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evergone · 3 months

Text

Rumours

Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: swearing.

Description: Theo and the reader aren't particularly close friends until a storm terrifies the reader, and Theo has to take her to her room. Scandal ensues.

Night began to ride in on the back of a storm and through the large windows looking out into the lake you could see schools of fish swimming further down to hide amongst the weeds and mud below the dungeon. Wrapped in a large cream coloured goat’s wool blanket, and layered in both a brown cotton jumper and your green-lined robe, you found warmth by the crackling fireplace as you sped through your Potions homework, well aware that you would never get it completely finished by Monday when it was due. Vanilla and chamomile candles lit themselves around the long common room and their scent wafted through the space, mixing with the smell of the burning wood and adding to the all-encompassing sense of home.

Lightning struck the lake, the first of what would be many times that night, and you waited anxiously for the oncoming thunder. It broke out from a whimper to a roar, so loud it shook the common room, and the two green glass bottles sat atop the elaborate stone mantelpiece of the fireplace swayed into each other with a quiet ‘clink!’ as if making a toast. Stress seized your mind, and while you contemplated moving away from the windows, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get up. Just about frozen from phonophobia, as well as from your complete mortification at the thought that someone unkind could discover this fear, you scribbled over your homework parchment absentmindedly.

As another bolt of lightning met with the lake, the entrance to the common room swung open and the ever-familiar voice of your dearest friend, Pansy Parkinson, and some of your other housemates disturbed the mostly silent space. Gaze transfixed on your homework, you didn’t notice them make their way across the deep green and shining silver mosaic floors until Theodore Nott overly fondly pushed you further to the edge of the lounge you were on and stole half of the blanket from you as he sat down. Thunder raged again in the gloomy, storm-charged atmosphere, twice as loud as the groups’ conversation and your body tightened to a tense.

As Theo made himself more comfortable, he threw you an awkward smile as a swift apology for invading your personal bubble.

The two of you were hardly friends, just friends-of-friends, and it was for no reason other than the convenience of the group that you were ever in each other’s company. Occasionally, there would be a free period that you’d both spend in the library and whoever had gotten there first would wave the other over and you’d sit together, but you’d only ever do your homework quietly across from each other. No chatting, no socialising, not even a ‘how are you liking the weather?’ You were fine with this, though, as both Theo and yourself were private people. Or, at least, you pretended to be fine with the unspoken arrangement.

“You okay?” he asked, interrupting your train of thought when his hand met the section of blanket covering your knee, and the earthly wonders he had for eyes met yours.

He must have felt you when you tensed.

Simplicity was an attribute of Theo’s that you truly admired and adored. He never said a word more than he needed to. You shook your head meekly like a shy child on her first day in kindergarten. Mascara seemed the only barrier stopping you from turning your lashes into a lawn covered in morning dew — you wouldn’t be seen having it run down your face, how would you possibly hide that from the judgemental eyes of the Slytherin population? Seeming to disregard your nonverbal response as a lie, Theo waved his wand and the snake-patterned blackout curtains fell over the windows, putting a distance between the common room and the outside world.

“Is it the noise?” he guessed in a hushed tone, careful not to draw the attention of any of the others.

“Mhm,” you hummed as your cheeks reddened (Merlin be damned for letting him of all people figure you out), “Could you get Pansy to walk me to my room?”

Over on the other lounge, Pansy sat preoccupied in Draco’s lap, twiddling her short black hair between her pointer and her thumb, and laughing in an obnoxious manner at a story Blaise had started to tell almost twenty minutes earlier in the courtyard. It was some long reach piece of gossip about one of those Weasley kids — Fred? George? One of the other ones whose names Theo couldn’t remember for the life of him? He hadn’t really been paying much attention. Rested in the back pocket of Pansy’s jeans was Draco’s hand, holding her firmly on top of him. Safe to say, Theo wouldn’t be pulling those two apart inconspicuously.

“I’ll take you,” he told you.

Softly, he abandoned the blanket that once sheltered you from the nibbling chill of the late-Spring air and stood up. Both Blaise and Draco noticed this and each raised a pitch black or platinum blonde brow respectively as a questioning gesture of Theo’s motives as he held his hand out to help you up. With Theo as your guide and support, you made your way up to your room, stopping halfway up the stairs when another bang of thunder made you jump and he had to grab your forearms to make sure you didn’t fall over. You apologised awkwardly, and avoided his gaze as best you could while cherishing every moment in which his hands were on you.

At your door, you made sure to thank him profusely and honoured him with an I-owe-you which he refused to acknowledge. After ensuring you would be okay, he returned to the common room and sat in the seat he had left. Blaise had made himself comfortable where you’d once been, and the entire group stopped their conversation in favour of silence.

“The fuck was that?” Draco asked loudly.

Thunder continued to rumble overhead in the grey of the storm, adding to the grandeur of the Slytherin common room that Draco’s obscenity disregarded. Unbothered and unwilling to explain your personal troubles to the king of being the opposite of understanding, Theo just shrugged in response, and focused in on the black-furred cat that had made its way into their area as he listened to the storm as if it were music.

“Oh, shit…” Pansy said, the realisation that you had been scared by the storm finally hitting her, “I gotta go.”

Leaving Draco with an affectionate peck on the cheek, Pansy retreated upstairs, likely to go take care of you, Theo presumed. In her wake, Draco and Blaise erupted into questions. A muddle of ‘are you guys dating?’s and ‘actually what the fuck’s and ‘I didn’t even know you liked her’s were thrown at Theo who had no ulterior motives behind taking you upstairs, he had just done so out of the simple kindness of his heart. Slytherins being Slytherins, however, couldn’t fathom that he would do anything purely out of kindness. Kindness didn’t come naturally in a house dedicated to ambition and self-preservation.

“You like her, Theo, admit it.”

“Shove off, Draco,” Theo spat, pulling the blanket back over himself, “You don’t know anything.”

“Defensive!” Blaise laughed and poked his friend’s shoulder, “You are the closest to her out of all of us guys.”

Truthfully, you and Theo did spend an awful lot of time together. But that was only out of consequence, the fact that you both thoroughly enjoyed reading meant you were both always in the library looking through the hundreds or possibly thousands of leather-bound books, and you seemed to frequently happen upon each other. Outside of the library, your time was limited only to group activities because you sat next to Pansy or Daphne Greengrass in almost every class you shared with Theo and never spoke to him. He didn’t think anything of your time together. Surely, there wasn’t much to think. Right? The pair of you — no, there wasn’t any “pair” to begin with, say, the individuals of you, yes, that’s right, the individuals. The individuals of you were just happy acquaintances, nothing more.

The fire was hardly big enough to keep Theo warm against the backdrop of a fiercely windy night that had turned even the secluded dungeons cold. Even under all its fur, the cat who had made itself comfortable right up next to the flames looked still to be shivering in the crisp air. It jumped up off the floor, where the stone mosaics weren’t warming up at all, and squished itself between Blaise and Theo.

“You know, she barely even talks to us,” Draco started, “We’re her friends, of course, but when Pansy or Daphne or you aren’t there she goes all quiet.”

“And she clearly trusts you, whatever that whole thing was—” Blaise made circular motions with his arms to refer to Theo taking her to her room— “She didn’t trust any of us with it.”

Theo huffed, “She wanted Pansy, but she was busy with his hand on her ass, I had an…” He searched for the right word, “Obligation to help.”

“Because Theodore Nott is renowned for helping people,” Draco scoffed, his tongue dripping with sarcasm.

By the time you were crouched over a table in the library the next morning, making a desperate last-ditch effort to complete that Potions homework before third period, the storm had subsided. Unfortunately for you, your most outspoken friend, Daphne, had brought with her a storm of her own.

“I heard a rumour,” Daphne began as she pinned her blonde side fringe back behind her ear.

“Oh, here we go!” Pansy sighed.

Numerous scrolls of parchment were littered over the desk in the library that the three of you had made your own and Pansy was sorting frantically through them looking for all the ones with her handwriting on them — she couldn’t even remember the amount she had written on. Stacks of books on the fundamentals of potions, charms and transfiguration threaded themselves between the scrolls and threatened to fall as her inattentive sorting had her reaching over and around them sloppily. With a creak, you leaned back in your chair taking a blind gander under the desk to find another three scrolls forgotten on the elephant print, medieval-style rug that covered the wooden floors and handed them to her.

“According to hearsay, you and Theo are having some kind of fling,” Daphne continued, “Care to comment, Y/n, my dear friend?” She held a fist out towards to mimic a reporter holding a microphone.

“Who told you that?” You asked, furrowed brows adorning your face like a weighted crown as you slapped her hand away.

She shrugged then took her own scrolls which were contained in a pile on a separate but close-by desk, and put them into the spacey grey-black satchel slung over her shoulder. Clock striking the hour, your two companions bid you adieu as they headed for Ghoul Studies. Unsure whether she had found all her scrolls, Pansy took one last glance at the desk before giving up altogether, stating that if she didn’t have it then it surely wasn’t important.

Left alone to drown in your inability to finish this Merlin-darned homework, your mind wandered to the somewhat unsavoury rumour concerning yourself and Theo that was supposedly making the rounds. Details of the night prior came back in sections, split up by bursts of terror ignited by the loud storm. Most of your memories were from the latter half of the night, curled up in Pansy’s arms singing to the wizarding hits of the last five or so decades. However, the earlier moments lingered on your side and your hand — the everlasting effects of Theo’s touch. By Salazar, what you wouldn’t give to feel him again.

As if your thoughts were summons, the very boy with whom you were engaged in the beginnings of a tumultuous scandal entered your space in the library. Drawing back the chair Pansy had once claimed beside you, Theo sat down, and set some parchment and ink on the desk alongside your books and half-finished assignments. He ran a hand through his tawny brown curls, breaking his near-perfect side part as his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath.

“You look exhausted,” you smiled, taking notice of his sweat slicked forehead.

You’d never started a conversation with him before.

“I spent the morning playing quidditch with Draco,” he said with a hint of anger.

You laughed gently and missed as the sound lit a spark in Theo’s eyes, convincing him to move his seat closer to yours. Surrounding the two of you was an air as warm as a campfire at school camp, or the fireplace under stockings on Christmas Day, or the oven after baking a fresh loaf of bread. Burdened by your workload, you dug straight back into your tasks, but Theo had other ideas. Parchment was less hardy than paper, and so your homework scroll was starting to fray, piquing his interest as he took a lose thread between his fingers and toyed with it. Eyes slimmed, brow raised, you sent him a look of confusion.

“Let’s not do our work today,” he announced.

“And do what instead?” You questioned, already having disregarded your quill in the inkpot, turned wild by the promise of adventure.

Easily, Theo stood up and raised his arms to stretch out his tall spine letting a set of cracks run down it from his shoulders to his hips. The black band of his underwear exposed itself as his white button-up school shirt lifted above his belly button, and you caught yourself mid-stare at his happy trail. He made a place for himself behind your chair, his upper body leant over your head like a tree you were using for shade as he inspected the shelves full of ancient books before you. If you had died right there, you would certainly have died happy.

He was looking for something to impress you (though he couldn’t exactly justify why he’d become suddenly inclined to do such a thing), something that would gain your attention, something he could recommend so you could go back to him to talk about it. For him to find that, you would have to leave the education section in favour of the leisure section. He held his hand out to assist you in standing for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, and you took it again; his high body temperature, and calm but bored aura encompassed you at the touch of your palms. When he let go, he waved the very same hand over your belongings to cast a spell that would pack everything into your brown leather shoulder bag that was leaning idly on the leg of your chair.

“Give me a sec,” he whispered, cautious of Madam Pince’s omni-audient ear.

There wasn’t a single book he could think of that he didn’t know you had already read. Always the avid reader, you were, from the moment you learnt the alphabet it seemed you couldn’t live without a book in one hand and a pencil for annotating in the other. When he finally came across something he thought you’d like, a compilation of poetry by some witch named Winters, he hurried back to lead you elsewhere.

You followed him like a stray puppy would follow the scent of food, and he took you outside to sit below two wych elms whose branches were tangled like lovers. Blooming expanses of creeping thyme coloured the soles of your shoes a pale pink-purple as you crushed them under your feet; you would be ever grateful for the house elves when they cleaned it off for you. Pollen tickled your nose and pricked your eyes, the sun’s rays created a sheen of light across the Black Lake, and the skies had cleared completely, leaving a blue vastness to watch over the castle.

Theo laid down and passed you the poetry book, “For you.”

Taking it from him and flipping through the pages, you nodded your thanks and rested your head on the ground next to him. Human silence overcame the little space you two had made for yourselves and the sounds of nature, birds chirping, bees buzzing, leaves rustling, were the only things left to be heard anywhere near. In the distance, there was a faint echo of classes being taught, but so far away that it you wouldn’t be able to hear it unless you strained yourself immensely.

“Did you finish that potions homework?” Theo asked.

Another laugh escaped your mouth, “When have I ever finished potions homework on time?” You said with a newfound confidence, “Snape takes five house points from me in every class.”

An amused close-lipped smile spread across his face, “And here I’ve taken you away from your studying.”

“I wouldn’t have done it anyway,” you sighed, content with your predicament.

Frost-speckled grass kissed your cheek as you turned to look at him, the remnants of Winter still lasted so far into Spring. Theo turned as well, taking in every scar, freckle and acne bump that was blessed by belonging to you.

“Let’s read this together,” you said, and opened to the first page of the book he had found for you.

“No!” He rushed out, stealing it back, and placing it on the other side of him.

Confusion danced a ballet over your soft features while a blush spun savagely over his strong, sharp traits. One of your arms, your right that was furthest away from him, reached across his body in blind hope to find the gift he had so abruptly rescinded. The mole above his mouth slinked forward as he bit his bottom lip, and slid the book under the curve of his back so you’d never be able to grab it. Nevertheless, you flipped onto your stomach and shot your hand underneath him, crumbling as you got stuck under his weight.

“What are you doing?” You giggled, “Why can’t I read it?”

“I want to get it right,” explained Theo, “I picked this out on a whim, give me some time to choose something better suited for you, yeah?” You frowned so he quickly added, “Please?”

Under long lashes that appeared almost naked without the layers of mascara you usually covered them with, your enthralling e/c irises stared at him, teleporting him into the mazes of your mind where he intended to get lost. Retracting your frown and wriggling your arm out from underneath him, you lazed the side of your forehead against his shoulder which, to both yours and Theo’s surprise, struck up an affectionate sensation in your chests. From your position you could feel the way his heart pushed and pulled the blood through his veins and arteries, the tender ‘dun-dun’ of his heartbeat causing his whole body to pulse to an organised rhythm.

Five years you had known Theo and while one wouldn’t be wrong to call you associates, I must reiterate that you were never really friends. Seeing him in the library during your corresponding free periods was nice, you supposed, but you suddenly realised that you hated how far you drifted outside of the library’s book-covered walls. The previous night had been the first time in what was likely forever that you had spoken exclusively to one another without the guidance of a third party. Really, you just wanted to get to know him better, see the sides of him that didn’t show during a dead-silent hour alone in the library.

“Well, since you asked so politely,” you said with a sincere smile.

Theo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before he was given the chance by Daphne’s high-pitched, intrusive voice screaming at you from across the field of creeping thyme, “You whores are never beating these allegations!”

Her volume gave you half a heart attack and you jolted upright, deserting Theo’s shoulder, and glancing over your own to see Daphne approaching the two of you with Blaise, Pansy, Draco, Tweedledum and Tweedle-dee on her heel. Clearly, the bell had rung for break, but between your great library escape and book shenanigan, neither of you had cared to check the time. How the others had found you was beyond your capacity to think as you waited for your heart to settle and your forehead to cease sweating following Daphne’s ear-piercing entrance.

“What allegations?” He asked her, thick eyebrows glaring, not at her, but at the content of her conversation.

“Y/n didn’t tell you?” She said, “You’ve been swept up in a scandal. Everyone thinks you guys are getting it on.”

Vulgar motions were made with her hands, sending Crabbe and Goyle into a bout of immature laughter. Flushed red with embarrassment, you avoided the look Theo was more-than-likely throwing your way by connecting your own line of vision with Pansy’s. She bit her tongue, widened her eyes, and nodded harshly in Theo’s direction, urging you to look at him. But you were so terribly embarrassed that you took to your feet, and ran away from your friends, ignoring them as they called out for you to come back.

You found the first broom closet that would open at the utterance of ‘Alohomora,’ and found solace in the cramped, yet perfectly concealed hiding spot. As your hands came up to cover your eyes, the humiliation of, not only the rumour, or the fact that you were caught in such a compromising position with Theo, but of the fact that you had fooled yourself into starting to think that you and Theo were building something, overcame you. Once you decided the coast would be clear, and your friends would have all returned to their classes, you opened the broom closet door, your eyes stinging with the remains of tears.

Standing before you with a look of knowing and understanding that was so much beyond friendliness, was Theo. His hands were in his pockets, and he had slung both your bag and his own over his wide shoulders.

“How did you find me?” You said quietly, and wiped your eyes, hoping you could hide their inevitable redness.

“The others were headed to Potions, but I heard you sobbing, and thought I should wait until you were ready to come out,” he responded just as softly.

“Why would you do that? You know Snape doesn’t take late homework submissions! You’re coming third-in-class!” You exclaimed.

Worry flashed behind your eyes, and he quickly leant down, and reached out to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, “Hey, hey, it’s alright! I took you away from your study first, Y/n, it’s only fair that we both fail.”

That classic frown of yours graced your beautiful features, and Theo had to withhold the urge to sigh with infatuation. It was a blessing to behold you, even when your cheeks and eyes were so puffy and irritated, and your nose was beginning to run a little. However gross it was was eclipsed by how perfect you were.

“Why are you so upset, huh?” He asked you in a gentle tone.

A small sniffle preceded your reply, “There’s this tasteless rumour about us, and I was just starting to realise how much I like being around you, and now it’s all ruined!”

Theo laughed his mellifluous, musical laugh which frustrated you into an even deeper frown, then he said, “A stupid rumour couldn’t ruin us.”

Glancing up at him, you allowed your frown to soften. He had said ‘us.’ What in the world did that mean? What, or who, was ‘us?’ Did he mean the two of you? Your thoughts ran as rampant and crazy as they had earlier when he first proposed the idea of skipping out on your study period. Quickly, you began to hypothesise all sorts of meanings and justifications for his choice of words.

“And, for the record, I love being around you, too,” he said.

Without warning, your body became charged with that uncharacteristic confidence that had only started to appear the night before, and you leant in to place your forehead on Theo’s. He looked downright idiotic from that angle, but you saw firsthand how his line of vision flickered down to your lips, and back up to your eyes. And you thought, if people must think you’re messing around with someone, you wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

“Would you like to — Do you want to…?” You had read hundreds of books on romance, but still you couldn’t think of the words.

“Can I…?” Neither, it seems, could he.

You placed your hand on the back of his neck, and pulled him in. His lips were were raging fires, yours were wax, melting at the touch of heat. Notes of nutmeg and cypress hit your nose — his cologne. His hands gripped your waist, just lower than could be written off as friendly, and he kissed you so passionately that any onlooker would think the rumours so obviously confirmed.

Eventually, he pulled away, and you just stared at each other in total wonder. There was no way you could possibly discredit those rumours now.

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moonmunson · 1 year

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electric touch - eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.

warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end

word count: 2.8k

a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child

When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update.

There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters.

He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn’t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting.

Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that.

For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.

He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again.

Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud.

Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth.

Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.”

The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to.

You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake.

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I-”

There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.

It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller.

As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner.

“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”

“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”

Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short.

“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”

“Stuck with you?”

“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?”

“Absolutely,” you nod.

“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.”

“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.

“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”

“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”

“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”

“Eddie.”

“Y/n.”

“I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet.

“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.”

Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him.

“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.

“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Maybe. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you.

You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer.

“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”

“I get to see the King’s quarters?”

“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”

“Lead the way then, dungeon master.”

He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either.

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched.

“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs.

“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”

“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark.

“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.

“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”

“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.”

“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.”

“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable.

“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”

“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed.

“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.”

Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath -

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.”

“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet.

“Yeah, Eddie. Really.”

His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times.

That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts.

“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey.

“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”

You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours.

“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson my beloved #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine

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coeurify · 2 years

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perfect girl | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. word count 6.8k. proofread barely. part two here

ellie is the most known dealer on campus, and reader is a stuck up, bitchy, sorority girl. somehow ending up near each other at every party, despite constant fighting. this party is no different, at first

this is smut, 18+ only. included use of pet names, mean!ellie, mean!reader, name calling.. fingering r!receiving.. etc. its a bit filthy. i wrote when high

Honestly, you hated frat parties. The loud music, the humid air and noisy college students that all reaked of jungle juice and sweat. None of it appealed to you— you always left feeling dirty and with a headache. But being in the university’s biggest sorority meant it was sort of a needed appearance.

Even now, when you were stressed beyond belief over the three different exams on monday morning. You had still been dragged out by your sorority sisters with the promise of a great party.

It never was great though. Never.

Usually you found yourself shoo-ing off shirtless frat boys advances, cup in your hand that had a bit too much cheap vodka and too little juice. If you had to deal with these things, you may as well be tipsy enough for it.

Though, the alcohol never made you any less in control of yourself. Control was what you valued most, being able to easily keep yourself in check. Making sure your well taken care of clothes never crinkled, ensuring no piece of hair was out of place. This in turn usually meant you took the role of watching over your sorority sisters. Eyeing any boys who got too touchy when they were drunk, snapping at frat guys when they didn’t take a hint. cleaning their face of tears or sweat, reapplying their mascara or lip gloss when they couldn’t. Holding their drinks with your perfectly manicured hands when they needed to pee.

You didn’t judge them for how they acted, you knew they were just having fun. Sometimes you wish you could let go like that too, join in on their dances.. giggle loudly and flirt with boys with drunken courage. But you never did. You probably wouldn’t tonight, even when your friend Dina had taken the role of sober one of the group so you could try and have fun. You still just stood straight up and watched on.

You were untouchable, everyone knew it. You saw the way boys looked at you— like they were falling over themselves just for a chance you might talk to them. Girls whispered about you, whether it be good or bad.. you didn’t exactly care. You had been called a prissy bitch one too many times to truly give a shit what other twenty somethings had to say about your attitude. You enjoyed being something no one could reach. It made you feel powerful. You rarely gave anyone that wasn’t your friends the time of day at these things, and god did it drive people crazy.

You always positioned yourself somewhere like the drink table at every party, watching on as if it was a live show for you to consume. In some ways it was.. you were always a watcher, never involved. So looking on was usually your only source of fun at these things.

Tonight was no different— eyes steady on the large group of people dancing, more so falling over each other, in the center of the room. It was grossly humid, and the flashing lights hurt your eyes. Everyone was pressed too close together— far too big of a crowd for this tiny off campus fraternity.

You found a more open place between the scratchy and old couch and the pop up plastic table. It held half empty bottles and a punch bowl full of some concoction that made you shake your head at girls when they tried to take a cup.

You stand stiffly against the wall— refusing to sit, let alone lean against the couch next to you. You didn't even want to imagine how disgusting it was.. swearing it was a lighter shade of grey last time you were here. This choice of station however was opening yourself up to a night of pure torture from a particular presence that seemed to haunt every. fucking. frat party.

Ellie Williams. Right on cue she walked over, ignoring you as she plopped down onto the couch with a few of the frat boys. She opens a little bag and turns in to face them. Of course. Obviously the stoners would choose the couch as their designated spot for the night.

Even if she had not acknowledged you, you already were burning with annoyance. The orange lighting currently overhead painted you the same color your insides felt. A growing flame, dull and orange in the pit of your stomach.

Ellie was a usual attendee at these parties. But not with a group of friends or some sorority like a normal person. No, Ellie was the chosen dealer for most fraternities of the university.. meaning she almost always showed up to smoke and give out to stingy college students.

But god, you could not understand what made her the choice for these people. You found her utterly obnoxious. She was loud— had the mouth of a sailor, and was always making god awful jokes. She had no shame— outwardly talking to whoever she wanted however she wanted, flirting with girls no matter the situation. Because Ellie also referred to sit out on the side of the parties, it meant you unfortunately spent a lot of time around her. You heard every stupid joke, smelt every gross joint, watched every girl swoon over her atrocious flirting. It was miserable really.

And god did she love to annoy you. It was too easy. She had discovered that at the start of last spring semester, and since then, almost a year ago, had made it a fun game for her. It became routine — and you swore she did it on purpose. Found somewhere close to you, invaded your space, and made the party even worse. Ellie would never admit that though.

Tonight wasn’t different. You couldn’t avoid your eyes drifting to where she was collecting cash from a few frat guys, loudly laughing and making jokes about some Jurassic Park movie that a frat guy promised to put on the projector later.

“Nah, the second one is way better!” The frat boy, Josh from Sigma something-something (you didnt care to remember the names) argued.

Ellie quickly shook her head, and you noticed she was wearing that messy half up half down hairstyle you once told her looked dumb. “You fucking idiot, the first is way better! It's iconic and so are the dinosaurs in it!” she fights back, lightheartedly shoving Josh’s arm.

God, did she have to be so loud? It was already loud enough with the shitty music playing. You tuned out the rest of the conversation.. or attempted to. Ellie’s laugh made its way up and over the beat of the song playing. You looked over again, watching the way her head fell back. Even from here you could see the freckles on her face. The low colorful flashing lights of the room made them hard to see sometimes, though. Not that you cared.

Eventually, Josh and the three other boys got up and moved away from the couch— emptying the line of sight from you to Ellie. She caught your gaze before you could look away, and smiled that stupid cocky smile she always did.

“Need somethin’ princess?” Ellie questioned as she scooted to the seat closest to the edge you stood closest to. The name made you clench your fist tightly around the cup in your hands. She had adopted this nickname for you after commenting about 1200 times how you dressed and acted at these parties. ‘Stuck up princess’ she had called you after one particular comment. It stuck after that.

“Nope,” you popped the P, sipping at the vodka in your cup and refusing to meet her eyes again.

“You were staring.”

“Was not, you got my attention by being obnoxiously loud,” you bit back.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.”

You scoffed, turning your nose up and looking at the center of the party again. Mentally you counted your friend group and where they all were in the crowd. One finger came to press a strand of hair back into your hairdo, and then press a hand to smooth your shirt. You just wanted to get through the next hour or two and get home to study.

You can hear the flick of a lighter next to you, and bite back a sigh. Ellie had been sitting here all of five minutes and had already resorted to smoking. Unsurprisingly.

When the smell soon invades the small space between you, and that flame of annoyance in your belly grows to a small blaze.

At first you ignore it, sniffing and rubbing your nose like it would make the smell disappear. You glance around the room, eyeing some particularly loud and annoying men who were whooping and hollering. Soon though, the smell became too much. You turned to face the couch.

“Ugh,” you make a noise of disgust, loud enough for Ellie to turn her head to you. You pair the sound with a (very dramatic) scrunched up nose. “You smell horrible.”

Ellie smiles in a lazy sort of way, legs spread comfortably on the couch and head leaned slightly to look at you. She makes it a point to blow the next puff from the joint straight at you— enjoying the way your hands come to swat away the smoke like it was poison. “S’ just weed princess.. can't hurt you.”

Your arms cross, and Ellie watches as they press against the pretty baby blue lace shirt you're wearing.. too clean, too soft for a party like this. “It can make me stink though, like I already pointed out. Some of us care about things like personal hygiene, Williams,” you argue, to which she whistles, adding a quiet, “damn, low blow..”

She sits up straighter, leaning forward to inspect you. Seeing the pretty skirt that falls to your mid thigh— Ellie doesn’t doubt even for a moment that the white fabric caught lingering stares of every horny drunk college boy in the room when you walked in with your group.

But here you were, choosing to insult her instead of entertaining a single one of them.

“What's the reason for stick up your ass tonight?” She asks, making your eyes roll.

“Oh screw you, I’m acting perfectly reasonably.”

Ellie actually laughed at that, loudly enough to make you turn your head in embarrassment. “The way you act with me is never reasonable actually, but tonight is extra bad. You look stiffer and didn’t even attempt to be civil.”

It annoyed you even more that she noticed the stress radiating off of you so easily. She always could— it made her even better at pulling on the threads of you that made you most annoyed. She knew how to get a rise out of you.

“It's absolutely none of your business, Ellie,” you snap. Maybe it was a little harsh for such a simple question, but the auburn haired girl beside you got that out of you easily.

“God, would it kill you to be a little less bitchy for one night?” her green eyes narrowed in at you and she took another puff of the joint. Your eyes followed as she tilted her head up to the ceiling to blow out the smoke.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Fuck you too, princess.”

There's a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, lights flashing now between a deep blue and green. The toe of your shoe tapped into the wood of the floor, the repeated motion serving as a distraction from the annoyance that Ellie caused. Your mind falls back to the exams you have to study for tonight.

The distraction quickly ends when the voice you had come to recognize anywhere popped up again. “Can you chill out? I can hear your shoe tapping from here.”

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can you shut the hell up? Go back to your joint and leave me alone.”

Ellie just scoffs, mumbling something about you needing the smoke more than her.

You ignore it, but can't deny how your mind wanders to the comment. What would it be like to smoke? Would it take the edge off like everyone said? You had only tried once or twice before.. both at a small get together where you ended up having to sober up quickly to care for your drunken friends.

“Seriously,” Ellie says a bit louder. “Come sit and have a smoke.”

“Excuse me?” you look at her like she had suggested the two of you take your clothes off mid party. Or she had suddenly grown two heads. It would offend her, the clear disgust— if she didn’t know you so well.

“There's a huge group of drunk guys walking over right now-“ she pointed with one of her fingers to where they were passing some game of beer pong. “If you stay there you’ll just get more pissed off and strung up when they bump into you and shit.”

You eye the group, slightly annoyed that Ellie was again right about how you would react. You glance then at the couch, at the weird dark stain and uncomfortable looking material. “I'm not smoking. But if you want me to sit? Take off your sweatshirt.”

Now it was Ellie’s turn to ask, “Excuse me?”

You make a face at her, pointing to the gross couch. “I’m not sitting on that nasty couch. If you want me to sit? take off your sweatshirt and let me use that.”

You know it's a bratty request, and neither you or Ellie look away from each other for a moment, not knowing who was going to make the first move. You almost regret it, and then Ellie reaches to the bottom of her sweatshirt.

It sends some sort of shockwave through you when she pulls the material over her head. You convince yourself it's because you feel like you have won, gotten your way over the girl you hated. Definitely not because her undershirt rode up for a moment, or that her sleeve tattoo was now on display.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she says in a exasperated tone, but still lays the sweatshirt across the seat on next to her on the couch.

You smile sarcastically, “Mhm, thanks,” you move to the front of the couch, holding your skirt down as you sit on top of her sweater and press forward, sitting straight up so the back of your shirt doesn't hit the couch. You felt Ellie’s eyes on you, on the very large gap between you. “I can't infect you with something you know?” the auburn haired girl says a bit slowly.

“Haven’t I said it a million times? You smell bad.”

Ellie’s lip quirk into a smile and she doesn’t reply, placing the joint between her lips again and lighting it for another drag.

Just like she described, the group of college boys clambered over to the drink table, invading the corner you were just standing in to shout loudly and put the bottles wildly into cups. You cringe, shifting in your seat. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were glad Ellie had asked you to sit now.

The two of you didn’t talk, for a moment you watch Ellie’s freckled cheeks suck in slightly as she takes a drag, and watch her lips part to blow it out. Unable to tear your eyes away until a new voice comes from in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Ellie glances up for a split second before going back to looking uninterested in the boy trying to start conversation with you.

“Yep,” you answer plainly as you look at him. You recognized him in a blurry sort of way. His name started with an L… Lucas.. Leo.. La-

“Im Liam, from the last party,” he explains before you finish your train of thought. “Right, Liam.”

Liam bounces a bit on his heels, which embarrasses you. You fight the urge to curl your lip at the sight. “I was wondering if you wanted to go chill with a few of my friends and girls from your sorority upstairs? We’re gonna smoke and play games like seven minutes in heaven.”

Beside you it feels like someone has stiffened, but you ignore it. You let your face drop to look even more uninterested. “Seven minutes in heaven? Really? What are we? Fifteen?”

Liam flushes, clearing his throat to talk again. You just shake your head to stop him. “I don't smoke either so no thank you, Liam. Im good.”

The boy slumps a little. “Right. Maybe next time,” and then he turns on his heel and walks off.. looking like a dog with its tail between their legs.

Ellie chuckles, making that fire come back to your belly. You turn quickly— eyeing her. “What's funny, Williams?”

“He totally wanted to fuck you,” Ellie shrugs, watching until Liam disappears up the stairs.

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, picking at your painted nails to keep the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Fuck off.”

“Trust me, I know these guys. Every party one of them tries to get in your pants, and you turn them down every single time.”

Ellie looks smug as she says it— and you want to wipe the look off her fucking face. Acting like she knew something, like she could tell you more about what was happening than you could.

“You don’t know shit Ellie,” you argue, unable to bite back the slightly misplaced anger anymore, leaning forward. “Why do you even care? Are you obsessed with me or something? Not everyone wants to fuck everything that walks.”

The words have a bite to them, bitter on your tongue. Your chest’s rise and fall is speeding up as you finish speaking. You watch as Ellie’s eyes get darker in the light, the flashing lights stop into a solid red as some song with the color name begins.

“And why do you care who I fuck? hm? Maybe you do need to get laid by one of those guy’s falling all over you. Might make you a little less of a strung up bitch,” Ellie’s voice is harder now, aiming to displease you more so than before.

It works, the flame in you spilling over to a whole fucking house fire at the comment. Your hand instinctively grips your cup, reaches forward and dumps it all over Ellie’s chest.

Silence follows, and you immediately regret it.. knowing you took it too far. This quiet is uncomfortable enough to make you squirm, pressing further away from the wet patch growing on the cushion. Ellie looks at her shirt, very slowly raising her head to look dead at you.

“Get up.” It's not a question when she says it, harsher tone than she had ever used with you.

For once, you don’t immediately bite back. “Wha-“

“Get up. You just fucking dumped your drink on me, you can help me fix it,” Ellie demands again. She puts out the joint on the table nearby, messy enough to make you cringe.

You can't tell how red her face is because of the lights.. but you are sure she is fuming. The way she is stiff and slow with her movements to stand a clue enough.

That’s why you don't fight to scramble to your feet after her when she starts walking. Your fingers grip at the sweatshirt under you, holding it in your hand as she pushes past people to get to a room nearby. You follow quickly behind— watching curious eyes follow you chasing after the other. The red lights hide the growing blush on your cheeks, the music pounding in tandem with your heart.

When she pushes open a door, you squeeze in quickly after her.

Ellie’s tattooed arm reaches to the side of you where the doorknob is, and her fingers move to lock it. You swallow at the proximity, ducking away quickly.

She doesn’t speak as she peels the now wet shirt from her frame— throwing it on the floor near the bed. Your eyes don't look away as she does so. In fact, you can’t tear them away.

Her body is toned, more so than you would have expected. Not that you thought of her shirtless before or anything. Her fingers ghost gently over her own skin, wiping any extra wetness. Your pupils follow the way the digits move.

What doesn’t surprise you however, is the sports bra that lays beneath the shirt. It's snug against her skin, and you watch as she tugs it back into the right place. You watch her breathe, heavy and unsteady, a clear sign she is not exactly calm at the moment.

“You are such a fucking brat, you know that?” Her blazing eyes meet your own— and you almost shrink. This Ellie.. She was different. You are no longer burning with the anger her face usually ignites in you. No, this fire is all different.

“Oh cat got your tongue now, princess? for once you don't have a stuck up comment to make hm?” She steps closer to you, looking down to where her sweatshirt hangs from your fingertips.

“Put my sweatshirt back on me.”

The words make your mouth go slack, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Fuck off, Ellie.”

“Im serious,” her hair is more messy now, strands falling in front of her face as she stares at you. “You made me take it off for you, so now you can put it back on me. Fair is fair, princess.”

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, shaking your head at the suggestion.

“You do it or I go out there, tell the frat hosting that you’re a crazy bitch who spilt her drink on me. You and your sorority sisters would get blacklisted from every party before those pretty eyelashes could even blink.”

It's a threat. A threat to your power, the social standing within your group and the general university. A threat to your ego as a whole, the thought you would be the cause of something like that. It also was a quick reminder that no matter what you said to her at these parties, she was the one with the power. You could insult and poke at her all you wanted.. but Ellie was the one with half of the people out in that room down the hallway wrapped around her finger. Her.. business determined that.

You purse your lips, meeting the green eyes staring at you again. It's another fight for power. Seeing who will crack under the tension first. You find yourself noticing the freckles that dust her face again, and a small red mark on her cheek you had not really paid attention to before. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you look away in defeat.

Ellie knows she won, stepping even closer to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of her. It does something to you that you wouldn’t like to admit, your knees going ever so slightly weak. She pushes a fallen strand of auburn hair back behind her ear while waiting for your next move.

It comes a second later, shuffling the sweatshirt in your hand to the right position, leaning forward to push the hoodie part over Ellie’s head, fingers shaking when they brush against her bare shoulder. You can't admit to yourself that it isn’t because of some annoyance that you were reacting like this. She helps a bit when you drag the sweatshirt down her chest by pushing her arms through the sleeves.

When it's finished, you both linger for a moment, your nails still near her waistline. It only ends when she steps back, gaze still set on you.

“You gonna say sorry?” she asks, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You shake your head. “Fuck. Off.”

Ellie tsks, watching your every movement. She didn’t ignore how your eyes had been all over her tonight, how you couldn’t look away when her shirt was off. And god, what would be a better way to win whatever this was than taking what she wanted from you.

“Cmon, you know I was right about what I said,” she steps around you and then forward, smiling as you continue to back away everytime she gets closer. when the back of your leg hits the bed, you stop. “You do need to get fucked, might make you a little less miserable to be around.”

Her voice has fallen more quiet, a little something new to the way she spoke.

“But you don’t want one of those dicks outside to do it, do you?” it's accusatory when it's said, enough to make you realize where this conversation was going.

God, you would never admit it out loud. not even to yourself. Everytime you avoided a guy’s advance to instead bicker with Ellie all night. The times you insulted her about something because it made you warm all over, like a certain hairstyle or shirt. You blamed her a lot for annoying you, for those jokes she makes— for how she bothers you. But in honesty, you just hated that you couldn’t look away. Not from her face, her hands, the way she smokes, or spreads her legs open when she sits. It’s absolutely infuriating how much you think of her. But you had always kept it deep enough to not think about it until she brought it up herself.

“No, that's why you always turn them down.. why you always look at me after you do. God, you don't even realize it do you?” A shocked sort of chuckle escaped her lips, like she couldn’t believe this realization either. Her finger moves to a strand of your hair that must have fallen while you chased after her.

“You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you princess? That's why you are always such a little priss, isn't it. Get you so hot and bothered you just can't help but be mean?”

When you don't answer, Ellie reaches forward quickly to grab your wrist, gaining your attention. “Answer me.”

“No- I don’t fucking want you Ellie,” you choke it out, like it burned your throat to say. It was worse than a shot of whatever they had outside this door.

“If you don’t want me, then walk away right now. But this is your only chance. No more after this. You can't get one of those asshole frat guys instead. No more entertaining the little arguments you start. No more ignoring when you stare at m-“

You can't even let her finish her words before you crash forward, meeting her lips in an immediately messy kiss. She swears against your lips before dropping your wrist, arms instead moving to your hips, pressing you flush against her body. You want to pull away, regain the control you so desperately cling to— want to run off and out of the party.

But once the kiss deepens, once her tongue swipes against your lips.. you’re a goner.

You whimper when she bites your bottom lip harshly, and she swallows the sound with another burning kiss. You pull her to fall back onto the bed with you, and she immediately manhandles you further onto the bed, taking position over you and not apologizing when your head slams roughly into the headboard.

“Asshole,” you whine, she digs her fingers into your hip to shut you up as her teeth drag down to your neck, wet kisses and small bites pressing there until she finds the spot that makes you shiver, hand slapping against her arm, pretty nails pressing into the skin.

She bites harder, pulling a louder yell from you. She then sucks over the spot, soothing it with another swipe of her tongue. The throbbing feeling will no doubt result in a mark— and Ellie seems to know exactly that.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” she mumbles against your skin as she sucks another spot, controlling your hips with one hand when they try to buck up.

“All those other girls are gonna know when you wake up with these littered all over your neck tomorrow-“ another bite. “Gonna know what happened, what the perfect little sorority girl did with me.”

The comment draws another noise from you, and the heat pools between your legs, embarrassingly turned on by the thought of that humiliation sure to follow walking out of this room later. You can feel your panties going damp when she doesn’t let up the assault on your neck and collarbone.

You can smell the weed on her when her head dips closer to you again, and for once you don’t mind it. You meet her lips, shaky hand still gripping at the inked skin of her arm.

She's so controlled in her movements, enjoying how you are already a squirmy mess, enjoying how she has control. It's nothing like the Ellie she was in public, loud and joking. No, she was completely serious and calculated with every single swipe of her finger, every movement of her lips. One hand roughly goes to your chest, pushing up your shirt above your breasts, not bothering to even do the kindness of taking it off all the way.

“Mm, no bra?” Ellie questions mockingly, pulling back from your wet lips— acting like she hadn’t noticed the lack of one the moment you turned to face her at this damn party.

You shake your head, reduced to little words.

Ellie watches you carefully, at your puffy lips, at the way your perfect hair is now falling in chunks against the pillow. God, what a sight. You, untouchable and pristine.. reduced to being fucked on a stranger’s bed in a frat house. By her.

“Want me to touch you here?” she questions, fingers ghosting over your nipples.. smiling when they pebble at the softest touch. Your back arches, searching for more skin to skin as you nod quickly.

“Nuh Uh- words, princess, need you to say it.”

You glance at her, one side of you fighting against this feeling of submission you can feel yourself falling into. In an act of defiance, your hand comes up and over her larger one, pressing it down against the skin of your breast, breathing out a moan instead of answering her question.

This however was a bad idea, and she immediately pulls completely back, quick to grab your face harshly between her palm. “You fucking brat,” Ellie seeths, your lips pressing open just slightly at how hard she is pressing her hand. The roughness only makes you wetter, and you attempt to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.. but Ellie is faster, slotting a knee in between your legs as she looks down at you, free arm holding herself up.

“No, you don’t get anything from me, no relief for that throbbing feeling you have im sure,” she says it so cockily that you think you may melt into the sheets beneath you. “Not till you admit you want me. Admit you want me to touch you.”

Your face burns a bright red, angry and embarrassed at the same time. You tried to avoid this admittance, ready to die on the hill to protect your already bruised ego.

But then Ellie moves her knee slightly, a shock goes straight through your core. Even the smallest movement had you trying to push down against her needily. She squeezes your face harder. “Just say it, I can make you feel so much better if you just admit it.”

The line your dignity was tiptoeing on is fraying, taken over by the bowling ball amount of weight from the desire in your stomach. The second her knee moves again, the string breaks.

“Please,” you beg, watching as Ellie’s eyes light up at the words, “Ellie I want you to touch me.”

Ellie smiles, reveling in how embarrassed you look. “Where baby?”

You suck in a breath, too far gone to keep fighting, “my pussy, please, please Ellie.. need you to.”

You’re squirming all over now, whining and feeling your throat tighten. Your lip gloss is all over your (and Ellie’s for that matter) chin, and your shirt is still just pushed over your chest. It makes Ellie shake her head. “God, you look pathetic. What happened to you hm? Where’s that put together girl you love to brag about being?”

Any words to snap back die in your throat, her mean tone is making your mind too foggy. The way you are totally at the mercy of her body, of the way she talks to you.. It’s addicting. The feeling of letting go of that control and power you hold so tightly onto.. It's almost as good as the sensation of her knee starting to move more regularly against your center.

“You look like a whore,” she laughed meanly. You are sure it’s true, your skirt is falling down, your hair has snapped out of its tie. Her hand lets go of your chin, and you move your mouth slightly at the soreness. The freedom is short- lived however, and two fingers are tapping your cheek soon after.

“Open,” Ellie says, smiling when you do so immediately. “See, it's not hard to be a good girl.”

She sinks the two fingers into your waiting mouth, one quick demand to, “Suck,” is all you need to close your mouth around them.

You aren’t careful about it, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth when she starts thrusting the fingers in and out slightly, watching in amusement as she curls her long fingers slightly, making you gag. “So fucking messy,” she mumbles.

Her pupils are just as blown out as yours when she speaks again, pulling her fingers out after deeming they were wet enough. A line of spit follows, connecting to your lips.

She wipes the excess across your face, furthering that deep embarrassment that builds in you. “‘m gonna fuck you now, princess.”

She says it as she makes you sit up with her on the bed, arm pulling to set you up how she wanted, knees tucked under your thighs on each side of her lap. You let her push and tug you around— fully dumbed out for her at this point. Desperate for some relief.

her fingers play with your skirt for a moment, and you both watch intently as they disappear under it. You push into her, earning a quick look. “Be good,” the girl demands.

You stop your movements, mumbling something Ellie can't understand. The pad of her finger slides over your clothed slit— humming at the wet feeling.

“You’re fucking soaked,” she shook her head, “All from what? Cause I was mean to you? Just from my knee, baby? How pathetic.”

Another whine rips from your throat, head falling to her shoulder. She shrugs it to force your head up again. “Want ya to look at me while I do this,” she explains— green eyes now mostly black as they meet your own. You nod, trying to please her enough for the next move.

“Atta girl..” she praises.

Your panties are pushed to the side as she sinks a singular finger into you— both of you moaning at the feeling. You’re so warm and tight around her that she gets dizzy, a warmth pooling in between her own legs. But tonight, It was about you. It was about proving who had the control here.. who could make you feel so good.

“Fuck,” you blubber, not getting a chance to savor the feeling before shes moving it in and out quickly, and then she is adding another finger.. and a minute after that, another. It's stretching you so well, so perfectly that you swear you could come right there. But you don’t, eyes set on her own— a hard look on her face as she watches your reactions. She leans closer, wanting to hear every little breath, every whimper.

“What would they think, hm?” Ellie huffs, pressing further into you. “All those frat boys who eye you up at every party,” she adds with a particularly hard thrust. “What do you think they would say if they found out it was me you got up that pretty little skirt first?” She whispers against your ear. Each word is emphasized with a press of her fingers, each rougher.. deeper, than the last.

You can feel your cheeks burning, and you blink away the tears welling in your eyes. You can't help the reaction— it's too much. She’s too much. The feeling is stealing all coherent words and thoughts from your mind— making you a teary and whining mess.

It made a fire flick in Ellie’s lower stomach— knowing she was the cause of pristine, pretty, perfect you— looking so messy. So fucked out. All from just her fingers. From her words.

“Too dumb to answer?” she teases, “too drunk on my fingers to even say anything?”

You shake your head like it isn’t true, and she slows her hand. You shake, trying to thrust yourself down onto them.

“Tell me then princess, tell me none of them could fuck you like this. No one could get you this fucking pathetic other than me.”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now, lip quivering as you search for more friction. “Please, please el,” you cry, “No one else no one else, just you-“

All of your words slur together, and your nails dig into Ellie’s shoulder enough to make her hiss. The answer seems good enough, and she resumes her quick and harsh movements, fingers curling to hit that spot that made your mouth fall open, tears dripping past your lips.

“Fuck yea, only me,” she groans, your words pushing her to make you come even more now, thumb rubbing against your clit. It coaxes downright pornographic noises from you. Ones that someone had to have heard. You don’t give a fuck though, not right now.

“M’ gonna come,” you whine, face falling to Ellie’s shoulder again, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck. This time Ellie allows it— too focused on the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of you under the now ruined skirt.

“Alright baby, you can come,” Ellie coos— finally showing a bit of kindness to you as you clench around her fingers. “Come for me, princess.”

The cord in your stomach snaps, and you have to bite at Ellie’s neck to stop from screaming. The orgasm hits you like a fucking train, shaking harshly.

Ellie works you through it, mumbling compliments against you. “So pretty, so messy and perfect for me,” she hums. When she is sure you have calmed down enough, she slowly pulls her fingers out, and then lays you back against the bed. You sink into the mattress, cheeks red and wet with tears. She admires you, messy fingers pressing to her own lips to get a taste. The flavor of you, god Ellie thinks she may be addicted. She sucks her fingers clean and for a moment debates ringing another orgasm out of you with her tongue. But the look on your face, how tired you look.. she decides to save it for another time.

For now she stands, searching around until she finds the attached bathroom, disappearing into it.

Your eyes search for her, feeling needy. “El-“ you whimper.

“I'm just getting a rag to clean you up baby,” she explains from the open door— and you relax when she walks back out with a warm small rag.

She joined you back on the bed, coaxing your legs open as she very carefully cleans you off. The friction makes more tears drop from your eyes.

“Aw princess,” she pouts— wiping with her other hand to get the tears off of your cheek and drool off your chin. “So pathetic looking.. so pretty.”

The switch between praise and degradation makes you dizzy again, eyes closing for a second.

When shes done cleaning you up, you grab her wrist when she tries to stand. “ w’nna make you feel good el,” you beg. It takes Ellie a moment to match your whiny voice to that of the girl she knew outside of this bedroom, but when she comes back to reality— she shakes her head.

“Later baby, promise. You’re too tired, wanna get you back to your place.”

The promise to not just abandon after this makes your heart twist in your chest, that cold front that Ellie put on while fucking you straying away now.

You nod, letting Ellie help you sit up.

“Ready to walk through that door?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A tired laugh bubbles in your throat just at the thought, cheeks hot all over again.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll just say we got into a fist fight.”

“Fucking brat.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Always Ever Only You Part 33 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Getting through your second presentation feels like a battle of wits against your own body. Then after weeks of barely being able to stomach anything, you are presented with the most enticing dinner. But it's the food that's alluring, not your dinner mate, and Bradley has a few things to say about the mess you get yourself caught up in.

Warnings: Swearing, adult language, pregnancy topics, angst, fluff, phone sex, masturbation

Length: 5800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You slept like a lovesick log after your long drive back to the hotel from the cemetery. Exhausted from throwing up in the shrubs, you curled up in bed and watched the video you took for your son or daughter. You had recorded yourself reading both headstones and having a little conversation with your in-laws about the baby. It was just meant to be something you and Bradley could watch one day with the nugget, but it brought a smile to your face.

You were decidedly no longer smiling when you woke up on Wednesday and had to race to the toilet. "Why is this happening again?" you asked the bath mat as you curled up in a ball. You had another, longer presentation to give. You had admirals to chat with. You had a whole lot to get done today. You didn't have time for this right now.

Even brushing your teeth was a chore. Changing into your uniform was an issue. At least your pants felt a little looser today. You honestly could not keep up with the way your body was bloated half the time and normal the rest of the time.

You realized your makeup was pretty much the only thing holding your life together at the moment as you swiped on some mascara. Then there was a knock at your door, and it felt like you were doing the same thing all over again today, because essentially you were. You and Cat had to struggle with the bin of equipment. You had to fight to stay awake in the rental car. The nausea was turning your life into a game of sheer determination to keep the bagel that you ate from coming back up.

"Are you okay?" Cat asked you a few minutes before the presentation was about to start.

"Of course," you told her in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. "Why wouldn't I be?" You shrugged and smiled serenely at her.

"Because you're sweating bullets. And you've been pacing around the hallway."

You cleared your throat and insisted, "It's just really hot in here."

"It's not," she replied. "Please. I'm begging you. Just keep it together for another ninety minutes, okay? After that, you can do anything you want. Hell, I'll do anything you want me to do. But we need to get through this presentation."

Her voice sounded panicked, and now you were looking around the hallway for a garbage can. But it was too late. The two of you were being called into the presentation room. Commander Patterson and Admiral Klein were sitting in the front row smiling at you. Shit, more admirals were here today. Oh fuck, all of these people wanted to hear your extended presentaion. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck, past your shoulder blades and along your spine. You wanted Bradley. You wanted Bradley to hold you and let you throw up everywhere and tell you that you were still pretty and that he loved you even if you cried on the toilet and ate crackers while you lay on the floor.

Tears burned your eyes, and Cat looked like she was going to scream. Pull it together. Ignore the sensation. Clip the microphone onto your shirt. Start talking.

"Good afternoon. Lieutenant Coleman and I are back to expound upon our research presentation from Monday which covered communications engineering at Top Gun. You can find a copy of our slides in the information packet in front of you. Please hold your questions until we pause for a break. Let's get started."

--------------------------

Bradley really wasn't doing well without you at home. He was barely eating anything besides cereal and sandwiches, and he was going to bed hungry at night. The only fun he'd been having was slowly filling up that pink and blue notebook with his musings for the little nugget.

He was having a hard time sleeping, and he didn't like how quiet the house was. Even Tramp kept looking for you, occasionally running to the front door and whimpering. "We'll see her on Friday," he told the dog as he had potato chips and coffee for breakfast on Wednesday morning. "Two more days of this bullshit."

When he got home from work on Tuesday, he broke down in tears as he looked at the photos you sent him from the cemetery. You even took a video where you were talking to him and the nugget and his parents. He still couldn't believe you took the time to drive there and make it so special for him. After he finished crying, he made his way back up to the attic where he took the half wall down to the studs. Then he realized that he really needed to call some contractors before you came home and saw the mess he made.

While he drove to work in the red Bronco, he left messages, hoping to get some estimates in the next week or so. One thing that he'd been slowly coming to terms with was the fact that you didn't need him to take care of you by paying for everything. Both of your incomes were going toward the mortgage payments and all the necessities. You'd both been saving money for the future, and he figured the future had arrived since there was a baby on the way.

When he parked in the garage on base, he noticed he had some new texts from you.

Baby Girl Bradshaw: I miss you. I'm struggling today. I think the nugget hates me. I'll call you later after my presentation and all of this other shit is over.

He wanted to text you back, but he didn't want to be a distraction, so he tucked his phone into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He had been reading every pregnancy article online that he could find, but none of the tricks he saw were helping you with the nausea. You were probably just going to have to wait it out. He would be ready to rub your shoulders and put a cool washcloth on the back of your neck when you got home.

Bradley walked the long way around to the classrooms since he was early and didn't need to stop in the locker room to change. When he passed the stairwell that would have taken him up to your office and the engineering labs, he swore he heard Bob's voice. He paused, and he definitely heard Bob's laugh. When the door to the stairs opened, he heard Bob say, "We can always find out later tonight if you want to invite me to your room again." And then there was a very familiar, feminine laugh before Bob appeared ten feet ahead of him.

He stared at Bob, and Bob stared back as the door closed, leaving the two of them alone. Bradley thought back to the way Bob and Maria were looking a little cozy at brunch last Sunday. This was interesting.

"Hey, Bob," Bradley said with a grin. "How are you enjoying your new apartment with Maria?"

His cheeks immediately flushed pink, and Bradley bit his lip to keep quiet as Bob started stuttering. Frankly, he was proud of his friend for sounding so much more self assured a few seconds ago when he was tucked inside the stairwell with Maria. "I-I d-don't know... are y-you... I d-din't think that..."

Bradley let him flounder through a few more partial sentences before he said, "If you're hooking up with Maria Wilson, then good for you, man. Well done."

Bob cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and ran his hand along the back of his neck. "Thanks," he muttered as he stared at the floor.

"You want me to keep this information to myself?"

Bob's blue eyes went wide as they met Bradley's. "Please." He swallowed hard. "I don't think she wants anyone else to know." His voice was just a whisper as he said, "I'm sure she'd be embarrassed if people found out."

Then he turned and left Bradley standing there alone. He'd been in that position before with you. Before you made things official. And he had been miserable. "Poor Bob," he muttered as he followed him at a distance. The best case scenario would be if Maria confided in you when you got back from Annapolis. Bradley would have to be cool about you going to brunch on Sunday even though he already wanted you and the baby all to himself again all weekend.

-----------------------

You made it. Somehow you got through the full hour and a half. You nailed your parts, and so did Cat. You and she answered questions for at least an additional thirty minutes, and now she was packing up the equipment while you sent a quick text to Bickel.

"Your research is very compelling, Lieutenant Commander."

You looked up into the eyes of Commander Patterson, and he smiled warmly at you. Unfortunately, the only thing you could really think about was the way you'd been picturing Bradley's cock the last time you talked to him. At the moment, you were so fucking horny, you felt like rubbing yourself against the wall and crying until you got some relief.

"Thank you, sir," you managed to say while you tried to focus on his face and his words. "It has really become a passion project, trying to keep actual aviators in the air versus the drone agenda. Real people making real decisions based on their surroundings and the immediate threats they are facing will always win out against a laboratory manufactured software protocol."

"I couldn't agree more." He took a step closer and said, "And the way you presented your findings made it so clear that you're eager for others to understand how important that is as well."

"Absolutely," you told him with a smile of your own. "And the funding for communications research is so important."

You were probably going to have to go to the cocktail hour tonight just to get your face out there since you skipped the previous one to drive to Virginia. But you were almost instantly saved from having to do that as Commander Patterson said, "I'm planning on having dinner this evening with a few of the admirals if you'd like to join us. Cocktail attire. Overpriced steaks. You know, the usual."

His slight eye roll had you laughing and agreeing immediately. That sounded a lot better than trying to ditch champagne flutes all night. You'd still be able to chat with some superiors, and right now, you were actually hungry. "That sounds great. I'll see if Lieutenant Coleman can join as well."

With that, his smile wavered a bit, but he told you the name of the restaurant, and you promised to be there at seven o'clock. Cat had all the equipment packed up, and she was ready for you to help her carry the bin. "Hey, you want to come eat an overpriced steak later? With Commander Patterson and some others?" you asked as you tried your best to lift with your legs.

"Why didn't you tell me before? I already agreed to some stupid happy hour with a handful of admirals, but I love overpriced food when you don't have to pay for it."

You laughed and said, "That's probably better. We can divide and conquer this way. Bickel will like that."

As the two of you hoisted the bin into the rental car, Cat smiled and said, "You know what else he'll like? The fact that we nailed the presentation again today. I'm sorry I doubted you."

"Don't do it again," you told her with a smirk. Of course then you promptly started falling asleep while she drove back to the hotel, and when you got to your room, you passed out in bed until it was time to get ready for dinner.

It was only three o'clock for Bradley, and even though you wanted to call him, you decided to wait a little longer. You inhaled a pack of peanut butter crackers while your stomach growled loudly. "What is with you today?" you asked the baby. "You're finally hungry? Or are you going to make me barf again?" You got a loud rumble in response. "I know you like Daddy better, and we'll be home in two days. Relax."

As you redid your makeup, you started thinking about Bradley. And then you thought about how delicious he smelled right after he finished a workout. And then you thought about how nice and big his cock is. And then you thought about all the sounds he makes and the way me moans your name when his cock is inside you.

"Oh hell," you whined, pressing your thighs together. You needed to get some relief with your toys until you could get back home, but you didn't have time for that right now. The combination of being so hungry and so horny was almost too much to handle, and you ended up calling Bradley on the short drive to the restaurant. It was barely four there, so you were surprised when he answered.

"Hey, Sweetheart."

Two words. He said two fucking words, and you were moaning and having a hard time focusing to drive. "Roo. Oh my god."

"What's wrong?" he snapped immediately. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," you gasped, parking the car and squeezing the steering wheel. "I'm just so horny. And Commander Patterson asked me out to dinner, and I seriously need to get fucked, Bradley. Like you have no idea how bad it is right now."

You could hear him mutter something, and then you thought you heard Jake's voice before Bradley quietly said, "Baby Girl, I'll fuck the absolute shit out of you all weekend. In fact, I can't wait to do that. I'll take care of everything you need."

"Daddy," you moaned, realizing you should have masturbated instead of taking that nap.

"But please tell me who the fuck Commander Patterson is. All I know is that you said he's that guy who asked if Top Gun aviation is the right fit for you?" Another moan escaped your lips as you thought about being a tight fit for your husband. "Yeah, you sound wrecked, Sweetheart," he crooned in that raspy voice. "I don't think you should go to dinner with some guy I don't know. I don't care what his rank is.

You sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's not just with him. Some admirals are coming too. I need to meet the admirals, Bradley. And I'm already at the restaurant." When you looked further up the block, you saw Patterson heading inside.

Bradley made a frustrated sound. "Text me when you can? And call me when you're leaving later?"

"I will," you promised as your stomach growled. You were so excited that the nugget seemed to want to eat this steak, you almost hung up before you said, "I love you."

You straightened out your black cocktail dress as you practically ran down the sidewalk in your high heels which you rarely ever wore except in your bedroom with your husband. The delicious smells from the restaurant were wafting out onto the sidewalk, and you were going to cry if there wasn't some bread or something already waiting on the table.

"There you are, Lieutenant Commander."

Patterson was waiting inside the entryway where at least the sound of the air conditioner blasting and the conversation around you was blocking out your growling stomach. He was smiling as his hand found the small of your back. "Our table is ready. We can go right there."

When he applied some pressure with his hand, you lurched forward. Perhaps he was just trying to help you navigate through the crowd, but he could keep his hands to himself. He must have known you were married. You decided to make a show of pointing out some hideous artwork with your left hand, practically shoving your rings in his face. "That's a lovely painting, Commander," you told him, but he just smiled and nodded at you before pulling out a chair at a table set for four.

"Please, call me Derek," he told you as he sank down into the seat across from you, and then he started using your first name without permission. The one blessing was the fact that there was an enormous basket of bread sitting right in the middle of the table along with a variety of spreads and dips.

You moaned softly and had to bite your lip as you reached for a soft looking roll and the chive butter. Derek was staring at you with parted lips and wide pupils. Had he never seen a woman eat before? Had you ever been this hungry before? You licked your lips as you spread some of the butter onto the roll, and then you took a bite and moaned again.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

After weeks of feeling miserable, you finally knew you could stomach this meal right now. You were still so turned on, and yet your exhaustion was bone deep at this point, but the bread was like a lifeline to normalcy, and you were grabbing onto it.

Derek cleared his throat as he watched you take those first few sumptuous bites. "I've got to know," he said smoothly, "exactly what would lure you back to Annapolis for good?"

You popped the rest of the roll between your lips and chewed it up before you said, "Nothing."

"There would have to be something. Better research facilities? Your own lab? Both of your degrees and your work are so impressive, you must know there would be endless possibilities for you here."

You were shocked. Running your own lab was your dream. The idea of being in charge of a research team made your skin prickle with desire. You hoped that could be a possibility someday, but you weren't even thirty-five yet. You figured maybe ten years from now when Bickel was getting ready to retire, you'd be able to take his place.

"My own lab?"

Derek smiled, all white teeth and handsome expression, and then the waitress arrived. You wanted to jump out of your seat and hug her when she asked if you'd like to order any appetizers.

"Do you know when the others will be here?" you asked Derek. "Should we wait to order?"

He shook his head vaguely. "They'll be late. We can order. Get whatever you want."

You almost laughed giddily as you ordered three appetizers and then a steak dinner complete with garlic mashed potatoes and two vegetables. "We can share the appetizers," you said when he looked at you in surprise, even though you didn't want to. You placed your hand on your belly, trying to subtly thank the baby for cooperating right now.

When the waitress finished taking his order and then departed, you asked, "Which admirals are joining us?"

"Hmm? Oh... uh, Rivera and Silverman."

You were not familiar with either of them which made you panic slightly. You should have done more research on who was attending each of the lectures. Why hadn't you done that? Oh, right... because you were too busy throwing up. The bread basket called to you, and before you knew it, you'd eaten more than half while Derek droned on about how amazing you'd be running your own lab. He didn't even know you, which made this more annoying than anything else, but your stomach was holding up spectacularly, so you could overlook it. You could have kissed the waitress when she came back with the appetizers.

"So, do you live alone?" he asked as you dipped two mozzarella sticks into some marinara sauce. You paused before shoving them into your mouth so you could chuckle.

"No. I live with my husband and our dog." Then the fried cheese hit your tongue, and it was like you were living in a world of color after weeks in black and white. Your stomach gurgled pleasantly, finally accepting food once again. Tears of joy stung at your eyes as you took a forkful of crispy brussels sprouts and a potato skin.

Derek laughed and asked how old you were, but your mouth was full, so he said, "Let's just say, my career in Annapolis outlived my bad marriage. And that's been the case for many, many officers."

You swallowed the potato like it was a lead weight. That had definitely been the case for Cat, unfortunately. And you'd heard a lot of stories, sure, especially when you were at the Naval Academy. And perhaps that was part of the reason you fought against the mere idea of being with Bradley at first. One officer in a relationship with a civilian was bad enough, but two officers trying to make it happen together usually spelled disaster.

But you felt stronger with Bradley. The two of you worked hard to get through your struggles and end up in a better place. You and he were going to be parents, for fuck's sake.

"Just sharing my two cents with you," Derek added, still smiling. "You're young, and you haven't lived it yet, but I can tell you that you'll go farther here than in San Diego. Especially if you're already open to the idea of having more."

You wanted to check the time on your phone; you must have been sitting here for over half an hour by now. The other two chairs were still empty. Derek was starting to get under your skin.

"I'm open to the idea of pursuing my career at Top Gun along with my husband."

"He's an officer as well?" Derek asked with a laugh. "I'm sure he's having a great week back in San Diego without you."

You felt heat flame up your neck and into your cheeks as your steak dinners arrived. "Yes, he's an officer. He's a Top Gun aviator."

"He deploys?" Derek asked in disbelief before laughing harder. "You should make the move back to the east coast now, before he ruins your life. If he hasn't already."

He had gone from complimenting you to trying to humiliate you in a matter of minutes. You'd been blinded by the glorious meal, but the truth hit you square in the chest. As he picked up his fork and steak knife, you asked, "Why did you lie to me about two admirals coming? Do Rivera and Silverman even exist?"

Somehow his smile was still persistent as he said, "Sure, they exist. They went to the cocktail reception on base." You watched the knife sink into his steak as he added, "You're gorgeous. I wanted to get you alone. Let you know how much better things could be. Offer to set you up for a one-on-one meeting with Admiral Jennings tomorrow if you come home with me tonight. It's on the table if you want it."

In one quick movement, you snatched his plate away from him with the fork still stuck in the steak. "Okay, well fuck you, Derek," you snarled, standing up and waving for the waitress. "You're disgusting and delusional if you thought I would even consider going home with you."

"Can I get you anything?" the waitress asked cautiously, and you realized you were causing a bit of a scene now in the crowded restaurant.

"Yes. I need boxes. Like a whole bunch of takeout boxes," you told her. "I'm taking all of this food with me."

"Right," the waitress replied, her gaze drifting to Derek who looked very unamused.

"I'm taking his meal, too," you snapped. "Hurry up with the boxes."

She scurried away as you piled all of the food onto one plate and said, "You're so fucking stupid, Derek. I already have Admiral Jennings' phone number. I met her last year. I told her to her face that I'm staying in San Diego."

"Well then you're making a bad choice," he told you.

Then the waitress set down some takeout containers while you practically tossed the empty plate back at Derek. You scraped as much of the food into the first box as would fit before moving to the second one. "He's paying for dinner," you told the waitress. "And I'm taking one fork and one steak knife with me. He'll pay for those as well." You shoved the rest of the bread into the last box and then stacked them all up before meeting Derek's eyes. "You just ruined the first meal I've been able to stomach in weeks, asshole. And my husband is a nice man. Very sweet. Treats people with respect. But if he were here right now, you'd have a bloody face and some broken ribs."

You picked up the boxes, grabbed the utensils, and made your way toward the exit. You went straight for your rental car and climbed inside before cranking the engine. Then you took a massive bite of garlic mashed potatoes before cutting off a piece of Derek's steak while you called your husband.

-------------------------

Bradley was working out in the garage when your ringtone cut across the playlist you made for him. He practically dropped his barbell to the cement floor to get his phone from where it was sitting on the tool chest. "Sweetheart. I wasn't expecting to hear from you quite yet. Didn't we just get off the phone?" he asked with a smile as he ran his forearm along his sweaty face. "Not that I mind one bit." He was about to ask if you were done with dinner, but then he realized that you were crying. The sweat on his skin turned ice cold as he quickly asked, "What's wrong?"

"Roo," you wailed, and he started looking around the garage as if there was something out here that would help both of you calm down. "He ruined my fucking dinner!" you sobbed.

"What are you talking about?" he asked as he paced the length of the garage, running his fingers through his damp hair. "Who ruined it?"

"Commander Patterson."

Bradley honestly could not fathom how that guy had ruined your dinner. All he knew was that you told him you were horny as hell when you got to the restaurant, and that he didn't trust guys he didn't know around you. Most men were disgusting, and you were lovely and also pregnant with his child.

"Can you explain what happened so I can understand?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"Yeah," you sniffed, and he heard a car engine start up in the background. "The nugget and I were both really enjoying the food. Like really enjoying it, Bradley. You know how I've been, and this was delectable and exactly what we both wanted. Like it was so good, if you'd been there with me looking super sexy, I would have probably had an orgasm in the middle of the damn restaurant."

Bradley swallowed hard as he stood in the garage, wondering where the hell this was going. "I understand. You haven't been able to eat much, so that must have felt amazing. Now can you tell me what's wrong?"

"He ruined it!" you replied loudly. "He lied to me! There were no admirals planning on joining us. He tricked me into meeting him there, and then he gave me fake compliments and accolades about my work. He told me that I could get ahead with a career in Annapolis if I slept with him, all because he wanted to fuck me!"

Bradley almost dropped his phone. "Did he touch you?" he growled, switching to speaker phone as he rushed through the backyard toward the house and looked for flights to Maryland at the same time. "Did he fucking touch you?!"

"No!" you practically shrieked. "No, he didn't touch me! You think I'd let him get anywhere near me after he ruined my dinner?"

"Where are you now?" he demanded. "And what's this Commander fucking Patterson's first name?"

Bradley was seeing red as he walked inside and slammed the sliding glass door behind him, and Tramp ran whimpering into the spare room. The earliest he could get out of San Diego on an eastbound flight was a red eye that left at 9:30, and that was nearly four hours from now.

"I'm not telling you his name," you said softly with a little sniff at the end. "I'm afraid you'll strangle him."

Frankly, if Bradley got his hands on the asshole, he'd probably wish all he got was strangled to death. "Where are you now?" he asked again, trying to keep his voice calmer.

"In my rental car."

"Alone?

"Yes!"

"Good," he replied as he clenched and unclenched his fist and headed for the shower. "Go back to your hotel room, and text me the address. I'll stay on the phone with you until you get there, and then I'll be out on a red eye that lands in Annapolis at 5:55 tomorrow morning local time. And then you'll tell me his first name, and I'll beat the shit out of him for ruining your dinner and acting like my wife is his for the taking."

"Bradley," you said firmly. "I do not need you to come out here. I already feel better now that I told you about it."

"Well, I sure as fucking hell don't," he grunted, peeling off his sweaty clothes in the bathroom. "Does he know which hotel you're staying at? And where the hell is Cat?"

You groaned and said, "No, he doesn't know. And Cat went to the actual cocktail reception with the actual admirals. I seriously hate Commander Patterson. But I did steal his dinner, so that's making me feel a little bit better."

His thumb was hovering over his phone screen, ready to purchase a seat on this flight. "Wait, you stole his dinner?"

"Yes. I took it. When I tell you the food was that good, Bradley, I am not joking. I housed most of the appetizers and the bread basket, and then I took his plate before he even got a bite of his porterhouse. I dumped all of the food into takeout boxes, took some silverware, told the waitress he'd pay for everything, and then I left."

Bradley burst into laughter in spite of himself. He could actually picture it so clearly. The haughty expression on your face. Your biting wit once you figured out what was going on. The way you must have looked dumping the steaks into the containers. "You're a damn force to be reckoned with, Baby Girl. Are you driving back to the hotel with all the food?"

"Yeah. I mean I did eat a few bites when I first got back in the car, because the baby was demanding it, but I'm absolutely going to eat the rest in my room. Fuck that guy. He doesn't even deserve his overpriced steak. It's mine now."

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hand and laughed. "Do you really not need me to come out there?"

He heard you take a deep breath before you said, "I miss you a lot, but I really do not need you to come out, okay? The nugget and I are fine now, ruined dinner aside."

"Alright," he murmured. "If you change your mind, you have two hours to let me know, and I'll be knocking on your door by 7 in the morning."

You moaned and whispered, "God, that does sound good. I'm back at the hotel. Heading up to my room now. Any chance you feel like having phone sex before I eat my two steaks and roughly four pounds of potatoes?"

"Fuck," he grunted, his cock already getting hard as he looked down at himself. "Yeah. A hundred percent. Let me just get in the shower here."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered, and Bradley was practically tripping over himself as he started up the spray of water. Once you were safely inside your room, you told him, "I'm ready when you are."

-------------------------

You got off twice to your vibrator and your husband's sexy voice. It was so easy to imagine him in the shower with the sound of the water in the background. You could picture the steam snaking around his body while he held his thick cock in his hand. You could practically taste his skin and smell the body wash he was definitely using as lube.

"That's my sweet girl," he crooned as you started to peak for the second time. "When I get you home on Friday, my mouth is going to be all over that pussy. I miss you so much. I want my wife and my baby with me."

"Bradley," you whined, legs bent and shaking as you got closer. "I need you to fuck me. I'm so goddamn horny for you!"

He grunted right into the phone and said, "Keep it up, and I'll break your new car at the airport, too."

And then you came. Hard. Your chest was sweaty. Your back was arching off the bed. The vibrator rolled out of your grasp, and you stroked yourself with your fingers and whispered his name over and over.

"I'm about to come," Bradley moaned. And you could hear the exact second he was probably making a white mess all over the tile wall. You imagined it on your belly instead.

You just wanted to go home, and when your back finally settled against the bedding you said, "I need you to promise to fuck me at least twenty times between Friday night and Monday morning."

"Make it thirty, Sweetheart," he crooned as he panted. "At least. I fucking need it, too."

You turned your head to the side where a photo of him was still pulled up on your phone. "Sounds perfect. Don't forget, I'm having dinner with my mom and dad tomorrow, so please FaceTime when you're walking out of work if you can."

"For the love of all things holy, please don't talk about your parents when I'm still holding my cock."

You giggled, and then he laughed. "I won't do it again," you promised as you sat up in bed, eyeing the takeout containers on the desk. "I love you, Roo. I'm going to eat Derek Patteron's steak, take a shower, and then pass out."

"I love you too, Baby Girl. Can you put your phone down by your belly?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, pressing your lips together to keep from squealing at how sweet this man was.

"And I love you, too, my little nugget. Be nice to Mommy."

---------------------------

BG is all over the place... Roo probably has whiplash. Derek should be punished for ruining that meal for her and the baby. Just a few chapters left, and we'll have another series for them in the books! Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 34

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@mygyn

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canhearitonthewayhome · 3 months

Text

imgonnagetyouback

author's note: hiiiiii! this could potentially be a series if people like it. I have never written anything before and I did not proofread very carefully + wrote this super late at night. there seems to be a ton of lore in this part to set the vibe. let me know what you think! I am new to tumblr but I am pretty sure my asks/requests are open as well! ok byeee xoxo

word count: 2.3k

i. lilac short skirt

September, 2023

The sound of various playlists had been echoing down the hall and into your poorly insulated room for the past few hours. However, it was silent in your room, as your normally steady hand was shakily applying a final coat of mascara to your lashes. You sighed as you twisted the wand back into the tube, tossed it in your yet-to-be-organized drawer, and ran your fingers through your hair. Gazing at your reflection, you grew frustrated. It was your senior year at UConn, you had just moved all of your things back into Husky Village with the rest of your closest sorority sisters, and everything was on track to go perfect for the year. You had just received your LSAT scores back, and they were better than what you had initially anticipated, ensuring you an acceptance at your law school of choice when looked at in combination with your perfect GPA. There was only one thing missing, and it was the one thing you had never imagined you would be without. Her.

Attempting to make it through syllabus week seemed nearly impossible on Monday, but you had managed. The entire week felt like going through the motions. Your routine in Storrs, CT, had been the same for nearly the last three years and you hadn’t realized how difficult revisiting the familiar places on campus would be for your healing process. Honestly, you were just thankful to have not seen her yet, but you knew the odds of running into her tonight were more likely than not; Paige.

On that note, you opened your nightstand drawer. You had been doing so well in regulating your grief, but you couldn’t help the tear that threatened to escape when you gently picked up the polaroid of the two of you from last Fall. Both of you in unintentionally matching sweatsuits, you sat on her lap at a bonfire party. She had a blanket wrapped around herself sitting in a lawn chair, with her arms wrapping around you. You had flashed your biggest smile for the camera, a natural blush showing on your cheeks as a result from the butterflies your then-girlfriend gave you as you cuddled into her, but Paige wasn’t looking at the camera. She wore a soft smile while looking only at your bright face. It was the kind of look she reserved only for you, as if no one else was capable of evoking that same action from her. The polaroid was slightly worn, as it used to sit in the back of your phone case. Now, it resides permanently in your nightstand as the sight of it makes your stomach churn with the harsh reality of her absence, but throwing it away made the realness of the situation seem too permanent.

You were brought back to reality with two gentle knocks on the door. You didn’t have time to hide the tear from earlier that had made its way down your cheek before your best friend, Hazel, had entered. She quickly shut the door behind her, and her big smile turned into a look of concern as she noticed the object between your fingers. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay, but I just want you to know we don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to. We can call food in and binge watch a show? We only have one year left together so I don’t have a problem doing that instead”, she quickly babbled out. You could tell she had probably had a few with your sorority sisters down the hall at how quickly she had been talking and the flush of her face. “No”, you said. “I have to deal with this eventually, and I can’t spend the whole year feeling sorry for myself. Let’s have fun tonight!” you smiled. You knew that Paige had more than likely moved on in more ways than one and there was no sense in making yourself miserable any longer. You had your girls, and that was all you needed. “Can you help me pick out an outfit?” you asked your seemingly convinced best friend. “Yes!” she shrieked, b-lining it to your closet. You placed the polaroid back in your nightstand and shut the drawer while she rummaged through your freshly unpacked closet.

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as she started holding out options on her own body, tossing things aside she found unfit for the evening. You were thankful for the friendship you had made in your Introduction to Criminal Justice class you had taken your first semester at UConn. Hazel had taken a seat next to you on the first day and since then, you had been pretty much inseparable. You found yourself being literally snapped back to reality again with her loud laugh. “What are you smiling at? That was a quick mood change”. You shook your head as you told her, “I am just thankful for you. I don’t know how I would’ve made it these three years and especially the last few months without you”. She just shook her head and turned back around to make her final selection before tossing her choice onto your bed and making her way towards the door. Before she let it shut she added, “Thank me by putting that on and enjoying yourself. You deserve it. I’m gonna go grab you a drink and some shots. You need them. When I’m back, be ready to head out!”

You giggled feeling excited for the first time in a while. It was short lived as you looked onto your bed to change into the outfit she had picked out. The lilac short skirt she had selected paired with a simple white baby tee had been the exact outfit you wore out to the same bar you were heading to the first night you had met and spent with her, with Paige.

September, 2021

Cramming yourself into Ted’s, you could feel the tequila sodas you had lost count of coursing through your veins. You had just finished your second syllabus week, the stress of recruitment, and getting ready for the exciting year ahead. Per usual greek-life tradition, the girls in your pledge class were taking some of the newly joined girls out to celebrate their bids, the start of their new college life, and to have a good time. Standing at only 5 '2 you held Hazel’s hand as she effortlessly guided you through the crowd to a somewhat-empty area for you all to conjoin at. You stood on your tiptoes to make sure no one was left behind before turning to Hazel. “Let’s go get some shots for everyone!”

As you turned around, you bumped into a much taller figure, spilling their drink all over the floor. You felt your cheeks get hot with embarrassment and a ramble of apologies were already leaving your mouth as you looked up from where the pink liquid and ice cubes were, “Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. I am so clumsy I can’t believe…”, you found yourself at a loss for words as you made eye contact with the girl. She was tall, and had to be at least 6’0. She had a skinnier build, but you could see the faint lines of proven muscle definition in her arms as she tucked loose hair behind her ears. She had a wide smile, without showing any teeth form and her eyes creased as she saw your expression. “Hey, don’t worry about it! It’s crowded in here!” she laughed. You were thankful for her nonchalant reaction, but it didn’t make the guilt you felt any better for spilling her pretty much full drink. “Do you think I could buy you another to make up for it? Please, it’s the least I could do. I don’t mean that in a creepy “I’m trying to get with you way”, but more a “I feel like a dumbass and am really embarrassed way”. Not that I don’t think that you're hot and wouldn’t get with…” you groaned as you cut yourself off again, hand covering your eyes as you made yourself cringe. You heard a light laugh, “It’s all good. Sure, you can buy me a drink. I’m Paige, by the way. Paige Bueckers”. As you looked up at her again, you saw her grin had grown into a gummy smile, holding out her hand to shake yours.

After introducing yourself, Paige led you to the bar with ease, given her height. After thinking she had lost you in the crowd the first time, she extended her hand backwards, offering her pinky for you to hold. You hope she didn’t notice the way your face lit up as you accepted her simple gesture, trying not to read too far into how romantic it felt. You had literally just met the girl, but had never felt so instantly comfortable with someone in your life. Paige let you buy her drink you had spilt, but refused to let you pay for the next few rounds, your drinks included. You had talked about everything, covering where you guys were from, discovering your same ages, learning she was on the women’s basketball team, and you being overly invested in your academics. You hadn’t even realized how much time had passed till you felt your phone buzz and saw the time on your lockscreen, 12:45 a.m.

Hazel Crawford <3

Girl, are you good? I haven’t seen you since you said you were going to the bar.

10:03 p.m.

I see you. Omg, are you hanging out with Paige Bueckers???

10:45 p.m.

I cannot wait to hear about this tomorrow.

11:30 p.m.

I am headed back home. I didn’t want to interrupt you guys or make you feel like you needed to come home. Love you, be safe, and text me when you leave!

11:49 p.m.

Paige must’ve noticed your change in demeanor. “Is everything okay?” she asked. You quickly sent a response to Hazel telling her you were safe and would let her know when you got home. “Yes, of course. I just came here with friends and hadn’t realized how much time had passed. They were worried about me, but they all have gone home now” you replied sheepishly. “Well, are you ready to head out? I can walk you home if you’d like” she said as you stood up. You were pulling down your too-short lilac skirt down as you grabbed your things. “No, no. You don’t have to do that! I have already taken up so much of your night. I’m sorry again -” you felt yourself being cut off again as she grabbed your hand that was holding your phone and purse. She looked you intently in the eyes as she said, “I would really like to walk you home if that’s okay with you”. You couldn’t help the smile that crept on your face again as you led her towards the door. “Okay, Bueckers, let’s go home then”, you grinned.

You can’t remember everything that you and Paige talked about on your way home, but you do remember the constant giggling, the way she swung your interlocked hands like you were just two kids, and the way she held the door open for you as you walked into your building. “This is me” you slowed, as you reached the door to your single dorm. “Do you want to come in?” you offered, feeling a little bold. Paige smiled before taking your other hand in hers. Holding them both she responded, “I would love to but I have practice in the morning and am already out way later than I should have been, but I didn’t want to say goodbye to the prettiest girl in the bar”. You felt your face grow hot as what must have been the millionth time of the night. It had only been a couple hours and you knew this girl was going to be the death of you. You had a feeling she might be thinking the same of you. She took one of her hands holding yours and placed it on the side of your face, stroking your cheek before saying just above a whisper, “I’m really sorry if this is forward, but I really want to kiss you and -”. This time it was you cutting her off as you stood on your tippy toes to close the gap between the two of you. Your hands moved around her neck and her free hand moved to your waist, holding you gently as if you were porcelain but firm enough so that you couldn’t melt away from her. You could’ve stayed that way for hours, but when you both finally pulled apart to catch your breath, it felt like time had frozen. Paige pecked your lips one more time before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Goodnight, pretty girl”. With that, she turned around and made her way down the hall. As you shut the door behind you you couldn’t help the butterflies that exploded in your chest.

The next morning, you had woken up a bit panicked as you realized you had never gotten the tall blonde’s number, or knew where she lived. As you threw a sweatshirt on to head to Hazel’s room to debrief the night before’s events, you shut the door behind you. There you found an envelope freshly taped to your door, what must’ve been just an hour or so earlier. You quickly took the note and opened up to a phone number and a small note saying, “I hope you let me see you soon, Pretty Girl”. You beamed to yourself before running down the hall to Hazel’s room.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #wcbb x reader #fic talk #wlw

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makethemhoesmad · 4 months

Text

first sight

dancing with our hands tied part one!

paige bueckers x reader

—

brooke’s pov

“holy shit brooke,” taniya shouts from her room.

“what,” i yell back. it’s a questionable method of communication, but it works for us. i hear her footsteps clambering towards my room, then my door bursts open and taniya, my five-foot-barely anything roomate flings herself onto my bed.

“paige FUCKING bueckers commented on your post and all you did was like it? i thought i taught you better than this, bee,” taniya says, shaking her head at me.

“well, it’s not like-“

“HOLD ON,” taniya cuts me off, “she liked this comment saying ‘the spine tattoo…my god’ brooklyn mae johns she’s fucking in love with you.”

i roll my eyes at taniya’s wild predictions, which aren’t new to our friendship. “first of all, my name isn’t even brooklyn, second of all, wait, check my phone, who’s that message from?”

taniya picks up my phone, reads something, then screams at the top of her lungs and chucks my phone at me.

Paige💕

Hey was just wondering what college you went to?

i stare blankly at the screen, starstruck. taniya nudges me, motioning at the phone to respond.

Brookee🐝

Uconn, like you.

Paige💕

Oh shit really? I didn’t know you knew so much about me😏

“is she really tryna flirt with me IN MY DMS right now?” i say out loud. taniya giggles.

“no shit sherlock, that’s why she slid into your dms. tell her you like basketball or something!”

Brookee🐝

i mean, i like basketball and my dorm isn’t that far from gampel. the mcdonald’s like twenty minutes away is like ten times cooler tho.

“you sneaky shit,” taniya snickers.

Paige💕

Fr you should meet me there in like 30.

Brookee🐝

No shit?

Paige💕

Yeah i’ll see ya then

i swipe out of instagram and start pacing around my room, opening drawers and holding things up to my body.

“bee, cool it. paige is about to show up in team travel gear, so your sweatpants and cute ass tank top are fine. put on some mascara or something if it’ll help you chill, but you’ll look great.” taniya is a little psychotic most of the time, but she’s calm as fuck in these situations.

i twist my hair up into a clip and climb into my car, palms sweaty. i don’t know why i agreed, this is so creepy and random.

Paige💕

i’m otw, u almost there?

Brookee🐝

yeah almost, ps don’t text and drive

Paige💕

hypocrite

Brookee🐝

😔

“hey brooke!” i hear a voice from behind the booth im sitting in, nursing a sprite and a small fry.

“hi paige,” i say, grinning. she smiles back, and slides into the other side of the booth, then reaches over and takes one of my fries.

“get your own,” i chide, while sliding the fries closer to her. “besides that, why’d you randomly want to know what college i go to?”

she shifts in her seat. as she opens her mouth, a waitress comes by with a happy meal. paige opens it up and dumps her fries into the other end of the nugget box. before she eats, i quickly snap a picture.

“you don’t mind if i post this? it’s kinda how im paying for my guilty pleasures.”

she nods, “yeah, tag me. anyway, i asked you about what college you went to because i thought i knew you from somewhere, but i just could not figure out what. also, you’re like, really pretty so i wanted to talk to you.”

she blushes at the last part, which makes my cheeks go a bit pink.

“well, you’re not exactly bad looking yourself. when can i see you again, because it’s getting late and i want to see my bed,” i say. taniya would be proud of my straightforwardness.

“Well, i’ve got tickets to a Sun & Fever game for monday, and the person i was going with just bailed on me, so do you wanna come?”

i blink at paige in shock. i’ve literally known her in person for maybe twenty five minutes and she’s already offering me things?

“i mean, im not doing anything, and the Sun’s arena isn’t that far, is it?” i ask, hoping to get any more information on whatever she’s proposing.

“yeah, it’s probably only like an hour with traffic, but i can pick you up and drive you home if you want? or we can get a hotel? i have a hotel, but i can cancel it if you wanna you home, i just didn’t want to drive again after the game because leaving would be hell.”

i nod, hoping it looks cool and confident and not utterly confused.

“yeah, we can keep the hotel, it’s okay.”

“aight, i’ll get you on monday around three.”

paige walks me out to my car, and as i climb in, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. once i see that she’s gone, i call taniya.

“Bitch do i have so much to tell you.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #dancing with our hands tied #paige bueckers x influencer #paige bueckers x oc

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riot-ghost · 2 years

Text

So I've started a DP writing prompt and I don't know whether or not to finish it so I'll set my base ideas here and see if it hits.

Danny slammed his locker shut, kicking the metal door so hard that it crumpled like a can of soda, barely hanging on by the top hinge. The school was mostly empty, given that school was out regardless. But the remaining students were in a similar state as him.

The students remaining in the school were all in different stages of grief, really. The whole scene looked like something straight from one of Jazz's textbooks. Paulina was picking up her locker, talking with Star about Phantom. Denial.

Danny was the perfect picture of anger. Pure rage leaked from every pore. Star had only just passed bargaining, the mascara tear-stains from begging with her parents are enough evidence of that.

Dash sat against his locker across the hall, staring into blank space. Mikey sat in the cafeteria, head buried into the phone he'd gotten off of his parents.

All of Casper High was like this. Tucker sat next to Mikey, the vibrant screen glaring at his thick-framed glasses. Sam was trashing the art room, her angry screams heard from where Danny stood in the hallway. He'd gotten into his locker and was currently busy tears apart every picture he had with his parents.

What Danny really wanted to know, what all of the students did, was why. Why was this happening? What led to this?

It had started the Friday before, really. School was going as normal. Danny was on edge. There hadn't been a ghost attack all week. He sat in his seat, ready for English class. Mr. Lancer came in. He set down his book, took off his reading glasses, and stared at his class.

"Our funding has been cut." No one says anything. Mr. Lancer sighs, rubbing his face. "I... Shouldn't be the one to break this to you." He turns to the corner of the room. "I... Have to be." He sighs. "Eighteen years ago, I got hired for an acting job." Still, silence follows his words.

"A government-funded project. Full time, the pay was astronomical. I was suspicious, but I was broke. I was so indebted that I would have joined the military. Or, hell, I would've done anything." Mr. Lancer took a seat. "I was briefed on this... This project. The Amity Project. A fake town, something about the ambient air. Genetically mutated kids. I didn't understand it all."

There's a click from somewhere. Just a background sound, hardly anything. "I didn't understand the sheer size of the project. A whole fake town? I-I was in awe. But then, when you guys got here, to this school, and the project took a turn. No longer was the project raising you guys. It wasn't... It was something twisted and wrong. It was torture." He hangs his head. "No one told me. No one told me until it was too late, and I was too far in, and-"

Mr. Lancer swallows. "I'm sorry." He places his head in his hands. "The Amity Project has come to a head. The portal's been shut down, and you all will be... Dispersed. Rehomed."

"Why?" Danny finds the word falling from his mouth before he can even think.

"They say it's because our benefactors were almost caught. Downsizing. I... I recommend you all stay here. At school. Your parents. They... They are your parents, but they are scientists. This has been a job to them. You'll all be given your housing and guardian's information by Monday. I'm sorry."

Danny had only gotten minimal information from his 'parents'. Just that they'd be busy sorting through years of backlogged data. Just that they were upset that it was all over. No one could stand being around the edge of the town- the sheer number of people just on the other side of the fence was overwhelming.

The juniors of Casper had stayed in Mr. Lancer's English class for hours after the bombshell had been dropped. They'd all had some sort of deep-rooted mutual understanding with each other. And they were all feeling. All feeling anger, depression, they were all feeling grief.

The cards that sat in their back pockets, the creased folders, everything. They all stood in a line, now, all twenty-four students. All of the younger students had been cleared. The older ones had already been gone. But they knew, those 24 students, they knew that it wasn't them that the Amity Project ruled around. It was them.

The students looked less their age as they watched car after car pull up in front of the school. They look like warriors, watching the 'civilians' step out of their cars.

Danny is in the middle of the line, hunched forward a bit as he twists and rips at the flag pole in his hands. He crunches it like it's made of playdough, the metal creaking and grinding in his hands.

Sam is to Danny's left, dripping in blood red paint. Her gothic attire is soaked, her hand color is lost to the red. She looks hellious, like she'd crawled from her own personal pit in hell.

Tucker stands to Danny's right. His posture is firm. His eyes are calculating. His jaw is set. His face is stone. He's tall, looming.

... So. Anyways. I'm thinking from here Sam goes with Diana Prince, Danny goes with Clark Kent, and Tucker goes with Bruce Wayne. The rest of the class goes with assorted civilians (or minor vigilantes). The class remains in contact with each other via letters. The story will follow them coping with not being normal, with the rage and anger, and their evolution into being a new phase of heroes. Heroes without masks or names or anything.

Jazz is living with Barry Allen. She was specifically separated from Danny, and kept that way. Vlad is a halfa, but he's part of the project. Dani is his daughter, and Dan was an unscripted blip in time.

Any feedback would be nice! I just don't know if it'll turn out the way I'm thinking it will.

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #batman #jason todd #batfam #danny phantom crossover #justice league #diana prince #clark kent #tucker foley #sam manson

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umeumeumee · 24 days

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Hi! for your event, can I do something w midoriya where you make wishes on eyelashes that leads to a confession? tysm!

making wishes on eyelashes

a/n: OMG! this is such a cute request! i’m sorry i couldn’t really do it justice! i have writers block so bad right now!!(｡•́︿•̀｡) (also; i got your other request that added to this abt him being flustered, but i didn’t add it to this post, but it’s in the fic<3) not proof read!!

prompt: wishes on eyelashes

It was a sunny monday morning at the U.A dorms. students fled into the morning hall for breakfast and such, school uniforms done perfectly in preparation for the first school day of the week.

Groans and laughter could be heard through the halls as they slung their bags over their shoulders and walked out of the dormitory building, the chilly morning air of Musutafu nipped at their noses, and traced a chilly finger down their spine.

you walked out of the building a little late, your shoe laces were more messy than your hair, and you hurriedly fixed up your face and messily pushed your school bag high enough over your shoulder to the point you hoped it wouldn’t fall off. you tried to keep up with your class, but you weren’t a morning person, and one stretch and a yawn you were already done for the day.

the pocket mirror you had in your skirt was something you were grateful for; allowing you to apply your lipgloss and mascara as a last step of your routine you didn’t get to finish when you were startled awake by a few harsh bangs on your door and the hollering of your friends for you to wake up.

with a hefty sigh, you stuffed your makeup and mirror back into your uniforms pockets and walked far off from your class, too tried to jog enough to catch up.

It was early february, and the winter cold nipped your skin, thought the slight pain was quickly flushed away by the vibrant beauty of the pink cherry blossoms that fluttered off their perch and littered the ground in the path to U.A.

you slowly became more awake as you walked, admiring the pretty pink petals as they passed through the breeze. They bloomed rather early this year, and it was a sign of good fortune. Hopefully you’d get good grades as a result.

too caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed the figure vigorously writing who-know-what in his notebook— until you’d collided with his back.

a soft huff of air left you when the two of your bodies suddenly collided, and you stepped back to look at the figure who was now, quite literally flipping out.

You looked up and met the panicked eyes your green haired classmate, Midoriya Izuku, who’s face was just as pink as the cherry blossoms in his hair.

In his hand he held one of his notebooks, and it read vol. 15, so it led you to wonder if it was one of those hero analysis books he wrote in.

You smiled a little when you saw him fluster, and a bow profusely and spew unnecessary apologetic words. when he finally looked back up and raised his head from his bow; you only kept the smile.

“You apologize too much, Midoriya-kun.” You smiled, “It was my fault.”

he basically lost it at that, shaking his head and waving his hands— was he okay?

“N-no! no! it was my fault, r-really! I was too occupied— it’s not your fault— i-i’m so sorry!” he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, and you’d wondered if it was a crime to be as cute as he was.

a small huff of air left your mouth once again, but this time it was in form of a small, amused laugh. “It’s not,” you assured, sending a quick close eyed smile. “and, what are you writing, anyways?” you wondered aloud, and he peaked his eye through his fingers before pulling away, his face still flushed a deep pink.

“o-oh—!” he squeaked out, and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Nothing.. r-really,” he said, and held his book stiffly by his side.

you nodded, with a hum. “you’re headed to class then?” i asked, “it’s already 8:12, i wouldn’t want to be scolded by Iida-kun,” i chided with a small chuckle “do you want to walk together?”

his jaw basically hit the floor at that, and he was positively shaking now. why? you didn’t know. it was cute, though.

you waited patiently for his response, and your gaze flickered across his rosy face, and your smile spread wider with the awkward, timid nod of his head in agreement.

the two of you started walking, and you were close enough that your shoulders brushed— you swore you heard his gasp when they did, but you decided not to say anything. He was already quivering.

the sound of both of your footsteps on the concrete and the soft swoosh of the blossoms on the trees would you was the only available sound, aside from the thoughts in your head and the thoughts in midoriya’s. You wondered what he was thinking.

You spared a quick glance his way, his face was red and sweaty, he looked almost sick. He was quivering— was he sick? you were going to ask, when a small sight caught your eye.

a warm smile kissed your lips, “ah.. Midoriya-kun,” you called softly from beside him, as you stopped walking. He jumped from his skin, even though he’s beside you, and turned to face you.

“You have an eyelash on your cheek.” You revealed, and he looked confused for a moment before a pink flush of embarrassment appeared on his cheeks, and he raised his hand to try and get it. without mirror, it was going in blind. you watched for a while with a small, amused smile, before stepping a little closer.

you saw his eyes widen, and you weren’t sure why. “I’ll get it,” you spoke softly, and his face absolutely exploded into every possible shade of red, and sweat. He tried to speak, to deny— but all that left his mouth was a squeak. He was a mess.

you stepped a little closer, your face a few inches from his. you could hear his labored breathing, you could feel the warmth of his face. you raised a hand up, and your nails gently plucked the eyelash of the burning skin of his pink cheek, and held it up for him to look at. His eyes weren’t sure where to look, and he was nervously darting them everywhere but your face. it was cute.

you held up the eyelash, with a small smile. “Now, you have to make a wish.” you conducted, and he swallowed harshly when his eyes flickered to the eyelash of his that rested in your hand.

“a—a wish?” he asked, and his voice cracked. He looked at you for a second before quickly looking away.

“that’s right,” you nodded, and then reached down to take his hand. He turned red once again, his breath caught in his throat when your hand met his. He was slightly shaking, and once again you decided to not comment on it. You gently placed the eyelash in the sweaty palm of his hand.

“you blow it out and make your wish.” you instructed, holding his hand in yours as you both looked at the eyelash. He shuddered and sweat, his face beat red and shy, and you raised his hand up to level up by both your faces.

He was didn’t move for a while, awkward and quivering, before he hesitantly blew the eyelash off, and it caught into the breeze and quickly vanished into the morning air.

you smiled softly as it happened, and izuku quickly let his eyes roam your face for a moment before he blew flame again at the realization that his hand was still in yours.

“what did you wish for?” you asked him, looking back to his flushed face, his hand still shaking a little in your grip. He opened his mouth a few times before closing it, unsure of what to say. “I-i-i.. don’t know..” he breathed out, breathless.

you smiled, and gently held his hand a little tighter. “Midoriya-kun,” you said softly, and tried to catch his flustered gaze.

“Can i tell you something?” you asked him, and watched as he timidly nodded. you stepped a little closer, watching his flushed expression and shy eyes, looking to the cherry blossom petals in his hair, and his uniforms tie that always looks funny.

Slowly, you gently placed a soft kiss to his cheek, causing him to freeze, in disbelief, and his face blew red once again, and he looked at you with wide eyes when you finally spoke.

“I really like you.”

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