#n if i try to have an actual adult conversation about it he's just gonna talk circles around me til i'm dizzy again

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

haven't been sad like this in a long time

[lovebugism]

Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended. 

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.  

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day. 

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.) 

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of. 

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes. 

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade. 

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour. 

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high. 

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part. 

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that. 

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater. 

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start. 

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer. 

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right? 

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his. 

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night. 

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth. 

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust. 

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

[dsireland86]

I have a very smutty request 🫣

Noah X Reader - they're best friends who tell each other everything. One night they're talking and she mentions whenever a guy gives her oral she can't finish. She doesn't know if the problem is her or the guys she's been with. Noah being a huge munch and helpful friend is like "let's find out" 😏

Oohhhh goodness me...... okay, here we go....

Author's note: Stupid Tumblr app screwed my draft this morning and I ended up posting this one without it being finished. To all you who liked it without it being finished... I freaking love you. To the Anon who requested this story and saw the first post.... blame tumblr! Here's the right post! I hope you like it :)

Let's Find Out 18+ below the cut

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @thefallenangel @fadingintothegrey

"Come on, y/n, you can tell me. We always tell each other everything." "No, you always tell me everything because you have no filter, Noah. I don't always tell you everything."

Noah sat next to you on the couch in your apartment, thinking and realizing after a moment how right you actually were.

"Ok, well, that's besides the point. Whatever it is, has got you all riled up. So, what is it?"

You were about to tell Noah, feeling bold enough to, but when you went to open your mouth, you couldn't, instead hiding your face in a pillow.

"I'm afraid to. I'm scared of what you'll think."

Noah was silent. Slowly, you pulled your face away from the pillow to look at him. He was staring at you with an amused look on his face.

"What?"

Noah scooted closer, turning his body to face you.

"It has something to do with sex, doesn't it?"

"Oh my god, Noah," you squealed, throwing the pillow at him.

Noah's laughter filled the room.

"It does! I knew it."

You folded your arms over your chest, pouting, while Noah gloated.

"Oh, come on, y/n lighten up. It's not like we're kids. We're grown adults."

Noah rubbed your arm, running a finger down your cheek, but instantly noticing your sadness.

"Hey, what is it? Come on, tell me. I don't like seeing you upset."

One look at Noah and those sweet, sympathetic eyes of his convinced you.

"Okay, fine, but promise me, please, that you won't think differently of me when I tell you."

Noah grinned but silently nodded.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes for a minute to process where to start.

"Okay, so you've had sex before, and so have I. Have you ever, you know," you trailed off to stare at your fingers.

"Have I ever what?" Noah asked, confused.

You ran your hands down your face, frustrated.

"Fuck it. Have you ever made a girl cum just from going down on her?"

You could feel the heat wash over your cheeks, as you watched Noah's eyes widen in surprise.

"Wow! That is not at all where I saw this conversation going," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"See, I knew it! I shouldn't have said anything." You jumped up off the couch, ready to run and hide from the embarrassment.

"No, no, no, wait," Noah jumped up after you, grabbing you by the arm.

"It's not like that. That's not what I meant."

You refused to look up at him because of your embarrassment.

"I just meant that, well sex has never been a topic of conversation for us. I never thought you'd be coming to me for advice. That's all."

You raised your eyes, meeting Noah's. They were soft and full of sweetness, promising he was trying to be gentle with you.

"But yes," he answered quietly. "I have made a girl cum just by going down on her."

The air around you two suddenly shifted, the dynamic going from calm and collective to hot and a little nerve-wracking. You cleared your throat, swallowing hard when Noah moved closer to you in a way that he'd never had before.

"And I love it. I'm gonna be honest with you because you're my best friend, y/n.”

You looked up at him finally, noticing how dark his eyes had suddenly gotten.

"Honest? About what?"

Noah smiled gently.

"I love eating a girl out."

It was your turn for your eyes to widen now.

"That was a little too much information, Noah," you huffed a light laugh.

"You asked."

"Yes, I did. Anyway," you continued, taking a step back to create some space between the two of you.

The dampness between your thighs and the tight clenching of your sex made your heart start to race. Your panties were soaked, something that had never happened around Noah before. But because of the topic of conversation and the way he was looking at you, something between the two of you had quickly changed.

Noah was hot as fuck and everything about him drove you crazy, sexually. But he was your best friend and you were his. There was no way he felt the same about you.

"Okay, so, anyway, was it difficult for you? Getting her to cum?"

Your voice was shaky, giving away just how nervous you were to be having this conversation with Noah.

"No, it wasn't. When you know what you're doing, it's quite easy, actually. You just have to find that right spot on her pussy, right between her clit and her entrance; rub that while using a mix of your tongue and finger, and bam, you have her."

Noah smirked, arching a sly brow and watching the way you responded to his words. Your body was tense, and your palms were sweating. What the fuck was happening to you. It was just Noah.

"Why are you asking me this, y/n?" Noah narrowed his eyes.

"I um, I," you were nervous as fuck. Noah had somehow gotten under your skin with his teaching and all you could think about was his tongue and long, tattooed finger doing the same thing to you.

"I've never finished when a guy has gone down on me, and I, shit... I don't know if it's me or them."

You let out a long breath. 

"Wait, what? Are you being serious?"

You nodded.

Noah's face went deadpanned, blinking a few times.

"Soooo, you've had sex before, just the clown you slept with never made sure you finished before him?"

You nodded again, unable to look Noah in the eyes.

"Fuck, y/n. That's heavy. How is that even possible?"

You shrugged.

"It has to be a them issue, not you."

You raised your head, checking to see if Noah was joking. But he wasn't smiling; he was serious.

"Why? What makes you think it's their fault and not mine. What if I'm the problem?"

"Wow, okay," Noah said, taking you by the shoulders. "You are definitely  not the problem, y/n, trust me. It is a hell of a lot harder for a girl to have an orgasm than it is for a guy, oka? Plus, you're beautiful. Any guy that’s with you should want to make you happy first.” 

You were so consumed with embarrassment that you didn't notice how close Noah was. He was only a few inches away from where you could smell his cologne mixed with the warmth of his body heat. You sucked in a breath as he cupped your face, bringing you closer together.

"How can you be so sure, Noah?" Your voice barely above a whisper. "Unless you're willing to test that theory, I've got nothing else to base your claims on."

Noah's lips were just a few inches from yours.

"Then let's find out."

"What?"

"Let me test my theory. Let me go down on you. I know I can make you cum."

You felt the light brush of his lips against yours as you took slow shallow breaths.

"Noah, I can't. If we do that,"

"Then we can't go back to how things are the way they are between us right now?"

"Exactly," you told him.

"Good, cause I don't want them to. I want more," he confesses. “I want more of us, not just as friends, but together. 

A small smile spread over your face. “Me too.” 

"Then let’s find out. Let me make you cum the way you deserve to."

Your best friend, the one who had been there for you through two break-ups and the death of your cat, gently laid his lips on yours. At first, it shocked you, knocking you back a little from the sheer force of his greediness, but the moment Noah pulled away, leaning back to look at you, you knew that you didn't want to be "just friends with him anymore".

"Okay."

A lopsided grin swept quickly over Noah's mouth before he carefully led you back over to the couch.

"Sit," he ordered, and you did, looking up at him.

You didn't know what to do with your hands or how you should keep your legs. The once neutral feelings and normalcy were no longer between you and him, replaced only by fear of what to expect running through your nervous system.

Noah removed his shirt before dropping to his knees. Yeah, you've seen him shirtless before, but the circumstances were completely different. This time, it was because he wanted to fuck you, not because he was hot.

"First, you need to relax, okay? You won't be able to reach your climax if you're anxious and tense, okay?"

You nodded.

Noah leaned over and kissed you again, making your insides flutter. As he looked down, you watched his eyes trail over your lower body, slightly licking his lips.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this y/n."

Your forehead puckered.

"Really?"

"Hmm, really," Noah confessed, giving you a confident smile.

His fingers found the waistband of your leggings, and he slowly slipped them under."

"Can I?"

His respect for you made you grin.

" Yeah, you can," laughing lightly.

Like a kid on his birthday, Noah slipped your leggings down as you raised your bottom so he could slide them all the way off. He stared at your middle, eyes darting everywhere.

"Secondly, one way to stimulate yourself is to watch."

"Watch," you lightly croaked, swallowing and licking your dry lips.

"Uh-huh, watch. Watch as I eat you out," Noah confidently smiled at you.

"Watch as Ienjoy the taste of you, how I dive between your folds and licks every part of you. Watch as I slide a finger or two up inside you, trying to tear down your inner walls."

Pulling you closer to the edge of the couch, Noah ran his hands slowly up your thighs, leaning down to kiss them. The feeling made you gasp, and you felt his warm breath spill over your skin from his chuckle.

"Has anyone kissed your thighs before?"

"No."

"Shame on them. Such pretty thighs. I'm glad I'm the first, though."

His touch aroused every feeling for him you had suppressed all this time. Your skin prickled, sending shockwaves of a tingling sensation straight to your pussy. You were so wet, the dampness in your underwear proof of how much Noah was turning you on.

Parting your thighs, Noah sunk down and ran his tongue over the skin of your inner thigh. Your body twitched, hands digging into the couch cushion.

"Mmm, your skin is so soft and warm, baby," he praised.

Looking up at you, Noah paused.

"You good?"

You nodded, but really, you weren't. You were wound up so tight, your pussy so stimulated, that you were on the brink of tears.

"Tell me if you're not, promise?"

"Promise." Your jaw was clenched out of pure desperation to feel Noah go further.

Hooking his fingers around your panties, Noah looked up once more and your eyes locked as he slid your panties off. You quickly closed your legs so he couldn't see.

"Relax," Noah said gently, kissing your knees. "We can stop if you want to."

"No, don't stop. I just, it's just weird to know that after all of this time together as friends, we're actually doing this."

" Y/N, we're still going to be friends. Just with benefits and more."

You nodded, relaxing your legs.

Noah parted them, sighing a low "fuck" as his eyes beheld your treasure.

Your pussy was thriving. It was the perfect shade of pink, glistening with your pre-cum that Noah could wait to taste.

"Oh god," he groaned, pulling you all the way to the edge of the couch.

"Thirdly, you have to help me make you cum too."

"How?"

Noah couldn't take his eyes off your pussy. If you didn't know any better, you'd swear he was drooling. You cupped his face, lifting it so you could look at him.

"How do I help you, Noah?"

"Your hands," he stammered, "use them. And your thighs. Please, fucking use your thighs to hold me against you when you do cum."

You were so fucking turned on you didn't even think of how wrong this all was, what Noah was about to do. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered, not even the others who had failed in fully fulfilling you. You knew Noah would.

His fingers lightly touched you, like the feeling of a feather. You sucked in a breath, holding it as you kept your eyes on what he was doing. Taking his thumb, Noah found the spot right around your clit area and applied the right amount of pressure, slowly creating circles causing your entire body to ignite.

"Right there?"

"Mmmhmm, yeah, right there," I gasped.

The tip of his tongue protruded through his lips as Noah gently worked your clit, but pulled away after a few seconds. He trailed his fingers through your folds, smearing your wetness, that he caused, all over you, before easing one finger, knuckle deep, inside your entrance. You rutted against him a little, pulling a nice little chuckle from him.

"Noah," you gasped, throwing your head back from the stimulation he was showing your sex.

"Oh fuck yeah, y/n, it was defiantly a them problem. Look at you baby, look how fucking wet you are for me."

Noah pulled his finger out and showed you how wet his finger was. It glistened with your juice. Noah slipped the finger in his mouth, making you whimper.

"God, you taste so sweet." He looked at you, watching him lick you off his finger, lighting the fire deep in your abdomen.

"You like watching me, don't you? It gives you those right kinds of feelings right here, doesn't it?" Noah slipped not one but two fingers inside you, causing you to sit up. The new angle allowed him to go further in you.

"Fuck, Noah," your cry turning into a moan.

"Oh god yeah, there's your spot."

"Noah," you whine, your fingernails digging into his bare shoulders.

"Yeah baby?"

"Make me cum for you," you pleaded, watching the look of pure lust rush over his dark eyes.

Noah lifted your legs, causing you to lean back on the heels of your hands, throwing each one on his shoulders and spreading you open like his favorite book. He locked his arms around them, which allowed his fingers to work the top part of your pussy while his mouth took care of the bottom.

Without a word, he pulled your folds back and ran his tongue up your slit then back down groaning in praise as he did. The penetrating feeling of your best friend's mouth on you was a feeling you never, ever thought you wanted let alone needed.

"Oh, Noah," letting out a long, low moan as you watched his head move between your legs that were already trembling as every muscle in your body tightened.

"Jesus, baby you taste so fucking good. Fuck! So sweet and juicy" he cursed, diving back into you. His tongue entered you, probing your entrance over and over and lapping up your juices mixed with his spit, swallowing all of it.

"Fuck Noah, oh shit, don't stop, please," you whined grinding yourself against his mouth.

"That's it, baby girl, just like that. Work your sweet cunt on my tongue."

You brought one of your hands to his head, running it through his long hair, sighing at the feeling of it slipping through your fingers. Noah moaned against your pussy. The feeling he was putting you through was insatiable, completely indescribable. You couldn't speak anymore, just moan and whine the more he bit and sucked or licked and probed. Gripping his hair and tugging on it, you gasped, panting at the unfamiliar feeling coursing through you.

"You're so close, baby I can feel it, here," Noah rasped, laying his hand on your abdomen. "You're really tight."

"I know I am, I can feel it. Noah, please don't fucking stop," you begged him through a needy whine.

Noah's eyes stared at you darkly. He was loving the way he had you like puddy, in the palm of his hand. "Don't take your eyes off me."

"Okay," you whimpered.

Noah dived back into you, working your pussy thoroughly in and out. Your thighs shook as his tongue alternated between thrusting into you opening and messaging you clit, adding two fingers to the desperate need that kept building and building.

"Oh god Noah," you whined, panting desperately. "Oh god, don't stop. Fuck, baby, I'm almost there," you cried, gripping his hair and tightening you thighs around his face like he wanted

He ate you faster, fucked you harder, until your climax hit you hard, crashing into you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name, moaning as your inner walls clamped down on his fingers and he licked and sucked your bud. Without any shame, you rode his face, giving in to the sinful pleasure of the way his tongue forced you orgasm to spiral on.

"Fuck me, Noah," you exhaled breathlessly, when he pulled away.

"Can I?"

Your eyes widened, but you knew you wanted him to.

"Yes."

Noah stood up, pulling his joggers and boxers completely off and revealing his prized secret. Even though you were still dizzy and mind fucked from you first orgasm ever, you were still able to appreciate the size and length of Noah's dick. It was prettier than you imagined.

Without a word, Noah pulled you up and spun you around forcing you to bend over. Bracing yourself against the back of the couch, you felt the now familiar feeling of your arousal building up again.

"I know this isn't romantic, fucking you like this for the first time, but every time I've gotten myself off just from thinking about you, it's always been from me fucking you from behind. Are you okay with this."

You nodded quickly, looking over your shoulder.

"Yes, please, just fuck me, Noah."

And on that note, Noah grabbed your hips and slammed his cock up inside you, making you scream a string of choice words. He fucked you hard and fast, the only sound being your moans and skin slapping against skin.

"Fuck! You cunt it so fucking tight around my cock, y/n," he growled. "I wanna fuck you like this every day. Goddamn it!" It only took Noah a few more hard thrusts before the tension snapped in him and he managed to shove your shirt up before pulling out and coming all over your lower back.

"Holy fuck!"

Noah leaned over to you, completely out of breath. Wrapping his arms around you, he pulled you up and into his chest soaked with sweat. Together, you collapsed on the couch, tangling yourselves up in each other.

"I really need to shower," Noah said.

"Me too. I'm a little sticky."

Noah looked at you raising his eyebrows, that same gleam in his eyes from before.

"Round 2?"

"In the shower?"

Noah pulled you up.

"Absolutely. Shower sex is my favorite."

He shot you a cocky wink, grinning like the devil before lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

[sturniozo]

Our Lips Are Sealed V

Masterlist

“Call me Daddy one more time, Y/N, I fucking dare you.” Chris says over the phone.

I let out a laugh and roll on my side over the bed. “But you’re pretending to be my dad to help me.” I say.

“Do you actually call your dad daddy?” Chris asks.

I laugh again. “It’s possible.”

“I think you’re just trying to mess with me.” He states.

“It’s possible.” I say again.

Chris laughs. “Just try to be serious about this.” He says.

“Okay okay.” I say as I sit back up. “Daddy, I need to talk to you-“

“God damnit, Y/N.” Chris says which causes me to laugh again.

“What? I’m just trying to practice telling my daddy.” I shrug.

“Y/N, I can’t help you if you’re gonna keep doing that.” Chris groans. “Please be serious.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Chris says.

“I don’t know how to start.”

“If you didn’t spend the last hour messing around and joking with me, we’d have gotten somewhere by now.” Chris says.

I bite my lip. “I’m sorry.” I mumble.

Chris sighs. “No, it- I didn’t mean it like that. Let’s just start from the beginning.”

“Okay.” I take a breath.

~

“Hey dad…” I say as I pick at the chow mein noodles in my plastic box.

“Hm?” My dad hums in response, not looking up from his food.

“I thought about what I wanted to say.” I start. I take a breath and set down my fork, remembering what Chris and I had practiced.

“Well, what is it?” My dad asks.

“Well, my birthdays in 2 days so… I’ll be 18 then.”

“You wanted to tell me something I already knew?” My dad says, still not looking up from his meal.

“No, I- I just. Well I’ve graduated from school, and I’ll be an adult and I’ll have a job and-“

“This is still all things I already know. What’s the point of the conversation?” My dad asks.

I take a breath. “I’m not gonna be spending the weekends here anymore.” I say, looking down at the table.

My dad’s silent for a moment before asking, “After you find a job?”

I shake my head. “After I turn 18.”

My dad stays silent. He takes a bite of his own noodles and leans back in his seat. I stare at him intensely, waiting for his answer. My palms start to feel sweaty and my heart races.

“Okay.” My dad says.

“What?” I breathe out, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“Okay. You don’t want to be here that’s fine. You don’t have to come here. I can take you home right now if you want.”

“No, dad that’s not what I meant. I-“

“You don’t want to be here. You’d rather be with your mother.”

“Dad-“

“I get it.”

“Dad please-“

“I don’t want you here either.”

My breath stops for a moment. I close my mouth and stare back down at my plastic box of chow mein noodles.

“You’re a lot- you’re just.” My dad sighs. “You’re nothing like I thought having a daughter would be.”

I stay silent. My food starts to look disgusting to me. My dad says nothing, starting to pick at the vegetables in his own noodles.

I get up from the table and walk away, down the hall and to my bedroom. I close the door behind me and lay down on my bed, closing my eyes.

I lay in my bed for what feels like hours when I feel my phone buzz under my pillow. I reach my hand under and grab my phone, staring at the notification from Chris.

Chris 💩💕

How’d it go?

I don’t answer, not even opening the message. I just slide my phone back under my pillow. I roll over to the other side, facing the wall and clutching my blanket over my body.

I must have fallen asleep, because when I open my eyes my phone is buzzing in the same rhythm as before, and the sun had already set, leaving my room dark. I groggily sit up and take my phone out from under my pillow. 2 am. 14 messages from Chris, 36 messages from Nate, 4 missed calls from Nate, and Chris currently calling.

I lean my head against the wall and answer the call. “Hey.” I say.

“What’s wrong, what happened? Your brother’s freaking out you haven answered for hours.” Chris says.

“I fell asleep.”

“How’d it go with your dad?” Chris asks.

“Fine. I told him I’m not coming back and he was fine with it.”

“Just like that? He’s fine with it?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s surprising.” Chris says.

I laugh. “Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“So you’re coming back Sunday night?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“You should probably call Nate, he’s been freaking out.” Chris says.

“Jesus, I just fell asleep.”

“Yeah, but you almost never sleep at your dad’s house.” Chris says while laughing.

It’s true. This place gives me the creeps. The carpet, the walls, the bed. I just can’t seem to ever sleep here. “I was tired.” I tell Chris.

“Okay, well tell Nate that. I’ll see you Sunday.” Chris says.

“See you Sunday.” I say and hang up. I immediately go to call Nate, who picks up before the first ring is finished.

“Y/N, are you good?” Nate asks. “Why’s it take you so long to answer? What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I told my dad I want going to be spending the weekend with him anymore.” I tell Nate.

“And? What did he say?” Nate asks eagerly.

I take a breath. “He doesn’t want me to come back either.”

Nate sighs. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

I shake my head. “He told me himself.”

“Those words?”

“Those words.” I say softly.

Nate pauses on the other side of the call. There’s nothing but silence from both ends for what feels like hours. Then he says, “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t want to be here anyways.” I say back.

“I know, but I also know you’re not happy with this.”

I sigh. “I should have said it differently. I should have asked him what he felt before I said anything.”

“It’s not you, Y/n.” Nate says.

“I have a hard time believing that.” I say back. It’s always me. Every failed relationship with anybody I’ve ever known had been my fault. I didn’t communicate well, I didn’t understand, I didn’t get it.

“When are you coming home?” Nate asks.

“I’m not sure.” I respond. “Dad said he’d take me back today if I wanted, but that was at dinner.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’ll just go home Sunday night. I don’t want to bring anything else up to dad.”

I hear Nate’s breath on the other end of the call. “Okay.” He says. “Do you want me to stay in call with you or are you going to sleep?” He asks.

“I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.” I tell him.

“Okay. Goodnight, kiddo.” He says.

“Goodnight Nate.” I say. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He says back before hanging up.

Once the call drops, I immediately go to the contact I’ve hesitated to call so many times. The call picks up almost immediately.

“Hey.” Chris says. “What’s up? Did you talk to Nate?”

“Yeah I did.” I tell him.

“Is everything all right?” Chris asks.

“Yeah.” I say softly. “Can you… can you stay on call with me through the night?” I ask.

Just from the sound of his voice I knew he was smiling. His pretty smile that makes me melt every time I see it. “Of course.”

TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @urfavpouge @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @dwalk41202 @stvrnise @iloveneilperry @luvmxtt @blueeyedbesson @iloveurgf @mattswifr @that-chris-girl01 @sturniolho

[b0ng05]

Jealous - Sam Carpenter

(Angst/Fluff)

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

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Prompt: Y/n gets jealous after she sees how Sam and Danny interact. On their way home, Y/n and Sam start to argue in the car.

Word Count: 1474

Also, Not Proofread 💅

Masterlist

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Sam’s foot slams down on the break and her head whips over to look at me. My eyes averting to the window, trying to avoid hers. “Did you seriously just say that?” Sam scoffs, looking at me expectantly. “Yes.” I give a curt nod, crossing my arms.

“You’re seriously starting a fight over this? Real mature.” Sam rolls her eyes, before turning her attention back to pulling out of the parking lot. “Are you kidding me Sam? I voiced my opinion on how I felt about Danny. If you can’t have an adult conversation about feelings, pull over.” I huff, biting my cheek to hold back.

“You’re getting jealous over our neighbor and I’m the bad guy?” Sam let’s out a humorless chuckle. “With the way you feed into his flirting,” I seethe, reaching to unbuckle my seatbelt but my wrist is caught by Sam before I could.

“I do not feed into his flirting! He doesn’t even flirt with me!” Sam rolls her eyes again, adjusting her hold on my wrist into holding my hand. “He does! And I don’t wanna sit here and keep arguing about it if you aren’t going to actually hear me.” My hand attempts to slip away from Sam’s but she keeps her hold tight.

Sam pulls the car over on the side of the road, putting it in park before turning her attention to me. Her hand reaches over and gently turns my chin to look at her. She takes a deep breath, collecting her words as her deep brown eyes stare into mine, calculating how to react in a productive way. She lets out a breath before speaking as softly and lovingly as possible.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I wasn’t listening to you. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just could never see Danny in that way, and it was just starting to frustrate me that I haven’t made you feel secure enough to trust that.” Sam explains, softly caressing my cheek. “I love you, so much. I promise nothing is gonna happen between me and Danny. Nor has anything ever happened between us. And whatever you need me to do to help you feel secure in that, I’ll do it, no hesistation.” Sam whispers, kissing my cheek delicately. Her thumb softly rubbing along my cheekbone.

My bottom lip trembles a bit and I unbuckle my seatbelt so I can lean over and hug her easier. She wraps her arms around me the best she can with the middle console between us. My face tucked into the crook her neck. “I’m sorry for arguing, Sammy. I love you too.” My words muffled as I press my face into the soft cloth of her hoodie. She lets out a light chuckle, kissing the crown of my forehead, and softly rubbing circles on the small of my back.

“Are we okay?” She whispers. I nod, giving her neck a small kiss before pulling away. I reach up and caress her cheek. “I hate when we argue.” I mumble, leaning up to kiss her. She kisses back before she gently pushes me back into my seat, her arm reaching around me to grab my seatbelt and buckle me back in.

“I feel like I need to leash you. You’re a flight risk.” Sam lightheartedly teases, moving back into position so she can drive. “If you leash me, I’ll be even more tempted to run, just so you have to chase me.” I joke, poking her bicep.

“A new way for me to get my cardio in,” Sam plays along, a subtle grin poking the corner of her lips. Her eyes focusing on the road as she begins driving again. “Yeah? And what if I drop to the floor and refuse to move?” I hypothesize, a cheeky grin on my face.

“You know I have no problem with carrying you,” Sam jests, entertwining her free hand with mine. “Yeah and that definitely won’t look strange to a passersby,” I tease, lifting our hands so I can kiss the back of Sam’s.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned with them,” Sam says, a subtle smirk lifting her lips. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?” I ask, playing with the fingers of her free hand as she drives. “I’d be too busy thinking about your punishment for being a brat in public,” Sam smirks, her hand slipping from mine to caress my upper thigh, her cold rings causing a pleasurable shiver to run straight to my core.

“What kind of punishment?” I ask, biting my lower lip as the prurient actions of her hand run higher up my thigh. Her fingers tease up and under my skirt, her hand moving to cup my core over my panties, fingers running over the dampened fabric, rolling around my clit, leaving me with a desperate desire in my lower half.

“Thinking about you bent over my lap, and me, spanking your pretty little ass red.” Sam licks her lips, her dark eyes focused on the road as she drives. I squirm in my seat, her amorous words making my desire grow tenfold. The drive had begun to feel like hours despite only being minutes. Her words creating an image in my mind that I wanted desperately to recreate.

“You like that idea, huh, pretty girl?” Sam teases, her hand slipping under my panties, her finger swiping through my folds feeling the surplus of wetness. “Mhm~,’ I let out a soft moan at her actions, my hips bucking towards her hand but before I can even hope for more, her hand is crudely swiped away. My eyes dart over to her, watching as her finger slips between her lips, tongue swirling around her digit, licking it clean as she hums at the taste. Her eyes momentarily closing before glancing at me with a dark look that I knew well.

“God, I can’t wait to get you home, honey.” Sam’s hand moves back to grab my thigh and give it a light squeeze. “Drive faster,” I mumble, flustered by the older woman. My cheeks a shade of red and my thighs clenching together.

“You don’t get to make demands, baby,” Sam smirks, her fingers teasing up and down my thigh. The torturous teasing continued as Sam drove us back home. When she finally parked the car, I was quick to remove my seatbelt and get out of the car.

“Someone’s eager,” Sam teases, slapping my ass I walk passed her to go into the lobby of the apartment building. “You can’t tease me and expect me not to dart off,” I call to her, glancing back with a mischievous smirk. I giggle as I walk faster to the elevator. “Like I said, flight risk.” Sam calls back with a grin, easily catching up with longer strides. When she gets in the elevator with me, she presses the button for our floor, waiting until the doors closed to strike. When we start to descend up, Sam pins me against the cool metal of the wall, one hand on my hip, the other resting beside my head. “Maybe the leash could still be in play here,” Sam teases. I blush as I reach up to tug her collar down for a kiss. It starts out slow but quickly heats into something much more passionate. Sadly being interrupted by the ding of the elevator doors opening.

“Come on,” Sam whispers, grabbing my hand in hers to guide us down the hallway to our apartment. I kissed along her shoulder as she unlocked the front door, “You can’t wait, can you?” Sam teases, giving a light teasing pinch to my behind as I walk through the door. I give a small yelp at the pinch, playfully smacking her hand as I turn around. “Admit it, you can’t either.” I muse, watching as she locks the door back up before she turns to me.

“Oh, baby, I never said I could.” Sam smirks, coming closer and wrapping her arms around my waist. She taps my thighs, signally me to jump. I comply and Sam easily lifts me. My legs wrapping around her waist, arms around the back of her neck as her hands rest on my ass. I playfully raise an eyebrow at her hand placement. Sam catches the look and lets out a small huff of laughter, “Can’t blame me, that skirt does things to me.”

I playfully roll my eyes at her words, kiss her cheek sweetly. “Carry me to bed already,” I tease, “Then I can do other things to you in this skirt.” Sam laughs and gives my ass a small squeeze before starting to make carry me to our bedroom. The rest of the night filled with Sam proving me to that I had absolutely no reason to be jealous over some dude.

Authors Note-

Heyyy, I'm back. Its been a hot minute, I got a job so I been a little busy. But I do have a lot of stories I'm working on, I have seen my inbox and I will be getting to requests as soon as I can. 🫶🏼

[faithisyours]

Something to Tell

Azriel x Ace Fem!reader

Summary: You and Azriel are recently mated. You decide to take things slow, but you have something personal to tell Az.

Warnings: coming out, fluff

Word Count: 965

A/N: Sup y’all. Sorry I’ve been absent, a lot of shit happened. Anyways, I really just wrote this one for me. I think the topic of asexuality is really left out of this book series and fandom, understandably so, but I think it would be an interesting subject to discuss, so I’m here to fulfill my own wishes. Given the lore and rules around mates, I don't even know if this could be considered a thing, but I’m gonna try my hardest to make it a thing for my ace baddies out there. IDK if I’m gonna make this a series or not (probably won’t), but maybe see how people like it before making decisions. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to tell me. As always, minors gtfo. Adults, you enjoy!

You’re just finishing up bottling an allergy tonic for your neighbor’s son when the door to your apothecary opens, the bell above ringing out. You know exactly who it is, and you are simultaneously filled with dread and relief. Azriel, your freshly bonded mate, walks into the back room where you are working, his big Illarian boots creaking the floorboards wherever he steps. When you look up to greet him he gives you a soft smile, a smile you return.

You’ve known Azriel for a little over a year now, ever since Mor begged him to come pick up her sleeping tonic from you because she had been busy. But the bond haden’t snapped for either of you until roughly a month ago, when you were out drinking at Rita’s with the inner circle, per Nesta’s invite. Over the years you had grown close with the inner circle, specifically Mor and Nesta. What had started out as small talk when they came to pick up a tonic had blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

But the last thing in the world you had wanted to happen was to form a bond with someone, especially someone as good and sweet and caring as Azriel. Sure, he is beautiful, you of all people can see that, but the physical attraction stops there, like it always does. Emotionally you two are very compatible, sharing similar interests in books, music, and dancing. After the bond had snapped you both decided to take things slowly, moreso for your sake than his. Every day you grow more and more in love with him; you’re just terrified to see the disappointment and confusion in his eyes after you tell him you’re ace.

“Almost ready to go, Love?” Azriel asks, his eyes following the skilled movements of your hands.

“Almost done,” you respond, screwing the cap and writing the label onto the bottle quickly. You buss your wok table, putting away ingredients and empty bottles. You look over everything twice more, checking for anything out of place, but also as a means to stall. You are dreading this conversation.

“Looks good, Love. Want me to grab your coat?” You turn to him, a small smile on your lips, and grab his hand, gently cradling it in yours.

“Actually… Can I talk to you for a minute before we leave? I need to tell you something.”

“Ya, of course,” he squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly. “What’s up?” You take a deep breath and guide him to sit in one of the chairs at your work table, then pull one towards yourself so you're sitting in front of him. You take both his hands in yours. You don’t make eye contact but instead stare at your hands intertwined.

“There’s something I need to tell you about myself and I need you to listen and let me explain before you say anything,” you look up to see him nodding, a look of concern and confusion on his face. The knot in your stomach is twisting. Your anxiety is through the roof, but you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. I don’t really know how to go about saying this so I’m just gonna say it. I’m asexual, which means I form little to no sexual attraction, in my case none at all, to anyone. Which means the likelihood of me wanting to have sex with you is basically zero. I know it’s kind of a thing for mates to do it all the time, and so I thought since I am the way I am that I would never form a bond with anyone, but I guess I was wrong. And I know you're probably thinking, “well, didn’t the bond snapping make you feel anything like that?” and the answer would be no. Umm…I guess I just want to add and say that I’m not broken, and that life will be a little different with me, and that I know my boundaries, but I’m also willing to try things with you because I love you and trust you… And this doesn’t mean I don't find you attractive, because I do, I think you're really pretty, but it's more in a ‘I want to paint you’ sort of way instead of an ‘I want to fuck you’ sort of way. And I’m rambling so I’m going to stop now.”

Your leg is bouncing up and down, gaze still glued to your entwined hand. A beat of silence passes, and then he squeezes your hands, which in turn makes you look up at him. His eyes are full of understanding and love, emotions you were not expecting to see. You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling some of your anxiety fade away.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes at him, the last of your anxiety washing away. He stands and pulls you up to do the same. He releases one of your hands, using his to brush a rouge strand of hair behind your ear, then pulls you into a tight embrace. You’re taken off guard, but you melt into him, breathing in his crisp, piny scent.

“Thank you for telling me,” he squeezes you tighter. “And I know you said life will be different with you and I want to let you know I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, and I know we can work through any problems we may face. You are perfect. Cauldron boil me if I ever so much as think to change a single thing about you.”

And with that, he releases you from his embrace, you wipe the few tears that had welled at his words, and you go home.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐋♡𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 [Intro]

"I dont care how many names you've screamed in the past; tonight, you're screaming mine."

Or alternatively: you're moving away in a week, and that gives Jungkook seven days to try and make you stay instead.

Tags/Warnings: Fuckboy!Jungkook, Fuckgirl!Reader, Angst, Misunderstandings, Friends/Enemies to lovers, Very suggestive, adult, hurt and comfort, smut, did I mention angst? It's worth it in the end tho promise

Length: didn't count I wrote this while watching anime oops

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Hello boo haha

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

There's not much you can really say about him that's not just absolutely confusing.

Well- maybe you also kind of are at fault for making things so confusing in the first place, because down the line, everything about this mess is kind of your own fault.

Jungkook knows you as loud, happy, sexy and open-minded. You dress like a barbie, you laugh without trying to appear a certain way, and you know when to act dumb to get your way. He also knows you as sexually adventurous, active, and open for everything if it fits within your own personal boundaries. He himself considers himself a hedonist after all- he chases the purest forms of pleasure, be it sexual or platonic. It's a little cute how he can find a certain sense of fullfillment and happiness from just being hugged or talked to- though you know that he's also very aware of his own charms, and knows when to weaponize them.

He takes good care of himself- something you don't see often to this extend in guys his age. They typically aren't at that stage yet where they realize that their body is something to be cared for to keep it healthy for a long time- and if they do care about their body, they end up almost obsessed with it, never thinking about anything else, suddenly only looking at everything from a purely aesthetic perspective.

He's odd. But in a certain way, he's exactly what you knew you'd end up crushing on. Hard.

And that's the problem. He really, Really wants to hook up with you.

Now that's good, right? Who would say no to their crush asking to fuck them- it's a jackpot, really, is it not? He's also very obvious with his interest beyond just sex as well- he constantly flirts, invites you to his place, or visits yours. He pays for any food you both get together, he visits the movie theater with you, holds your hand in a cheesy way just to make you blush, calls you baby, darling, princess and so much more. So what's the fucking issue?

The issue is that you're an absolute fraud.

You never have wild dates or exciting sex. You never actually experienced most of the stories you've made him believe, and you most certainly aren't more experienced than him. In fact-

you've never had sex. At all.

You're a virgin.

And Jungkook thinks you're an experienced sex-goddess. Because that's what you want him to believe. That's what you made him believe.

It really started with simple white lies- whenever your apartment was cluttered to the point that it made you embarrassed to invite him in, you'd just hiss out the door that you had someone over. Then it evolved into trying to impress him with made up experiences, just to fall into conversation with him.

And suddenly, it all got out of control.

Now you've created a whole entire persona that isn't actually real at all- and it seems like that'll ruin all your chances with him for good. Though, if you think about it, you have to admit, that if he fell for your made-up-character,

did he even fall for you at all?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I mean that's cool and all but-" Jungkook says as he walks next to you, hands in his pockets. "-how're you gonna travel every day from Seoul to Busan? That's two and a half hours with KTX." He mumbles, looking out for you by gently pushing you closer by your shoulder to make way for a bike riding past you.

You hate how domestic it feels. Like he's your boyfriend or something.

"Uhm yeah well-" you mumble, looking down at the tips of your babypink heels. "-that's why I'm moving. To Busan." You admit, and it's silent for a moment while you both walk around the park together.

You're not sure what he's thinking. Is he giving up? Sure, that would hurt, but it's also for the best. In busan you can start over, away from all the lies you've made up here-

"How can I make you stay?" He asks suddenly, and you re not sure if you've heard him correctly.

"What?" You ask because of that, and he shrugs.

"How can I make you stay?" He repeats. " I can't leave Seoul because of my job and all- but I know that you've got the option to stay here instead of being transferred to Busan." He explains. "I'm not sure why you want to leave, and it's none of my business- so instead I wanna know what I can do to make you stay instead."

"Why would I stay?" You just answer, hands behind your back as you jump a bit with every step next to him, trying to mask your nervousness with your usual childish acting. "You can just fuck someone else and forget about me." You laugh, when his hand reaches out to hold onto your bra strap, keeping you still as you stop walking. "Hey-!" You bark, until you see his face.

"I don't wanna forget about you." He tells you. "And I don't just want to fuck you either." He denies, looking at you now in a more serious manner.

"Well you're gonna have to." You shrug, crossing your arms.

"How long?" He asks suddenly, a challenging glint in his gaze as he crosses his arms as well, muscles in his arms defined as the fabric of the sleeves of his black T-Shirt stretch around his biceps.

"How long what?" You bite back equally as petty in tone.

"How long until you move?" He asks, chin up as he watches down towards you.

"A week-" you start, and he suddenly smirks impishly, before he reaches out to playfully tap underneath your chin, the gesture catching you off guard.

"That's enough time." He chirps happily, starting to walk again, a newfound confidence in his step.

"Enough time for what?" You wonder as you call after him, turning around to look at him.

"Enough time to make you stay." He boldly exclaims back-

Leaving you with an odd feeling in your stomach.

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Don’t Be Embarrassed

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summary: after a sex marathon with your husband joe the previous night, you head downstairs for breakfast and have a seriously awkward interaction with his parents.

(this is a tiny part 2 to - part one)

warnings: talks about sex, no actual smut

pairing: joe burrow x reader

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(y/n's pov)

when my alarm went off at 8, i immediately hit snooze.

i wanted to go back to sleep but remembered the plane that joe and i were going to have to catch in just a couple hours, so i slipped out of bed.

joe was still dead asleep, looking incredibly peaceful.. so i left him alone.

the first thing i did was get dressed in my traveling outfit, and putting my hair in a messy bun before i made my way downstairs.

"mommy!!" - savanna jumped off the couch and came flying towards you

"good morning sweetie, how'd you sleep?" - you picked her up and put her on your hip

"good, i had good dream." - savanna

"what was your dream about?" - you

"dada bought me puppy!" - savanna

"he did?? what did you name your puppy?" - you

"uh, i dont remember.." - savanna

"oh you don't remember.. okay. what would you name your puppy if you got one?" - you

"marr!" - savanna

"oh my gosh, you'd name it after ja'marr??" - you

"yup. put me down? i want to play with my barbies!" - savanna

"yes, of course." - you sat her down

i watched sam run up the stairs to her room before i walked into the kitchen. robin was cooking and jimmy was drinking coffee while sitting at the island.

when i walked over to the fridge to grab a water i noticed both of them giving me weird looks.

"what?" - you laughed nervously

"did you sleep good last night?" - robin smiled

"yeah actually, i didn't even hear you guys come in. i was dead asleep." - you

liar.

"mhm." - robin looked at jimmy for a second then turned back to you

this interaction was really weird so i was more than thankful when i saw joe walking downstairs and into the kitchen.

"morning guys" - joe smiled

"morning, joey!" - robin gave joe the same weird look

"what's that look?" - joe laughed

"nothing." - robin grinned

joe looked at me confused but i returned the look of pure confusion.

"did you sleep good?" - joe asked, trying to start conversation and end the silence

"mhm." - you pulled him into a hug

joe kissed my head, as i laid against his chest. robin and jimmy were still looking at us with weird smiles on their faces so we quickly pulled away from each other.

"what time did you two end up going to bed last night?" - jimmy

"uh, i don't really know. i was asleep before you guys got here. do you know?" - joe

"uh, nope." - you

"that's kinda weird because we heard quite the commotion last night" - robin

both joe and i tensed up, not knowing what to do.

"you guys know the guest room is right under the master bedroom, right?" - jimmy

"oh god." - joe sighed

"so you guys.." - you

"heard y'all? yup. coulda gone my whole life without hearing that." - jimmy

"oh my god." - you covered your face with your hands

"it's fine though, don't be embarrassed. it's not like we didn't know you guys engage in that.. activity. i mean you guys have a kid so we kinda knew.." - robin

"yeah you guys are married adults, don't be embarrassed. but, joe honey you sound like a cat dying.” - jimmy

"i don't think i sound that bad..." - joe mumbled

"he’s overreacting, joe. after i heard it though, and well realized what i was hearing i put my noice cancelling headphones on.” - robin

"all i had were pillows to put over my ears, thank god i was super tired and fell asleep quickly. i’d probably end up sleeping in the car.” - jimmy

"but really, don't be embarrassed. you guys are young and having fun." - robin

"okay, sorry about that though." - you

"it's fine." - robin smiled

"yeah guys, it's all good, i'm only slightly traumatized." - jimmy

"jim." - robin rolled her eyes

"as much as i'm loving this conversation about our sex life.. i'm gonna grab some toast and finish packing." - joe

"i'll be up there in a second!" - you told joe as he grabbed a plate of toast and started walking back upstairs

thank god that joe’s parents love me, plus i’ve already got the ring on my finger so there’s no getting rid of me.

————————————————————————

authors note: small little part two as a goodnight!!

hope you enjoyed! ❤️

[intheholler]

Do you have any tips for being more comfortable using your natural accent in front of people? I was bullied for it as a kid and scrubbed my accent away through teenhood. As an adult, I feel like I still have to put on a neutral accent so people at work won't judge me. I told one of my old bosses that I was from Appalachia and he went on about how he'd seen do many documentaries on Appalachia and what good people we were, but also added that "Wow! I never would have known. You don't have an accent at all. You're so well-spoken!" and it felt bad. I think he had good intentions, but it made me feel like a zoo animal. I always see comments on other Appalachian folks' posts about their accents too, and there's always a handful of jerks who have to say something about their intelligence or make an incest or drug addict "joke".

It all hurts a lot and makes me self-conscious, but I don't want to be this way around my friends. Do you know how I can stop letting peoples' ignorance and classism get to me? Worrying about how I pronounce words or if I'm using region-specific slang all the time is so exhausting.

hi there <3 this is a topic near n dear to my heart because i spent so much of my life trying to avoid sounding appalachian, and the last few years of it desperate to sound so aggressively appalachian that yankees can't understand me, lmao.

that is all to say: this is gonna be long as usual.

first: class solidarity, family <3 this stuff really sucks.

what inspired me to push past the discomfort of using my natural accent after a lifetime of getting rid of it was actually along the lines of what you mentioned: people being shocked that i could be from appalachia, and be articulate at the same time. there are so many nasty, hurtful implications there.

i hate to say it, but there's no easy answer to this.

something in me just… snapped one day about ten years back. i started to look inward, and i discovered this overwhelming pride and passion and love for my home that i had denied myself my whole life, out of fear over how it made me look.

i started doing the self-work and digging deeper into that. it wasn't comfortable, but once i embraced appalachia, i wanted to defend her. the best way to do that for me was to be loud. my pride in where im from outweighed the rest.

maybe you should start there, too. look inward, break down your own subconscious biases about yourself and about our home. find out why you have been made to think this way.

work on loving the appalachian parts of yourself. GET. FUCKING. ANGRY. at those who poisoned your mind with this shit, and use that fury to work on dismantling the beliefs they imposed upon you.

because why shouldn't we talk like our mamas just because some asshole thinks its funny? why should we give up ties to our community and culture, just to be respected? why should every blessed conversation be emotionally and physically taxing just to make a classist more comfortable?

it isn't my shame to carry, and it isn't yours. it is their shame, and their self-work to do. it is not our responsibility to coddle their ignorance. that is on them.

now, when someone hears me talk, it causes a sort of dissonance that they then have to wrestle with. it shifts the discomfort and emotional labor away from me, and puts it on to them instead.

every time i speak proudly, they have to confront themselves and their biases, and how it harms someone that they respect--you.

and if they aren't the kind of person empathetic enough to do that, literally who gives a shit what someone like that thinks about you.

turn those 'jokes' they make about it right back on them:

why is drug addiction funny? why is incest and sexual assault of children funny? why are underfunded schools and a failure to give children across the nation a fair and equal education something to laugh about?

framing it in my mind that i was taking back control in conversations this way helped me speak more comfortably. it made me feel empowered.

i think of it like this: by speaking in my dialect and embodying positive and "unexpected" traits from the region (leftist politics, anti-racism, things like that), i reclaim my power. i use that power to slowly shift the opinions of appalachia with the people i interact with.

it was scary, and it's still scary. but by making a conscious decision every day to speak in our dialect and be courageous even when it's hard, we are reclaiming the parts of ourselves that they took from us. we are bettering the image of the region we love so dearly.

it is INCREDIBLY empowering now to settle into my accent. but it took a LOT of self-work, courage and self-respect to be able to do it.

it ain't easy. i do still struggle with it; i catch myself code switching all the time. i don't think you or me or any of us trying to reclaim our accents will ever fully escape the weight of the classism that dictated our manner of speaking for a huge chunk of our lives, unfortunately.

but if you do that difficult work, it is so, so liberating, family.

you can do it. talk to yourself when you're home alone. let the accent get comfortable again on your tongue. start there, then let that beautiful dialect out for the world to hear <3

[polyklok]

Omg omg i love your writing!!! No words can describe how much I love it!

Imagine muderface with a s/o or crush that says the weirdest stuff, like some stuff that they have been through. It is so random! Like those tik toks that say "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do is die" in the most randomest of situations.

Like imagine just chilling out doing nothing and y/n looks over at muderface and says "would a zombie apocalypse be a formal event? Like your buried in your best clothes?"

It woukd very so cool if you could write something for this but if you don't want to that's cool!

Just wanted to share my thoughts. No one I know watches Metalocalypse.

Thank you!!!

Have a wonderful day or night!!

(I didn't really check my grammar or spelling that well, I am sorry)

Murderface with an S/O that says ~random~ things!

“The color is actually named after the fruit.”

You baffle him daily. He never asked to be spoonfed random trivia, shower thoughts, or absurd hypothetical questions. And yet, here he was, eating it all up.

When William was first met with your verbal hijinks, he was just so, so confused. Why did you know this? Why were you telling him this?

“What?”

“Orange. Like, people just described the color as yellow-red or something before the orange fruit was spread around Europe and they got a new word for it. The color is named after the fruit.”

“…Okay???”

For a while, he thought you were trying to give him clues about something. He was just extremely suspicious of you. Like, surely there had to be a reason behind it, right? Well, no, and he soon just found it was a quirk of yours.

He was always told to shut up whenever he tried to pipe in or had an interesting fact to share, so you defying one of the fundamental rules of his life is a bit jarring.

As he grows closer and more comfortable to you, he gets used to your pondering and even begins to consider them. Maybe you have a point?

“What’s the minimum amount of ducks do you think it would take to fully kill an adult rhino?”

“I don’t fuchkin’ know. Probably a schit ton.”

“I bet, like, five. They’d just swarm him.”

“You are scho wrong. He’d schtomp them all to a pashte.”

Well now he’s gonna stay awake all night thinking about it. He can’t decide if you’re the stupidest person he’s ever met or the smartest. Either way, he gets a little flustered when facing the seemingly infinite expanse of your mind.

After a while, he begins to pick up your habit. In his own Murderface-way, of course. He had a pretty obvious interest in things like car mechanics and war history, but now he’s more willing to share all of what he knows with you. He’s really excited that someone finally seems interested in what he has to say, no matter how meaningless it is.

And once that door is open, he becomes more willing to open up on a deeper level. Even though he’s a dumbass, he does have a depth of intelligence, even if he isn’t great at articulating it. Be patient and you’ll get some fascinating conversation from him.

“Even if there isch a God…like, what the fuck, man?! You juscht gonna leave us all down here to suffer and schit? I might as well ignore you juscht to schpite you! What a dick move.”

William never realized how valuable it was to him just to be listened to. Simply talking to you slowly becomes one of the better parts of his day, everyday.

It takes a lot for Murderface to love and it takes even more to love him back. But the effort is well worth it with these types of riveting discussions;

“You have to fight a bug that’s 100 times its original size and you get one weapon from the medieval era. What is your bug and what’s your weapon?”

“Easchy. Butterfly, Croschbow. One arrow for each wing. Instant win.”

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 8

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: Mild violence and mentions of blood. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 7 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

The day of the Tea Party you hold Nick’s hand as much as you can in the car. While it’s impossible to really have a plan for what’s going to happen, you’ve talked through some plans for what to do if things go bad. Nick made sure you memorized the directions to the nearby Cairo Hotel and to ask for the manager, Jonathan Pine. As a fail-safe Nick had reserved a room under both of your names.

Nick parks the car but stops you from getting out. He gently holds your chin and, eyes full of worry, he pleads, “promise me, if anything happens, you’ll get out. Don’t stop or try to help me. You just get the hell out of there.”

“It wouldn’t look good if your girlfriend just bolted,” you argue.

“If things go south there’s gonna be a lot of chaos and a lot of things could go bad,” he asserts. “You run to the hotel. I’ll do better if I know you’re safe. Please.”

“I can’t promise that, Nick,” you object. “Believe it or not, I do actually care about you and don’t want you killed because I decided to provoke him.” Nick’s eyes widen at your confession so you continue, “it’s not romantic care. Not right now. But we’ve been friendly for so long, I can’t say it wouldn’t hurt to lose you.”

“Thank you for that,” he whispers. “But I can’t let you go to this party unless you promise me you’ll take care of yourself first.”

“Fine,” you acquiesce. “But I get to decide what taking care of myself first looks like.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” he smiles softly. “You can be so delightfully stubborn.”

Part of you wants to believe he is interested in being more than just friends. That his words are heartfelt compliments. You brush those thoughts away and mumble, “let’s just get this over with.”

You’re a little disappointed that the rooftop garden is so much a garden as it is a rooftop lawn. There aren’t any plants aside from grass and some plain green bushes that have been trimmed into neat, orderly box shapes. The only color is provided by the pink tablecloths that adorn the few designated eating areas. It makes you wonder if your dress is out of place and too colorful for the occasion. 

There were other people already in attendance. A small group of young ladies posing for their phones, smiling and laughing. A few gentlemen who were clearly dragged along by the young ladies, sitting and grumpily staring at their phones, occasionally discussing whatever it is rich young people discuss. And Clark Kent, directing the catering staff and telling the bartender to not let his nephew have more than two drinks. 

Being the polite guests that you are, you and Nick make sure to tell Clark that you’ve arrived. He plasters on his best fake smile to greet you, not even bothering to look at Nick. 

“Ah, sweet Lady, you brighten this party with your presence,” he schmoozes, taking your hand to kiss it. “Sincerely, I feel out of place with all of these young ones. It’s nice to have someone mature to have a conversation with.”

“Yes, Nick and I do seem to be the only adults on the guest list,” you comment. “Are you hosting this for someone else?”

Clark sighs, “my nephew is trying to impress his girlfriend. Apparently she’s trying to make it big on Instagram, or whatever. He’s hoping attending a party hosted by Clark Kent will be good for her profile and, thus, good for him.”

“Ah,” you smile. “Kids in love are so adorable.”

Clark scoffs, “it isn’t ‘love’ it’s just horny college boy stuff.”

“Oh,” your smile falls. “He told you as such?”

“No, but I remember being that age,” he retorts. “All that’s on his mind is getting laid.”

“I remember being that age as well,” Nick interrupts. “And I remember thinking it was love.”

“And clearly it wasn’t,” Clark rebutted. “Or else you wouldn’t be here with this lovely Lady today.”

“Not all love can be true love,” Nick countered. “But it can still be real. You take the lessons you learn from that love and apply them to the next, in an effort to keep it.” He looks at you, eyes soft, yet steely with determination. “Maybe it’ll even become a true love with time and work.”

“Agree to disagree, I suppose,” Clark rolls his eyes as he smiles. “I’ll believe in love when it actually happens.”

“Given how things worked out for us, I’m inclined to agree with Nick,” you banter. “Sometimes life makes us too cynical, too hard on ourselves, to see real love. I think it’s why I adore when younger people are in love. It’s so cute and pure. But, this is clearly something we’re not all going to agree on so how about we just enjoy the food, drink and company?”

Nick kisses the back of your hand, “my Lady is so very wise.”

“Agreed,” Clark hums. “Feel free to partake of any of the food and drink that interest you. And do let me know how you like it. I need to make sure to leave feedback for the caterer.”

About an hour into the party you find yourself enjoying the company of the younger folk. They’re a lot like the young people you work with and you almost feel like “the cool aunt” with how willing they are to open up to you, how they light up when you ask more about their ideals and dreams. Nick stays with you and follows your lead. He hasn’t seen you so relaxed and happy in a while and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you that way. 

He also keeps an eye on Clark, who is sulking near the bar. You’d clearly been invited to keep him company but you’re enjoying the company of everyone else. Nick’s lost track of the number of refills Clark’s gotten on his drink but it’s definitely been enough to start affecting him. The casual observer might be fooled but Nick notices the slight tells of Clark being buzzed, closing in on drunk. 

To be honest, though, a drunk Clark Kent isn’t Nick’s primary concern; it’s the Instagram girl constantly taking photos and videos. Nick doesn’t care much for putting his face out in public but the young lady is insistent on getting everyone in view. He’s grateful when you comment about him being painfully camera shy and go out of your way to block his face when you can. 

At least until the Instagram girl tells all of her followers how much fun you are. When that pronouncement comes out everyone hears Clark shout, “she’s supposed to be talking with me! Not you young idiots!” He comes storming over to you and Nick immediately jumps in his way, hands out in a calming, placating manner.

“Mr. Kent,” Nick entreats, “you’ve had a lot to drink today. Please take a breath and consider what–” He’s interrupted by a punch to the face. 

“NICK!” You immediately run to him to see if he’s okay. 

Your scream seems to pierce Clark’s drunken state and he shakes his head trying to clear it. That’s when he sees the phone is still out. Still live-streaming. He looks over to you and Nick and closes the distance to punch Nick again, this time putting him on the ground.

“You did this on purpose,” Clark shouts. “You set me up for ruin with your schemes and plots!”

“Mr. Kent,” you scold, “we are your guests. You invited us here and we’ve been nothing but polite.”

“You should leave,” Clark snarls. You take a step back, startled by the rage in his face. 

Nick is up and grabs your shoulder, pulling you behind him. “He’s right, we should leave.” He keeps between you and Clark as you head towards the stairs to get to the elevator. Once inside you see the blood draining from Nick’s nose and get some things from your purse to try to clean him up. As much as he wants to enjoy your caring touch, he has to keep alert. Especially when the “express” elevator stops early. 

The door opens and a small group of burly men gesture for you to step out with them. Nick looks at you and whispers, “remember the plan.” You nod and Nick throws himself at the small posse. 

You hit the “Close Doors” button and stay out of sight until the doors close. You stay in that spot until the doors open at the lobby and you rush out. Your entire system is on high alert but you have to pretend to be calm as you walk through the lobby. You don’t want to draw attention. Silently you thank Nick for making you memorize the path to the hotel as it becomes the mantra for your brain, keeping you from panicking. 

The Cairo Hotel lobby is immaculate and you do feel a little safer just for being there. You approach the front desk and shakily ask to see Jonathan Pine, the Manager. The woman behind the desk gives you a once over but goes to get him. You keep looking to the hotel entrance, hoping to see Nick, afraid to see Clark. You’re certain Nick is strong and capable; Teach said he’s one of their best security people. It’s why he was called in to protect a witness. You’re still very scared for him, though.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a polite cough from behind the desk. A tall, lean man with blondish brown hair and blue eyes is smiling politely, “you asked for me?”

“Y–yes,” you start, “I was told by Nick Fowler to come and ask for you?”

Mr. Pine’s eyes flicker with recognition at the name, “ah, yes. Mr. Fowler speaks highly of you. Please come with me so we can get you taken care of.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As he begins to lead you away you hear your name being shouted from the hotel entrance. You’re not sure if he followed you or if this place just made sense, but it’s clear Clark is very angry with you.

“You owe me an apology and an explanation,” he shouts as he storms towards you. 

Mr. Pine steps in front of you and calmly tells Clark that he needs to leave. “I will not have a disturbance at my hotel, Mr. Kent. I will especially not tolerate any violence or threats of violence against one of my guests.”

“She’s not a guest,” Clark spits. “She can’t afford a place like this! I’ve seen her pay statements! She’d be lucky to be able to afford a half hour here!”

“She is a registered guest at this hotel, Mr. Kent, and I will not let you threaten her.”

“This is bullshit! I’ve done nothing but be kind to her and she’s ruined my reputation!”

“Your quarrel, legitimate or otherwise, has no bearing here, Mr. Kent. She is a guest, she is under my protection.”

“Oh fuck you,” Clark snaps before throwing a punch at Mr. Pine. Mr. Pine easily dodges, grabs Clark’s arm and maneuvers him into a wristlock, causing Clark to let out a bark of pain.

“Miranda,” Mr. Pine addresses the hotel clerk. “Please escort the Lady to the Cleopatra Suite while I call the police.”

Miranda nods and gestures for you to follow her.

+++++++++

You spend the next hour pacing the hotel room you were brought to. It’s a smaller, windowless suite that makes you think it’s specifically set aside for emergencies. There’s a mini-bar but you have no stomach for food or drink. You’re all nerves and keep pacing as much as you can. You wish Nick were here. It wouldn’t be enough for someone to tell you he’s okay, you need to actually see him, feel him, know he’s still alive. 

The past few weeks have been a tumultuous mess and Nick quickly became your safety net, your safe haven, your reliable partner. You’d started craving his reassuring touch, his comforting whispers in your ear. You swear to yourself that if Nick makes it through this you’re gonna tell him about your feelings. About how you want it to be real. Hopefully he’ll let you down gently. 

A tone from your phone gets you to stop pacing. You find a text from Nick, “about to knock on the door.” Sure enough, there’s a knock. You still make sure to check that it’s him through the peephole, just to be safe. You almost start crying when you see him on the other side of the door.

Flinging the door open you pull Nick inside with you, slam the door shut and pull him in for a kiss. Initially thrown off, he softens into the kiss and holds you tight. When you pull away for a breath you whisper, “you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay. Didn’t realize how much I needed you to be okay.”

“Yeah, sweet Lady, I’m okay,” he assures. 

When you pull away again you gasp at how beaten up he looks. He quickly tells you he’s had worse, that he’ll be okay in a few days, but you barely hear him. 

“Have you seen a doctor? Nick, you might have a concussion, or broken bones, or something worse!”

“I needed to make sure you were okay first,” he confesses as he kisses you again. “Couldn’t stand the thought of you being caught.” Another kiss. “Needed to hold you again, just to be sure.” You welcome the kisses and return them with a fervor that encourages Nick to keep going. “Couldn’t go to a doctor until I heard your voice again.”

“I felt the same,” you admit between kisses. “I never want to go through that again. I need you, Nick.”

“Need me?” He gently pulls away from you, eyes searching your face. 

“Yes, Nick,” you breathe. “I’ve always felt safe with you, enjoyed your company and the past few weeks have just cemented that. I want you around. I need your touch, your comforting words and presence. Please.”

“I’ll happily be yours,” he affirms. “And if I wasn’t worried about getting blood on your gorgeous body I’d take you here and now.”

You can’t hold back a small moan at the thought of Nick’s expert lips on other parts of your body and he smiles before wincing at the pain it causes in his split lip. That elicits a small chuckle from you, “we really should get you to a hospital, Nick.”

“Will you hold my hand while they patch me up,” he asks, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “I’m not a fan of hospitals and could use the comfort of your touch to help keep me calm.”

“Gladly, Nick.”

He kisses the back of your hand, “thank you, my gracious Lady.”

Part 7 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

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[ramirezmindset]

ғᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀ��ᴛᴇɴᴅ.

ʙʀᴀᴅʟᴇʏ ʙʀᴀᴅsʜᴀᴡ x ғᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ.

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: as the daughter of pete 'maverick' mitchell, there were certain expectations people had of you, all of which you were determined to defy. however, after a hellbent summer leave of love, loss and heartbreak, you discover you're more like your father than you would've ever imagined.

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: angst central, reader being a dick, rooster being a dick, mav being a dick, everyone being a dick, break-ups, seggsual innuendos, loss of relationships/persons, platonic male/female friendships, romantic male/female relationships, adult language ↳wc: 2974

FATED TO PRETEND: INTRO & MASTERLIST

Your phone rang on the desk opposite you for the third time. It was a cold day where you were stationed, freezing even, and you were fairly sure that even if you did want to answer that call, your phone would be stuck to the mahogany due to the sub-zero European temperature in your small office.

You already know what he'd say, you could already feel the words penetrating your ears. You didn't want to hear them, couldn't bring yourself to hear them. Maybe if you ignored the phone some more, he would give up and call the next best thing. The phone stopped ringing, and you were granted with a few moments silence. You leant back on the chair, folding your arms over your chest and releasing a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

The wind battered against the flexible glass of the window. You could just make out the faint outline of people on the airstrip, running around and laughing at each other. The pilots down there were fresh, spring-chickens who were so excited for what the future of this career holds. It was your job to keep their excitement palpable, not to tell them the truth, that in sixth months when dicking about is over, they would wish they never joined the Navy in the first place.

The phone rang again. Groaning, you braced your elbows on the desk and stared at the name on the screen.

Dad.

You bit the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit you got from your mother. You didn't even realise you had reached for the phone until it was against you ear and your father's voice filled the room.

"God, Y/N! I thought you were dead!" Pete Mitchell said that every time you answered his phone calls. It was routine, almost, you would ignore his first few calls before finally picking up, and he would panic and berate you and you would (insincerely) apologise before letting him say whatever it is he needs to say, and that would be it. He wouldn't call again for three months and then the cycle repeats itself, like a snake eating it's own tail.

"What is it?" You cut to the chase.

"Look, Y/N, you know what I'm gonna say. And I'd rather it be me say it than Admiral Simpson" You sigh down the phone, you could picture your fathers face in your head. Eyebrows furrowed, free hand on hip as he looks down at the ground and back up. Right now, he'd be glancing around the room, trying to make himself look busy to any suspecting on-lookers. "Don't make this hard for me"

"Do I have to?" You ask, biting the skin on your thumb. "Like, is there actually nobody else?"

"You know you have to. Don't pretend you're busy and hang up the phone so you can avoid the conversation, I've already called Ant and he said you were just sat in your office farting about with paperwork" You take a mental note to berate your best friend as soon as this call is over. "Y/N, this is your job. I know you'd rather hide away in some dark corner and teach some morons how to stop and start a plane, but you're better than that. You know it, I know it, Cyclone knows it, and the Navy knows it. That's why we need you here."

"Well, what's in it for me?"

"Bragging rights, I don't know. I don't even know why I'm here, dovey." You close your eyes and sigh at your fathers childhood nickname for you. Your relationship had always been strained, your mother doing everything in her power when you were a child to stop Pete from seeing you. She thought he was dangerous, irresponsible, which are both true, but that never stopped him from showing up at your front door demanding to see his daughter. You were always a daddy's girl, but his unreliability slowly ate away at whatever relationship the two of you shared, him preferring to give all the fatherly love he had in him to his late best friends son, Bradley, who, you had heard, couldn't really stand him either, especially in more recent years.

You felt bad for the guy, you really did, but he did it to himself.

"You don't have a choice here, babe, you either do whatever this is we have to do or you're permanently grounded. I'm on the same terms as you, you know how Cyclone feels about me. We're on the same team"

"I guess" You murmur just as a knock on the door comes. Ant pokes his head round, biting his lip nervously as you hold up a finger, a silent plea for him to give you a minute. "Fine, I'll do it. But if anyone asks, I did this of my own free will and my father did not have to call me begging. That's embarrassing for you"

Pete chuckled down the phone, bidding you a goodbye as you put the phone on your desk and rested your head in the palms of your hands.

"If it's any consolation, I've been called back too" Ant says, snapping you out of your trance. He's behind you now, massaging your shoulders. He's tense too, you can feel it in his movements. "Someone else has been called back as well, I bet Mav didn't mention that on the phone"

"He didn't need to" You reply, craning your neck to look up at him. Ant and you had met years ago when you were both stationed somewhere sunny, neither of you cared enough to remember where. You were both Top Gun graduates, and he was your new back seater after your last guy had a panic attack in the air and quit, much like a story your dad told you about someone he knew years ago.

The two of you regularly joked that you were twin flames, he was a brother from another mother, Sonic and Tails, Femme and Fatale. You could read each other like a book, and he was the first person to not have any expectations of you or your skills in the cockpit after realising who your father was.

Ant smiled lovingly down at you, leaning slightly down to wrap his forearms around you in a hug. You reached up to hold his wrist, leaning back slightly, welcoming the embrace.

"It'll be fine" He murmured, pressing a quick and friendly kiss to your temple before releasing his hold on you. "We're only there for three weeks, it'll be over before you know it, and we'll be back in this shithole teaching these men how to make fire"

You chuckled, nodding along slowly.

"I better pack a bag" You say, pushing yourself out of the chair. "When Top Gun calls, I better come a-running"

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The air is thick and the sun is hot, a sharp contrast to your last location. Ant walks slightly ahead of you, abandoning your duffel bags in the trunk of his car and pushing his sunglasses up his nose. The sound of the waves crashing nearby was somewhat calming in comparison to the pounding in your head. Despite the somewhat idyllic scenery, you would rather be anywhere but here.

Your jeans were sticking to your legs as you felt a bead of sweat roll down your back. You couldn't tell whether it was from nerves or from the blistering heat, either way, you'd rather be somewhere with air conditioning.

"Mav said he'd be in there" Ant says, pointing ahead of him at a beachside bar. The sign read 'The Hard Deck', with small LED planes flying around the slogan, lighting the sand around it blue. Of course your dad would be here, probably scoping out some poor fresh-meat naval aviators to scare the daylights out of.

"Stop talking to my dad" You roll your eyes and walk ahead towards the entrance of the bar as soon as you felt a cool breeze coming from the general vicinity.

"Hey! Maybe if you spoke to him more, I wouldn't have to be the middleman!" Ant hollers from behind you, picking up his pace to catch up with you.

Your dog tags smacked against your chest as you stepped up towards the bar, scouting the room out for any sign of your father. He was on the other side of the bar, tormenting the bartender most likely. Ant waved at him from behind you, gaining his attention as he nodded for the two of you to join him at the other side of the bar.

"Sonic" He nods at Ant. "Dovey" He opens his arms for a hug, a rare sight, and even though every neuron in your brain was screaming at you to leave him standing there with open arms like some sort of theme park attraction, you just couldn't resist a hug from your dad. In his arms, you felt like a little girl again, who's dad didn't hurt her, who's dad didn't run off, who's dad didn't introduce her to the first and only boy to ever break her heart.

"Hi, dad" You say, hugging him round the middle tightly as his hand rubbed your back.

"I got you two a drink" He replies, pulling away from the embrace and sliding two glasses towards you. Ant picks his up, chugging the concoction immediately and scuttling off down the bar, no doubt on purpose. He does this every time, makes some sort of excuse to leave you and your father alone together so he doesn't 1) witness the awkwardness of the interaction, and 2) be caught in the crossfire of the inevitable argument the two of you end up having.

"We don't have to do this, dad" You say, guzzling your own drink before slamming it back down on the bar. Malt whiskey, at least he remembered your drink of choice. "We don't have to attempt to mend whatever this relationship is just because we're working together, because in three weeks I'm gonna be back in Bosnia or wherever it was I was booted off to, and we won't talk for months and it'll just start all over again"

"I'm glad we're on track" He smiled at you, resting a hand on your shoulder, thumping it in a friendly manor. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid" And with that, your father was walking down the bar towards the bartender as you turned around to find Ant at the pool table, with some more aviators in their khaki's.

He nods his head for you to join, but you shake your head and turn back around, leaning your elbows on the bar, losing yourself in your thoughts.

The last time you were at Top Gun, this bar had been less than pretty. It was grotty, sticky floors and all. The jukebox would play the same fragmented verse of some random 80s ballad on repeat, and the place always had an almost fusty smell from years of beer and other spirits being spilt on the floor and bar. The bartender's were just as unrecognisable, and, looking over at your father, you wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of history with the woman leaning over to ring the bell that sat happily above you.

You chuckled to yourself as a couple men in khaki's hauled your dad out and onto the sand, he probably deserved it. Just as you were about to join Ant, the bartender turned to you.

"Y/N, right?" She smiled at you. You blinked at her and nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "I'm Penny, Pete and I are old friends" She pushed another glass of malt whiskey towards you.

"It's on the house" She continued. "He never stops talking about you" Her eyebrows furrowed, as if waiting for your reaction, but all you did was lift the glass to your lips and raise an eyebrow back.

"Surprising" You reply, putting the glass down. "I never talk about him"

"He said you'd say something like that" You both chuckled. Penny had a comforting aura about her, something motherly and warm. You wondered what someone like her saw in someone like your father. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're dad is a good guy deep down. Took me a while to believe it too. Just- I know you're gonna be working together for the next few weeks, so try not to let the fact that he's sometimes a dick get in the way of whatever it is that you need to do. From what I've heard, you're a fantastic pilot, Mav has some competition"

You smile at her, grateful for her words of wisdom, but just as you open your mouth to reply, the door to the bar swings open and the sounds of cheers from the aviators behind you fill the room.

Suddenly, Ant is behind you, resting his hands either side of you on the bar so you're back is flush with his chest, creating a human shield of some sorts.

"OK, don't look" He says, staring dead ahead. "But Bradley just walked in" Your eyes went wide as Penny pursed her lips and walked off to the other patrons, leaving you pushed up against the bar nursing a drink. "He has a-" Ant cuts himself off, furrowing his eyebrows. "He has a pornstache?"

"What?" You reply, ducking under his arm to escape his embrace before he could stop you.

Immediately, your eyes were attached to the tallest man in the bar, you wouldn't have missed him even if you were blindfolded. He was more muscular than the last time you saw him, and his hair was slightly golden, like it always was when he spent too much time in the sun, telling you he had been here for a while. Those stupid aviator glasses were still plastered to his face, like they had been for the last decade, and he was still sporting Hawaiian shirts like they were going out of fashion. His clothes hugged him deliciously, and you're suddenly reminded of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place.

Ant was right, he had grown a pornstache, and you hated to admit it, but you don't think you had ever seen him look so good. It had been five years since you saw him last, five years since your relationship had ended. Your father had introduced you two at some Navy event just after you had graduated from Top Gun. You knew who he was, of course, you had seen photos of him hung around your dad's apartment, you were fairly sure Pete had more pictures of him than he did you.

He smiled at you, with that stupid fucking smile, and immediately you were a goner. He introduced himself, offering you a glass of champagne and a seat at the table next to him, and for four months after that you were inseparable. He made you feel like the only girl in the world, and he looked at you like he had the whole world in the palm of his hand. He was the first, and only man, you had loved fully, with every little bit of your heart and soul, so much so that he was the first face to appear in your head when you woke up, and the last face you pictured before you fell asleep.

You hadn't seen him since he broke your heart half a decade ago, leaving you a shell of yourself for no apparent reason other than the fact that he 'couldn't make it work.' To this day, you don't know what 'it' is, what 'it' he was referring to, you can only imagine he was talking about long distance, your jobs constantly forcing you to be apart, but the years of maturing and growth made you see the bigger picture. He just didn't want you anymore. He had had his fun, he had dicked about with Pete Mitchell's daughter, became a naval celebrity, and then fucked off when the novelty of you had worn off.

"Earth to Y/N!" Ant bellowed, waving his hand in your face. You were snapped out of your trance. "I said do you wanna leave?"

You shook your head, nervously fiddling with the dog tags around your neck. "No, it's ok. Just- we'll avoid him" Ant nodded, passing you the drink you had abandoned haphazardly on the bar. You drank the rest of its contents, watching Bradley like a hawk.

Ant scoffed next to you, he knew what you meant by 'avoiding' him, you would sit at the bar, keeping your distance but your eyes locked on him until he noticed you. And when he would notice you, you would crap yourself and leave and then cry yourself to sleep as Ant would nurse you when you dry heaved from sobbing. He had been here one too many times before, Bradley's name has to merely come up in conversation for you to spiral.

"Sonic, I'm serious" You say, turning your back to Bradley and leaning on the bar once again. "Me and you are gonna have fun, and then we're gonna go back to the apartment and order a pizza and then go to bed. I'm not letting some man get me down-"

You're cut off by the sound of the piano behind you, and you don't even need to turn around to know that it's Bradley's fingers expertly playing the keys, and you don't even need to turn around to know that your dad is probably pressed up against the window paying more attention to the guy at the piano than his daughter who's drinking her own sorrows at the bar.

Ant sighed. "If you say so."

[lovingseventeen]

my random thought just suddenly wondering how it feels to have seventeen as your older brother 🥺 personally, i think seungcheol, jeonghan, woozi, hoshi, eisa and vernon radiates big bro energy jsjdhdhshsjs btw i love your writings 😻

svt as older brothers

a/n: this is totally independent from the members and their siblings irl/where they are in their actual sibling lineages lol

seungcheol:

✰ literally an additional guardian

✰ when you come home late he’s in the living room like “where were you” -_-

✰ little tough, but he’s also the person you trust the most

jeonghan:

✰ always always teases you

✰ but still manages to be sweet in the end

✰ if he annoys you too much he'll try to make it up to you by giving you a small gift

✰ sometimes it’s a bag of your favorite chips or maybe it’s a new pack of nice pens because he knows you like them

joshua:

✰ easy going and doesn’t really bother you

✰ also quite responsible so you can rely on him to help you with homework or general responsibilities

✰ although he will (lovingly) post a very cringe (in his opinion, cute) picture of you from your childhood for your birthday greetings

✰ i can’t believe y/n is so grown now, i might just cry 🥰✨🫶 *used ironically*

jun:

✰ unspoken understanding type of close

✰ he’s pretty responsible too but it’s disguised with how weird he is LMAO

✰ will make a controversial snack and always ask if you want some ???

✰ the best bro to watch stupid comedies with

hoshi:

✰ the kind of sibling that you'd bicker with a lot because of the tiger agenda and general small annoying instances

✰ the kind of menace in the sense that he’ll ruffle and mess up your hair or hang out in your room for no reason

✰ but he's also simultaneously your number one defender

✰ someone's interested in you? ohoho get ready to face the older brother interrogation

✰ expect to not be able to easily flirt with anyone, he's gonna ruin it

✰ “oh is this the guy you were giggling about last night-” right before you push him out of your conversation

✰ your s/o broke your heart? NOBODY give him their location

wonwoo:

✰ the perfect sibling to participate in parallel play LMAOO

✰ the two of you are in the same room doing completely different things and honestly, it’s a comfort

✰ the kind to send you a meme instead of just showing it to you on his phone even if you’re on the same couch

woozi:

✰ also a very responsible big bro

✰ i feel like he’d be the best to go to for any advice

✰ maybe more on the serious side but he’s always welcoming to you and sincerely listens

dokyeom:

✰ honestly the kind of sibling that will definitely do stupid shit with you

✰ the kind of brother you’d make a tiktok about bc he’s doing something equally funny and weird

✰ quite literally the most entertaining family member during karaoke sessions on holidays bc he has the voice of an angel but also the energy of a thousand suns when he feels like it

✰ even if you guys ever jokingly bicker i can't imagine him ever really getting mean so y'all don't really argue

mingyu:

✰ always prepares extra food for you

✰ if he gets up earlier than everyone and has to make breakfast for himself, best believe he's making more than one serving so you have something when you wake up too

minghao:

✰ still slightly babies you even if you’re grown

✰ in his mind you’re still his baby sibling and that he has to take care of you regardless of your age

✰ even as adults he might text you on a day that it’s raining and ask “did you bring an umbrella with you to work today?”

✰ puts in the effort for a chance to hang out with you when he can 🥺

seungkwan:

✰ why is arguing with him so funny LMAOAO

✰ go into his room to knock something small over and leave without saying anything and he's ready to throw hands

✰ will jokingly fight you but immediately apologize if he accidentally hits you too hard or he thinks he might’ve hurt you

✰ “what. is. your. problem- oh shit i’m sorry i didn’t mean that-”

vernon:

✰ the chillest older brother omg

✰ reliable in the sense that he'd probably accompany you in your shenanigans - literally goes with the flow

✰ you don't have someone to go with you to this late concert? sure he'll tell your parents he'll go with you

✰ “you wanna go see this band with me?” you ask, showing a poster on your phone

✰ “sure?”

✰ you need someone to drive you somewhere? yeah he can spare an hour, just text him when you need him to pick you up

dino:

✰ also another fun sibling to argue with

✰ it’s fun to tease him by saying he’s your little brother even when he literally isn’t

✰ “y/n i’m literally *insert the exact number of days he was born before you* days older than you”

[dixonsgirl93]

Opposites and Opportunities (Sfw)

Merle x ace fem!reader

:Request from anon:

A/N: I've stated before that I personally am not ace, nor do I know anyone who is. I hope I did this enough justice. Feedback would be appreciated so I can improve. Thank you and enjoy!

"Listen, Merle. You're wasting your efforts on me. I'm not interested." You turn to fully face him now. "And it's not because of your charmingly brash personality or your wickedly handsome face. That sort of thing just doesn't interest me." You turn away again.

"Doesn't interest you, huh? What? Having a good time is not something you like?" Merle called after you from the stairs.

You sigh and face him again. "Sex. I mean sex. I've never cared for it. All right?" You feel yourself go red in the face and then silently berate yourself. So what if you didn't like the idea of sex? It's nothing to be ashamed about, you remind yourself.

"Maybe you just haven't met the right guy yet!" He continued and you resigned yourself to the fact he was really not gonna let this go.

"People always say that. As if sex is so important to be having in your adult life. Maybe I don't want to find the right man. Maybe for the last few years I've tried to like the idea because everyone around me and the media has told me I should? I've only recently come to terms with who I am and no one...no one...is going to change me."

Merle held up his hands (metal and normal) in surrender and smirked. "I didn't mean any harm, babygirl. I can't say I understand though." He rested his arms on the pole in front of him again and looked down at you.

"You don't have to understand it, just respect it." You walk away, back to your cell.

~~

Later that day Merle finds you outside and approaches you.

"Hey. Mind if I join yer?" He asks. You motion for him to sit and does and looks out at the darkness. "Do you think it's more or less scary when you can't see 'em out there?" He nods towards the fences.

You follow his gaze and think about it. "Depends which side of the fence you're on." You reply.

Merle chuckles. "Good answer." He pauses. "So anyway, about our conversation earlier, about you not liking sex...uh, why not? I mean, have you always felt that way?" You see genuine curiosity in his eyes and it surprises you. He actually wants to learn.

You look down at the table and frown, thinking about how to phrase your answer. "I can't really explain it, it just...doesn't appeal to me. It seems kinda gross, honestly. Sharing so many bodily fluids." You make a face at the thought.

Merle watches your reaction. "So...you're a germaphobe? Is that it? God help you in this mess. Walker fluids are worse, honey." He laughs to himself, again looking out at the fence. It was too dark to see anything and you wondered how many walkers were standing just out of reach.

You can’t help but smile at his answer. “Well, that is true. It’s not just the germs though, the whole act of…” You gesture wildly with your hands. “…of sex, that I don’t like.”

Merle watched you try to explain and looked away again. “I still don’t get it. Maybe I’m just too horny to.” He chuckles and shrugs. “But hey, you do you, I guess.”

“Thanks.” You say and place a hand on his metal arm. “I underestimated you. I didn’t think you’d…be so understanding. I especially didn’t think you’d be so curious about it.” You say, looking in the distance.

There’s a short pause. “Gotta be honest, I thought you were lying at first to get me off ya back. I’d get it. I can be a lot for some folk.”

You look at him for a moment but say nothing. What could you say to that? It was true and it felt like he was opening up to you. You knew it must be a rare thing too, knowing the kind of person he was, or at least, who he showed the world he was.

“I still…” You begin to say and then pause, wondering if it was a good idea to divulge this information. “I still feel romantic attraction.” You admit.

“Oh yeah? That’s where I fail. Don’t think I can do that mushy crap.”

“To quote you earlier 'maybe you just haven't met the right person'." You look at him knowingly, with a smirk. Merle turns to you laughs.

"Hell, maybe you're right." He admits. "Even less of a chance to find her now though, don't ya think?" His expression turned sombre for just a moment.

"True." There's a long moment of silence again, just sitting in each other's company, letting the weight of the moment sink in. "Maybe there's still a chance. I mean, we're not dead yet." You smiled encouragingly at him but you couldn't quite feel the hope for a future like that in your heart.

Merle just chuckled and stood up. "Anyway, thanks for the chat, Y/N. Have a good night." He winked and walked back inside.

[camywamycam]

what was left behind in the rubble P.3

702 words

soon to be harry x reader 

TW//WRITTEN AT 4 AM BY A SLEEP DEPRIVED TEEN!!!

A/N

I know this is a short chapter and im sorry 😭 I finished writing this at 4 am because I can only write at night since I'm with my mom and siblings all day and I refuse to write in front of them 😭 maybe it wasnt a good idea to start a full ass fanfic story with a plot 2 weeks before I leave for summer camp but yolo, ive decided im gonna have this fic go from the summer - hoggwarts and y/n will start acting a lot more like Sirius iykwim 

y/ns pov

................

If you had been in the right mindset, you would have impatiently pushed Remus away the second he stepped foot into your room. However, at that moment, all you needed was a hug. You clung onto the soft fabric of his cable knit sweater, which carried the strong scent of chocolate, cigars, and parchment. Remus held you firmly in his arms, patiently waiting for you to feel comfortable enough to open up about your thoughts.

"I hate him," you said in a broken voice.

"You don't mean that," Remus replied, his uncertainty evident in his words. "He loves you, he just... doesn't know the right way to express himself, that's all."

"Well, he obviously doesn't have that problem with Potter," you spat, your voice tinged with envy. "When I traveled all the way to Europe to see my biological father, I was kind of hoping he wouldn't be a total dick."

Remus sat and listened attentively as you rambled, finally realizing how left out you had truly been. The other children never spoke to you, and neither did the adults, except for the usual greetings. The more he spoke to you, the more he learned about your experiences. He discovered that while you were neglected at Grimlands place, you had met a group of muggles who had welcomed you into their friend group so at least you hadn't been totally alone. In the mere 45 minutes of conversation, Remus had already learned more about you than your very own father.

You and Remus continued to chat throughout the night in the room which you had made your own. For the first time in a while when you woke up that morning you didn't feel absolutely terrible. you turned to your side and checked your phone notifications before getting ready for the day.

you tried to sprint down the stairs as quietly as possible knowing the other adults in the house wouldn't be so happy about you sneaking off to hang around strange people whom they knew nothing about. It was almost comical how much they tried to control you when you and they both knew they didn't care about you in the slightest. As you raced down the stairs you bumped into a pale boy with messy black hair and glasses that were a tad bit too large for his face. "black." he spat "potter." "and where do you think you are going?" he said sassily 

harrys pov

....................

it was strange seeing y/n actually dressed. since none of the kids went outside we mostly stayed in our lounging clothes. I took note of y/ns red top, flared jeans, a jean jacket that was covered in patches, and Converse. She actually looked quite nice... but I would never admit that. 

"out." that's all she said as she tried pushing past me. I grabbed a hold of her wrist "What's your problem? You've been acting rude ever since you got here. You could at least try to talk to your dad." she scoffed in my face "Oh I've tried. he's the one who doesn't want me here." "Maybe he would actually like you if you weren't such a bitch." I was shocked at the words falling from my mouth. did I say that out loud? my thoughts were confused as y/n turned around and punched me square in the nose. Adults rushed in as they heard me fall into a vase smashing it while holding my bloody nose. Mrs. Weasly scolded y/n “what on earth have you done!” she screamed at y/n but she just looked around with a red face and big eyes as she rushed towards the door slamming it shut, not that anyone cared.

"don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry," you thought to yourself as you ran to your friends' house. luckily she asked no questions and just welcomed you in with open arms. you eventually told her what had happened at Grimmlands place and she was pissed. both her parents said you could stay with them as long as you needed. they even let you move into the guest room so you wouldn't have to continue sleeping on your friend's floor. you know that you can't stay here long since school is starting soon, but you might as well enjoy it while you can.

tag list 

@moonys0chocolate @venomsvl  @quackitysdrugdealer @superduckmilkshake

[diabolicalcunt]

I feel the need to pin this cause I’ve always been notorious for people loving me when they first meet me, and then finding out that my political views are not extremely liberal. So here’s all the reasons you will hate me once you get to know me. Or not. I honestly don’t care I’m just sick of the ‘You aren’t who I made you out be in my head!’ conversations.

So my unpopular opinions in no order-

1. They/them is something that’s being encouraged by big brother to see yourself as non or less human.

2. DID isn’t real and you just disassociate a specific way. I look like I’ve been drugged cause I fall down ‘inside’ myself like a well and have no reaction time and can barely speak. I’m like a sloth. You pretend to be a anime character. It’s just coping.

3. The concept of trans genocide is fear mongering by big brother and means to keep boundaries between social groups.

4. To build off 3, the push to medically transition underage children is a move by big pharmaceutical companies to create a permanent customer. Because whether you decide to stay transitioned or de transition, you’re going to be on medication for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. There’s also the whole issue with child exploitation. You’ll be judgmental against Dance Moms, but you won’t say anything about a mom who transitioned her child when they were two years old and made them a social media star.

5. Trans men and women who have been charged with a crime belong in LGBT prison wings. Because we have created a culture where male rapists can put on its dress and be rewarded with a permanent stay in the hen house where they can victimize more women and the system will just cry transphobia and call the victims liars. You got a problem with that? I have never seen a trans man pushing to get put in men’s prison. I wonder why… 😐

6. Blair White is queen.

7. I will fight Henry Cavill on sight. I don’t give a shit how bad you want motorboat him. He’s a fucking pedophile.

8. Same goes for David Bowie. When I get to the afterlife I’m gonna make him wish he could die again. Ask me if you want my full on sight list. 😂

9. I stand with Palestine. Yes I think Islam is a horrible religion that is anti woman. I still don’t think kids should die for the grievances of adults and I think it’s fucked up Israel is doing the same shit Nazis did to them and expect us to nod and smile!

10. Qu**r is just as much of a slur as f*g*t or n*gg*r. I don’t use it and if you do I will block you no questions asked. Say gay! Say lesbian! Say…bisexual! 😱

11. Butch women are valid as fuck and I adore y’all . They aren’t trans men, fuck your lesbian phobia.

12. To build off 11, the new LGBT movement has been infected by woke homophobia and the new trans movement is nothing but conversion therapy in a mask.

13 . Radical feminists are women’s last hope.

14. Marvel movies always sucked, we were just kids and ate up the pretty colors.

15. Dune is a white male savior story.

16. Your fave is not autistic, trans, gay or whatever. You just need validation cause you have no confidence.

17. The Boys should have never cast Jensen Ackles and the Supernatural fandom needs psychological help.

18. Too many of y’all try to primp and posture as the gods of your fandom and yes I say that as someone who did the same and stepped away when I realized how cringe I was. Lording over autistic adults and actual children is pathetic. Get therapy and a real hobby.

19. While gender neutral fanfiction has its place. The trend that all fanfiction needs to be gender neutral is literally killing the creativity and frankly the spice to fanfiction. I hate this trend where piece of media needs to be sterilized so it can be consumed by anyone, even people just passing by. It goes against the concept of creating at its core. Sometimes things are made for specific groups. Sometimes it’s made just for you. The things you create do not need to be sanitized to the point there’s no substance, just a hollow consumption. Think of it this way. Would you rather have a hot pizza of your preference or would you prefer to just drink a bowl of water because someone on the other side of the world might not like pizza?

20. The WWE Divas belt was iconic. I get the whole take women wrestlers seriously movement and I agree! But god damn it, it’s a Bratz belt!!! Gimme!!!!!

21. I fucking HATE koalas. They literally only exist because humans have dumped millions of dollars and keeping them alive. If natural selection were allowed to take his course, they would’ve died off 100 years ago. The food they consume has so little nutrition that they have evolved to have the smallest brain to cranium capacity of any animal to create a built in helmet!! Why? Cause they are so stupid they literally fall out of trees and drop their infants!!! They shit on their young and have permanent diarrhea due to the 0 nutrition thing. They carry chlamydia. They’re so fucking stupid they can’t fuck and have to be artificially inseminated to continue the population. If I couldn’t get laid on my own, the government would not drop millions of dollars into making sure I do!! So why did koalas get it? Literally a waste of resources that could be going to feed thousands of hungry children and instead we’re keeping a fucking retarded (I’m on the spectrum fuck you) animal alive who should have gone extinct hundreds of years ago cause it’s supposedly ‘cute’!! God! I hate koalas!