‘Sanji

‘Oh, and congrats, I guess. Hope he knows what a prize he’s got. The only one of my siblings that’s not a complete psychopath? He lucked out.’

Carefully, Sanji stuffed the letter in an envelope and addressed it to his sister. He tapped on the window and the News Coo hopped over, squawking as he slid it open. It took the letter and payment before flapping off, presumably to wherever his sister was being detained.

At any rate, at least she would know that her son was safe.

#Sanji #One Piece Sanji #Aka Ashi no Zeff #Red Leg Zeff #Blackleg Sanji #Kuroashi Sanji #Usopp #One Piece #fan fiction #this is just Sanji having a very not good day at first so bear with me please #I also know I promised Whouffaldi in the tags of my last posting but you also need to understand that it didn't want to happen #sometimes shit don't want to be written that's why you got a bazillion other projects going at once #Asido (OC)

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goldenhawk18550 · 1 year ago

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I hope you don't mind me adding on to this but here I go-

I can also see Danny, while cleaning and helping Gotham, just appear in Wayne Manor, pulling out blob ghosts and funky ectoplasm out of the brickwork and walls, then walking up to each of Gotham's little knights and pulling out corrupted ectoplasm, starting off with Dick, reaching into his chest and pulling out a large coagulated clump of ectoplasm and negativity, with it being like:

Dick: Who are you and what are you doing here!-

Danny: Cleaning, don't mind me *looks at Dick* This might help- *Pulls out clump of negativity and ectoplasm* Have a nice day *phases through a wall*

Dick: Oh- Shit that feels better- Wait- What is absolute FUCK was THAT!?

And the next thing he knows, he starts running through the Manor, looking for Bruce, where he finds Tim slumped over, snoring his head off with Danny yoinking a basketball sized mess of negative energy and ectoplasm, then disappearing through the walls again, each wall looking brighter and visibly stronger than before with the whole deal being like:

Dick: Tim! What happened!? Are you ok!?

Tim: *Snoring away now jumping up abruptly catching his breath* Gah!? What was that?? Why do I feel so refreshed?? Dick did you see that??

Dick: Come on! We need to find him, catch him and have him answer our questions!

Dick and Tim start racing off to find out what the actual hell is happening, picking up Cass, Steph and Duke along the way with similar situations and feeling 100x lighter than before when they come up the the kitchen to find Danny, quite literally pulling out mountain apon mountain fulls of negative energy and corrupted ectoplasm from Jason, who is letting this happen, reading from a book all the whole drinking coffee and eating a plate full of Alfred's cookies at which Danny looks back, sees them standing there with confused looks on their faces and he just asks

Danny: Could you please come and help me with this one, just grab a clump full and pull, I will answer your questions afterwards-

Duke: Uhhh, ok then??

Dick: What is that stuff? It kinda looks like Pit Water...

Tim: *Grabs the coagulated clump* I wanna study this stuff, Imma take a sample afterwards-

Steph: Why should we help you?? What is all that crap coming out of Jason??

Cass: Spill the beans Green Eyes White Phantom!? What is all this crap!?

Danny: Just Grab a corner and pull!! I will answer your questions later!!

At which point they all sigh and start pulling and yanking at the corrupted crap from Jason and all the rest of it slips out like a can of snakes while Jason takes in a sharp breathe and releases a sigh of relief.

Jason: Fffuuuck that felt REALLY good!... What is all that crap anyway??

Danny: Aight then lemme explain this to you all... riiight after I grab the rest outta the other 3, I'll be right back! *Phases put of the room leaving the rest of them speechless*

Danny then grabs and pulls out a small pinball sized corrupted goop out of Alfred and then picks up Damian and shakes out an entire tub full of negative energy, dashes through finding Bruce and yanking out a condensed back, green and red ball the size of a watermelon out of him with really fucking confused, at which point they all come together and he explains the entire situation to Gotham's Knights, at which point after he finishes, says "Catch ya later!" And slips through the doors, Wayne Manor now looking entirely brand new and the Heroes now 1000% more refreshed all be it a mixture of confused, annoyed and intrigued.

DPXDC Spooky Scary Scrub Down

Gotham's ability to attract problems isn't coincidence, but it's not quite a curse either- it's just poor maintenance.

Every large settlement of living beings in the world forms a collective soul commonly known as a city ghost. It's the job of that ghost to clean the negative emotional energy from the area, like a civil servant power washing gum off the sidewalk. But Gotham's ghost just couldn't keep up.

It's not that her citizens produce an excess of negativity like Atlanta, or that her buildings and roads just sucked it in and wouldn't let go like Nashville, no it was something far worse. As the court of owls chipped away at her lifeblood in the stone, her powers dwindled. Their insatiable quest for immortality drained centuries off her existence as they mined the 'Dionesium' out from beneath the city.

In her weakness Gotham had been unable to purify her city, until now.

Bruce Wayne was about to have an aneurysm. Some preternatural cloud of fog had been enveloping city blocks in Gotham one after the other heralded by some kid with white hair. The cloud had no discernable effect on the city, but residents reported a 'lighter feeling in the air', so obviously it's evil.

Danny's clean up operation was going well, Gotham needed her help and he offered it. The only problem was her little knights, it seems they didn't get the memo on his cleansing operation and were determined to figure out why he was here.

Batman: what are you doing to this city.

Danny: cleaning. *walks away through a wall.

Red Hood: who are you and what the fuck are you doing to my territory?!

Danny: *pulling a colony of blob ghosts out of a dumpster like a clown car* don't mind me, just passing by.

Cass:...

Danny: ...

Cass: okay.

Danny: thanks.

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boxofbonesfic · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Burn sequel to Siren

Pairing: Firefighter!Beefy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky gets some use out of his bat.

Chapter warnings: violence, mentions of past abuse, toxic ex, stalking, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, MINORS DNI!

A/N: i know i said this would be done in the afternoon, but i REALLY wanted a bomb ass smut scene, so it was delayed a bit. i’ve been getting a lot of asks about Firefighter!Bucky and Sugar, so i wanted to give y’all a spicy lil’ update 🥰

This is a work of FICTION, and it contains ADULT themes, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk!

🔥

Bucky sleeps on your porch for two weeks.

“What if they need you at the station tonight?” You asked the third night, not looking him in the eye as you toyed with the hem of your t-shirt.

“I’ll here the bell from here, don’t you worry.” He refused every time you asked him to go home, so you made it as comfortable as you could, giving him blankets and pillows as he stood watch over you. You don’t know what you did to deserve it, to have earned such protection, but when you ask Steve, he just smiles, shaking his head.

“Buck’s got his reasons. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask him.”

But then when Monday comes again, and you haven’t seen hide nor hair from Rich, not even a text, you finally convince Bucky to go home for more than a shower.

“I’m fine,” you say, even though the worry still gnaws at you like a dog with an old bone. “Seriously. He’s just trying to scare me.” It’s working. I’m terrified. You’d spent the last few weeks wondering if you needed to move again, if maybe leaving the country was a better option, since changing states hadn’t seemed to do you much good.

“If you need me,” he says again, resting a warm hand on your shoulder, his eyes intense, “You call.” You nod, even though you know you won’t. Maybe it’s stupid, but you’re afraid for him. You know he’s strong, stronger than anyone you’ve ever met—you’d watched him tilt your car a foot off the ground one handed when the jack broke as he’d fixed a tire—but… You knew what Rich could do, too.

Your hip throbs as if in memory, and lightly you trace the top of the scar that pokes out of the waistband of your shorts. I’m sure the doctors remember too. You watch Bucky’s big red Dodge pull out of the driveway, and somehow the house feels emptier for the lack of him. The scent of fresh coffee makes your mouth water and when you trace the source of it to your kitchen, there’s a steaming mug and a note.

Don’t forget to lock up.

-Bucky

You can’t help but smile—he’d made it just how you liked it too, black with just a little sugar. It’s strange how that small act made you feel more ready for the day, more adept at dealing with its challenges. Perhaps it was because for the first time in a long time, even when you were with Rich, you didn’t feel… alone.

🔥

The week flies by—your shifts at the record shop moving equally quickly. You’d all but forgotten the lingering feeling of dread that had been plaguing you as you checked the doors and windows one final time. You didn’t normally close, but Dotty had asked you to on account of her grandson’s fifth birthday, and you couldn’t say no to that. You hum softly to yourself as you lock the till, the late summer sun coming in bright and orange through the glass.

It’s still so beautiful outside despite the hour, and as you walk home from the shop you sigh. Beans would have loved this. You know he’s safe, living his best doggie life on a farm in Georgia, but you miss him. Better than letting Rich blow his brains out because he wouldn’t stop defending me.

You try to shake off the disconcerting thoughts, focusing on the feel of the warm sun on your skin, the smell of grass, the sound of children playing. Your thoughts drift back to Bucky, and your face warms. You’re wondering how many times he’d watched you make your own coffee to know so well what you liked when you hear it—the slow roll of tires.

You don’t think about it at first, it’s a highly pedestrian street in a small city—there’s a thousand reasons a car could be driving slowly. It’s when you still hear it after your second turn that ice prickles along the back of your neck. Your throat goes thick as you swallow, and peek over your shoulder. It’s a black SUV, nondescript in every way that counted, rolling slowly behind you. Moving far, far slower than the speed limit, it crept along the pavement.

You clutched yourself and sped up. It wasn’t following you, it wasn’t. You repeated it like a mantra, over and over until the words blurred into gibberish in your head. Three more blocks and you were jogging briskly as the car sped up, and tears pricked at your eyes. It wasn’t Rich’s car, but anyone could rent one, couldn’t they?

Your heart is hammering, pulse roaring as a horn blasts behind you and you shriek, covering your ears. You don’t know what business you push into, but you shove your way inside, tears streaming down your face. Your hands are trembling as you dig your phone out of your pocket, and you don’t think as you call the first person you can think of, the first person to make you feel safe—

“Bucky?”

🔥

The owner of the Asian import and grocery store is kind enough to let you mill about by the register as you wait, and when you’re brave enough to peek outside, the SUV is nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Rich, didn’t hear his voice, but… it’s him. It has to be.

The bell on top of the door jingles loudly as Bucky bursts into the shop, turning sideways to fit through the narrow doorway. His eyes dart around in a panic, and relief fills them when they settle on you. He crosses over to you in two large strides, and he grabs your shoulders, looking you over.

“What’s wrong, sugar? Where is he?” He’s wearing his uniform pants, and when he hugs you, his skin smells like smoke. Guilt churns in your gut with sudden intensity, as you regret having called him at all. He must have just gotten back to the station when you’d phoned him, panicking and sobbing. Now that it had been about twenty minutes, you felt silly.

“I… I thought Rich was following me,” you admit, looking down at your sandals. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even see him.” You turn to the woman behind the counter. “Thank you, Mrs. Chin.”

“Any time.” She replies, nodding conspiratorially at Bucky. “I see him here, I’ll give him a good smack.” Bucky leads you outside where his truck is idling, but stops you before you get in.

“You don’t have to apologize. I told you to call me,” he reminds you, and you frown.

“I just… I’m probably overreacting. Jumping at shadows. And you, you just got back, you’re probably exhausted and—”

“For the love of God, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit.” Your mouth hung open as he cut you off, and it snapped shut audibly. “I don’t care if you stub your goddamn toe, you call me, you hear?” Bucky squeezes your shoulder, and winks. “Can’t have anybody followin’ my best girl home, can I?”

You stand there aghast until he chuckles, walking around to the other side of the car, and you force yourself stiffly into the passenger seat. The ride home is quiet and companionable, though to you, it’s nerve-wracking. My best girl. His best girl.

Bucky pulls into park just in front of your place, killing the engine. “I’m gonna go grab some stuff from the station, I’ll be back in a minute. You want to come with?” He asks, and you know it’s so you don’t have to be by yourself. You’re tempted to go under the guise of greeting the team, but you resist. It’s only been a week since he’d been there constantly, and yet you missed him.

“No, I’ll be fine. You don’t… You don’t have to stay again, Bucky.”

“Someone followed you. I do.” The conversation is over, and he hops down from the truck. You do the same, clamoring down to the ground. “Lock up, okay?” He reminds you, and you shake your head. You’ve never been one to leave your doors open, especially not now. You head inside, dropping your purse on the hall table as you shut the front door. You kick your shoes off and wander upstairs for a shower, wondering what you’ll make for dinner for two, when you pause.

The light is on in your bedroom.

Maybe I left it on.

Goosebumps break over your arms as you descend into cool fear for the second time that evening. You step forward quietly, peering around the doorframe—

And there he is. His back is to you, but you’d know those broad shoulders, the slicked back wave of jet black hair anywhere.

“You really thought this was far enough, love bug?”

You’re barely breathing, and when he turns to look over his shoulder at you with those coal dark eyes, a little sob bubbles up between your lips. The nickname makes you nauseous, and you’re suddenly back. Back in your old apartment while Rich screams drunkenly at you—you’re back in the bathtub as his hands wrap around your throat; You trust me, don’t you love bug? You’re a deer in headlights as he advances toward you, one, two steps—

You turn to flee, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood as you sprint, but Rich is so big, his legs long and his reach so much greater than yours. When he crashes into you, tackling you to the ground, your head smacks against the wood and you see white for a painful second.

“Nice little place you got here,” he spits, straddling your waist. His weight forces the air from your lungs, and you struggle to inhale as he presses down, smiling nastily. His long, spindly fingers are on your chin, forcing you to look up at him even as your vision swims. “Where’s your ring, love bug?” His fingers dig into your jaw. “Told you you were never supposed to take it off, but it looks like you need a refresher in your lessons, hmm?”

“G-get away from me,” you wheeze, struggling beneath him. You’d taken self defense classes, learned to walk with sharp objects through your fingers—and all of it was terrifyingly useless when he had you pinned like this. You beat against his chest and he laughs, though it’s satisfying when you rake your fingers down his cheek, and skin comes away under your nails.

“You little fucking cunt!” He shouts, and the back of his hand meets your mouth hard enough to split your lip. You taste coppery blood, tears welling in your eyes. “Should’ve never left,” he growls, his other hand finding your throat and pressing down, down hard. “Never fucking should’ve left me—”

CRACK!!

You’re only dimly aware that Rich’s weight lifts abruptly from your body after the sickening sound of something hard meeting flesh and bone cuts his tirade short. Bucky’s panting at the top of the stairs, the bat clenched tightly in his metal fist. You suck in a breath of your own before coughing and wincing.

He stops to check you, turning your jaw this way and that as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry, sugar. So sorry.” He says it over and over again, stroking your messy curls. He’s trembling, his fists clenching and unclenching as his unsteady breaths fill your ears. His body is tense behind you, coiled and ready like a spring.

“M’okay, Bucky,” you say, reaching a shaking hand up to grasp the one resting on your shoulder. Rich groans as he staggers back to his feet, cradling the left side of his head. The setting sun offers little light, and your vision swims when you try to stand, but you can see blood dripping through his fingers. Bucky leaves your side to stand over you, the bat at the ready.

“Get the fuck out.” It’s a low, menacing growl that makes you shudder, and you watch Rich’s hackles rise. He staggers to his feet, leaning against your wall, and he chuckles darkly. You know he won’t stop, won’t stay down—it’s why you’d left. Restraining orders had done nothing—flimsy fucking paper. Cop presence around your building had only deterred him for so long before you couldn’t take it anymore.

Easier just to run.

Rich wipes blood from his mouth, and spits it carelessly onto the floor. “Little whore has you fooled too, huh?” Bucky surges forward, and you cower back against the wall. He reaches Rich easily, and when he swings, Rich is ready for him, ducking down and landing a solid blow against Bucky’s side. You suck in a harsh breath.

“Bucky!”

His face tightens, but he soaks the blow, dropping the bat. “No weapon now, huh, asshole?” He’s not ready for the hit from the metal fist, and you hear the crunch of bone breaking—a rib or two—as Bucky’s own punch lands with force. He lets out a strangled moan, dropping to one knee as he clutched his middle. Bucky doesn’t relent, wrapping cool metallic fingers around Rich’s throat and hoisting him up.

“You think you’re a big man?” Bucky snarls, slamming him against the wall. His body flops like a rag doll, his limbs flying messily as he wheezes. His eyes flick to you, and you watch Bucky’s fingers tense, tightening. “You don’t fucking look at her. Look at me.” Rich garbles something, and you don’t know if it’s assent or complaint, but it doesn’t much matter when he’s hanging limply from Bucky’s grip like a strangled chicken.

“You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t text, you don’t call, you don’t write. You don’t look her up on social media, you don’t google, you fucking forget her, you understand? Nod if you understand.”

There’s silence, and you wait. You don’t think rich will respond, he won’t allow himself to be beat like this—but when Bucky’s grip tightens again, he chokes loudly, and his head dips.

“And if I see you—fuck, if I even think you’ve been around, I will kill you. I will bury you and no one will ever. Fucking. Know. Nod, Rich.”

He does.

“Sugar go call the cops.”

🔥

It’s late when the officers finally clear out of the house—it’s not enough just to take Rich into custody, they have to check every corner of the property, just to be sure he didn’t do anything else. You’re exhausted, a blanket draped around your shoulders as you stare numbly down into your rapidly cooling cup of coffee. Bucky’s talking the lingering policemen, and Nat is sitting with you at the kitchen table.

“Hey, you want a little whiskey in that?” She jokes, and you smile thinly.

“Got any?” You watch with amusement as she produces a flask from her overlarge pocket. “You just… keep this on you?”

“For special occasions. I think this counts.” She pours liberally into your mug, and when you take another sip, the liquor settles warmly in your belly. You’re halfway finished with the mug, feeling warm and less jumpy as Bucky, Sam and Steve do their own perimeter check—laughable, but sweet.

You say goodbye to them on the porch, Natasha herding Sam and Steve off while you stare down at your hands so as not to meet his gaze.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip. “I…”

“Don’t apologize,” his large hand is warm, even through the blanket when he touches your arm.

“No, he hit you! I… You fought because of me. It was dangerous, and I… I never should have put you in that position—” And then the mug is falling from your fingers to crash with a sharp tinkle against the wood because Bucky’s grabbing you with a softly muttered aw, hell, sugar—

And his lips are so soft against yours you could cry a little. Well, you are crying, but it isn’t from that. “Was so fuckin’ scared,” he murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips, your chin, your cheeks—“Saw him on top of you, you weren’t moving—“ He lets out a choked noise, and you’re drawn into his embrace.

Oh.

You slowly bring your arms up to hung him back, your fingers tangling in his henley. His best girl. And then you’re kissing him too, the blanket falling, discarded just like the mug. His tongue passes over the split in your lip, but the pain is sweet and he soothes it. You can’t believe you didn’t notice, a million touches, a million soft words, he’d slept on your porch for half a month—

An excited hoot from across the street makes your face burn, and Bucky laughs against your lips.

“No, no, don’t stop now, we’re gonna get chairs!” Sam shouts, and you groan, burying your face against Bucky’s chest, your nose brushing his dog tags. And as if you aren’t embarrassed enough, Bucky sweeps you into his arms, hooking one easily under your thighs as you yelp.

“No free shows, Wilson!” He yells over his shoulder, and you giggle.

“Bucky the blanket—“

“We’ll get it later.” He kicks the door open and then shut without dropping you, and presses you against it. He looks like he’s about to take rough possession of your mouth again, but before he does, Bucky pauses. “Is this okay?” He asks softly, stroking down the side of your face with his thumb. “I can wait, we don’t have to—”

It’s your turn to interrupt and you shake your head, hushing him with a finger. “Gimme somethin’ else to think about, Buck.” You don’t have time to giggle at the way he curses, leaning his head back before his mouth finds yours again and he makes good on your request. Bucky tastes like whiskey and cinnamon, and you can’t get enough, moaning into his mouth as you press as close to him as you possibly can.

You tilt your head up as he noses along your jaw, content to smooth his hands over every part of you he can reach; softly cupping your breasts through your shirt, fingers playing at the waistband of your jeans, squeezing and kneading the cheeks of your ass with increasingly pleased growls.

“Much as I wanna fuck you right up against this door, sugar, I think I want you somewhere softer,” he huffs against the shell of your ear, and you nod dizzily. Your head is foggy again, but this time from the weight of his large hands, the cool press of his metal fingers against your nipples, swollen and pressing hard against the fabric of your bra. “Couch. Go.” He delivers a little slap to your ass and the little moan that escapes your throat surprises the both of you.

He’s half a step behind you the whole way, and by the time you make it to the living room, he’s on you. Guiding you down to the pillows with sure hands. His fingers are undoing the button on your jeans, tugging them down your legs as you lift your hips to assist. Bucky’s nostrils flare at the sight of your panties, black and lacy, the crotch stained with your slick. You feel embarrassment heat your cheeks as cool air meets your scantily covered folds, but Bucky licks his lips hungrily, his eyes dark as they meet yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he says lowly, his palms flexing on your thighs as he holds them apart. Your pulse is so loud in your ears you’re surprised you even hear him, and you lick your lips. His eyes follow the movement hungrily. “I want you so bad—” He pauses to steady himself, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to stop, Bucky.” The words are barely off your tongue before he’s pressing his tongue to your—barely—clothed slit, lapping against the damp fabric. Your sharp exhalation of breath becomes a whine as his fingers the fabric aside and he tastes you, groaning into your folds. Bucky delves into your tight entrance with his tongue and you shudder, your hips rolling as your eyes slide shut.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he growls, and when your lids snap open and your watery gaze meets his, he practically purrs. “Good girl.” The words make your cunt clench as a fresh wave of slick coats his tongue. “Want you to see me taste my pussy.” Oh fuck. His tongue circles your clit and only his hands on your thighs keep you from arching up off of the pillows.

You feel like you’re melting under the pressure of white hot pleasure coursing through you, and all you can do is babble, trying your best to do as he said, keep your eyes open and on him. Bucky’s slate ocean eyes are locked on yours from between your thighs, hungry, satisfied noises escaping him as he devours you. Every time your lids begin to droop, Bucky pulls away, leaving you panting and moaning and painfully unsatisfied.

You feel like an overfull cup, pleasure trickling maddeningly from you as you try to hold it all in, writhing and moaning in his hold. And Bucky… Bucky’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, his gaze reverent and his touches gentle and insistent.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” He taunts, laving a trail of wet kisses on your inner thigh. “Tell me what you need.” The smirk on his face both enflames and enrages you and you whine.

“I n-need—fuck, Bucky—” He doesn’t let you finish, his tongue returning to your folds as your fingers thread themselves into his hair. You can’t get the words out, and every time you try, you feel a slow smile spreading across his mouth as he laps at you, doubling his efforts. You’d be irritated if you weren’t so desperate, and when he pulls away again, an agonized whine makes your cheeks heat when you realize it’s coming from you.

“Poor thing,” Bucky says lazily, dragging his teeth down your inner thigh and moaning softly in pleasure when you hiss. “Can’t even get it out, can you, sugar? Got you all twisted up, huh?” He coos, and leans up on his knees to loom over your trembling, slouched form. “Shirt off, now. The bra too, sugar.”

You hurry to comply with the order given in his low, gravelly baritone like your life depends on it. Your pussy throbs hungrily, your thighs sliding slickly, noisily together as you pull the t-shirt over your head, and unhook your bra. For a minute you’re unsure what to make of Bucky’s expression, but fresh heat blooms in your belly when he palms himself roughly though his jeans and begins tearing at his own clothes.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Its like he’s trying to touch you everywhere, with everything all at once. His hands are cupping and kneading and pinching, lips and tongue on yours, your breasts crushed against his chest. His cock pushes insistently against your belly, and your eyes flick down before widening. He’s so thick and leaky, the fat head of his cock pushing up through his foreskin. A thin strand of his own precum trails from the throbbing tip to the skin of your belly, and you bite your lip.

You reach down between you to wrap your hand around his throbbing length—an almost impossible feat—and begin to stroke, spreading precum down his shaft with your thumb, tugging at his balls before returning to task. Bucky’s head falls to your shoulder where he utters a muffled curse against your neck.

“Awh fuck, sugar,” he pants, nipping and sucking at your flesh. “So good, knew you would be—“ He bucks into your hand, his own closing around it for a moment before he pulls you away. “Lay down for me, sweetness. Lemme see my pretty pussy.” Your face heats. You’ve never been told to do anything like that before—hell, no one’s ever talked to you the way Bucky does, either, not like this. With Rich it had hurt, but Bucky you felt…

Prized.

You laid on your back, your lip once again caught in your teeth as you circled your thighs with either arm, holding yourself open for him. Bucky’s hand moves slickly over his cock as he takes you in, thrusting into his own grip as he praises you. “So perfect, So pretty, sugar, where you been hidin’ her?” And then you don’t feel nervous anymore. Not about your looks, your hair, your scar—none of it matters now, in this moment, with him.

You watch him squeeze his cock one more time before he leans over you. He presses your knees to your chest, opening you as he slides against your folds. You’ve never felt so empty, nor so ready to be so fucking full it hurts.

“Say ah sugar,” Bucky’s breath hisses through his teeth as the head of his cock nudges against the slick, tight ring of muscle. You’d known it would be a tight fit, but the pleasurable stretch borders so nearly on pain that it brings tears to your eyes—but you’d rather die than tell him to stop now. It aches so sweet as he parts you, his own mouth open slightly and eyes locked greedily on yours as he watches you take him. “Fuck, she’s already milkin’ me so good, so fuckin’ good,” he groans, his hips stilling.

Your eyes roll as he bottoms out, and you dig your nails into the couch cushions underneath you as he slides out slow—only to force his way back in with a shamefully slick noise. “Fuck, I, I can’t, Bucky—” You’re babbling. You don’t know what you’re pleading for, more or less, but when he leans over you, cooing, a wail wrenches hoarsely from your throat.

“You can take it, can’t you sugar? It’s okay. It’s okay,” Bucky repeats the words, groaning as he picks up speed. His balls slap wetly against your thighs, soaked with your own juices. You don’t even realize you’re cumming till it’s happening, your release spurting out of you as your back bows and you clench down around him for all you’re worth. You soak his thighs and the couch beneath you as he fucks you through it. “Good girl. Fuck, gonna make you do that every goddamn day.”

His own movements become stilted, his hips stuttering against yours as the aftershocks of your orgasm milk one out of him. The back of the couch groans as his metal hand tightens on it, and his other hand holds you still as he curses. “Fuck, sugar, tell me I can fill this tight pussy up, please,” he’s practically begging, and you spare no thought as you nod furiously.

“P-please Buck,” your words are interrupted by his thrusts as he fucks into you hard. “W-wan’ you to f-fill me up, fuck, please—”

He throws his head back with a shout, and stills, warm ropes of cum streaming into you as his cock jerks and throbs. Bucky’s head falls forward and he lets out a low groan, keeping you right where he wants you with a firm grip as he empties himself into you. You stay like that for a few minutes, gulping down air in the too-hot room.

Bucky slides out of you slowly, and you hiss. He leans down to press his lips to your sweaty forehead, and you feel him smile against your skin. You do too, even though it aggravates the split on your bottom lip.

“You okay, sugar?” He asks hoarsely, grinning down at you.

“Never better.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #firefighter!Bucky #Firefighter!AU #firefighter!bucky barnes #black reader #bucky barnes smut #smut #boxofbonesfic #Burn fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel smut

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amorgansgal · 3 years ago

Note

So I have an request

I need in my life sort of grumpy/ sunshine and enemies to lovers trope!

Of course Arthur being grumpy and Reader teasing and annoying him for fun!

Might be with smut, with angry Arthur showing reader that her teasing must come to an end. 😏 tho I really need how their relationship would develop 🙏🙏

Hello, I hope this is ok :) I've only done a bit of fluff and a short hc. I'm going to pace myself with smut writing, so this is just the beginning of the relationship. Hope you enjoy!

When Arthur meets you for the first time he’s not in the best of moods. He had slept poorly the night before, hadn’t eaten well all day, been pissed off by Micah and because he got back late, he didn’t even get a decent serving of stew - just the burnt bit at the bottom.

So safe to say he’s a grumpy boy who isn’t interested in entertaining folk and plans to just sulk rest on his cot.

But he’s grabbed by Mary-Beth and Tilly who insist he has to meet the new gang member.

Arthur grumbles mightily, but is eventually forced over to where you were chatting with Sean. He immediately notices your big grin and eyes sparkling with mirth. He does his best to ignore the swooping sensation in his chest, when he hears you laugh.

Mary-Beth introduces you both and you offer him a hand to shake. Arthur scowls and gives it a half-hearted shake, more to hide the fact he is immediately intrigued by you than actual contempt or dislike.

‘Let me guess, they keep you around for your sense of humour and winning smile?’ you tease.

Sean cackles, Arthur scowls further and stomps off to his cot. He does his best to write in his journal and focuses on the previous events of the day, but he can’t help his eyes drifting over to you and writing just a very small paragraph.

‘If they’re making Sean and Uncle laugh like that, then I fear we have collected another fool for their entertainment, rather than someone who could be useful!’ he writes. He does feel a bit bad about it come the morning, but the writing remains in his journal.

Annoyingly, over the next few weeks you prove yourself beyond useful. You’re a quick, accurate shot, a keen thief with light fingers and, more importantly to Arthur, an excellent horse rider who cares for their horse a good deal.

Not that he gives you a lot of praise. Arthur scolds and dismisses your work, not wanting you to get cocky or arrogant. The fact that you don’t even let his barbs and comments bother you irritates him more.

You’re constantly making jokes and quips at his expense, though he’s fortunate the rest of the gang never seem to be around when you do.

‘You know, if you keep frowning like that the wind might change and then you’ll be stuck- Ah, I think it might be too late actually!’

‘Beans, beans and more beans isn’t actually the full three course meal you seem to think it is!’

‘You can laugh at my jokes, you know. It’s probably causing you great internal harm to not do so!’

‘Tell a funny one then and I’ll think about it!’

‘Uncle’s ass?’

‘That ain’t a joke.’

‘Yeah, it’s a crime against humanity!’

He actually manages a snort of laughter after that.

‘But seriously, why are you always so grumpy? Whatever did I do?’ You flutter your eyelashes at him in a pretence of innocence and Arthur ignores the little flip his stomach does.

‘You waste everyone’s time with yer nattering and jokes and nonsense!’

‘Oh, but Arthur, nattering and jokes and nonsense are all I have! You can’t take it away from me.’

‘Get enough of it from Sean, don’ need more of tha’!’

‘I think you enjoy it really!’ a teasing smirk on your face.

‘I don’t,’ he mutters. Secretly wishing he had it in him to kiss that stupid smile on your face. ‘C’mon, let’s get back to camp.’

He quickly kicks his horse into a trot, so he doesn’t have to look at your stupid, lovely face and admit to himself that your quick remarks and jokes really do make his day and he always looks forward to spending time with you.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader #arthur morgan x gn/reader #arthur morgan x g/n reader #arthur morgan x gn reader #arthur morgan x gender neutral reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan headcanon #arthur morgan hc

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fushironi · 3 years ago

Text

They Find You Crying

Plot: you’re sitting in your dorm room after a rough day of classes and your boyfriend finds you crying (Big Three of Class 1A)

TW: small hints of self loathing (the way your body looks), cursing, self doubt, calling yourself names

•Bakugo: “I’m never going to be good enough,” your tears were hot and heavy as you punched your pillow once more, hating yourself for the way you failed to keep Sero down during ground training. Your quirk was powerful: you could control the elements. You would necessarily say you were like the avatar, but you came pretty close. All you had to do today was keep Sero pinned to the wall for a minute and you couldn’t even do that. Hell, even Denki did better than you! Your tears fell harder as you thought back to the day, your punches turning into you throwing things at your door. “Ba-what the fuck?!” The booming voice of your hotheaded boyfriend scowls as he walks into your room, grabbing the stuffed bear before it hit him.

Bakugo’s tone and face immediately softened as he saw your small frame curled into a ball on your bed, your attempt to hide your sniffles failing as you covered your face. “Go away,” you grumble as you yank the blankets over you, not wanting to deal with anyone right now. Bakugo laughs, yanking the blankets from your body. “You really think blankets are going to stop me? What’s the matter, bunny?” His voice was sweet and low, a side only you got to see. You shake your head as you turn your back to him, curling tighter into yourself. Bakugo sighs as he crawls in behind you, spooning you. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it”. Bakugo soothes as he runs his hands over your sides, comforting you.

You feel your body relax slowly as you turn so your face is in his chest, your sniffles lighter now. “I’m never going to be as good as you or anyone else in the course,” your words were soft, but he heard every one of them. “Who the fuck told you that?!” His voice rose with his words, causing you to flinch at the sudden noise. “Me. I did,” you say in a shaky voice, the tears coming back to you. Bakugo’s face softens as he gently runs his fingers through your hair, sighing softly. “That’s insane, stupid. Why would you say that?” You laugh slightly at his attempt to sound comforting while still keeping up his hard ass persona. “Because it’s true! I can’t even hold down Sero!! And he’s made of fucking tape!! Hell! Denki did better than me. And that’s saying something!” You retort, throwing up your hands as you sit up from your current position.

You feel Bakugo’s hands rub your shoulders, your own hands wiping away your tears again. “Bunny. Please don’t let one bad day of training upset you. I know you want to become stronger, and you will, but even the best of us have bad days,” Bakugo’s voice soothed you as he placed a kiss behind your ear before pulling you into a tight hug from behind. “I know. I just-” “Shh, it’s okay. You’ll kick his ass tomorrow. But for now, let’s order in and cuddle, yea?” Bakugo chuckles as he kisses your shoulder. “I would like that, yea.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your face, more than thankful you have a boyfriend like Katsuki.

•Todoroki: Here you are once more, tears falling down your face as you stand in your mirror. You poke at your belly and grab your love handles, your heart dropping in your chest. “I’ll never be as skinny as her,” your eyes burned from all the crying you had done, but that’s all you could do. You drop your boyfriend's shirt back around your body before sulking to your bed, burying yourself under the blankets and the enormous amount of stuffed animals. Shoto knew how much you enjoyed your plushies, so every chance he got he made sure to get you one. Which is what brought him to your room in the first place.

“Flower?” Shoto’s voice rang as he knocked once before opening the door. His eyes scanned your room, his brow rising at the books on your desk. Being the curious little bean he is, he decided to skim them, his face dropping as he realized what they were. He knew you had some insecurities about your body, as you had expressed them to him before, but he didn’t know that you read books on how to lose weight in x amount of weeks.

“Flower?” Shoto says once more as he climbs on your bed, a new plushie in his hands. You don’t stir as he climbs in behind you, your hands clutching your body. “No,” you say before he can even get a word out. “No? I haven’t even said anything,” Shoto chuckles as he pulls the blankets down from around your head and to your waist. You quickly cover your stomach with the blankets once more, even though his shirt does that plenty. “Angel. What’s the matter?” Todoroki asks as he sets the plushie on your nightstand. You ignore his question, curling further into yourself. Shoto sighs as he rolls you to face him, his fingers brushing against your cheek gently.

“Talk to me, baby. I’m worried.” Shoto cooed, his heterochromatic eyes looking down at your own orbs. You let a few tears fall as a shaky breath leaves your lips. “D-do you think I’m fat?” Your eyes had grown glossy once more as they scanned Shoto’s face. To say Shoto was in shock was an understatement. Never had he once thought of you that way, even when you would point it out. When he began to notice your tears falling harder, he snapped away from his thoughts, kissing them away.

“Angel. You’re perfect just the way you are. Why would you think you’re fat? Did someone say something to you?” He asks as he pulls you into his chest, his fingers going through your hair. “N-no. I just see the way all these skinny girls gawk and coo over you and I’m nowhere near their size. Compared to them, I’m a fucking elephant. They’re all skinny with long legs or clear skin. I’m far from that,” your voice had cracked by the end of your sentence, your body slowly quaking from the sobs that silently ripped through you. Shoto let out a rather deep chuckle, his fingers finding your chin. He lifts your face to meet his, his lips gently connecting with yours. “Princess, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. No one compares to you,” Shoto says softly as you two pull away, his irises holding every ounce of truth. You just nod your head, snuggling back into him, wanting to bury yourself in his skin.

“I wanna hear you say it, kitten,” Shoto purrs as his hands rub your sides, his lips connecting with the top of your head. You pull back from him a bit, your hands playing with the collar of his shirt. “I’m the most beautiful girl in the world,” you mumbled, not really believing it. “Hmm. I’m not convinced you believe that.” Todoroki says as he turns so you’re sitting on his lap, his frame trapped under you. You let a small giggle fall from your lips as you wipe your stray tears, your eyes locking with his. “I’m the most beautiful girl in the world,” you say with a bit more confidence, your hands playing with the edge of his shirt. “Damn right you are. Don’t forget it,” Shoto smirked as he sat up to place a long, passionate kiss to your lips.

“I love you. Every inch of you. Every ounce of you. You’re my perfectly imperfect angel that makes everything brighter when I see your face. Got that?” Todoroki whispers as his forehead rests against your own. “Got it,” you smile back as you place a gentle kiss to his lips. “I got you another!” Shoto says happily as he pulls away from you, handing you yet another stuffed animal.

•Izuku: “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!” Your voice rose as you threw yet another piece of notebook paper across the room. You had been going at your math homework for almost two hours and you could never seem to find the right answer. You always came up with an answer that was either too high or too low and it was starting to get to you to the point of tears.

You take a deep breath as you set back down at your desk, your fingers tugging at your locks as you try the problem once more. After yet another few failed attempts you shove yourself from the desk and storm to your bed, tears of frustration falling down your cheeks. Knock. Knock. Knock. You let out a low groan before sitting up in your bed, hugging your All Might pillow. “It’s open.” You call back, a sniffle falling from you. You couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a familiar green tuft of hair walks through your door, his hands holding pizza.

“Hey, gorgeous! I thought we could- are you okay? What happened?” Izuku was quick to pick up on your change of mood, rushing to your side as he quickly wraps his arms around you. “Y-yea. I’m just frustrated. I can’t figure out the stupid math homework from today and I just feel so dumb! It’s so freaking simple and I can’t do it!” Your tears form on the line of your lashes once more, Izuku’s frame relaxing as he knew it wasn’t something too major.

“How about we look at it together, yea? You’re not stupid or dumb. You’re just getting flustered!” Izuku chimes as he kisses your nose before getting up and grabbing your work. He pulls the pizza and the workbook to both of you, his arm wrapping around your hip. He walks you through the process, a smile on his lips as he watches as you relax next to him. “And just like that, you've solved it!” Izuku smiles as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips and nose. “Thanks, Izu. I really appreciate it,” you smile as you kiss him once more, your fingers lacing with his.

“Anything for my puppy.” He smiles as he pecks your lips once more, grabbing your tv remote. “Now, let’s finish this pizza and watch a movie, yea?”

Sorry the Shoto one is a lot longer😅 he’s my man’s and it’s easier to write for him than the other two!! I love Izuku so much but it’s hard for me to write for the innocent bean!!

#anime #fanfic #mha fluff #mha x reader #mha #katsuki bakugo fluff #shoto torodoki #izuku mydoria #sweet #loveyourself #fluff #you are amazing #you are perfect #you are worthy #you are enough #you are awesome

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talesofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Good Morning Indeed

absolutely no plot whatsoever, just a bit of husband and dad harry in the midst of the family’s morning chaos 😂

Harry

“Go get the condom on.”

“I’ll pull out, I promise.”

“Your pull out game is weak.”

“Oi, them’s fightin’ words.”

“There’s a reason we’ve got six kids.” Says the missus with a roll of those pretty—but sometimes deadly (please don’t tell her I said this)—eyes. “‘Sides, I’ve just changed the sheets yesterday. You are not coming on the sodding sheets.”

“Fine,” I sigh and reach down to the bedside table. Why is the drawer filled with sodding Duplo and those tiny, pricey Sylvanian Family bunnies? I’m guessing kid number two, three and four have something to do with that. A few more seconds of rummaging before I finally found my treasure in the very back of the drawer. I lay on my back as I sheath myself up, and seeing as I’m already here… might as well, right? I smirk at her as I say, “hop on then.”

“Fat chance that,” she mutters. “Do I have to take off my top?”

“Nah,” I shake my head, it’s cold, and I’m a considerate husband. “A flash will do. Just give me a visual.”

She rolls up my shirt that she wears to sleep, a really old white rolling stones t-shirt that has two holes and a loose thread hanging on for dear life from the hem. She looks homeless. Gorgeous homeless though.

“Nice,” I flash her a boyish grin, like a teenage boy seeing his first pair of tits. “You’ve got great racks.”

“You’re just saying that…”

I know what she sees when she looks at herself in the mirror and I wish she could look at herself through my eyes.

“Hey, don’t you dare. My babies grew in that body, that’s everything.”

Her tender smile hits me right in the gut. “I love you.”

“Love me enough to ride me?” I say with a playful flick to one nipple.

“Nice try.”

“I love you,” I mutter near her mouth and give her a searing kiss. I run my tongue over her bottom lip, then I kiss her down her neck, her cleavage and her breasts. I slowly circle one nipple, and she giggles, knowing it’s a well-rehearsed move that is guaranteed to do what’s needed. See, her tits are kind of like start buttons. No matter the situation, a little attention to those bad boys switches things around real quick. Her head slams back against the pillow. And she moans, holding my head in place.

We’ve got ignition lads.

I nestle my body on top of hers, and there’s a bit of wayward angling and poking until I find my way inside of her. And then it’s on. Two bodies writhing on the bed. My hips rotate in long, slow circles.

“Bollocks!”

“What? The condom isn’t broken, is it?”

“No, it’s bin day. I forgot to take out the recycling bin.”

“S’fine, we’ve got time before the school run.”

The bin’s sorted, back to the shag…

I slide my hands under her, bringing us closer. Rocking us faster. My forehead hovers close to hers and I open my eyes so I can watch. What can I say? I’m greedy like that. I want to soak up every gasp, every flicker of pleasure across her face. Pleasure I’m giving her.

Her breathing changes. It turns panting and desperate, and I know she’s close. I move harder, grinding against her, inside her, with every forward push. Warms sparks tickle my spine and heat spreads down until every nerve in my body is shaking. I slam inside her, burying deep as her hips jerk upward. She spasms hard around me, gripping me tight.

I rock back my hips and pull almost all the way out, but then I freeze. Because a dreaded sound echoes across the room, grabbing our full attention. It’s coming from the baby monitor. It’s a rustling, the sound of cotton rubbing cotton. Like snipers in the jungle, we don’t move a muscle. We don’t say a word. We wait, until the rustling stops. And all is quiet again.

Too bad it’s not for long. Because two thrusts in, a light comes on in the landing. Followed by small footsteps heading down the stairs. Shit.

“Harry, just come already. They’ll all be up soon.”

“I’m close… don’t rush it, you’re scaring it away.”

She grinds her hips. Also another well-rehearsed move that she knows will get me off. But I freeze again, because there’s a second set of footsteps and the sound of a toilet flushing. Oh, and the babies next door are starting to whimper.

Great.

“I’M HUNGRY!” That’s James, darling little cockblocker number four who likes to be fed on time. He’s three.

“WE’LL BE OUT IN A SECOND!” My wife shouts over my shoulder. “Harry for the love of god-”

I pick up the rhythm. Small beads of sweat form on my brow. She grinds her hips again, and I try to focus. “Just like that, fuck, keep doing that.”

“Sshh, keep your voice down.”

“IS THERE ANY BREAD THAT ISN’T 50/50?” That’s Eleanor, child number two. She’s seven, and she’s one of those children who seem to possess a discernible palate that knows when we’ve changed brands of baked beans or attempt to bring sugar-free fruit squash through the doors.

“IT’S THE SAME,” I reply.

“NO, IT’S NOT. DO WE HAVE OTHER FOOD?”

“THERE ARE SHREDDIES.”

“DON’T LIKE ‘EM.”

“PORRIDGE.”

“I’M NOT A BEAR!”

Honestly, seven-year-olds gunning for a fight this early in the morning can go do one.

The babies are starting to gather volume next door so I try to focus again. It only takes a few more thrusts before ecstasy wrecks my body, making me shudder. I press my lips against her neck as I come back down to earth. But I don’t move yet. I know we should get going because things are already chaotic outside our door, but I just don’t have the will yet. I’m considering going back to sleep for a minute or two. She won’t mind, will she? Well, I’m wrong. Because she proceeds to perform the move that seems to amuse every sodding woman on earth. And causes every man to squeal like a bloody pig. Without warning, she uses her powerful muscle to squeeze my extremely sensitive cock.

Girls, grab a piece of paper and write this down. I’m speaking on behalf of every man to walk on earth here; we hate that. We don’t think it’s funny.

I jerk back, pull out, and roll off her. I try to look annoyed as she giggles, and obviously I fail, because that freshly fucked, flushed-face makes it impossible not to grin back.

“CAN I HAVE JAFFA CAKE?” That’s Victoria, child number three. She’s five, and she’s yelling as she thunders up the stairs.

“JAFFA CAKE ISN’T BREAKFAST,” my wife shouts back as she sits up and hands me a nappy sack. “Harry…”

I wrap up the condom with it and toss it to the bin. “You’ve just taken me life force, woman, give me a moment.”

“CUSTARD CREAM?”

“NO.” We shout in unison.

“HOBNOB THEN?”

“STAY AWAY FROM THE BISCUIT TIN!”

“You want to wrestle a biscuit-hunting kid out of a cupboard and 50/50 bread drama or fussy babies with full nappies?”

“Babies.” I hear a small child get whacked by a sibling downstairs and I feel like I may have got the better deal here.

Next door, the twins are not happy. They’re six months old now, and they’re both teething. Thing one glares at me as I walk into their nursery and thing two stares at me stroppily from the corner of her cot. Their cheeks are scarlet, and thing one proceeds to bark at me like a seal. I pick his warm, sleepy, cuddly body and cradle it close to mine as I lay him down on the changing table. I smell the dampness. It’s definitely wee. He’s soaked through, I think I didn’t tuck his willy in when I last changed him around three in the morning so it sprayed in some upward motion and drenched his clothes. See, this is why girls are better than boys. There’s no way they can pee upwards.

After I put a fresh nappy and a change of clothes, I put him down on the rug so he can wiggle around while I grab his sister and sort her out. After six kids, I’m definitely a pro with baby duty and can practically change their clothes one-handed. The whole thing takes only a few minutes.

I cuddle the babies on each side as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. They immediately reach out to their mum who’s cracking some eggs as soon as they spot her, knowing she’s the only one who can cure their hunger this morning.

“Uniforms!” She says to the big kids as she takes one baby into her arms. “We’ll do breakfast after. Please, please, please…”

Desperate pleas lead them to saunter out and up the stairs. I follow my wife into the living room and hand her the other baby as she plops down on the couch. She rolls up her shirt and the babies latch instantly. Tandem nursing is harder now that they’re a little older and aware of their surroundings. They’re trying to scratch each other’s faces as they nurse. “Oi, what’s this? You each get a tit, stop fighting.”

They seem to somehow listen to me and have stopped trying to poke each other’s eyeballs. We’ll see how long that lasts. “Finish the eggs?”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

I brew some coffee, finish the scrambled eggs, and pop the slices after slices of bread in the toaster. Breakfast is done just in time as my wife walks back into the kitchen with two full and happy babies. She puts them in their high chairs and I scoop a bit of eggs on each of their trays for them to nibble on.

George appears back in the kitchen clad in his uniform with his also dressed brother trailing behind. We always lay his clothes the night before on his bed and he gets dressed all by himself in the morning. And he’s getting better at it, seeing he only missed a button on his shirt.

“Hi mate,” I say as I fix his button and he flashes a toothy grin at me. I plop him down on the chair, he’s graduated from the high chair now but still uses a booster seat.

“No toast!”

“What do you want then?”

“Chee-yos?”

I nod before I grab a handful of cheerios and set them on his plate next to his eggs. Then I take a few steps back across the table. “Hey, James, set it up.”

He flashes me another toothy grin before he opens his mouth wide and keeps it open. I hold a single Cheerio between my fingers while I bend my knees and bounce my hand as if I were dribbling a basketball. “Three seconds left on the clock, down by one. Styles got the ball. He fakes left, he drives in, he shoots…”

I toss the Cheerios in a high arc. It lands right into his mouth.

“He scores! The crowd goes wild!”

James holds both hands over his head. “Core!”

“Viv stole the biscuit tin, you know? She ate three jammie dodgers upstairs.” Eleanor says as she walks in with book bags and school shoes.

George, seeing his sister walks in, proceeds to open his mouth wide and flashes her the half-chewed eggs on his tongue. It’s his current thing and it annoys his sisters to death. The young’uns think differently though as they double over in laughter.

“Eeewww!” She shrieks. “You’re so gross!”

“VICTORIA, PUT THAT BISCUIT TIN DOWN AND GET YOUR BUTT IN THE KITCHEN! AND GO GET THEM HAIR TIE THINGIES…”

“I didn’t have any biscuits!” She yells and runs down the stairs.

This kid is the quintessential daddy’s girl. She climbs up onto my lap right away, handing me the brush and a hair tie.

“See, poppet, I would’ve believed you if you didn’t leave evidence all over your face,” I arch one of my eyebrows as I sweep a speck of raspberry jam on the corner of her mouth.

“You always do a ponytail,” she huffs.

“Either that or I give you a bowl cut with kitchen scissors. I reckon that fruit bowl will do. Your choice.”

“Can I have some more eggs?” George asks with his mouth full of his last bite.

“God, that’s like your third serving,” Eleanor grumbles.

“Nag.”

At that insult, Eleanor flings a piece of toast like a ninja. Before George can retaliate, my wife gives them both the look.

“Viv, will you at least have some eggs?”

“No.”

“Fine,” my wife sighs. “I’m gonna get changed then.”

I glance at the clock and, well, shit, I should get dressed too. “Can you lot watch the babies and try not to kill each other for the next five minutes?”

“Five quid each?” Eleanor tries to negotiate. “Babysitting isn’t supposed to be free, you know? That sounds like child labour to me.”

Bollocks.

“Two quid each,” I give her my dad look that says the offer is final and indisputable.

“Deal.”

#harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #dad harry imagines #dad harry styles #dad!harry #husband!harry #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles ff #harry styles one shot #the styles gang

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sparklingchim · 4 years ago

Text

better together; f | pjm

pairing: jimin x wife!reader

word count: 1.9k

genre: fluff, dad!jimin, married couple, slice of life au

warnings: oc is pregnant, nothing else unless you hate children ?

summary: just a casual day with your husband jimin and your little boy jihoon.

a/n: hello! this is a fic i wrote a while ago and thought about sharing it now🥰 there are a few more chapters that i wrote in that universe but they still need to be edited. i hope you like it!!❤

masterlist

Kick...kick...kick...

,,Why are you so active today, my little bean?" you coo, rubbing your belly and feeling the tiny kicks from your 7 month old baby girl in your womb.

,,Baby?" you hear the sound of your 2 year old little baby boy, who is sitting next to you, on his high baby chair. His pastel blue elephant bib is draped around his neck, already soiled with the chicken soup rice porridge your feeding him - even though he only ate approximately 3 spoons of it yet.

,,Your baby sister is moving," you tell him and he excitedly stretches his grabby hands, aiming for your bump, completely ignoring the spoon that he was about to latch his mouth on.

Of course his short chubby arms can't quite reach it, so you grab him from his baby stool and place him on your lap. He automatically brings both his hands on your stomach, roaming them all over your bump and anticipating the movements of his baby sister.

Both of your hands have a firm hold on his back and keep him safe on your lap, because Jihoon tends to get dynamic and thrilled at random times - especially when it had something to do with his still unborn sister. Jihoon loved feeling her kicks, even going so far to refuse to sleep sometimes and clinging onto your womb to not miss anything his sister does.

,,Ohhh," his stunned voice breaks the silence, his eyes going wide as he feels his sibling moving. You laugh at his reaction, one hand pushing his soft hair from his forehead.

When you attempt to sit him back into his baby chair, he whines in displeasure, putting pressure on your stomach with his small hands. You sigh in defeat, not wanting to make him sad because you don't let him rub your belly.

For a few seconds you let him be, granting him the glee he earns from being the closest as possible as he is able to be with his sister. The way Jihoons whole focus is solely fixated on his baby sister makes your heart swell in pure fondness. He couldn't wait for her birth just like Jimin and you.

You don't forget to feed him though. You grab a spoonful of Jihoon's porridge behind him and hold the spoon in front of his lips, waiting for him to open his tiny plump lips - that he definitely got from his dad - but his eyes are remain on your bump, not caring about the food presented in front of him. You slightly raise your hips up, causing his body to bounce on your lap to draw his attention towards you - but nothing. Jihoon simply doesn't care.

,,Jihoon-ah," you scold him with a stern tone since he's obviously ignoring you.

He looks up at you, with those big brown eyes and your heart lights up at his innocent face.

You hold the spoon closer to his mouth, but still, he doesn't attempt to part his lips, only backing away with his head.

,,No," he says and pushes your hand away with his much smaller hand. You quirk an eyebrow up at his behaviour.

You don't get to berate him again, when you hear the door opening and then closing shut again. You both immediately get excited - well, your excitement isn't really shown outside compared to Jihoon, who seeks to get off your lap and eagerly wants to rush off to his dad. His feet slowly sink down to the floor with your protecting hands around his little body and then his chubby legs sprint to the hallway, desperately wanting to greet his dad.

You hope he won't fall, because that accident happened a lot of times already - always ending up with some sobbing, teary eyes and clinging onto either Jimin or you. Your little boy let his delight go too overboard sometimes and only reserved little care into his surroundings. You'd have to teach him to be more aware of that.

,,Hello little guy," you hear Jimin's voice echoing from the hall.

,,Daddy!" Jihoon exclaims, giggling afterwards because Jimin probably spooned him up and snuggled his face into Jihoon's neck.

You just sit there, a warm smile on your lips, and don't make an attempt to get up to greet your husband too, because your feet are killing you today.

A few seconds later, Jimin enters the kitchen with Jihoon in his arms. Jihoon wrapped his arms and leg around Jimin's upper body, like a little koala bear and you chuckle at that sight. Jimin tilts his head down and places a tender kiss to your lips.

Even though Jimin was only away for 3 hours - because he had some meeting at the company - you missed his presence at home. And I seems like your not the only one who missed him, since Jihoon is practically glued to his daddys body.

,,You three are good?" Jimin asks, taking a seat beside you, while rubbing your belly in soft strokes.

,,We're all fine.", you assure him with a sincere smile. Jimin kisses you again. You just look so adorable right now.

You look at the back of Jihoon's head. Jimin's hand is placed on his back to hold him closely.

,,But Jihoonie still has to eat, right?" you say and look expectantly at his back, waiting for a reaction to your words. Jimin's gaze shoot to Jihoon's - still full - bowl and frowns.

Jihoon wiggles his body and then muffles a tiny 'No' into Jimins shoulder.

Jimin chuckles but then quickly asks ,,What's the matter, baby?" He softly nudges Jihoons head with his shoulder, wanting to see his face. Jihoon looks up to his dad, his lips forming a little pout.

,,You're shirt is stained with his food.", you giggle, after seeing the mess that Jihoons bib caused on Jimin dark shirt. He peers his eyes to the stain but doesn't say anything to that. Jimin and you were already used to dirty clothes since your little boy couldn't stop creating a mess every five minutes.

,,How come you don't want to eat anymore when it seems like you apparently enjoyed it?" Jimin asks the little boy.

You sigh and stand up. Jihoon needs to eat something and if he won't continue eating this meal, then you're going to cook something else. He was already fussy when you sat him down on the baby chair earlier and you don't want to deal with whines if your going to resist on making him eat that food.

You groan slightly when your feet carries your whole body weight and instantly place your hand on your side to steady yourself. Your bump got really big.

,,No, no, baby. I've got this, sit down. I can cook something for him," Jimin says, standing up with Jihoon in his arms and puts a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him, wanting to say that it's okay, but he's faster.

,,Your feet hurt, right? Let me run you a bath, love," he says, putting Jihoon on his baby chair and whispering ,,Wait for daddy, okay?" Jimin places a quick kiss on his head. Then he bends down a bit and you feel one of his hand on the back of your knees.

,,I can walk Jimin, don't carry me," you retort, your weight making you a little insecure. Of course he doesn't listen to you and in one swift motion your in his arms. He naturally watched out not to discomfort you or the baby, while proceeding to lifting you in his arms. You hear Jihoon giggling behind you, entertained by the sight of his mommy getting carried by his daddy like a baby.

,,Your dad is so strong, Jihoonie," Jimin calls out while walking to the bathroom.

Jihoon only laughs more at that comment yelling a ,,Me too!"

,,You're saying I'm fat?" you ask hurt, swatting his chest.

,,No, no! Of course you're not fat, baby. I'm just playing with Jihoonie," he panics, looking worried and concerned, because he knows that your hormones are getting the better hand of you these days. But it weren't your hormones this time. You almost laugh at his panicked face, but you decide to hold it in and not try to sooth him. Maybe you just have a little demon inside you that likes teasing Jimin, but you think it's fine for all those times he used to tease you for something.

,,You better be," you mutter and feel his lips pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

He slowly lets you slide of his hold and you sit on the closed toilet lid, watching him as he runs water into the tub. Jimin tests the temperature of the water and hums quietly when he is satisfied with it. Then he puts some liquid inside to create bubbles and a delicious smell.

,,No bath bombs this time, I have to buy some again," Jimin says and you only nod. The fact that he even noticed that there were no bath bombs left made you want to cry. Maybe now the hormones were actually kicking in.

,,Thank you," you answer, never missing a chance to thank him for his care and thoughtfulness he's showing every day.

Jimin turns around, a lovely smile already tugging at his lips and widening once he takes me into sight.

,,You need me to help you?" he asks carefully. You shake your head as an answer.

,,No, go and feed Jihoon, your mini-me is starving," you reply. Jimin rolls his eyes at your exaggeration.

,,My mini-me is not starving," he makes clear and his eyes soften at the cute nickname you both - actually you - created for your little baby boy. Jihoon has so many of Jimins features- his nose, his lips and his eye colour are just like Jimins. You both always said how you wanted tiny replications of both of you running around the house once you'd get married, but now that it actually happened, it's scary how a tiny Jimin waddles though the house, always giggling after he'd done something he'd surely wasn't allowed to do.

,,Mommy!", Jihoon exclaims in that moment and you raise a brow up.

,,Hurry up, he's waiting," you say, swaying both your hands to shoo him away.

,,He just yelled your name. Shouldn't I be the one he's missing after coming home from a meeting?", he pouts, but doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves the bathroom.

You smile at his question. Suddenly you feel the need to snuggle your little Jihoon in your arms since he shouted your name, because he's alone, but you have to take a little break from today and his daddy is on his way to him anyway.

,,Daddy's coming!", you hear Jimin shout and you start discarding your clothes on the floor.

,,No, want mommy!", Jihoon yells back and you start laughing.

Apparently Jihoon wasn't satisfied with anything he got today.

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whiteqnn · 4 years ago

Text

PURE [3] - Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

A/N: Over 1 thousand notes. You guys are insane. I can’t see any other explanation.

Thank you so much for all the love and support under the previous parts, all those comments just absolutely made my day! I would never expect this story to receive such a positive feedback, which I’m extremely grateful for!

Anyway, I decided to add some additional plot to this story - mainly, the sudden criticism and hate directed on Y/N after the last Among Us stream. I thought it would make things more interesting.

That being said, I hope you enjoy the third part ^^

part 1

part 2

part 4

part 5

PURE [3]

Y/N stared at her phone screen, reading through the latest tweets of her friends inviting their fans to watch their streams. It was Thursday evening and just as it was planned, everyone was getting ready for another game of Among Us. Just as she would do if it wasn’t for all those comments...

The last stream caused sudden, unexpected amounts of attention on her social media. She probably shouldn’t be that surprised by it, given the fact that by appearing in Sean’s and Felix’s videos she wasn’t all that strange to their fans. But people who watched Rae, Toast, or Corpse’s streams didn’t know her. And apparently, some of them weren’t that happy to see a new face among the group of well-known gamers.

She always tried to avoid the unnecessary spotlight as much as she could, preferring to stay hidden somewhere behind other, much more popular streamers. And it never bothered her. She was never one to enjoy too much attention anyway.

That’s why when she discovered how upset, or even angry, some people were when she played with all those famous streamers, she was quite shocked, to say the least.

Like all those comments under Poki’s tweet, in which she mentioned who’s gonna be playing this time...

“Duh, why’s that Y/N chick supposed to play with them again? There are at least hundreds of other, much more popular streamers I can think of who would be better than her.”

“Who the fuck is she anyway? Why’s she there?”

“lmao, some random girl who got lucky enough to know jacksepticeye. Don’t get why she’s playing with them though.”

“NOT HER AGAIN. I SWEAR TO GOD SHE WAS SO FUCKING ANNOYING LAST TIME”

Sure, she wasn’t as famous as Felix, or Sean, or Rae, or anyone else for that matter. Her audience wasn’t very small, but it was nothing compared to the number of fans other YouTubers had. It was understandable that most people didn’t know who she was, and didn’t understand why she was there in the first place.

She was, in fact, just some random girl who was lucky to have Sean as her friend. But in a group of such great and well-known streamers, she definitely stood out like a sore thumb.

Y/N almost jumped in her seat when her phone beeped with a new message, Sean’s nickname showing up at the top of her screen.

Jackaboy: We’re starting in a few kiddo

Jackaboy: But join the call now so we can both make fun of Felix

After the last game, she was so excited and couldn’t wait for this evening. She looked forward to cooperating with Sykkuno again, to arguing with Toast, to laughing with Sean and Felix, to murdering other people with Corpse... Yet now, all this excitement seemed to vanish just like the mood to play, let alone talk with other people. They would surely see right through her and try to make her spill the beans, which would ruin the stream. And the last thing she wanted was to ruin their game.

Jackaboy: You there Y/N??

She sighed, thinking of some believable excuse that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, but her mind was flooded with all those comments and DMs she received over those past days, which expressed nothing but hatred towards her.

Y/N: I’m really sorry Sean, but I don’t think I will be joining you today... I don’t feel very well.

She waited for Sean’s reply impatiently, expecting him to send her some angry emoji or tell her to move her ass and join the discord call. What she didn’t expect though, was that he would facetime her.

Her first instinct was to throw her phone across the room as if it would make Sean stop calling. He wouldn’t stop unless she’d tell him the truth.

So she cleared her throat and plastered the widest smile on her face, before answering his call.

“Alright, what is going on?” Sean asked right away, staring at her with his brows furrowed. He wasn’t in his recording room, but in his kitchen, which meant that he left his stream to call her. “And please don’t tell me you’re sick cause I won’t believe it anyway. And neither will Pewds.”

“I’m tired, Sean... I was working late again and I really need to rest.” she lied, trying to keep her voice steady and calm. She really didn’t want Sean to interrogate her now, not when his fans were waiting for him. “I’m sure you’ll find someone else though. Please tell the guys that I’m sorry”

“Y/N, c’mon, cut this bullshit. What’s wrong?” he asked softly, moving his phone closer to his face. “You know you’re a terrible liar, just tell me what happened. If you don’t wanna play then neither do I.”

“Sean, please don’t do it” she shook her head with a sigh. “Your fans are waiting for you, I’ll be fine.”

“Well they’re waiting for you too you dummy, I already promised them you’ll be playing with us tonight” he stated matter of factly, rolling his eyes. Y/N remained silent for a moment, and Sean suddenly furrowed his brows, narrowing his eyes at her in a suspicious look. “Did someone tell you something rude last time we played? Who and what?”

“What? No, Sean, oh my God. Everyone was super nice, it has nothing to do with the last stream... not with you guys, at least.” she mumbled under her breath, dropping her eyes from Sean’s confused face.

“What do you mean not with you guys? Y/N, what the hell happened?” he demanded, slowly getting more and more worried. She wouldn’t tell him though, too scared that Sean would just laugh it off, even though he also sometimes had problems with dealing with hate. And just as if he was reading her mind, Sean sighed, his face softening in a sad smile. “You’ve read the comments, didn’t you?”

She felt so stupid for being so easily offended by comments of some random people on the Internet, that she just nodded her head meekly, still looking anywhere but at the man.

“Look kiddo... I’m not gonna tell you to get yourself together and just ignore them, cause it won’t help, and I know cause I’ve been there. Hell, I’m still there.” he chuckled to himself and continued “Anyway, you really shouldn’t be worrying yourself about people who don’t even know you. They don’t know you, Y/N, why would some complete stranger’s opinion matter to you?”

“They said I shouldn’t be playing with you guys... that I’m nothing but a burden and you should be playing with someone who’s at least recognizable.”

“Well excuse me Miss, last time I checked I could choose who the fuck I want to play with.” Sean scoffed, clearly irritated by such comments “You’re one of my best friends Y/N and I don’t give a fuck what some haters say. And neither should you.”

“Maybe you should just invite someone else... It would make everyone happy.” she muttered almost inaudibly, but Sean almost barked at her when he heard her words.

“I told you to cut that bullshit, Y/N! Everyone couldn’t wait for this game and now you wanna back out? C’mon, kid. Do you have any idea how heartbroken Sykkuno’s gonna be? When you left so quickly last time, he kept complaining that he has no one to team up with.” she couldn’t help but smile at that, letting out a tiny giggle. “And Corpse? Have you even seen his last tweet?”

“What? No, I- I don’t follow him...” she said, wondering what Sean was talking about. She quickly searched for Corpse on Twitter, still being on facetime with Sean, and her heart almost dropped when she saw the last tweet.

@.Corpse_Husband Really excited for tonight’s Among Us stream, 8PM PST.

Jacksepticeye

Valkyrae

Pewdiepie

Pokimane

Sykkuno

Disguised Toast

Logic

Mr Beast

and, hopefully, my partner in crime - Little Y/N

She stared at the screen with her eyes widened, and her lips corners curling up in a small, bashful smile. It was so nice of Corpse to mention her as well, especially with the nickname that he seemed to like so much since their last game.

“God, if you could see yourself right now. How’s it that my pep talk didn’t do shit, but Corpse’s tweet magically made you smile, ugh.” Sean reminded her of his presence, and she quickly returned to the call, trying to somehow control her burning cheeks.

“It’s not like that, Sean, I really appreciate that you’re trying to cheer me up... I just didn’t expect your friends to like me...” she admitted quietly, and if Sean could, he would probably strangle her at that moment.

“I JUST TOLD YOU THAT SYKKUNO KEPT BUGGING ME ABOUT YOU FOR TWO FUCKING HOURS. YOU THINK HE WOULD TALK ABOUT YOU IF HE DIDN’T LIKE YOU?!”

“I just... what if they’re just being nice, but they don’t actually want me to play with them?”

“I’m done.” Sean groaned, shaking his head furiously. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You stay away from your phone, join the discord call, say hi to everyone, and we’re all gonna have fun, okay? If not, Pewds is gonna murder you, cause he was already growing impatient even before I called you.”

“I’m still not sure if that’s a good idea, Sean...”

“But I am sure, Y/N! Now come on, we’re playing in five. I’m telling everyone you’re joining as well.”

And before she could even reply, he hung up. Y/N groaned, rushing to her computer to turn it on. Now it would just be plain rude not to join the game, especially after Sean wasted his time talking with her, while he should be talking to his fans. Just as he suggested, she kept her phone far away from her desk, deciding to stay away from Twitter and all those comments for a bit. Maybe it would help her clear her mind and at least try to have some fun.

An invite to the group call was already waiting for her, along with a message from Sean with a code to the game. Y/N put her headphones on before joining the call and quickly typing in the code.

“... so let me repeat myself. I ALWAYS sound guilty, no matter what. Please, guys, don’t vote me out!”

Y/N shook her head with a smile on her lips when the first thing she heard after joining the call was Felix’s pleading voice. Clearly, he was already trying to save his own ass even before the game began.

Y/N could hear Sean’s loud voice as he commented on Felix’s plea with some snarky remark, later also catching the sounds of Rae’s laughter. Everyone was already there, they’ve been clearly waiting for her to join.

“Hey, look who’s finally here! Hi Y/N!” Poki noticed her presence first.

“Hello everyone” Y/N said, as shy and quiet as usual.

“Oh, Y/N! It’s so great to see you again, I was worried you weren’t joining us tonight” Sykkuno said, a pout clear in his voice.

“WELL ABOUT DAMN TIME” Felix all but yelled, making her roll her eyes with a smile. “What did I tell you about being late?!”

“Give her a break Felix, her mic wasn’t working again... Luckily, I was there to save the damsel in distress” Sean said, and even though she couldn’t see him, Y/N was almost certain that he was smirking.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry guys to have kept you waiting so long...” Y/N said, feeling genuinely bad. Maybe Sean was right after all? They could have just invited someone else, and yet they decided to wait for her.

“It’s okay, you’re here now and it’s all that matters” a deep voice sounded out, and whether she liked it or not, Y/N grinned like an idiot with a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Shit, here we go again...” Felix sighed, making everyone else laugh. Y/N bit at her lower lip, feeling her heart thump in her chest as she felt a sudden wave of courage, deciding to speak up despite her initial shyness:

“Well... I couldn’t just leave my partner in crime alone, right?” she asked, and she could swear she heard Corpse stutter as if he completely didn’t expect her to say that.

“Ah yes, after all, killing wouldn’t be the same without her, right Corpse?” Toast teased, repeating Corpse’s words from the last stream. Everyone in the call laughed, Y/N included. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling, even though just mere minutes ago she was on the verge of crying. “It’s good to have you here, Y/N/N. Maybe I’ll actually get a chance to finally kill you this time.”

“Jesus Christ, Toast. You sound like a psychopath. Hey, I’m happy you’re here, lemme stab you in the back, please?” someone whose nickname was MrBeast spoke up with a chuckle, before directing his next words to Y/N “I believe we haven’t played together before, I’m Mr Beast, it’s really nice to meet you Y/N”

“Yeah, pleased to meet you!” another player, Logic, spoke up “I also didn’t have a chance to play with you yet, but I’ve seen Sean’s last stream... Let me just say, that Toast murder was absolutely perfect!”

“Wow. And here I almost managed to block it out. I’m fucking traumatized Y/N, you should be ashamed of yourself” Toast scoffed over Felix’s laughter.

“You should be proud of yourself!” Sean interfered “Just so you know lads, Y/N may seem like a little angel, but she’s a little demon. You’ve been warned.”

“Yeah, she’ll charm you with her voice only to snap your neck next second.” Felix scoffed.

“Just like she did with Corpse!”

“Charm?!” Y/N gasped, her cheeks burning.

“I don’t recall Y/N killing me...” Corpse said in his low voice.

“I love how that’s the only thing he denied” Poki pointed out in a teasing voice, which only made Y/N sink further into her chair.

“Can we please start the game now?” she asked in a pleading voice, hoping that everyone would stop making fun of Corpse and her. She could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt, for some reason being the target of their jokes... They must’ve made him feel awkward, right?

“Jack, did you tell Y/N how we’re playing tonight?” Sykkuno asked, and she sighed in relief that they dropped the jokes.

“Oh, right! So there’s this mod called proximity chat, where we’re able to hear each other as we pass by another person, and it seems quite fun so that’s what we decided to try out tonight.” Sean explained to Y/N, and before she could ask another question, he added “I’ve just sent you the link, it’ll take a minute to install it.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you Sean” Y/N said, before downloading the mod and quickly installing it. When everything was set and ready, she pulled up Among Us again and typed in the code, and the game finally began.

“Woah”

“Holy shit!”

“Guys this is so cool!” Sykkuno exclaimed, his voice so happy and excited that Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Okay, I’m scared now. I feel like encounters with Imposter are just gonna be perfectly cut screams” Felix chuckled, as they left the dropship and moved down the map. That’s when Y/N gasped in surprise, upon seeing the locations completely different than those she was used to.

“Wait- is that a different map?” she asked through her mic, hearing Toast’s distanced, devilish laugh. There was only Rae and Sykkuno beside her, as everyone else have already split up to do their tasks.

“Oh yeah, that’s Polus, it’s much more fun than the one we were playing in last time.” Rae explained happily and Y/N groaned. She didn’t know that map.

“Great. I don’t even know how am I supposed to do tasks in here...”

“Oh, it’s not that hard. They’re in most cases similar to those you already know, they only look a little bit different.” Sykkuno said in his kind voice, before asking “Do you want to team up again, Y/N?”

“I thought you would never ask Sykkuno” Rae chuckled under her breath.

“Yeah, that would be great! I need someone to show me around” she smiled. The trio finally moved from their spot beside the dropship and went to the left where, as Y/N later realized, was electrical. She quickly did her task in there, being under the watchful eyes of both Sykkuno and Rae.

Before the latter could do his own task, the first body was reported.

“The body is in the lab” Felix said, and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk as she saw that it was Toast who was murdered first. One less person to accuse her or try to frame her, if he was the Imposter.

“I just ran towards the lab from the left side, I only saw Poki on my way there” Corpse said right away, and the accused girl was quick to try and defend herself:

“Okay, I wasn’t in the lab, I was doing that engines task which is next to the lab.”

“Did you see someone else there?” Jack questioned.

“Nope, just me and the engines.”

“Okay. Sykkuno, where are you?” the lime astronaut was next on Jack’s list of suspects, which made Sykkuno groan.

“Why do you sound so suspicious right away?” he asked in disbelief, causing the rest to giggle “I was with Y/N and Rae all this time, we were all doing our tasks in electrical.”

“Is that true Y/N?”

“Yes Sean, that is true” she rolled her eyes with a laugh “I don’t even know this map, I have to stick with someone so I don’t end up like Toast.”

“Alright, what about rest? Logic? I think I saw you in admin but then you disappeared somewhere.” Felix said.

“Yeah I’m with Mr Beast in the office”

“That’s right” Mr Beast confirmed, which didn’t bring anything new to the investigation, so everyone decided to skip.

“Wo- Okay where are we now?” Y/N asked in surprise, when the new round began in some completely new place Sykkuno didn’t manage to show her yet. She could hear as Corpse laughed at her shocked voice, which made her smile widely.

“Yeah, I’m also not used to this new map yet” he admitted, his black astronaut walking up to her white one “Hey, wanna see something cool?”

“Sure!”

*Meanwhile Sykkuno*

“Okay this is bad guys, we lost Y/N” Sykkuno said to his mic, running around the map to find the girl he was earlier teamed up with. “I thought she followed us when the new round began, but she must’ve gone the other way... What if she’s dead already? Not good, not good...”

"Woah! This looks amazing! Is there some task here as well?”

“Yes, there’s temperature recording right here” Corpse said, standing by the lava pit, watching as Y/N’s character ran back and forth over the pool of lava.

“I wonder if you could jump into it. What do you think, Corpse?” she asked curiously, standing close to the edge.

“Not that I’m aware of it...” he mumbled coming closer to the edge as well “Why would you jump into it?” he asked with a half-smile on his face.

“So Felix can’t stab me in the back.” she whispered, even though there was no one around them.

“You think it’s him?” Corpse mirrored her voice, and she hummed in response “Why?”

“He’s constantly suspicious of everyone, last time we played he also kept interrogating us all, without even telling his own location.” she stated as if it was very obvious. Corpse couldn’t help but let out a laugh “What? Why are you laughing at me?”

“Not at you, Y/N. I’m just impressed by your investigation skills” he admitted “In that case, we better both jump in. Felix likes to frame other people.”

“You wanna jump into the lava with me?”

“Sure I do.”

“There you are!” Sykkuno’s lime astronaut came out of nowhere, followed by Mr Beast. Two of them walked up to Y/N and Corpse, and before the latter could even say anything, Mr Beast snapped Y/N’s neck.

“WAIT, NO-”

“OH GOD, OH GOD” Sykkuno yelled in panic.

“KILL HIM CORPSE” Mr Beast screamed, frantically running around.

“What the heck?” Y/N stared at her screen in shock, her dead body laying over the lava pit. Mr Beast had already fled to the left, leaving her, Sykkuno and Corpse standing between two of them. None of them said anything for a moment before the black astronaut finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N” he kept repeating, regret clear in his voice. “And Sykkuno, I- I can’t even express how-”

He was cut off by Felix’s scream, who reported the bodies before Corpse could kill him as well.

“IT’S CORPSE ALRIGHT” Felix yelled right away “HE’S STANDING OVER Y/N AND SYKKUNO, HE HAS THEIR BLOOD ON HIS HANDS”

“That is- I did not kill them” Corpse replied, calm as ever, as opposed to his frantic apologies.

“Then why were you standing there?! Without reporting the bodies?!”

“I was... mourning their death.” he replied, which caused the whole group to burst out laughing. “Seriously guys, you think I would murder Sykkuno? And Y/N? I would never even think of hurting them.”

“The simp is strong, we get it, but it doesn’t really save your situation” Rae laughed.

“Let’s kick him out guys, he can’t even defend himself” Sean chuckled, and everyone else didn’t need to be told twice. Soon enough, Y/N watched as Corpse’s black astronaut was thrown into the lava pit... Oh, the irony...

The game continued with her wandering around the map, doing the rest of her tasks to at least support somehow her fellow crewmates. She stumbled upon Corpse’s ghost at some point and laughed wholeheartedly when he started circling her little character in something she read as an attempt to apologize.

A little while later another body was reported, this time it was Felix who lost his life. Y/N didn’t really focus on the conversation this time, glancing at her phone instead. There was this urge to reach for it and check how people reacted to her joining the game, but she kept repeating Sean’s words in her head. There was no point in worrying about the opinion of somebody who doesn’t even know her... or at least that’s what she tried to convince herself to think.

Her attention was brought back to the game when she heard the sound of a new message from someone who was also dead. She clicked on the chat, seeing that it was one of the Impostors.

Corpse: :(

Corpse: I’m sorry

Y/N thought it was sweet of him to apologize for it, even though it was his main goal to murder everyone after all. She believed he was genuinely sorry for it, just like she was each time she was an Impostor and had to kill somebody.

Sykkuno: Welcome to the afterlife, Corpse!

She laughed at Sykkuno’s constant happiness, which was evident even in his messages, before typing one as well:

Y/N: We’re all corpse here

Sykkuno: Oh, so it means we’re all really cool then ^^

Y/N: Fair point

Corpse: See Y/N

Corpse: I told you I would jump into the lava for you

Y/N: You didn’t exactly jump...

Corpse: :(

Y/N: But let’s say it counts as well :)

Corpse: :)

Before they knew, the voting ended. Mr Beast was thrown into the lava, which ultimately lead to the victory of crewmates. Y/N cheered happily, when the blue sign appeared on her screen, right above everyone else who was innocent.

“Yaaay, the first time I wasn’t killed in the first game!” Sean announced enthusiastically, his astronaut running around the dropship.

“Yeah, and the first time it went so fast...”

“Right? Corpse, I’m disappointed in you. What happened to the King of Impostors?” Rae asked.

“Well.. no matter how good you are, you can’t always win, right?” Corpse replied calmly.

“Hmm, you seemed kinda absent-minded during the game, though...” Poki suggested with a smirk hiding in her voice, and Rae was very quick to pick on it.

“Oh, you’ve noticed that too? Almost as if he was distracted by something”

“I don’t know what are you talking about” he chuckled nervously, and Y/N just sat in her chair confused about what was going on. “Anyway, who’s up for another round?”

“Yeah, I have an idea” Sean said, effectively shutting everyone up “What if we play something along the lines of hide and seek? Let’s have one impostor, and everyone else needs to get their tasks done before he finds them.”

“That is...” Felix took in a dramatic breath “THE BEST THING I’VE EVER HEARD ABOUT”

“Yeah, I think it will be fun” Sykkuno replied.

“It sounds really cool, but let’s maybe tell who’s the impostor? I think it would be more fair” Rae suggested.

“I think it’s a good idea” Sean concluded, before changing the settings for one impostor only. Y/N waited patiently for the game to begin, and when she saw that she was a crewmate again, she sighed in relief. Only to gasp in a panic a second later...

“It’s me.”

Everyone stumbled out of the dropship as Corpse admitted that he’s the impostor. It seemed that knowing exactly who can murder everyone made the whole game a little bit terrifying...

“I don’t know where the heck I’m going” Y/N mumbled to herself with a nervous laugh when instead of doing her tasks, she searched for the perfect place to hide. When she entered security, she spotted Mr Beast fixing the wires, so she decided to join him.

“OH SHIT- god damn it, you scared me to death!” he all but yelled when she appeared next to him, doing her tasks.

“Sorry” she giggled, quickly finishing the wires, before speeding out of the room. On her way to weapons, she stumbled across Felix’s dead body, and could hear some screaming in the background... but didn’t recognize who was murdered next.

Y/N managed to do most of her tasks without meeting Corpse, whom she hoped not to see probably for the first time since they played together. She was just leaving decontamination when she heard Sean’s panicked laughter:

“...tee, bitches love me?”

“Wrong.” Corpse’s voice almost made her squeak in surprise, only to really scream when he suddenly snapped Sean’s neck.

“Retreat, retreat!” Y/N laughed as she sped past oblivious Rae and Logic, Corpse hot on her tail. She quickly returned to the decontamination room, hoping to flee from her inevitable death, when Corpse’s black astronaut walked in, and the door closed.

“Please don’t kill me” she chuckled, even though there was no hope for her.

“Finish my lyrics, and I’ll let you live...” he began, and Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion “ I spilt wine...”

“Wait- what lyrics? You sing?” she asked, completely dumbfounded. Corpse was silent for a moment as if he didn’t understand her, before bursting out laughing “What’s so funny again? Corpse, come on!”

“Yes, Y/N, I do sing, I was actually hoping you’ve heard some of my songs...” he admitted, still chuckling to himself. She felt a blush rising up her cheeks.

“Oh- I- I didn’t, I-... but I will, okay? I’ll do it right away!” she promised, quickly jumping up to grab her phone and listen to Corpse’s song. She was genuinely shocked, she would never expect him to sing!

She unlocked her phone with a wide, somehow nervous smile on her face, which, however, dropped the moment she saw her notifications. Hundreds of notifications.

“You there, Y/N?” Corpse’s voice reached her after a moment, when she still didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her screen. “I hope my music isn’t so bad that you passed out from listening to it...”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes, her phone gripped tightly in her shaking hands.

“Um, Y/N?” his voice became more worried now “Is everything okay?”

Y/N cleared her throat and quickly wiped her eyes, closing them for a moment to steady her breathing.

“Yeah, all good Corpse” she forced herself to smile, so her voice wouldn’t sound weird. “Look, um, I need to leave, can you tell the others bye from me?”

“Is something wrong?” Corpse asked confused.

“No, of course not!” she laughed through her tears “Something just came up and I really need to leave.”

“You sure you’re-”

“Bye Corpse. It was nice playing with you.”

A/N: I hope you guys are not too disappointed in me... It didn’t turn out as I initially thought it would. Isn’t it too dramatic? And is this hate plot fine? Or is it not? What do guys you think?

TAG LIST IS CLOSED!

@slytherin-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek

#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #fanfiction #youtubers #corpse husband imagine #writing #imagine

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 years ago

Text

Doing Something (Un)Holy: A Stain on Heaven [Part 2]

Eddie and Jean have settled into their orbits--now officially a pair. With second- first impressions and Corroded Coffins Halloween show, more than the desire to be someone else on a night designed to allow true nature to be put on display come out to play from their hiding spots.

Eddie Munson x Black Female OC (Jean)

CW: 18+ content Smut (oral female receiving, handjobs, talks of BDSM and submissive dynamics)

It's cooking up. I'm already working on a 3rd part

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

Main Masterlist

Requests for Eddie are open!

The trailer gets hot--given how tight things are, the second the heat of the oven swells, coupled with the burners and length that Jean’s been in the kitchen alone, the heat can only grow higher. The windows are opened and the door is held ajar in the hopes that some of the heat escapes into the cool breeze and the cool breeze finds its way inside, but it is undeniably hot in the Munson household. Jean uses the crook of her elbow, where the forearm and bicep meet, to wipe at her forehead and keep the water swelling on her hairline from dripping into any of the food. Something she hardly doubts anyone would care about, but still she’s working to make up her reputation.

“Sure you don’t want any help?”

Eddie watches Wayne hover--not in a bad sense like his uncle is worried about the trailer catching fire, but in the sense that it’s clear to Eddie that Wayne is worried about also making a good impression. He wants to be useful.

“I’m okay,” Jean grins, turning just for a second to Wayne.

Eddie pushes up from the couch and leans onto the small counter that extends as a divider between the living room and the kitchen. The glass bottle clinks against his rings. “Wayne, if Jean needed help she’d grow a third limb before asking.”

Jean reaches for the towel on her shoulder and tosses it at Eddie. He doesn’t attempt to duck the item, instead letting it hit him squarely in the face. “I’d grow a third and fourth limb.”

Eddie waves in her direction, the purse of his lips reading clearly to Wayne: This is what I have to deal with.

It’s a tiny and albeit shaky laugh that Wayne gives. “It’s, uh, it’s been quite a while since anyone’s really done something like this for us. Not sure what to do with myself, really.”

“Sit. Have another beer maybe,” Jean answers, checking into one of the breasts to make sure the chicken is cooked more thoroughly. Once she’s pleased with the coloring, she starts to pile the rice onto plates, then rests the chicken on top of it. She scoops two hefty spoonfuls of mashed potatoes onto each of the boy’s plates. She makes sure to get some of the gravy drizzled over to the servings too.

A roll for each plate. Broccoli--one and a half scoops--completes the circle. It’s not a lot. She’d rather make the string beans that she originally intended, but didn’t have the cash for an additional meat product after helping her parents with the gas bill. She had to make compromises and Jean would have to be happy with them.

“Forks,” Eddie starts, scooting around Wayne to get into the kitchen, “are in this drawer,” he directs to Jean. He opens the drawer regardless of the instruction and she gives a nod. “So are the knives and spoons and what not. Utensils you know--they all go in the same drawer.”

Jean collects the right amount of forks and knives. “Useful when they are.” They click against the plates. Her palms go damp now that’s done. But she inhales, grabs one plate in each of her two hands and holds them out to Eddie and Wayne. “Ain’t much, but I hope it’ll do.”

“This, uh, this is more than enough,” Wayne returns, taking the extended offering. “Thank you again, Jean.”

“You’re welcome, Wayne.”

With only a small shoo, Jean gets them to settle down with their plates and she exhales. Eddie watches her, hands running down her thighs before she shakes them out. Like someone trying to shake either a cramp or nerves out. Eddie highly doubts it’s a cramp too. He’s up before he realizes it, feet carrying him a couple of feet. Jean hadn’t disappeared--Eddie knows that because he picked her up sometimes from work to make sure she got home safely at night. But the week following the confessions, she’d spent most of her time at work or at home. They talked daily to the frustration and annoyance of Wayne Eddie’s sure. But she always called, even if for five minutes. Jean probably won’t tell him what’s going on--he hadn’t gotten news of any death in town recently. As much as Eddie wants to believe things would be like a switch for Jean, it wouldn’t actually be that way.

Eddie slips his arm between hers and her waist. He takes hold of the plate by the edge, thumb pressing the fork to stay as well. “A third arm magically appears,” he teases.

Jean snorts and covers his wrist. Her fingers move in a swift brush motion over his pulse point. “I’m okay.”

Eddie takes hold of her hip and together they spin around. He guides her from behind towards the couch. She won’t ask for help. She won’t tell him but Eddie can still try. As they close in to the coffee table, Eddie keeps a reasonable distance between them so he can bend over to set the plate down without any trouble. Jean scoots over into the cushion Eddie abandoned to make it easier for him to sit.

Though Eddie feels the retort bubbling in his chest, about her making it more difficult, he swallows it back down. The nerves still haven’t left her hands. But it’s cut easily by Wayne offering a compliment on the taste of the food. Jean’s gratitude is quiet, but her smile is bright. Eddie squeezes her knee in quiet reassurance before grabbing his plate. The conversation is slow at first and comes to a near screeching halt with a simple innocuous question from Wayne, “What do you do? Eddie said you graduated already?”

Jean stares for a hard moment at her plate. It would be easy to lie. “I mean, you don’t really want the truth to that,” she returns with a small laugh. “It’s embarrassing enough as is to say I do retail or sales and trying not to scare people.”

Wayne shrugs. “Gotta do what pays the bills, right?” He doesn’t push it but after getting down his last bite of his roll thinks of a better question. “What do you want to be doing?”

“Art,” Jean returns. “Painter, specifically. I make my own jewelry too. Sale to some people around Christmas time mostly.”

Wayne had seen some of her creations floating around. Some of the men at the plant talked about how their wives enjoyed the handmade and one of a kind creations. “Artistic like Eddie I see.”

Eddie and Jean share a soft smile--a small thread and maybe a good sign. “Something like that,” Jean teases.

“I’d like to see you try an Iron Maiden solo, sweetheart.”

“Paint something other than boobs or a dick.” Jean’s retort falls before she can stop herself and the sentence ends with her slapping a hand over her mouth. The shock is clear on her face and Eddie’s amusement couldn’t be hidden by the blackest night.

Wayna chuckles. “Watch out for her, Eddie,” he teases, watching the two of them staring at each other--clearly amused by the sentence but still hovering in the freeze of shock.

Eddie cracks first, head falling into her shoulder and she falls back into the couch. Their laughter erupts as if someone hit play on them. “I am--I am more artistic than that!” Eddie shakes with his laughter. Only Jean--only she could. Jean covers her entire face with her hands, still shaking with her own laughter. Her snort is sharp against the walls of the trailer and sends Eddie into another fit of laughter.

“I am supposed to be making a good second first impression,” Jean wails. There is no way to come back from a statement like that.

“Don’t worry, Jean. It’s the most we’ve laughed in a while,” Wayne answers, taking his plate into the kitchen. Jean was good about cleaning as she cooked so the dishes remaining are minimal but Wayne--he wants to leave a good impression too--rolls up his sleeves and fills the sink again with fresh water for the remaining dishes.

“Oh, I can wash the rest of those, Wayne,” Jean returns, finally catching her breath. She’s up and scurrying into the kitchen before Eddie can even tell her she’s only eaten half her food.

“My hands ain’t broke.”

“Neither are mine. Besides, I made the mess.” Wayne doesn’t say anything, rinsing the fork off. It’s clear he’s not giving up the spot, but then he hands the rinsed fork to her. Jean scrambles to find the dish towel and scrubs the utensil dry. Eddie realizes in the moment magic is happening--even if they don’t see it, he does and it’s all he needs.

______________________________

“Yeah, I heard the lead guitarist is hot too which doesn’t hurt.”

Eddie snickers from beneath Jean. Her hands are steady as she applies the small bit of eyeliner that Eddie asked her to. The room’s been a buzz--trying to gauge just how many people are out for the show. The Hideout managed to score some buzz for tonight’s performance, trying to gauge how many people would be there and having heard a little buzz about it at school—it was a quiet buzz for sure but still a buzz no less. Theories were abound: People out of highschool are probably looking for something more than high school house parties to attend and with Halloween on a Saturday the Hideout asked Eddie and the band to play a special show for the festivities or maybe people were just excited to use the night as an excuse to cross over to the wild side or maybe as Jean put it those who were normally shisd about their interest could use the night to gawk. Jean can’t help the joke--it’s all too fitting she thinks as she’s working to prepare the band for their performance.

“The guitarist’s girlfriend is hotter, so I’m sure she’s pulling a crowd too,” Eddie whispers, one hand slipping up the curve of Jean’s ass over the jeans. She’d forgone a costume though Eddie told her she could dress up if she chose too. He’d proposed it like he didn’t want to bombard her but part of him wishes he’d just asked her to wear something matching.

Jean’s breath is soft and minty over Eddie’s face as she speaks, “Flattery will get you somewhere.”

“Hopefully in trouble,” Eddie returns, eyes still closed.

Jean clicks her tongue, leaning to the table and grabbing an eyeshadow palette. She takes the brush and smokes out the little bit of liner so the outer corners get a sharp tip. “Maybe,” Jean returns finally. “Sure you don’t want to go all out?”

The thought stirs the small pit in the button of Eddie’s stomach. He hadn’t really gone that far with the lingerie since that night--nearly four months ago. He dabbled with the makeup, sometimes doing it himself, but most often letting Jean do it. But nothing that deep just yet. “Sure,” Eddie returns quietly.

Jean hears it--the slight fear. If he did actually want to go that far even under the guise of a costume it probably still felt like too much. Satisfied with the smoked look on Eddie’s eyelids, she gently tips his chin back and presses a kiss to his lip. It’s sticky from her gloss. “Done.”

Eddie goes for another peck. “Thank you.”

Jean lifts up, hands pressing down on Eddie’s shoulders and then she’s working quickly to clean up the assortment she’d brought. The group had agreed that they’d stick to the a black and red look collectively--an attempt at casual but still distinct takes on demons for the festivities. They needed something to do on the cheap and Jean had agreed if anyone of them wanted to paint nails and do makeup she would do it for them. She’d painted all their nails, but only Eddie bit about the makeup.

“So, was all but a lap dance always on the table for makeup,” someone jokes from behind Jean. She snorts at the comment, but lets it go. She hadn’t started in that position, opting to stand, but Eddie kept fidgeting and reaching for her so she gave him what he wanted.

Eddie on the other hand gives her ass a sharp slap. The sound echoes. “Nope, only me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jean retorts, dropping the last of the makeup brushes into the bag.

“You wound me,” Eddie huffs, but he grins. “I kind of like it.”

“You’re sick.” Jean’s tone and face are flat, but then the grin is slow to spread across her face. “I kind of like it.” Jean gives one last call for anyone that needs or wants anything before she slips out of the backroom. Though Eddie told her she could stay back with them until they went to perform, she kissed his cheek and declined. No distractions so you all can positively shred, she’d said. Eddie wonders when it will become less a distraction and more of a good luck charm to have her around. Jean leaves, one last shout of good luck falling from her.

“Quite possibly I could kill a man,” Gareth teases. He’s been in awe of the nails since Jean painted them and Eddie almost lets the secret spill--that the feeling only gets better. But he manages to swallow it back down.

The nerves come in waves—each one getting hit after another has calmed. It’s ridiculous, they know. A crowd is a crowd they’ve learned. And it’s not like they get much attention in a town like Hawkins. It’s safer to keep expectations low. But still, the edge of wonder hits them and raises with it a bit of anxiety. The microphone echoes with a tap and they boys all linger off to the side still peeking around corners. “Happy Halloween to all the folks here tonight!” The manager booms. “We hope all you ghouls and ghosts are ready to be wild and free! To entertain and to possess you here tonight is the one, the only, the unholy, Corroded Coffin!”

The cheer is noticeable. Eddie’s heart thumps in his throat. The boys clamber onto the stage. While it’s not quite what they might have dreamt up, there’s more bodies packed around the tables, cheering as they climb onto the stage. From the front center Eddie catches a voice that he’d tattoo into his skin if he could. His eyes search for a moment and he catches Jean in the middle of the crowd a row or two from the stage, pinkies in her mouth as she lets out a whistle. A cute little headband with devil horns on her head. It’s a genuine smile on her face amongst the river of bodies in the room. Eddie doesn’t care at that moment if everything goes to shit tonight, not with her there. And he doesn’t think it will go horribly wrong but should it, Eddie knows he won’t care.

Gareth’s drum sticks click behind Eddie and he knows he has to get it together. It’s not even the first time Jean’s been to a show and he hopes it won’t be the last. But something feels different, as Eddie introduces the band and lets the notes of the first song hum through the amps, he can see it in the way the crowd responds--arms rising and more claps and cheers echoing out. It feels cliché to say it feels like a dream. It’s not enough to say that it feels magical. It’s not adequate to say that Eddie feels like he’s floating. Because it’s not a dream, it’s not like he’s floating. Eddie’s grounded--more so than he’s ever been, as he works every note and and lyrics out. He feels determined. It’s a crux--something that feels like it’s tipping even if it’s not really falling. It’s right on the precipice. There’s no real clue what he’s on the edge of, but it feels exhilarating as the crowd roars around them.

Eddie doesn’t remember climbing down off the stage, if he’s honest. He just catches the ringing in his ear mostly. Though, he does remember Jean’s smile. It takes up her whole face and she’s up on her tippy toes, arms winding around his neck. “Incredible,” she whispers. “Sick, even,” she laughs.

Eddie holds her close, pressing his face into her neck. The apple hair spray invades his nostrils. He doesn’t want to utter it—how blitzed out he feels, how he doesn’t want to ever lose this feeling. If he lets the words fall then it’s real, and it can be taken away. But Eddie falls in love with music and performing all over again. He wants this--needs it actually. The words keep clattering behind his teeth. Like they can’t get out fast enough. Eddie feels the laughter bubbling in his chest. The roar of the crowd is still echoing in his ear. “Was that all for us?” he asks around the laughter.

Jean can practically taste the disbelief in his voice. She squeezes tighter in the embrace. “Yeah, baby, it was all for Corroded Coffin.”

The boys are loud in the streets, packing up from the gig, even in the car. Jean rides in the back of the van, purposefully, as the front of it is filled with nearly hoarse voices and laughter. Jean only wants to watch as they celebrate. She only wants to bask in the feeling of adrenaline. But it comes to a slow descent and each one of them gets dropped off one by one, taking boxes and instruments with them and still grinning. The van goes eerily quiet as Jeff is the last one to be dropped off and Jean climbs into the passenger seat with a harsh exhalation. Her bag that had the makeup and nail polish clatters at her feet on the floor of the passenger side and Eddie’s leaning across the console, lips ready to paint her cheeks with kisses.

“I still can’t believe it.”

Jean falls into the feeling of Eddie’s lips.“Dare I say, one of Corroded Coffin’s best performances yet.”

“Yet?” Eddie questions pulling away from her cheek.

Jean laughs, twisting in the seat. “You boys are going to go all the way to the top.”

“Men--we’re men.”

“Graduate first, then I’ll give you that distinction,” Jean teases.

“Oh, there it goes again. That knife.” Eddie lets out a small groan before kissing Jean’s cheek again. “Feels good. But thank you--seriously. For coming, for believing.”

Jean leans up, one hand cupping his cheek. “Anytime, gorgeous.” The kiss is tender at the start, a sign of affection and care over the middle console to echo the tenderness of the pet name. But Eddie presses on, deeper, and Jean laughs, pulling away from him far enough that his seatbelt--even if it’s begrudgingly worn--is holding him back. “I think we should get out of Jeff’s driveway before we think about that.”

“If you insist,” Eddie sighs and throws the van in reverse. “You work tomorrow?”

“Open to close.”

Eddie doesn’t hide his small cringe. He hated when Jean worked the full day. Not that he didn’t get it and not that he thought it was somehow his job to make her stop and take care of her in a fully dependent sense. He just knew the full day shift would be grueling and the traffic would be slow on a Sunday, even the most deviant wouldn’t come all the way out to where she worked on a Sunday. At some point, he wondered if the shop would just close on Sundays--but maybe it did better than he assumed, if it meant that Jean still took the shift.

“I finally got better shoes,” Jean offers in a soothing whisper. “I’ll be okay.”

Eddie nods. “Come back to my place. I’ll drop you off, bring you lunch, and pick you back up.”

“A true gentleman,” Jean coos. “I’ll be okay.”

“That’s your favorite phrase,” Eddie snorts. “And if I’m honest, sometimes I wonder if you’re a robot.”

“You don’t seem to distrubed by the thought of potentially having a sex with a robot or the thought that you have had sex with a potential robot.”

The neighborhoods are passing and Eddie slows just enough when he knows her turn is half a mile away that if she wanted, she could make the call and he’d make it. “What can I say? The future is now, I guess, for me. Those things are awfully realistic.”

Jean watches her street come up. The van slows but doesn’t stop. “Keep going. Unless you and Wayne are moving into the block.”

“Not yet, I don’t think. Maybe next month,” he teases and then presses down again on the gas.

“We’ll have to get up early--so I can get back home for the shoes.”

“Why--we can go back?” Eddie states, looking ahead for the 4-way he knows is about to come up. He can make a left and pull into someone’s driveway to get back to her house.

“No, it’s okay.” It’s too soft and if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie is attuned to every move she makes, he’d miss it. The silence lingers for a moment. With no traffic on the road, Eddie pulls to a rolling stop, then continues on until he can make the next right.

“Wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks as the trailer park starts to come into view.

“Dad’s lost it, since Gma died. He explodes at everything.”

Eddie takes hold of her knee, thumb gently pressing over the denim covered joint. The van rolls to an easy stop and Eddie’s quick to slip the keys out of the ignition. The funeral had only been two months ago and whenever Eddie did see or hang out with Jean she always made a point to either by over at his place or out somewhere in town. It makes more sense now as to why she’d been anywhere but home. His heart aches just a little knowing he’d been so close for so long without ever really knowing that her home life had gotten bad.

“Sorry--totally not cool, you just had an amazing show. Sorry.”

Eddie’s quick to get out of the seatbelt and reaches for her cheek. “No, no, I asked. I asked, lovely. It’s okay.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers, then she slips from the passenger side seat and Edie scrambles to get down. She’s already at the back doors and Eddie, gingerly as he can, pushes her hands from the latches. “Your guitar,” Jean starts and Eddie stops her, palms squishing her cheeks together so much so the glossy lips pucker up like a fish.

Eddie plants a gentle kiss to her lips. “I’ll get it in a second. But as much as you talk about being okay and that you’re fine, I want you to know that I like taking care of you. I like being there because I want to be there. Will-will you let me absolutely dote on you for just one fucking night? I know it’s going to make the earth shatter, but it’s all I need.”

Jean glares best she can at Eddie but his assault of pecks, heavily dramatized with a muah that he audibly releases makes a fit of giggle bubble up her chest. “Eds, Eds,” Jean mutters between kisses.

“Yes?”

“Get your precious guitar and get your cute ass inside the house, because it is only a full moon that my knees are this weak.”

Eddie holds out his keys and Jean takes them, her right brow raising in the silent question. Eddie holds up one finger, to ask her to wait just a second. She does, hiking her bag higher up onto her shoulder as Eddie gets the case out of the back of the van. The night is thick and Jean tries not to think about the flutter of her stomach at Eddie’s words, I like taking care of you. No one had verbalized it like that--a desire all of their own with her at the root of it. She’d become so used to taking things on herself, figuring it out, only having her parents for the things that were expected.

It isn’t to say her parents were bad by any means. They cared--put her in dance when she wanted to give a chance, threw birthday parties for her when she begged, let her sleepover with friends. But sometimes she felt like her world was just a corner of their corner. Jean understood in some ways it was. They were dealing with bills, keeping her fed and clothed. Jean just felt small. She felt so small for so much of her life. She wouldn’t feel that way again. She’d take care of her own shit. She’d be big and strong. She’d handle everything herself because it meant she wouldn’t feel small.

The world tilts and before she can understand what’s happening she’s bouncing. She just manages to keep the keys in her hands as Eddie gets her up and over his shoulder. “Eddie, put me down!” she laughs, realizing the world didn’t actually tilt, just her body. She loosens her grip on Eddie’s belt, confident that he has her locked in tight.

“Get the door please,” Eddie returns, turning just a little on the step so Jean can unlock the door. She gets it open and taps his butt to let him know he can continue on. “Watch your head,” he comments.

“I’m more concerned my fat ass isn’t going to fit than my head hitting something,” she huffs, making sure to try and keep her hips down as much as possible as Eddie steps in backwards into the house. It’s a tight squeeze for a moment.

“Suck it in,” Eddie laughs.

“I can’t suck in my ass, love. It does not work that way.” It’s half a laugh, half a shout that falls over her throat. “Squat down some.”

They clear the door and Jean thinks it’s done. That Eddie’s going to set her down now that she’s inside. But he spins and then carries her down to the bedroom. They get through that threshold easier and Eddie sets the guitarcase down before Jean is nudged and she lets some of her weight drop and prepare for the rush of the air before her back lands into the mattress.

Eddie lowers, one knee on the bed, holding himself up with his arms over Jean’s body. It’s easy--to tease, to taunt her about the confession she uttered. But for a quick moment he spots something else flashing in her eyes--something sad. But just as quickly as it shows up, it disappears. So he sticks with his original plan, voice dripping like honey even to his own ears. “Is that all I had to do? Ask you nicely?”

Jean tries to hide the twinge of embarrassment by biting her lip and averting her gaze. But Eddie coaxes her gaze back to him with the soft stroke of his thumb over her cheek. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

Her gaze flicks up immediately and the flutter of her lashes makes Eddie’s heart leap. “Yes?” she breathes.

“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He doesn’t want it to be a question. But Eddie needs Jean to know that it isn’t a command. She can drop this whole conversation if she really wanted to.

The sadness comes back. Her face falling with it as she roots into his touch. “Just tired, if I’m honest. So fucking tired all the time.”

Eddie drops head a bit more, elbow bending with the action to brush his nose over hers. Their lips brush but don’t give a proper kiss. “Yeah? That all?”

Jean hears the question but then Eddie’s lips move to kiss her along her jaw. It's such a soft touch that she just barely registers it. A whine’s crushing her chest around all the words she wants to get out. “Eds,” she sighs.

“I’m here.” He wants her to say it again. Eddie needs Jean to tell him that she actually wants it, wants him to take care of her. She implied it but right now, he’s craving those words from her lips. The thought of how she’d sound succumbing to him, falling over her edge at the work of his fingers, or tongue, makes his groin stir.

Jean reaches up, arms winding around his neck to hold him close. “Take care of me.”

If Eddie’s eyes weren’t already closed, he’s sure they’d be rolling back in his head. The sentence falls out of her in a desperate whisper. He hums in response, latching his lips now to the skin of her neck. The kisses feel like fire, but Jean revels in the feeling of Eddie’s hands slipping up her hips and under the shirt. The bed dips with their shared weight, Eddie now kneeling on the bed and over Jean as Jean arches up. Their movements are slow, like even though it burns, they don’t want to put out the flames. The slowness is a means to be consumed of their own volition. What a way to go out, if it is the end.

Eddie pulls out of the lock first, Jean chasing his lips. Her attempts to keep Eddie close are feeble and weak as he works first to slip her shoes off and get her out of the jacket. The items are placed to the side, as if somehow tossing them has never been an option. He plucks the headband, which either fell off just now or maybe Jean was clutching it to keep it from getting it dirty or broken, off the mattress too. He can see now it’s not plastic. Delicate fabric--he’s not sure what it’s called--is wrapped around wire which creates the shape of the horns.

“Did-did you make this?” Eddie asks, lifting the accessory.

Jean pushes up to sit on the edge of the bed. “Yeah. I like to think my costume is more The Devil’s Day Off.”

Eddie’s laughter is soft and short, but he gets the accessory off to the side safely before leaning into the table his amp ison. The chains on Eddie’s belt click, a soft rattle as the brush over the wood and he beckons her to stand up. Jean complies. “I like the way The Devil looks on her day off,” he teases. His hands are running along the hem of her shirt. “But I like her better naked and putty for me.”

Jean--for a brief moment--feels something like a fuzz settling into her brain. She doesn’t have to do anything and god, what if-- Jean nuzzles into Eddie’s embrace only for a moment to clear the thought. He wouldn’t. It’d be a little strange. Eddie tilts her head, finding one temple presented to him to kiss. “You okay, little love?”

The fuzz settles again and Jean exhales. “I’m okay,” she hum. To Eddie it sounds like a pur and he takes the hem of her shirt into his hand. She takes the cue and gives just enough space for the long sleeve to slip up and over her head.

He takes his fingers and trail up and over the curves--the bumps and dips and rolls until he’s brushing a hand up over the cotton bra, pinching just for a moment at her nipples and then up to her throat. The tip of his thumb traces the underside of her jaw and Jean’s head goes slack at the tender caress. The contrast of their skin tones and the black polish on Eddie’s nails sparks something in his stomach--besides desire, besides the drive to consume--and it feels akin to a revelation. Jean’s giving everything to him, but he’d truly be powerless if it weren’t for her own want. The revelation does bleed and intertwine itself with the hunger. He doesn’t want to do anything to ruin her trust in him. He doesn’t want to lose the chance at something like that.

Eddie brings Jean back to him and kisses her deeply. He’s going to consume everything she gives and then give back, give her more than he took. Eddie’s vowing to himself that he’s going to cater to every whim and though the words aren’t uttered, they still matter. Jean knows her panties are soaked. The moment Eddie gets her to lay back on the bed and starts to tug the denim down from her legs, she’s laughing at herself. “What’s so funny?” Eddie questions, hair falling into the periphery of his vision as he looks up to Jean.

She parts her legs more for him and he catches it--at first the scent, but then the patch is apparent against the gray cotton underwear. “Drowning,” is all Jean manages to get out because the other part of the thought is clear now, as it stains her panties.

“Oh,” Eddie groans. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Without much thought Eddie dips his head between her thighs, tongue pressing to the dampness even for just a drop of her taste. Jean shudders at the feeling of his warm tongue over her. Eddie sucks hard where he knows her clit is tucked away and the moan Jean release echoes around the room. He sucks hard again and she makes the same sound, this time fingers tangling in his hair. He laps at her over the underwear for only a moment more before he moves to kiss the inside of her thighs. He sucks a couple hickies into the tender flesh and then peels the panties away from her.

The air is cool only for a few moments and it is cut by the warmth of Eddie’s tongue running one, then two, then a third strip up the length of her. She’s going to make a mess of his sheets and she wants to tell Eddie, but his mouth works over so well that she never gets the words out. He takes over buck with patience, stroking over her thighs to soothe the ache. He knows, when she twitches, hips raising to meet his tongue, that she’s trying to chase down her high. The thing he wants more than Jean just to organsm is to enjoy the journey.

He detaches his lips to speak, “Deep breath for me.” He watches the rise of her breast and then the subsequent deflation as she lets it out. “Atta girl. Keep breathing for me.”

Jean takes in another deep breath and as she exhales Eddie’s lips are kissing her clit and she squeals. The reprimand, breathe, is quick and she lets her lungs press out taking in all the air she can before releasing it. Eddie’s touch is electrifying, but it turns more from shock into a deep pleasure and she settles into a rhythm of breathing through the pleasure and her body feels like it’s going to sink and burst all at the same time.

“God,” Jean huffs at the feeling of Eddie slowly working her open and open with his fingers pulling her completely wide open and his tongue dancing along her entrance. “Shit,” she exhales and then inhales again, loving the way her body is hanging between the extremes.

Eddie hums as he catches the spasms against his lips. He’s not even sure if she knows she’s doing it--clenching around nothing, but he’s elated to hear the way she sighs above him. He takes one hand and moves to slip two fingers into her. Where he expects her to tense, lock his head with her legs, she only twitches and clenches before exhaling deeply and her body relaxes.

“So good for me,” he whispers, looking up at her through his lashes. Her breasts sit round at the top of her stomach. He watches her gut twitch in time with the spasms of her core around his fingers. But she keeps fighting against the inclination to tense. He watches every inhale. Eddie finds the one one hand she’s got clutching his sheets and works so her fingers thread through his.

Jean’s lost--she’s sure of it. The wave of her orgasm is hard and blinding. Her mouth opens and she wants to scream-- maybe she does. But then she can’t tell what’s going on anymore. It’s just the pure fire of ecstasy consuming her, flesh to marrow. When she blinks back to reality, she’s not even sure if it’s reality. Her body is shaking, of its own accord and she can only seem to chat profanities. “Shit, oh fuck, fuck, shit, Eddie. I-shit, can’t. Damn. Eds, gorgeous. Shit.”

“I got you, baby. You’re okay,” Eddie returns, stroking the side of her face. He turns her body into his and she whines. “Ssh, it’s okay.”

It takes a solid minute of the warmth of Eddie to make Jean land back into the right perception of reality. Eddie’s room. His voice. His warmth. Eddie’s bed. His posters. His t-shirt. Jean tries to move to get in closer and the pressure on her clit makes her whimper. It’s almost blinding, almost too much. Eddie’s room. His voice. His thumb brushing at her cheek. “Am I crying?” she asks. It feels like she might be.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” Eddie returns. “You’re okay. Take your time,” he encourages.

Jean inhales. Eddie’s scent--detergent mixed in with the hints of old cigarette smoke with a thin layer of the old cologne she bought that clings to the shirts from the repeated sprays. “Thank you,” she mumbles into his chest.

“Oh, we’re not through yet,” Eddie returns with a laugh. “But you are so welcome.”

“Eddie, I just saw stars,” Jean laughs.

“Yeah, but you ain’t see heaven.”

“It’s devil’s night. Don’t you mean hell?”

Eddie shakes his head, still pressing her close to his chest. “No, sweetheart--we’re going to absolutely burst hell wide open but we’ve got to taint heaven first.”

Jean ponders for a moment how they’re going to do that. But after another minute she’s too distracted by the sight of Eddie’s neck and only has the thought that she wants to mark it. So she slithers up, lips latching to the pake skin of Eddie’s neck until she’s sure she’s littered several red and blossoming hickies to the muscle. Eddie revels in the feeling, the way between kisses more gratitude falls from Jean’s lips, the way she clings to him.

His clothes are stripped next--slow because Eddie keeps interrupting with kisses over her neck and chest. The bruises don’t show up as easily on her skin as his, but that doesn’t mean Eddie doesn’t try to mark her as his in such visual ways. It’s nice to take this slow, not to be rushing with each other’s body. They can make out all the freckles and moles, giggling into the kisses when the touches are so light they tickle.

Jean faces the wall, back pressed into Eddie’s chest. Her leg hitched just a little as Eddie slides into her. The hum from Jean is swallowed by the groan that Eddie releases. She can’t even hear the blissed out mutterings of Eddie because her blood is thrumming in her ears. Her skin feels too hot and ready to burst but she pushes back into Eddie’s thrust. She still craves the feeling of tipping yet again over the edge. It feels selfish--and Jean knows it’s the part of her brain that’s not used to this, not used to letting go completely in any situation. But here she wants to. Here she wants to just for the briefest of moments let go completely.

The thought that she wishes she didn’t have her hands to control or sight blinks through her mind. A slight fuzz like before but more clearly around is the the thought she hadn’t let herself think earlier. What if she just let Eddie use her? What if she was a play thing just for a moment? She’d have the peace of not having a single thought. The more Jean thinks about it, the more Jean imagines how it might feel to become just a doll to use, the more she wants it. She lets her dance with the fantasy continue as Eddie kisses over her skin. How pretty she could be fucked out and tied down, blind to whatever is coming next. There’s no reason to think. No reason to worry. Because Eddie would understand, wouldn’t he? He’d keep her safe, like he did tonight. Like he did every night they shared and anytime they were together in and out of the bedroom.

And that’s the thing--Jean feels safe with Eddie. She has no reason not to feel that.

“You with me, sweetheart?”

The question causes Jean to blink back to her surroundings. The snap of his hips has stopped, hands tracing her hip. “Yea-yeah, I’m here.”

“Tired?” Eddie returns. He won’t point out that she most definitely wasn’t. Or even if she was, he got worried that she’d changed her mind.

“I-I’m okay.” Jean looks over her shoulder and tries to go for a kiss, but she doesn’t miss the quizzical quirk to his brow.

While Eddie gives into the kiss, he does pull out and moves so he’s pushed up onto his elbow to look down at her. “You don’t have to lie. If you’re not here, don’t want sex anymore, you can tell me. Doesn’t hurt my pride or feelings.”

Jean shakes her head, turning to face Eddie completely on her side. She can see the work of her kisses turning purple on his skin. She traces over one that’s aligned just a hair off from his trachea. “I-” The sentence falls incomplete into the mattress between them.

Eddie takes in the pull of her brow. “You what?”

“It’s-” Part of Jean’s brain is still fuzzy with arousal, still aching for release, but she wants to flip the switch. Eddie wouldn’t judge her. “I want to be useless.”

“Useless?” Eddie questions. “I think your circuitry is fried, lovely.”

Jean snorts, head dropping into his chest. “No, you idiot. It’s like how you wanted to be pretty with the lingerie,” she starts. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. Use me and my body however. Tied up and-and blindfolded or something. I don’t really know. I just--I think I’d like it.”

“Oh.” Eddie was not expecting that when he asked Jean to spill her desires, tell him what’s going on inside her head. The word hangs and almost instantly Eddie cringes at the way it sounds when Jean winces. “No, no, sorry. I-shit. No. Not a bad ‘oh’ swear to it.”

Jean can only nod and wish she’d let Eddie drop her home at home to avoid this awkwardness. “Just-we can forget about it.”

Eddie sees it, the way she’s about to back away from him so he plants an arm around her waist and tugs her into his chest. Her breasts rise and fall into his chest and though he’s definitely noticing the pert nipples, he keeps his focus on Jean. “I can’t. You’re safe with me. Tell me more--what do you want?”

“It’s--it’s weird.”

“I am the King of weird,” Eddie returns.

“We can just finish--”

Eddie feels himself losing her. But he holds tighter to Jean. “No. You’re distracted and using sex just to let whatever tension is hanging around resolve. Won’t have it. Besides, I’m soft now. So that option is kind of out of the window.”

Jean shouldn't, but the small bout of laughter shakes her. Her soft giggles eases some of Eddie’s worries. “You can get hard if I breathe on you.” The number of times she’s noticed a semi hard-on, or full erection while they just happened to be sharing the same space is ridiculous.

“While accurate,” Eddie starts with a laugh, “I’m more concerned about you.”

Jean is slow to bring her gaze up. Eddie’s big doe eyes drip with concern and are full of clear intrigue. “It’s weird, though, isn't it?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, not to me. Tell me--why do you want me to use you?”

“I just--I have this fantasy of just having to surrender. I don’t know. Just want someone I feel safe with to take over fully.”

“And blind-blinded?” Jean nods. “Tied up?” She gives another nod. Eddie takes a moment, fingers running up and down her spine. He is utterly quiet. No smart quip, just thoroughly considering something. “When you say whatever I want, is there a limit? Like there’s some things I can think of that I wouldn’t want to do if you weren’t okay with it, you know?

“There might be, I don’t really know. But I trust you, Eds. I do.” Jean can hear how desperate her statement falls. She’s practically begging. “I just-I don’t know. I want to try it. Please.”

Eddie groans. “Oh, I do love the sound of you begging, Jean.” And the evidence settles between them.

Jean laughs at the growing erection before slapping at his chest. “See! I told you.”

“Yeah, we all know I’m whipped for you, okay? Quite literally it’s old news.” Eddie traces her jaw. “We can give it a try sometime. But,” Eddie emphasizes, titling her chin up so her gaze is locked on his, “you have to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much. I mean it Jean. I don’t want to hurt you if we do that, if you give me complete control.”

“I will. Promise.”

“I swear if you don’t--”

Jean interrupts him with a kiss. Thank God, Jean thinks. Of course Eddie would understand. He wouldn’t judge her. They weren’t the type to really judge. But it’s still a relief to hear Eddie settle in and agree to give it a try. “I promise I will. Now, should I assist with this?” she questions hand grasping at Eddie’s hardened length. “Or?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter close. Her grip is confident and steady on his cock. “As-” he exhales shakily, “as much as I want to say yes, this is supposed to be about you.”

Jean hums. “Playing with your cock can be for me, you know? Who said it wasn’t? Also, it can be a thank you.” Thank you for listening, thank you for being willing to give it a try. Thank you for being you. And it’s silly maybe not to utter those words out right. Jean knows Eddie would appreciate hearing them. It just feels foreign on her tongue a little. Like she’s sure she would stumble over them if she were to actually put sounds behind them.

Eddie takes a deep breath to find resolve again. Jean’s hands are speeding up over him. Just as quickly as he seems to find the words to tell Jean to stop, he loses them. “Hey, oh fuck,” he hums, hips rocking just a little into her grasps. The pressure of their bodies together aiding to the friction as well. Eddie’s not going to last long no matter what. But he hates how quickly he can become puddy in Jean’s hands. A ragged huff leaves his lips and exhales over Jean’s lips. If she could, she’d swallow it down for him.

“Cum for me, please,” she whispers against his lips.

“Fuck, yes, okay,” Eddie whimpers out as Jean works over him. The pump of her hand is just enough pressure, just enough teasing over his slit. “Jean,” Eddie groans, feeling the muscles of his stomach tightening. It’s always so easy with her. He makes a mess of her first, hips stuttering until all the last of his seed is emptied out.

Eddie kisses her, still a bit hazy, and Jean’s grip is still steady so much it starts to hurts. When he hisses, head dizzy from the sting of the pain feeding into the pleasure, Jean lets him go. She sends a wink up at him as she licks off her fingers. “There it goes--the stain on heaven,” Eddie chuckles.

__________________________________

“Make a list.”

Jean blinks, watching the tiny notebook land on the counter. Beside them, Eddie gently places down a brown paper bag. Jean had just enough time once she got home to shower, change, and then head to work, Eddie dove behind her--insisting that he make sure she got there safely and that no one caused a ruckus while she opened the store. Once it was clear, he left making it well known to the chilly air around them that he’d be back around noon with lunch. True to his word, Eddie is here now, unearthing the sandwich, apple and chips he’s thrown together for her.

“Make a list of what?”

The store, as it sometimes feels lately, is empty. But on a Sunday, Jean’s not that shocked. The late afternoon will pick up she knows for those souls that dare defile a holy day. If it matters to them at all, which she doesn’t really think it does, though she knows like everyone else a small town like Hawkins definitely puts a clear emphasis on church on the surface level.

Eddie brings out a bottle of water from his pocket. “Since you refuse to drink water unless I make you,” he teases, setting it down next to the assortment of food. “And a list of what you want me to do to you.”

There’s something behind the words and Jean thinks she knows what it is, but she wants to hear Eddie say it. “Do to me?”

Eddie cracks open the bottle and hands it to her, a sign for her to drink. She obeys the command. “Atta girl. And yes, a list of things you want me to do to you. I believe, and I quote, you ‘want to be useless.’ If I’m misunderstanding, then please, do tell.” It doesn’t feel strange to talk shop like this about their sex lives in the store. Eddie doesn’t really care if the bell over the door chimes and someone walks in. And maybe it’s easier because it’s Jean’s fantasy. It’s her needing him to coax this desire out of her to fruition and not the other way around. They are each other’s loopholes.

Jean grins around the swallows. “Okay.”

Eddie turns, looking over the toys, paddles, and lingerie on display. “Has anyone come in since I left?”

“A couple people who were trying to not be seen by the church crowd. Give it a couple hours and once it gets dark more people will show you.”

“Did you really mean it?” His question is barely a whisper. “Last night--did you mean what you said?”

“About wanting you to use me?”

Eddie nods, slowly raising his gaze to hers. She steps out from the register and stands toe-to-toe with him. “Let God smite me to smithereens right now if I was lying last night.”

He waits. Barely a second and a half, but still enough a pause to let any lightning that decides to strike to hit and then he takes her hand. “I just--I wanted to be sure. That’s a lot of trust, you know?”

Jean nods. “I know. Good thing I trust you.”

Eddie’s chest squeezes around the phrase, I trust you. She’d said it last night too. He’s grateful to hear it, because God only knows what he’d do to himself if she didn’t. The words--hearing Jean say this without the heat of the moment settles Eddie’s resolve. She does in fact mean it.

Their kiss is short, but sweet, interrupted by the chime of the door. Jean turns only to greet whomever walked in. A couple, most likely older given by the beard the man sports. Regulars, Jean knows though she doesn’t know anything about them personally. For obvious reasons. “Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

They smile and give a wave in return. “I’m sure we know the store just as well as you do,” the woman laughs and then they head over to where whips hang on the back wall.

Eddie watches only for a moment before facing Jean again with the quirk of his brow. She can only laugh, swatting at his chest. “Naughty ones aren’t they?” he whispers.

“God, you’re ridiculous. Did you eat, by the way?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Eddie returns. It comes quickly and Jean knows. Eddie probably was trying to spare what they had left for Wayne and rather than fixing something for himself is passing his portion on to her. A game two of them can play. She finds the sandwich on the counter and tears it in half, a little hard due to the mayo, but it gets roughly in half.

Eddie doesn’t miss how she gives him the slightly larger half either. Maybe it’s less about loopholes and more about the fact that their pieces fit together. The shared lunch passes in tufts of laughter. The patrons are in and out relatively quickly, coming in on a swift errand, and then there’s just Eddie and Jean working on their halves of the sandwich--bologna and mayo, but it does the job.

“Do you cook often?” Eddie inquiries around the last bite of his half.

“I try to. Learned from my mom. Hard now that I’m working all the time.”

“Could you teach me? Like I can make pasta and breakfast food and stuff. But like fancier things.”

Jean gives a nod, licking the small spurt of mayo that dripped onto her thumb. “Yeah, I can give you a hand. What are you planning anyway? You want me to make a list and help you cook? What’s going on?”

“It’s for when we give your fantasy a go. I know it won’t be a lot but I want to make it special.” Eddie pops open the bag of chips, stealing one of the sour cream and onion powered item before holding the bag out to Jean. It’s her favorite flavor though Eddie keeps trying to convert her to salt and vinegar.

“You don’t have to do all that, you know. I’m not asking you to be an expert, just you caring enough to try is enough.”

Eddie shakes the bag and Jean goes in for a handful. “You did a lot for me.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“Damn, and I was hoping to finally win something in my life right after I’ve won the heart of my girlfriend.”

Jean scoffs, teeth crunching into the chip. “You’re dramatic.”

“And you shouldn’t speak with your mouth full.” Jean retaliates by sticking out her tongue.

Eddie listens to the scratch of Jean’s pen from above him. Rather than leaving to only have to come back and waste gas, he asked for a spare chair and plopped himself down next to the counter, flipping through the store’s collection of soft pornographic magazine. Every so often he rotates the glossy pages to get a better angle and look at the pair of tits, but it’s mostly something just to pass the time. “I used to do better than this in middle school,” Eddie taunts, holding up a magazine to Jean for her to look at it.

She looks up from her list. List is being generous in description, if she’s honest, with the doodles and circles she’s been going over. “I mean those are nice boobs.”

Eddie re-evaluates the photograph. They are nice and round, hanging a bit like teardrops. “Prefer yours,” he concludes and then flips on.

“Why, thank you. I prefer yours too.”

Eddie holds up his middle finger without even looking up. Something soft presses on it followed by warmth and wetness. “That had better been your tongue and not something else.”

“Guess you’ll never know,” Jean retorts. The pen drops from her hands. The circles stare back at her. She’s not sure how to articulate what she wants in just a list. A list feels too dumbed down, but she gets the intent. It’s supposed to make it clear. It’s supposed to make sure that Eddie doesn’t cross a line. She looks back to the small pad in front of her and sighs. Articulating has never been Jean’s strong point. She’d much rather show it.

Pushing away from the counter, Jean slips behind the black curtain. She heads for the boxes of magazines that they usually ship out for orders that customers don’t want to pick up. Would it be ridiculous? Would Eddie, upon seeing what she was talking about, worry that she was pushing too far on the edge of the envelope. Jean finds the magazine and carries it back to the front, clutching it to her chest.

“I suck at making a list,” she starts, approaching Eddie slowly.

“You’ve been making circles for like an hour. I was starting to wonder when you’d just admit it.” There’s no malice in his tone. There’s a bit of humor to the words, too, that Jean can detect. Eddie sits up straighter in the scene, waving her forward. His hands tap lightly at his thighs. “What do you have?”

Jean settles down, sitting so her body is turned into his. Eddie spreads wider to accommodate her, her knees pressing into his thigh. He wraps an arm around her waist to keep her steady. “Sort of like this,” she starts, flipping slowly through the images. Tied up, gags, some of it looks like rope. She’s not entirely sure, given that she spends most of her time just packaging the items up when needed and not worrying or fussing too much about what’s inside. She peeks occasionally, which is why it caught her interest, but she didn’t go deep diving.

Eddie nods, taking the magazine into his grasp. “Guess I’ve got some studying to do.” He gives a soft exhalation of laughter. “Of course off school premises.”

“Of course.” Jean’s tender as she hooks some of Eddie’s hair behind his ear. “It doesn’t--it doesn’t have to be a lot. I mean it.”

“Hush. I’m studying,” Eddie returns with a toothy grin before mouthing over her chin. It results in lots of giggles Jean trying to push him back by his shoulders, but being too weak by her own laughter. He wishes she didn’t consistently try and downplay the things that made her excited. He wishes he could convince her that it stirs a little bit of desire in his gut as he looks through the images. He wants to make sure it doesn’t go too far, but still the prospect is still exciting. It was like when she approached him with the lingerie. They can reciprocate desires, share things that they didn’t think others would understand. Because they would--with each other, they would always understand.

Later in the evening, after getting Jean home safely and returning to the trailer, Eddie reads over the list. He’d put one together after looking through the magazine as Jean helped the last few customers for the night. One of them being someone who’d been dared to come into the shop by his friends and make a purchase to prove he’d come. It was only slightly awkward as the guy recognized Eddie from the performance the night before--he had a face that Eddie would remember so he assumes the kid isn’t from around here, but old enough to get into the Hideout. Possibly a friend of a friend. It felt nice to be recognized but the setting didn’t help much at all. And all the while Eddie scratched over the pad he’s brought for Jean with his own ideas brewing.

His eyes skim his scratchy handwriting.

Silks (or silk adjacent)

blind fold (or blind fold adjacent)

pillows (for knees)

gag?

paddle or whip?

safe word (HIGH priority)

There would be some improvisation of course on their behalf. Their budgets were only so big in their current circumstances. But it’s a start.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x black oc #eddie munson x black reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #h writes

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