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hottiesforhockey · 1 month ago

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ho, ho, hoe ⎜m.barzal

🎄pairings: mat barzal x afab!reader 🎄genre: romance ⎜christmas special ⎜smut ⎜friends to lovers⎜ 🎄warnings: mat is in love and not great at hiding it ⎜alcohol consumption ⎜ drunk sex ⎜missionary ⎜p in v⎜pretty vanilla overall ⎜ marking/hickeys⎜ just a dude in love ⎜awkward love confessions ⎜very minimal smut tbh ⎜ 🎄synopsis: an accidental christmas hook up, becomes so much more when your hoe of a best friend catches feelings. 🎄word count: 5.2k 🎄authors note: this is my first of several christmas fics - there will not be a part 2 but I hope you all enjoy!! christmas fic list

(unedited)

“Come on, you promised,” Mat said, his voice teasing as he nudged you out of the car. “It’s one party. You’ll survive.”

You glared at him, tightening your coat against the icy December air. “You ambushed me. I never said yes.”

“Details.” His smirk deepened, and you hated how easily it chipped away at your resolve. “Besides, you’ve been sulking at home for two weeks. Consider this an intervention. No one should be this much of a Grinch in December.”

It was impossible to argue with Mat Barzal. You’d learned that years ago. He had a way of wrapping his words in charm and layering them with just enough humour to get his way. It didn’t help that his ridiculous good looks made you forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

Mat was your best friend—the kind of friend who’d been there through every bad breakup, every celebration, every boring Tuesday night when all you needed was a movie marathon and pizza. He was also, as you liked to call him, a professional-grade hoe. Always flirting, always texting someone new, always shamelessly charming his way into trouble.

So, of course, it was Mat who had dragged you to this Christmas party. And of course, he’d conveniently forgotten to mention that the guest list included a suspicious number of his teammates, their dates, and not many people you actually knew.

You tugged your itchy sweater down and shot him a glare. “If this is your idea of a fun Friday night, I’m starting to question our friendship.”

“You’ll thank me later.” He slung an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the door. “Trust me, you’re gonna have a great time.”

What Mat didn’t say—and wouldn’t dare admit—was that he’d spent weeks working up the nerve to do this. To spend more time with you outside the cozy bubble of friendship. To finally figure out if the feelings he’d been burying for years were one-sided or if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way.

But Mat was a coward when it came to you. A hoe, sure. But only because it was easier to flirt with strangers than risk what you had.

Inside, the party was in full swing. Twinkling lights strung across the room, the faint scent of pine and cider in the air, and a playlist that was just loud enough to drown out awkward small talk.

Mat stayed close, his hand brushing yours as you made your way through the crowd. He didn’t miss the way you wrinkled your nose at the chaos, and his grin softened. “Alright, Scrooge. Let’s get you a drink.”

You let him pull you toward the kitchen, rolling your eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so insistent on dragging me out like this. Don’t you have ten other girls you could be charming right now?”

His smirk faltered for just a moment, so brief you almost missed it. “Maybe I like spending time with you.”

The words hung between you, light but heavy, before he quickly added, “Besides, no one else would put up with your terrible attitude about Christmas.” You laughed, and Mat felt the tension ease, though the knot in his chest didn’t loosen.

One day, he thought.

One day he’d tell you the truth.

The kitchen was quieter than the rest of the party, the hum of conversation and Christmas music muffled by the thick walls. Mat handed you a cup of something that smelled strongly of peppermint schnapps and took a long sip of his own.

“This is terrible,” you said after a cautious taste, wrinkling your nose.

Mat grinned. “It’s festive.”

“It tastes like someone melted a candy cane into rubbing alcohol.”

“Exactly.” He raised his cup in a mock toast. “Happy holidays.”

You clinked cups with him, rolling your eyes. Typical Mat—always the life of the party, always ready with a sarcastic comment or a sly grin to keep you on your toes. You couldn’t help but smile as he leaned back against the counter, his dark hair slightly messy and his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the room.

“So,” he said, tilting his head toward you. “Having fun yet?”

“I’ll let you know when it starts.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but join in. It was easy to relax around Mat, even in a setting where you felt like a complete outsider.

As the night wore on, the two of you lingered in the kitchen, your drinks steadily disappearing. Mat’s stories became a little louder, his laugh a little freer, and you felt yourself loosening up too.

“Remember that time we tried to make cookies in my apartment?” he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

“How could I forget?” You grinned, leaning against the counter beside him. “You set the oven on fire.”

“It wasn’t a fire,” he protested, gesturing with his cup. “It was a… controlled open flame.”

“Your neighbours didn’t think so.”

“Yeah, well, they hated me anyway.” Mat chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But you stayed. Even when I ruined the cookies.”

“You had alcohol,” you said simply, and he laughed again, shaking his head.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice softening. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, but before you could respond, he downed the rest of his drink and changed the subject.

“Okay, real talk,” he said, setting his empty cup on the counter. “What’s your deal with Christmas? Why do you hate it so much?”

“I don’t hate it,” you said defensively. “I just think it’s… overrated.”

“Overrated?” He looked at you like you’d just insulted his entire family. “You’re breaking my heart over here.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s fine. It’s just not my thing.”

“Maybe you’ve been doing it wrong,” he said, his grin lopsided. “You should let me show you how it’s done.”

“And how’s that?”

“For starters…” He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your overused christmas sweater. “This thing has got to go. You look like a rejected elf.”

“Excuse me?” You stared at him, mock-offended, and he burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding! Mostly.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “You’re the only person I know who can make something that ugly look good.”

The comment sent a flutter through your chest, but you brushed it off as just another one of Mat’s usual flirtatious remarks. He was always saying things like that—half-joking, half-serious—and you’d learned not to read too much into them.

Still, as the drinks kept flowing and the night wore on, Mat’s comments started to feel… different. Softer. More pointed.

“You know,” he said at one point, “sometimes I think you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze fixed on his cup. “Just that you’re… you know. Amazing. Like, actually amazing. And you don’t even realise it.”

You laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Okay, you’re definitely drunk.”

“Tipsy, maybe,” he admitted, a crooked grin on his face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Before you could press him further, someone burst into the kitchen, dragging Mat into a conversation about hockey and leaving you standing there, your mind buzzing as much from his words as from the alcohol.

As the night wound down, you found yourself back where you started—leaning against the counter, your cup nearly empty, with Mat by your side. The party had thinned out, voices from the living room fading into a low hum.

He was quieter now, his usual spark mellowed by the weight of the night and whatever thoughts had been lingering behind his lopsided smile.

“You’re staring,” you teased, breaking the silence.

“Am I?” His lips quirked up, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe I’ve just got a lot to think about.”

“You need a brain for that” You hoped your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

He hesitated, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the countertop. “Like how you’re still here,” he said finally. “When you could’ve bailed hours ago. But you didn’t.”

“Maybe I’m a sucker for bad holiday parties,” you joked, but the warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten.

“Or maybe,” he said, stepping just a little closer, “you like spending time with me as much as I like spending time with you.”

It was the kind of thing he’d say all the time, casual and easy, except now there was something behind it. Something that made the air between you feel heavier. Charged.

Maybe it was the alcohol?

Or maybe it was something you had been feeling all night - a shift.

“Mat,” you began, but the words caught in your throat when his hand brushed against yours, tentative and testing.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and serious now. “And I will.”

You didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you closed the space between you, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. It wasn’t careful or calculated—just instinct, like you’d been waiting for this moment longer than you cared to admit.

His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and for once, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Not the bad music, not the overplayed holiday cheer, not even the fact that anyone could walk in at any second.

“Guess the party’s starting now,” he said breathlessly when you finally broke apart, his forehead resting against yours.

“Shut up,” you muttered, laughing as you pulled him back in.

Mat’s laugh rumbled softly against your lips before his hands shifted at your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss slowed, turning into something softer, sweeter, but no less intense. His fingers traced light patterns along the curve of your back, and you found yourself melting into his touch, the rest of the room falling away entirely.

When the sound of voices drifted closer—someone coming down the hallway, loud and unsteady—you both broke apart, the spell momentarily shattered. Mat took a step back, his eyes lingering on yours, a sheepish grin playing on his lips.

“Guess we’ve got an audience incoming,” he said, nodding toward the approaching voices.

“Probably shouldn’t give them a show,” you replied, your cheeks burning. Your hands dropping to straighten out your sweater, your cheeks burning a bright red as you turn away from your friend - taking a few sobering breaths. You turn back to Mat slowly, your eyebrows lifting as you find him already staring at your, his cheeks burning as much as yours.

“I don’t think I’m finished with tonight.” He says slowly - adding, “but I’m definitely done with this party.” His Adams apple bobbing as he watches your mind turn a hundred miles an hour.

“Oh, well there’s a bar down the street thats usually open late.” You note, Mat’s brows furrowing as he shakes his head.

“That’s not—,” Mat lets out a soft sigh, his smile soft on his face as he spits out, “I’m trying to ask you to come home with me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric, like a string pulled taut. You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly, or if the adrenaline coursing through your veins was playing tricks on you.

“Home,” you repeated slowly, testing the word on your tongue. Your voice came out softer than you intended, barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Mat nodded, his gaze steady but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for the answer. “Yeah. With me.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat reverberating in your ears. The room around you blurred—the noise, the decorations, the faint smell of spiked cider—and all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against his palm, the slight twitch of his jaw as he waited.

This wasn’t like him. Mat, the always-casual, too-cool-to-be-flustered Mat, was standing in front of you looking like his world might tilt depending on your response.

You took a breath, your pulse skipping as you leaned in just enough that your words were for him alone. “Okay,” you whispered, the weight of the decision melting into something exhilarating as you saw his grin break through.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice quieter now, carrying an edge of disbelief, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah.”

His hand found yours again, this time with more certainty, fingers lacing through yours as he gave a gentle tug. “Let’s get out of here before someone stops us.”

You followed without hesitation, weaving through the scattered crowd, ignoring the knowing glances and side comments. The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside, sharp and refreshing compared to the stuffy warmth of the party. Mat didn’t let go of your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And as he led you down the street, your hand still in his, you felt something settle in you, a kind of rightness you hadn’t expected and couldn’t deny.

The walk to Mat's place was quiet but charged, every step a wordless conversation. The city hummed around you—car engines purring in the distance, the occasional laughter spilling from a bar’s open door—but it all felt like background noise. The real energy was in the small, subtle touches: the way his fingers tightened around yours when your hands brushed, or the way he glanced at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

When you reached his building, Mat paused at the door, his free hand fishing out his keys. He hesitated, looking at you with a crooked smile, his breath visible in the cool air. “Last chance to back out,” he teased, but there was an edge of seriousness in his tone.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart skipped. “Mat, if you don’t open that door in the next five seconds…”

His laugh was soft, barely louder than the jingle of the keys as he unlocked the door. “Alright, alright,” he said, pushing it open and holding it for you. “Come on in.”

The warmth of the lobby hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The building smelled faintly of pine—probably some festive candle someone had left at the front desk—and you followed him to the elevator, the silence between you comfortable now.

Inside the elevator, the closeness felt different. More intimate. The quiet hum of the machinery filled the space, but all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat. You caught Mat glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Instead, his thumb resumed its soft pattern against your hand, grounding you.

When the doors slid open, Mat led you down the hallway to his apartment. The tension built with each step, your stomach doing little flips as you reached his door. He unlocked it smoothly, gesturing for you to step inside first.

His place was exactly what you’d imagined—warm, lived-in, and distinctly him. The couch had a throw blanket draped messily over one arm, and a few mismatched mugs were scattered on the coffee table. String lights twinkled softly along the windows, their golden glow casting cozy shadows across the room.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, scratching the back of his neck as he shut the door behind you.

“It’s not messy,” you replied, taking it all in. It was charming, actually, and it felt... safe. “It’s nice.”

Mat exhaled a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing again. He reached out tentatively, his hand brushing your arm before sliding down to your hand.

“Still sure?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with something vulnerable.

You nodded, your fingers curling around his. “Still sure.”

That was all he needed. Mat pulled you in gently, his other hand finding your waist as his lips met yours. This time, there was no hesitation—no second-guessing. It was slower than before, but somehow even more consuming, like he was trying to memorise the feel of you, the way you fit against him.

One of mats hands reach up, tugging slowly on your hair scrunchie pulling it from the bun, letting your hair fall loose, his fingers playing with the strands as he leads you to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours as your arms loop around his neck. Mat’s lips make his way down your neck - pressing soft kisses as he tugs on the hem of your sweater, his lips only leaving your skin as he pulls the thick fabric over your head, his eyes immediately dropping down to your bra.

“I’m about to fucking combust.” Mat groans, the two of you falling onto his mattress, your head buried among the pillows as Mat sits up on his knees, taking in the sight of you as he rips his own soft hoodie over his head, his hands reaching out for the button on your jeans.

“God, you’re stunning.” Mat coos, as he slides your jeans down your legs, throwing them off to the side as he smoothes his hands down your body, his hands stopping at your knees as he pushes them apart, his body slotting slowly between them as he leans down to reattach his lips to your jaw - sucking harshly against the soft skin, a soft whine escaping you the blood rushing to the surface as an obvious bruise starts to form.

“Perfect.” He whispers, against your neck as he picks a new spot and sucks again.

“Mat.” You hiss, as his hand slowly dips in the waistband of your underwear, gently teasing your clit, his teeth skimming the skin on your neck as he pulls away. “If you don’t put your dick in me right now I swear to god.” You continue, your nails digging into his shoulders as he dips an experimental finger inside of you.

Mat doesn’t need to be told twice as he makes quick work of his own pants, his cock painfully hard as it leaks with premium - his body leaning over your as he rifles through his bed side table. “Wrap it before you tap it.” He jokes, your hands pulling your own underwear down your legs, throwing them off to the side as you take in Mat.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You sigh, but your smile betrays your serious tone. You always knew the hockey player had a good body - his fitness levels beyond the average person, but seeing his stone cut figure was about to make you drool - your hands reaching out for him as he rolls the condom on his dick.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.” He whispers as he crawls back on top of you, his body slipping perfectly between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as he lines himself up. His head dropping into the crook of your neck as he pushes in, his movements slow and purposeful as he lets you adjust with each inch. “Is this okay?” He whispers into your hair, his hips moving excruciatingly slow as he pumps himself in and out.

He smiles as you nod, your lip trapped between your teeth as you let out a soft whimper, his hands placed on either side of your head as his movements speed up a little. “My pretty little pillow princess.” Mat coos, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as the sound of skin on skin fills the room.

“Fuck Mat.” You hiss as his pelvis brushes against yours, your cunt clenching around him - his hips stuttering as he lets out a low groan.

“I’m close.” He hisses, your head nodding in agreement as your nails drag up his back tangling in soft hair, tugging lightly.

“I need more.” You breath out, Mat eye brows furrowing as he lifts himself up slightly, lifting a hand off the mattress, his fingers dipping between your body as he teases your clit softly.

“Shit.” He grunt as you squeeze around him again, his orgasm being pulled from him as he bottoms out inside of you, his fingers still working on your clit until he feels you clench tighter around him, a long whine escaping you as you cum. Mat’s body falls against yours, the two of your breathing heavily as your fingers continue to scrape against his scalp, a please sigh leaving him as his body melts on top of yours.

“Mat, I need to go to the bathroom.” You mumble, your eyes almost forcing themself closed as the heat radiating from your best friend tries to lull you to sleep. Mat lets out a grunt, lifting himself up just enough to capture your lips with his, his mouth spreading into a wide grin as he rolls off of you, discarding the condom as he lies on his back.

“There should be your favourite stuff under the counter if you need it.” He says softly, his eyes already closing, “Come back to me quickly.” He adds, his arm thrown over his eye as his breathing evens out.

You watch him for a few moments before dashing into his bathroom, facing the mirror as you take in your nest of hair and your flushed cheeks. “What the fuck did I do?” You sneer at your reflection, the bright red bruises on your neck sticking out like a sore thumb. You turn on the tap, using the cold water against your face before cleaning yourself up as quickly as possible, your frown deepening as you step out of the bathroom, Mat fast asleep in the bed, his body turned towards the empty space besides him.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper as you make your way over to the bed, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against his temple before pulling your clothes back on as escaping your best friends house.

Three days passed quickly - your phone constantly dinging with a barrage of messages from Mat. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Your phone sat face down on the counter, Mat's unread messages and missed calls an ever-growing weight on your chest. You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to face him after what had happened.

Every time you closed your eyes, you could feel his hands on you, his lips against yours. The memory of his soft laugh, the way he had asked you to come back to him—it all made your heart ache.

You fucked your best friend.

And then you ditched.

What if this ruined everything?

What if he regretted it?

You finally pick up your phone, glaring down at the messages waiting for you;

Matty ♥️: Hey, just wanted to check in, is everything okay?

Matty ♥️: I know this might’ve made things awkward but maybe we should meet up and talk?

Matty ♥️: I know you’re reading these, please answer me.

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

Fuck.

Mat was - rightfully - going out of his mind.

He hadn’t heard a word from you—no texts, no calls. You were ignoring him, and it was eating him alive. Every time his phone buzzed, he scrambled for it, only to find some pointless notification or a message from someone who wasn’t you.

He couldn't get the memory of your touch, your laugh, or the way you had whispered that quiet "I'm sorry" as you left his place. That had stuck with him, playing over and over in his head.

What were you sorry for?

Leaving?

Crossing the line between friends?

Or something more?

Matty ♥️: I miss you.

His most recent text. He’d sent it hours ago.

No response.

Again.

“God, what did I do?” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. You had been his best friend for years. He knew you inside out—or at least, he thought he did. But now, it was like there was this wall between you, and he hated it.

Mat stared at his phone, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. His apartment felt suffocating, every quiet moment filled with the phantom echoes of your laughter or the soft murmur of your voice. He could still see you everywhere—in the hoodie you had borrowed and never returned, in the stupid inside jokes you’d scribbled on his fridge, in the way his couch smelled faintly like your perfume.

The silence was driving him insane.

He stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the room. “Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. He didn’t even hesitate as he shoved his keys into his pocket and stepped out the door.

The drive to your place was short but felt agonisingly long. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his mind racing with every possibility.

What if you didn’t want to see him?

What if this was it?

What if you hated him for what happened?

But he couldn’t sit around wondering anymore.

He needed to see you, to talk to you, to fix this—whatever this was now.

When he finally pulled up outside your building, the glow of your apartment light felt like both a taunt and a lifeline. He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

What was he even going to say? Hey, sorry I ruined everything, but also, I think I might love you? That sounded pathetic, even in his head.

But before he could second-guess himself, he was out of the car and heading toward your door. His knuckles rapped against the wood before he even realised what he was doing.

Inside, you froze. The sound of his knock sent a jolt of electricity through you. You hadn’t expected him to come here—not after how you had ghosted him. Your stomach twisted with guilt and something you couldn’t quite name.

“Hey, it’s me,” his voice came through the door, quieter than you’d ever heard him sound. “I—I know I should’ve waited for you to reach out, but... I can’t. I need to talk to you.” Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren’t home, to let the silence stretch on. But the other part—the part that missed him so much it hurt—had already pulled you to the door.

You hesitated, your hand hovering over the doorknob. “Mat...” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll leave if you want me to,” he said quickly, his words spilling out like a flood. “But please—just tell me what’s going on. I’m going crazy over here.”

You bit your lip, a lump rising in your throat. The wall you’d been trying so hard to build was crumbling, and you didn’t know how to stop it. Slowly, you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see him standing there, his expression a mix of hope and heartbreak.

The sight of him made your chest tighten. “Mat...” you said again, your voice trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, taking a small step closer. “For whatever I did, for whatever I said that made you leave. But you—you can’t just disappear on me like this. I need to know if we’re okay.”

And there it was. The question you had been avoiding. The answer you weren’t sure you even had.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

“Are we?” you asked softly, your voice breaking on the words.

His brow furrowed, his gaze searching yours. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “But I want us to be.”

And just like that, the ache in your chest spilled over, and the tears you’d been holding back finally came.

Mat’s expression softened immediately at the sight of your tears. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he held back, unsure if you’d let him. Instead, he just stood there, the weight of your silence filling the small space between you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the emotion. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to...” You trailed off, shaking your head as more tears spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer, his hesitation melting away. “You don’t have to apologise. I just—I’ve been losing my mind not knowing what you’re thinking. If I pushed you too far, if I—”

“It’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the tears. “It’s not you, Mat. It’s me. I... what if we made the wrong choice?”

That stopped him. His brows knit together as he studied you, his confusion clear.

You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “What if we ruined everything? What if things will never go back to how they were before? You’re my best friend, Mat, and I don’t—” Your voice broke again, and you bit your lip hard, willing yourself to keep it together.

His eyes widened slightly, something soft and vulnerable flickering across his face. “You think I don’t feel the same way?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t know what to think. I just know I can’t lose you.”

He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as his gaze dropped to the floor. “You’re not gonna lose me,” he said finally, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “But, God, you’ve got to stop running away from me. From this.”

“I don’t know how,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Then talk to me.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance between you, his hands finding yours with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He held them tightly, grounding you in the moment.

“I don’t regret what happened,” he said firmly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Not for a second. And if you think for one minute that I’d let that ruin what we have, then you don’t know me as well as you think.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the fear and uncertainty that had been suffocating you. You searched his face, looking for any trace of doubt, but all you found was sincerity.

“I’ve been in love with you for years,” he admitted, his voice soft but unwavering. “But I’m not scared of ruining what we had because what if I want something more?” He pauses taking in a deep breath, “What if I want you?”

The tears came faster now, but they felt different—lighter, freer. You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you did the only thing that felt right.

You stepped closer, your hands slipping from his to cup his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic like the first time. It was slow and tender, filled with everything you hadn’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard. “Don’t run away again,” he whispered, his voice shaky, “Please.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice steady this time. “I won’t.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal fic #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl smut #christmas special #christmas smut #nhl christmas

352 notes · View notes

latenightdaydreams · 7 months ago

Note

Recruit who openly shows interest in Colonel König. Poor guy doesn't know what to do with this bright-eyed, eager to please recruit who openly says to Horangi and Nikto they'd gladly sit on his lap all day if he'd let them.

I just wanna give best boy so love

Baby girl König deserves a soft girl that goes out of her way to care for him💖

Love At First Sight (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, love, fluff, minor dirtiness

1.0k word count

😍

The first time König saw you was when he was walking to his office. You walked past him and gazed up at him as if cupid struck you with his bow and arrow. You stopped walking and waved to him. König looked around and realized you meant him. He raised his giant hand and waved back to you. The mask on his face hid his confusion.

Later that day, when König went to get himself a coffee from the break room, he saw you there. You turned and smiled brightly up at him again.

“Hello Colonel.”

“Hallo.” He walked past you to the coffee machine.

“How are you doing?”

She’s really trying to make small talk with me? “I’m doing well. You?”

“I’m doing great. I just wanted to say you have really beautiful eyes. They look like a summer sky.”

He stopped what he was doing and just looked at you. “Oh, Danke.”

“Do you need me to make your coffee for you? I don’t mind. I’m on break right now.”

“I—” He looked down at the cup not even halfway filled with coffee.

You slowly take the cup from his hand, your soft delicate flesh coming in contact with his. König looks down at you and feels his heart skip a beat. He steps back slightly to give you room, watching in amazement.

Ever since that day, he seems to see you everywhere. You’re always smiling brightly at him and eager to talk to him. Confusion consumes him. Do you like him? No, you’re too sweet; especially for him. Then today he sees you talking to his best friend Horangi and Nikto. He hangs back, wanting to see if you’re speaking about him. Yes, you are.

“So, he’s single?” Your voice is so hopeful.

“Uh, yeah. The dude is so awkward.” Nikto says. König narrows his eyes.

“He is a good guy.” Horangi defends him.

“I feel like he just needs someone soft to love him.” Horangi and Nikto look at each other and then back at you.

“When he has free time. He’s always doing paperwork.”

“I’d sit on his lap all day then.”

König could feel his ears burning as he heard you say that. So, do you like him?

“Well, his birthday is coming up soon. Maybe give the poor guy a lap dance.” Nikto says, and Horangi laughs. This gives you an idea, though.

“What’s his favorite cake flavor?”

“I- I don’t know.” Horangi admits feeling a little bad.

“Wow, what a great friend,” Nikto nudges him.

König walks away, his heart beating in his ears as he rushes to his office. You see him walk past, your heart fluttering in your chest, and you imagine being held by him.

A week passes and now it’s König’s birthday week. He goes about his day as usual, hoping slightly that you’ll do something for him, but he doesn’t hold his breath. That was until there was a knock at the door. He stands and walks over.

Opening the door, he looks down and sees you with a handful of things. The bags are not festive like he expected from you.

“I came incognito just in case you don’t want people to know about your birthday.” You giggle as you speak.

A smile tugs at his lips as he hears that. The fact you considered his privacy makes him feel truly seen by you. “Come in, please.”

König steps aside and you enter, placing the things on his desk. You place the two gift bags down and then open the Tupperware to show 24 cupcakes. He looks at them and then up at you. The look in his eyes softened. No one has celebrated him since his mom passed away seven years ago.

“I don’t know what your favorite flavor is, so there is white, chocolate, red velvet, strawberry, lemon, and carrot cake.” You bite your lower lip and gaze up at him. What you wouldn’t give to see his face and kiss his lips.

“That’s…a lot of work for just me.”

“You deserve it.”

König looks away from you, not wanting you to see how vulnerable he is right now.

“Do you want to open the gifts?”

“Sure.” He walks closer to the desk, grabbing one bag. Opening it, he sees a Build-A-Bear wearing an army uniform, and he laughs. “This is very cute.”

You laugh with him and hand him the other bag. He reaches in to see a bunch of sweets. His favorite candies, cookies, and chocolates.

“This is all very sweet, y/n. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to make sure you know you’re appreciated.”

“You did a great job.” His voice lowers as he looks at everything. “Will you stay and share cupcakes with me?”

“Yes!” You can hide how eager you are to spend time with him.

He sits in his desk chair and you begin to walk to the other side when he grabs your waist gently, he is terrified for what he is about to do.

“Do you still want to sit on my lap?”

“Of course.” A small blush forms on your cheeks as you fall back on to König’s massive thighs. His arm wraps around your waist to hold you steady.

König lifts his mask, knowing you might reject him once you see that he isn’t a handsome man and that his face is scarred. You look at him and smile instead. He watches as you reach over for a cupcake.

“Which is your favorite?”

“Lemon.” His hand begins to caress your abdomen.

You grab a lemon cupcake for him and peel it. Holding it for him to take a bite. His gaze lingers on you for a second, feeling hesitant, but then leans forward and takes a bite. Your fingers gently wipe away buttercream frosting from his lip and lick it off your finger.

König watches intently. He tries to ignore these feelings, but his body betrays him. His cock slowly gets hard. The look in your eyes tells him you feel it. You lean in to feed him another bite, this time locking eyes. As he chews, you press a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I really like you, König.”

He swallows and nods. “I know…why?”

“Just look at you.” You caress his face with your free hand. “I just want to make you happy.”

König brings his hand to the side of your face and brings you in for another kiss.

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #könig smut #könig cod #konig smut #könig mw2 #könig x y/n #könig x you #konig x you #konig fluff #könig fluff #fluff #light smut #konig x reader smut

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muscleloverz69 · 2 months ago

Text

A Raw Deal

To a normal person one of the fae might appear human. In fact it is nearly impossible to tell the two apart. The only difference is the fae are always extremely hot. One of the most important rules of dealing with the fae is never make a deal. Unfortunately, Brian had no idea Nick was anything but a young vendor at the music festival.

All the food looked so good to Brian and he was so hungry, too bad he realized he was flat broke once he reached the front of the line. He looked up from his empty wallet at Nick to apologize and completely froze. Brian had always been completely straight but even he could admit Nick was one of the most attractive men he had ever seen with completely chiseled features, perfect lean muscles that complemented his narrow waist and thick upper thighs spread out in his seat. Nick smirked “Hey dude, you good?”

“Oh yeah sorry I’m flat broke my bad I’ll step out of line.”

Brian was so flustered he completely missed the predatory gleam in Nick’s eyes. “Bro don’t even worry about it, I’ll make you a deal help me out in the back for a couple hours and lunch is on me.”

“Wow really, thanks!”

“Of course! The only rule is you can’t eat until we’re done or it’ll mess up my inventory count.”

Brian was so hungry but he knew he could struggle through a couple hours for a free lunch, so he nodded and followed Nick into the tent behind the counter.

The moment Brian entered the tent he felt his stomach cramp up, the most delicious smells of pies, cookies, and sandwiches were coming at him from every angle.

“So, I really just need you to stay here for the next two hours and make sure nobody sneaks back here and eats anything.”

Brian could only shake his head in agreement and watch as Nick walked away admiring his full ass move as he did. He rubbed his eyes trying to snap himself out of it. Brian had never so much as looked at a man in his entire life but maybe the hunger and partying from the past couple days was getting to him.

Not to mention Brian was a little sex-starved. It wasn’t that he was unattractive. Some would definitely think he was cute but it was always in a twinky nerd way. He looked nothing like Nick who was already occupying more space in his mind than another man should.

The first hour wasn’t easy, but Brian just tried to ignore the food around him and relax. He didn’t notice Nick peek through the entrance. Nick was starting to wonder if Brian would make it the full time and decided he needed to turn up the challenge. Nick walked back into the tent holding a large pizza. “Hey, this came a little early its for after you’re done working but it might be a little cold by then.”

Nick shrugged and walked back out. Brian sweated it out for a few minutes before finally stuffing his face with the pizza. It only took a few bites before Brian could tell something was wrong. First he felt a burning sensation on his arm, then in big letters NICK was written in black on his arm. He found himself frozen unable to move at all.

Brian stood there unable to move for the next few hours until it got late. Then Nick walked in with a wicked smile across his face. “Hello Brian, so it looks like you couldn’t wait to eat. Unfortunately, that means you are now my servant.”

Nick snapped his fingers and Brian found myself able to speak but my feet were still planted to the ground.

“WHAT. I don’t understand I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself.”

“Brian, it’s quite alright. These things happen you’ll come home with me and the details of your contract will be provided shortly.”

Nick walked forward to Brian wrapping his muscular arms around his waist. Nick brushed under Brians chin forcing them to make eye contact. Nick leaned in their lips brushing against each other. “We are going to have fun together.”

Brian woke up in a large bed sore and confused. As he looked around his eyes landed on a man. He was an attractive guy, large boulder shoulders and beefy pecs that shadowed over him.

“You’re up,” the man walked over to him.

“My name is Jock how do you feel?”

Brian shook his head confused, “your name is Jock.”

“I don’t think it was always Jock but that’s what master said it is now.”

It was then Brian glanced down at his arm to the letters NICK and remembered what happened. Jock went on to explain that Nick was a fae and had tricked the both of them into becoming his slaves. They were now magically forced to do anything Nick asked.

“Really anything master wants you’ll do, become, or believe,” Jock sat down on the bed. “I didn’t always look like this but this is what master wanted for when he has fun with me”

Brian was in disbelief at what a quick turn his life had taken. “So what can I do? I’m not gay and I don’t want to be owned.”

Jock shook his head “There really isn’t anything you can do, my only advice, Master offers everyone the same deal…take it.”

It was then the door swung open. Nick walked in to the bedroom shirtless, his tight muscles reminding Brian of some predatory cat. “Jock thank you for watching our new guest, you can go.”

Like that Jock was gone. Now it was just Brain and Nick.

“So Brian I trust Jock filled you in. Now its time to make you more suited for my home. First I value fitness so grow your muscles for me.”

Brian hardly had a chance to be confused before he felt his stomach ache and looked down to see a set of cobbled defined abs. He suddenly felt much wider as his shoulders and back spread. His pecs began to balloon and his biceps thickened.

Nick smiled as he closed the distance between them. “Now you look tasty.”

Nick kissed Brian pushing him backward on the bed. Brian opened his mouth to say something but Nick cut him off “You will participate and try to please me.”

Brian quickly got the message and allowed his lips to part for Nick’s tongue. Brian tossed his own shirt on the floor. Internally he was screaming, I’m not gay, but he couldn’t help but try to make Nick happy.

Nick groped Brian’s new arms before cupping his face. “Now time for a few more things. First Brian doesn’t quite suite you anymore, I think from now on you’ll be Thad and you can forget it was ever anything else.”

Thad was confused. Wait wasn’t his name always Thad. Was that right?”

Nick interupted Thad’s thinking, ”The only thing is that name isn’t known for being intellegent so let’s dumb you down and make you a little more bro-y”

Thad felt a relaxing fog descend on him, he didn’t mind it. “Bruh that kinda feels sick.”

“Now just one last thing. I offer everyone this deal, now it’s your turn. You will live hear forever but if you agree to become gay I will make you happy to be here. Then you’ll have as much fun with our encounters as me. I could just make these changes myself, but honestly it’s no difference to me how you feel and the choice is more fun.”

Thad felt confused. A feeling he would probably have to get used to with his new intellect, but he needed to choose. Thad decided that if this was his new life he might as well enjoy it.

“Ok dude, do it.”

Thad felt it almost instantly. He was in the best place ever, and standing in front of him was the sexiest man he had ever seen. Thad almost lept forward, ripping Nicks pants off and began latching onto his cock. Nick gripped Thad’s new styled hair as his head bobbed up and down. Then Nick came. Nick chuckled Thad didn’t know it but the entire spell only would have lasted 24 hours then he could have gone home free, but now that he willingly drank Nick’s cum the spell was sealed forever.

Meanwhile Thad was in total bliss he was going to love being here with Nick and Jock.

#gay #jock tf #mental change #jock transformation #male transformation

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thisapplepielife · 6 months ago

Text

Written for @steddie-week.

Reach Out and Touch Someone

Steve dials the number messily scrawled on the scrap of paper. He’s nervous. He’s always nervous when he has to stick his neck out and make a move on a girl these days.

Yeah, he did the first bit of legwork and got her number out at the bar last night. But he's fumbled the ball and failed enough times, Robin's loving, but accurate, "you suck" burned in his brain, that he's always leery to try again. He should be used to it by now, but it’s still uncomfortable and awkward, every goddamn time. If his friends weren't all fretting about his emotional well-being from being so terminally alone, he wouldn’t put forth half the effort anymore.

He has Robin. He has his cat. He's happy.

It rings three times before he hears it connect, “Hello?”

It’s a man’s voice, and he hesitates for just a moment, “I’m looking for, uh, Lyla?”

“Sorry, man. Wrong number.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have misdialed,” Steve says, a different kind of embarrassment. But this is one he can handle easier, for sure. So he pushed the wrong button somewhere along the way. His eyesight isn't the best thing he's got going for him.

“No worries, man,” the other guy laughs, seemingly carefree about being bothered.

They each disconnect and then Steve reads, and re-reads, the number before dialing again. More carefully this time.

It rings only once before it’s connected.

“Still me, dude,” the familiar voice relays, still light and friendly.

“Wow. I’m so sorry. Clearly, I was given a fake number. That's embarrassing,” Steve laughs, because this is more embarrassing than misdialing. He's uncomfortable and mortified to admit that this girl just didn't want him to call her. Even if he's only admitting it to a stranger.

She should have just told him no. He hates that she didn't, for her sake, too.

“Shitty move,” the other guy answers.

“Yeah, well. I'm sorry I bothered you. Again. I promise to cross-check any future numbers against yours before dialing, just in case.”

The guy laughs, "Well, now. Don't go to any trouble for my sake. Honestly,” and he doesn't sound put-out at all, “don’t worry about it. She clearly didn’t have the balls to just, be, like, honest. That sucks.”

Steve laughs, maybe if she'd had balls this wouldn't have happened at all. Most men feel more comfortable just saying no, he thinks, which is sad but true. He swings both ways, and maybe he should take this as a sign to lean the other way for a while. See if that works out any better for him.

It probably won't, but he could try.

“There goes my big weekend plans,” Steve teases, uncertain why he does it, even as the words tumble out of his mouth. He needs to hang up the phone and let this guy get back to his own life.

“Dude. That's a problem I can solve. I’m gigging tonight. You have to come. Let me entertain you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Whatever. I want to. Just show up. It’ll be a great story, will it not?”

It would be a great story. One he could even tell Robin to convince her he’s living a little, “I don’t even know your name. What if you’re a serial killer or something?”

“Yep, that’s me. Vicious killer,” the guy laughs, “I’m Eddie, man. And I’m a fucking ball to be around. You’ll want to take me up on this awesome offer. We’ll all be down at Hellfire Club around eight. Show up. If you think we’re murderous, you don’t have to follow us to any secondary, secluded locations.”

Hellfire Club is literally two blocks from Steve’s apartment. He's been past it countless times, but never inside. It's always dark. Like it's not even open, making him unsure about what kind of bar it is, it's so nondescript from the outside. Not to mention the name is a little intimidating. He'd half-convinced himself it's a BDSM club.

But, now that he's been invited, he could just walk down and see what’s the what, “How will I know which guy you are?”

Eddie laughs, “You’ll know. Trust me.”

Steve has a hard time trusting anyone new these days, but Eddie seems friendly enough.

Steve realizes he must have been quiet for too long, because Eddie starts talking again.

“I’ll have on a badass battle vest. Look for that. You'll see me. It's impossible not to. I promise.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, even if he’s not sure what a battle vest even is.

“Now, are you going to tell me your name, or will that just be a surprise?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, “Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, Steve.”

Steve stands in front of his closet for far too long, trying to find something to wear that doesn’t look too nerdy. He assumes Eddie's cool. He sounded cool, and Steve may have been cool in high school, but these days he just keeps his head down and goes through life, content to be fairly unnoticed. He finally settles on a black t-shirt. Basic, classic. Timeless.

Boring.

But that's a risk he's willing to take.

He walks down the street slowly and arrives around eight-thirty. The windows are still all blacked out, tinted to the point he can't see anything inside. There's just the neon sign with the Hellfire Club over the door.

When he pulls open the door, he's in a hallway that's painted all black, with a bouncer at the end, stationed at a door. Steve kind of wants to turn around, flee, but he doesn't. He's already here. He might as well at least see. Robin will kill him if he chickens out.

He gives his ID to the bouncer, and is directed down a staircase. He really hopes this isn't a sex club.

It's not.

And as soon as he crosses the threshold into the bar, yes, he knows Eddie instantly. He’s gotta be the one on the bar, pouring shots directly into various mouths. Steve knows he could turn around right now and this adventure could end. But watching Eddie laughing and prancing up and down the bar with flourish, clearly having fun, makes Steve want to go up and meet this guy.

Steve takes an open seat at the end of the bar, kind of out of the way, and just watches Eddie work the crowd.

The bar is blaring It's Raining Men and Eddie is playing up the song, big time. He's not a stripper, at least Steve doesn't think he is, but he's working the crowd for tips, absolutely. He keeps handing them down to a curly-headed guy, who keeps stuffing them into an overflowing jar.

Steve's pretty sure this is a gay club, or at least queer friendly. Maybe he has found a place for himself, something that's been right here under his nose, all this time.

When Eddie finally jumps down off the bar, Steve watches him work the rest of the room.

The other guy comes over and takes Steve's order, and he doesn't quite have the same flourish, but he's efficient and confident with a bottle and jigger.

"Name for the tab?" he asks, shaking the drink Steve had picked from the list.

"Steve," Steve says, and the guy looks up and meets his eyes.

Surely not. This doesn't feel like this is Eddie. He is wearing a vest, a red plaid one, but the other guy also has a denim vest on, full of patches.

"Eddie?" Steve questions, needing to make sure.

"Gareth," the guy says, "that's Eddie," he clarifies, pointing at the one Steve had correctly clocked as Eddie to begin with. "You're his wrong number guy, right?"

Steve nods. He supposes that's what he is, "Yeah. That's me. Loser in love."

Gareth laughs, and it makes Steve smile.

"That's our specialty here, you'll feel right at home," Gareth teases.

"Glad to hear it."

"I'll tell him you're here," Gareth assures, "he wasn't sure you'd come."

"That makes two of us," Steve admits, and Gareth smiles as he finishes shaking Steve's drink, putting it down in front of him.

"On the house. First-timers to Hellfire drink free," Gareth says, and then he's walking away.

Steve's eyes follow Gareth across the bar, watching as he taps Eddie on the shoulder, leaning close to his ear, pointing right at Steve.

Eddie looks, meets his eyes, and Steve raises his hand, giving him a small, little wiggle of his fingers.

A huge smile spreads across Eddie's face as he bounds in Steve's direction.

Eddie's quickly right in his personal space, squeezing both of Steve's shoulders, greeting him with a smile, "Welcome to Hellfire."

Steve smiles, liking the feeling of Eddie's hands bleeding through his t-shirt, warming him.

Eddie lets go, and Steve misses the feeling already, but Eddie stays. Sliding onto the stool next to Steve, "I'm glad you came."

And Steve's completely honest as he answers, "Me too."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you're too young to remember it, reach out and touch someone was the slogan/jingle for Bell System telephone company back in the day. So, that's where the title comes from, as a play on the wrong number phone call trope.

#steddieweek2024 #day seven #free space #wrong number trope #meet cute #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddieweek #steddie #thisapplepielife: steddieweek #thisapplepielife: short fic

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blvckqwz · 2 years ago

Text

Officer Grimes (SMUT)

TWs: smut duh, teasing, a lot of teasing actually, sexual tension, semi-public sex kinda?, brat reader, switch Rick, age gap (reader is 21 and Rick is 38), alcohol use, Shane slander (as I should), mention of cheating (Lori), sassy reader, dirty thoughts, Rick is technically still married oops, season 2 era, it’s like 99% flirting and 1% smut sorry. Also this sucks since it's my first smut sorry again.

Rick knew deep down, really deep down, that he was a sick man, meeting you was just the confirmation. It all started a few weeks ago, when he and his group had just arrived at the farm. At first he only saw glimpses of you, whispering in your sister’s ear and giggling with her as you two watched the new group, or helping around the farm, sweat running down your neck to under your shirt, making Rick’s head spin. But you never spoke to him, to much of his disappointment. Well that was until two weeks before…

“Dude, Maggie’s sister is totally into you.” Glenn said, whispering to the sheriff as they walked to the makeshift camp they had built a few days before.

“What?” Rick asked in disbelief as his eyes landed on you, chatting with Maggie while sitting on the front porch “She’s too young for me.”

Glenn shrugged, replying, “Maggie said she turned 21 last month but whatever you say.” before walking past him to Maggie, waving to her.

"Really?" He murmured as his eyes scanned you, already watching him as you sent a small smirk to him, followed by an almost imperceptible wink.

But oh boy he surely did notice it.

Glenn must have said something about his talk with him to you because since then your attempts to flirt with the police officer had become more bold, making the poor man every day more frustrated.

“Good morning Officer Grimes.” You said with a cheeky smile as he walked past you and Beth. “Good morning Y/N,” He replied, trying to sound as cool as he could.

Your eyes kept following his figure as he walked away, eating him with your eyes until Beth elbowed you, “Are you trying to get in his pants?” She asked in disbelief, whispering-yelling in case your father or someone else happened to hear you.

“So?” You ask with a nonchalant smirk, “I think he’s hot.” You admitted, making your sister giggle.

“Isn’t he also like 40?” She said, shaking her head, “And what if Daddy finds out?”

“Well first of all he can’t find out what no one knows, and I’m sure you’ll keep your secret,” You said, waiting for Beth to nod, “And second I think older men are better.” You continued with a shrug as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sun shining on your skin. “What?” She laughs, “I can’t believe you just said that!” “Well,” You reply with a grin, “I’m sure he can do things Jimmy couldn’t dream of.” “Y/N!” Beth exclaimed with a fake shocked face as she lightly pushed you as you laughed.

If only you knew how right you were…

Rick was reaching his last strike, he realized as he whipped his hand on his pants, trying to erase the tension as he watched you return home from a supply run, riding your horse like you had done multiple times before. God he wondered if you would look as good as you did right now while riding him instead of a stupid horse.

By now he had picked all her habits and routine, as creepy as it might sound. For example he knew how she would sneak out the house every night, disappearing between the trees before returning hours later, when the sun was almost ready to rise. He also knew about the whisky bottles that were coincidentally disappearing with you. The only thing that was still a mystery was what you did during the night with those bottles. Did you have a secret boyfriend? He hoped not, only the thought of you with any other men made his blood boil. He knew it wasn’t right, he hardly ever spoke to you, a miserable attempt to hide what he was truly feeling, but he was jealous as hell.

“Hello Officer.” You winked as you approached him, making his Adam’s apple shake. “You don’t have to call me like that, it's not like I’m a police officer anymore.” He said with a breathless laugh, “You can just call me Rick.” “Really?” You ask with a brow raised and a half grin, “Then why do you always seem so tense? Like you’re always ready to arrest someone or stuff like that.” You say, nonchalantly touching his shoulder as you talk, making his mind go blank and his pants feel tighter.

“I guess it’s just because I’m talking to a pretty girl.” He replied before thinking, cursing himself immediately after the words left his mouth.

“Smooth move Rick.” You say with a laugh before walking inside the house, sending him one last wink as you hurried inside.

Yup, this was his last straw for sure.

“Shit” You hissed as your backpack fell off your shoulders, the bottles in it loudly slamming on each other, “Shit, shit, shit.” You kept murmuring as you picked it up, quickly checking inside if the bottles broke. Lucky for you they didn’t. Unlucky for you, someone heard the noises.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?” Rick’s deep voice asked from behind you, holding his gun in one hand while the other one rested on his hip as he made his way towards you.

“Shouldn’t you be with your wife?” She shots back before pulling her backpack back on her shoulders.

“Touché” He chuckled as you too couldn’t help but feel a smile growing on your lips.

You knew him and his wife had their problems and that she was cheating on him, you wouldn’t have eyed him otherwise. Marriage was still a sacred thing even during the apocalypse, that’s what your father had taught you. Plus it was unbelievable to you how she went from someone like Rick to a scumbag like that man she saw yelling at the most random things manytime. One thing was sure: if he was your husband you wouldn’t let him go. Ever. God if you just had the chance to show him how good you could make him feel even just once he’d forget about that Lori girl immediately.

“Why are you out here?” Rick asked, snapping her out her unholy thoughts.

“I wanted to take a walk.” You shrugged, “Are you going to arrest me, Officer?” You asked, the name making Rick feel things that were very very wrong. But still very very turning him on.

“No, although I’m sure I could give you a fine for the bottles in your backpack.” He replied, shaking his head, “But I won’t, just because you are nice to me.”

“Am I corrupting you, Officer?” You asked then, slowly advancing towards him.

Oh yes, you were very much corrupting him, he thought as he took a deep breath to calm himself. “That’s not how corruption works, sweetheart.” He says with a smirk.

“Well, maybe that wasn’t…” You say, finally reaching him.

He could smell his scent from where he stood, fresh grass and soap, and he could swear his head was spinning.

“...But this surely is.” You say before quickly grabbing him by the wrist and running towards the woods, coughing him off guard.

“Hey.” He says between the pants, “Where are we exactly going?” “You know my secret so now I have to kill you.” You reply with nonchalance as you slow down your pace. “I'm just kidding, you asked why I was out so I wanted to show you.”

“I still have to decide about the killing part.” You then add.

“Do you still think about the old world?” You ask as you tilt your head to look over at the man sitting next to you on the roof of an old building you had found weeks before and had claimed as your secret place.

“Sometimes,” He replies with a sigh, “Nothing will ever be the same again, not after what we’ve all seen.” You hum in agreement before taking a sip from the bottle that was now just half full before handing it to Rick, who gladly took it.

“I think about it everyday.” You admit, your eyes fixed on the trees as you avoid Rick’s piercing blue eyes staring at you, “Although the world had already fallen apart years before.” “True.” He replied, fidgeting with the neck of the bottle, “Do they scare you?” He then asked.

“Not anymore, I just find it sad now.” You say, “Those people were just like you and me and now we kill them like it’s nothing.” You sigh.

“You think we shouldn’t kill them?” He asked then, handing you the whisky bottle.

“No, of course not. I just think it’s sad we have to.” You explain as you take a large sip of alcohol.

Rick cautiously watches as your lips perfectly adapt around the bottle, wondering if they would be just as perfect around his c-

“You are staring.” You state with a laugh, breaking the silence.

Rick lets out an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry.” You shrug in response “I don’t mind.” You say with a smirk before letting your eyes wander on the man’s body. He was surely hot, you thought as you met his blue eyes, and he was probably into you too.

“I…” Rick’s voice died in his throat as his eyes found yours, already admiring you. Suddenly he felt like an awkward teenager with his first crush again, so shy yet so whipped.

“You know,” You say, “If I didn’t know you I’d say you have a crush on me, officer.”

The poor man almost choked when those words reached his ears, his eyes widening, not daring to look at you in fear you might be disgusted. God of course you were, he was too old for you. He takes a deep breath, clears his throat and then dares to start speaking, still avoiding your gaze, “Don’t you think you are a little too young for me?”

Now it was your turn to be disappointed, you really thought that he might be into you? He was probably just a very polite man and you just misread his actions. But still something about the way he was acting was telling you to not give up just now.

“I don’t mind.” You answer, your voice barely audible.

But sure as hell he heard it. And it all went straight to his cock. Still it felt very much wrong to flirt with a girl half his age.

“You are drunk, you don’t know what you are saying.” He murmurs, not noticing how close you two were standing until you started talking.

“You are drunk too, doesn’t that make us even?” You ask as you keep staring at his face, hoping he would look at you.

“I… I can’t.” He shots back, “We can’t.”

“Hey,” You say, placing two fingers on his face to make him turn to you, “I know you want me just as bad as I want you.” You say as you sink into his deep blue eyes, “Isn’t that right?” You then ask, making Rick nod in response.

“Then what’s wrong with it?” You ask, bringing your face closer to you, “Just give in.”

Rick’s Adam’s apple bounces up and down as the dirtiest thoughts flashed in his mind, all the things he could do to you, the things he wants to do. No, he doesn’t just want to do them, he needs to. He needs to do you.

You murmuring his name brought him back to reality, his eyes lingering on your lips, his cock twitching in his pants.

“Fuck it.” He murmurs before putting a hand behind your neck and pulling you in a heated kiss. You quickly reciprocate, one of your hands tugging his hair as the other rested on his chest.

Rick quickly pulls you on his lap, basically making you straddle him as the kisses become more desperate, all the unsaid words purred in it. You could feel Rick’s tongue teasing your lips, begging you to let him in. Of course you do, quickly gasping for air as you begin to roll your hips on his painfully hard dick.

Rick groans against the kiss, sending vibrations through your whole body. You still could taste the whisky on his tongue as it kept exploring your mouth, making you go insane. You could feel Rick’s hand trailing up from your hip to your back under your shirt as you fidget with the collar of his jacket, goosebumps forming on your exposed arms at the cold breeze.

“Here.” Rick murmurs, breaking away from the kiss to slip his jacket on your shoulders, “I don’t want you to get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh, “You are supposed to undress me officer, not cover me up.” “I guess I’m just too much of a gentleman.” He replies with a smirk, “You haven’t met many of them, have you?”

You shyly nod, your eyes falling on the oversized jacket on your shoulders. You knew there was no one like Rick, you just didn’t know how right you were.

“Then I guess I’ll have to show you how a real man treats a proper lady.” He says as his big hand cups your cheek before leaning closer, “And for the jacket don’t worry, I’ll eventually take it off you along with all your other clothes, if you give me the chance.” He whispers against your neck.

“You can have all the chances you want.” You whisper back before reconnecting your lips with his. His mouth quickly started to pepper kiss on her neck, leaving a few marks when he found her sweat spots. You softly moan at the feeling of his bears scratching on your neck as he keeps kissing your jaw and neck.

“Rick…” You murmur as he softly bites your neck, soothing the pain with his tongue. “I need you so bad.” He whispers as his hands raise from your hips to your breast, squeezing them lightly under your shirt, making you whimper.

“I’ve always wanted you…” He keeps mumbling as you fidget with the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it.

“You have me now.” You whisper back before pulling him in another heated kiss, making him groan as you press yourself against his erection. You can’t wait, you realize as the kiss becomes even more passionate, breaking apart just to quickly take off her shirt and tossing it somewhere near his.

“God you are so beautiful.” He mumbles, making you suddenly feel so shy as you look in his eyes and find pure adoration as they scan your semi naked body, looking at you like you were the only person in this world. It makes your head spin.

Quickly the rest of both your and his clothes are scattered around. Rick cautionally holds you as he swaps position, now hovering over you as he propped himself up on his shoulders. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks breathlessly. You nod, “I’m sure.”

You eagerly reattach your lips to his as Rick’s hands roam your body. Your hands also wander around his bare back, your nails involuntarily digging into his skin when he squeezes your naked hip.

“Rick, I need you so bad.” You pant as your eyes meet his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He answers as he ghosts your lips with his thumb.

He pushed some hairs of your face before lining up himself with your entrance as you could feel yourself get wetter each second that passed. Your legs quickly wrap themselves around his hips as he slowly pushes his length in. Your back arches as he completely fills you up, making him groan. He soon starts moving, each thrust making you whine as your hands tug his hair. Rick moves his hips back slowly, watching your reaction as he moves back inside you. He starts moving faster, finding his own rhythm that you waste no time to meet, raising your hips against his, allowing him to go deeper inside you, forcing a low moan from him as you feel your high coming closer. Rick moves his hand to your clit, his arousal increasing even more as you become more vocal.

“I- I’m close.” You say.

“Me too.” He murmurs before bringing his lips to yours, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth. It’s all it takes for you to cum, burying your head in the crook of his neck as you practically screamed while your body shook, your orgasm taking control. He soon after reached his high too, loudly panting as he rolled next to you.

"That was..." -your words die in your throat as her breathing is still ragged, but Rick knows exactly what you mean.

"I know." He replies with a smirk.

#rick grimes smut #lana del rey #rick grimes fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd #twd smut #fanfic #rick grimes x reader #i need to go to church after this #rick grimes x female reader #rick grimes age gap smut

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xoxovanillq · 5 months ago

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🍄‍🟫 and 🕷 with luke castellan maybe? Have a good day! ❤️

“REALLY?”

Pairing- Luke Castellan x reader

Warnings- Kissing, angst, crying, hiding emotions, hurt/comfort.

A/n- Sorry if this feels a bit rushed, I was struggling with trying to end this!

“C’mon, you gotta admit it, you and Y/N would make a good couple.” Chris comments. Chris, Luke, Clarisse, and you were all hanging out on the dock. Luke was layed down beside you, propped up on his elbows, head occasionally resting on your side. The comment caused your heart to flutter, your unspoken feelings for Luke coming to mind.

“No offense, but I’d never date her, we’re friends, and I wouldn’t want anything else.” Luke says with a light scoff, causing a pit to form in your stomach. Your sudden upset must’ve been somewhat present on your face with the way Clarisse immediately raises her eyebrows and then looks between the two of you in a knowing gesture. You quickly stifle a laugh, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t upset.

“You sure? Not like you’re pulling all the ladies.” You tease in an attempt to hide how upset you truly were.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He shoots back, making you sit up right, Chris and Clarisse also now paying more attention. “You know the new girl? Emma? We’ve been talking and I think we might start dating.” The news shakes you. It was one thing if he didn’t reciprocate feelings, because then he’d treat you as he always had, but a girlfriend could change your relationship.

“Dude, that’s awesome, took you long enough.” Chris finally says, breaking the seconds of silence that had fallen over the group.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’ve got someone now.” You say with a laugh, hoping he doesn’t hear the sadness in your tone.

“Aww, you happy that you’ll finally get to be alone for once?” He jokes back, push you lightly, causing you to rock a bit. You laugh, not quite knowing how to react.

It was hard watching the two of them walk around, the way she looked up at him, smiling at his laugh, hands on his chest. It burned, watching her get to do everything that you should be doing with him. He had been ignoring you in favor of her, acting as if you didn’t exist.

Well, that was until a knock came at the door of your cabin. It was just you in there, sitting on your bed, reading your book. When you open the door, you’re met with Luke, his face red, hands shaking lightly.

“Can I come in?” He asks quietly, a tremor in his voice.

“Um, sure.” You reply, tone matching his own. The two of you move to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

“She- she said we couldn’t ever be together, I wasn’t good enough for her.” He says, turning to wrap his arms around you. You could tell he was trying not to cry, which broke you.

“Luke, I- I’m so sorry.” You say quietly, you wanted to be mad, but with how sad he was, you didn’t have it in you.

“I thought someone finally wanted me.” He whispers, head tucked into the crook of your neck as you held him in your arms. You could feel the tears warm your skin as he cried.

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here for you.” You soothe, but you desperately wanted to pour out your feelings to him, to tell him you loved him, wanted him.

“Can I just lay with you?” He asks timidly, picking his head up to look at you with glistening eyes. You nodded softly, moving to lay down in the small bed with him, tugging a throw blanket over you two.

As you laid there, you began to find some sort of confidence, pulling it from somewhere inside you to finally tell him.

“Luke- I- fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud, but I- I love you.”

“I love you too.” He replies, not understanding the depth of it.

“No- I love you, like, more than a friend.” You breathe out, finally saying what you’d waited so long to say.

“What?” He says, moving away from you in bed and sitting upright. Your heart stops as he moves away from you.

“Listen- just forget I said anything. It just hurt to hear you say that you didn’t think anyone wanted you when I’ve wanted you for years and years.” You explain, also moving to sit up and meet his eyes, searching in them for some sort of reaction.

“No, no, I’m not mad at you, I- I just didn’t think you’d feel the same way.” He says, releasing a breath that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Really?” You ask in breathy tone, not believing him, even as he moved forward, placing his large hands on your cheeks. He moved forward, and finally, his lips pressed to yours, all the love, sadness, and anger the two of you had been to poured into the way your lips moved against each other. The feelings hidden for years finally revealed.

#tw bugs #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader fluff #luke castellan smut #charlie bushnell x you #charlie bushnell x reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 7

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: So I don't know why it takes me exactly seven chapters to get to the smut, but so far that's three different series where that's happened. 😂 (Never Say Goodbye, Break Me Down, and now Smoke Eater. Go figure! 🤷🏽‍♀️)

Word Count: 6,200 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! For smutty smut and baking shenanigans, tinge of angst.

Part 7: “Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle”

You liked Dean’s apartment. It was on the second floor out of three, and a modest, clean, comfortable space.

Though overall it felt very “dude bro” in décor. You supposed that made sense, considering it was just Sam and Dean living here.

And while you still hadn’t met Sam (he was working late tonight), it gave you a chance to do something you’d been very much looking forward to doing with Dean…

“Not for nothin’, this is probably one in three of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth,” said Dean.

True to his word, his mouth was full. You giggled as a flake of pasta spewed from his mouth.

“Oh really? Makes me curious about the other two,” you said mischievously. And you handed him a napkin to blot his face.

You sat across from him in the small dining room adjacent to the kitchen. The table itself was barely big enough to fit in the space, feeling more like a nook than a room, but it sat three people. That was usually enough for Sam and Dean, and occasionally Eileen when she came over.

Dean chuckled, his brows dancing. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find out.”

Your face warmed at that, despite your amusement. You had made dinner, for which Dean had been more than enthusiastic.

“You mean I get an actual chef making me food? Sign me the hell up,” he’d teased.

Never mind that you weren’t an actual chef. You had focused on patisserie in culinary school. He didn’t seem to mind though, as he’d devoured two servings of salmon and fettucine alfredo, even down to the steamed broccoli. You had to admit, it warmed you inside to see him enjoy your food.

You’d promised to cook for him last week, and he hadn’t let it go until both your schedules opened up enough for you to come over.

He now hummed in satisfaction as he finished off the last bite on his plate and wiped his mouth with the napkin.

“Thanks for this, sweetheart. I needa have you around here more often,” he said, tossing you a grin.

You smiled back. “It’s my pleasure.”

It wasn’t the first time Dean had invited you over to his apartment, but for the life of you, you didn’t know why it had taken you so long to accept.

…Well, okay, you did know why. You were reluctant to leave your grandfather alone, potentially all night. But George had been adamant about you going out for as long as you wanted, on the promise that he’d check in every few hours until he went to bed.

“Okay, ready for dessert?” you asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. He still thought about those cookies you brought to the firehouse, almost a month ago already.

Damn, has it really been that long? he thought as he helped you collect the dishes from dinner. He followed you into the kitchen, where you already knew the lay of his land.

Sam couldn’t cook for shit, so it usually fell on Dean to be the figure of culinary expertise. But he had no problem making way for you, especially if you were going to look over your shoulder and wink at him like that.

“Good, because you’re going to help me,” you informed him.

Dean’s smile grew. “All right…what did you have in mind?”

While he started on the dishes in the sink, you hauled out even more ingredients from a big grocery bag you’d brought and stored in the refrigerator. He watched you out of the corner of his eye and spotted lemons, among other things.

“Lemon drizzle cake,” you replied. “One of my grandma’s recipes. I just need a mixing bowl and a cake tin.”

“Good, because we’re not very Betty Crocker in this place. Let’s just say my kitchen tools are limited,” he said, raising a brow at you. “You know, if you wanted to bake, I’m sure you’ve got all the proper bells and whistles at your house. We could’ve done this over there.”

You paused to consider the question he wasn’t quite asking, because he had a point. You could’ve invited him over your house instead. You joined him near the sink and leaned against the counter, tapping your nails on the tile surface.

“Well, as you know, I live with my grandpa,” you said.

“Good ol’ George,” Dean grinned. “That guy’s hilarious. Like the fourth Stooge.”

He particularly liked the story you’d told him about the time George had bought you your first makeup palette when you turned fifteen, but hadn’t told you it was face paint…the kind that clowns used.

“And I’d love for you two to get to know each other better. Don’t get me wrong. But barring the fact that we probably wouldn’t have much…privacy,” you pointed out with a subtle smile, trying to ignore Dean’s resulting smirk. Never mind that you two hadn’t needed “privacy” just yet.

“I guess I’m just not used to inviting people over. I’ve been trying to limit the exposure to germs in the house,” you admitted. At Dean’s quizzical look, you had to explain.

“My grandfather had cancer last year,” you said. “He had surgery to remove the mass, and did well, considering his age. He’s in remission now…but I’m still looking after him.”

You’d gone with him to see his primary doctor a couple of weeks ago for that persistent cough. While the doctor seemed to think it was George’s asthma acting up, you’d still scheduled an appointment with his oncologist.

And while your thoughts led you down an all-too familiar path, Dean processed this with a nod of his head. He shut off the sink. After drying his hands, he looked over at you and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m glad he’s doing better now,” he said. His brows furrowed. “And your grandma passed just a few years before that?”

You nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah. It’s been a long few years.”

So, Dean took an inventory in his mind as he rested a comforting hand on your back. You took care of your family. You could cook. You were beautiful. And still, you kicked ass at your job and seemed to have the rest of your shit together.

He had to admit. The more he learned about you, the more he liked you.

“Anyway,” you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry. Ready to bake?”

Dean’s lips quirked as he followed you to the other side of the kitchen. He stepped behind you and letting his hands fall to your waist. His lips skimmed the side of your head, pressing a kiss there.

“Okay, Rachael Ray,” he teased. “Teach me your ways.”

You were trying to measure out some sugar in the bowl first, but you giggled with a warm blush as he kissed his way down your neck.

“Are you actually going to help, or are you just going to distract me?” you volleyed back.

Dean hummed against the crook of your neck. “Can’t I do both?”

You picked up and egg and raised it level with his face.

“Hmm, should I try cracking this against your forehead?” you pondered.

His teeth playfully nipped your skin in retaliation, making you flinch with a yelp. The egg actually cracked in your hand.

“Shit,” you laughed, and you quickly dropped as much of it in the bowl as possible. But getting fractals of the shell in the bowl disturbed your anal sense of meticulousness. When it came to cracking eggs, you typically had nothing if not precision.

You shot Dean an accusatory look over your shoulder. He just grinned back at you.

“Am I helping yet?” he joked.

You chuckled dryly in response. “Just you wait.”

A few more minutes and “helpful” distractions from Dean later, you successfully had a cake batter in the bowl. You were hand mixing up a storm and sorely missing your Kitchen Aid mixer. Dean was right though; his cupboards had little more than one cake pan, one mixing bowl, and one wooden spoon.

At home, you had a modest collection of cookware and bakeware that rivaled Williams & Sonoma. Though that had been a gift from your grandparents, when you graduated from culinary school. (Your grandma had picked them out before she passed.)

“What’s your favorite dessert?” you asked Dean. You were pretending not to catch him sampling the batter with a finger while you buttered the cake tin.

“Ever?” he asked, rubbing a licked finger on his jeans.

“Yeah. Number one top favorite.”

“Hmm,” he contemplated with a cross of his arms. “Pie, I guess.”

You smirked. That explained his little man-child display a few weeks ago, when you’d tried to share his blueberry pie on your second date.

“What flavor?” you asked.

“I dunno. I’m not real picky,” he said.

“Come on. Everyone has a favorite flavor,” you reasoned. “I’m more of a cake girl myself, but even I love a blueberry pie.”

Dean eyed your teasing grin with a growing smirk of his own. He remembered that day in your office just as well as you.

“Okay, fine. Apple, I guess,” he replied. You gave him a mocking look.

“Really, the most basic of them all?” You tsked at him, shaking your head. “What happened to Mr. Rocky Road?”

Dean chuckled, but he leaned against the counter next to you. Instead of giving it to you right back, as usual, he looked more thoughtful. A gentler look grew on his face. It caught your attention.

“You know, one of my earliest memories…” He looked up at you then, more self-deprecating.

You realized he was about to admit to something, maybe embarrassing, or maybe just vulnerable. Your smile softened too as you paused in what you were doing.

“You can’t leave me hanging on that one,” you said. And you drew closer with a hand soothing up his arm.

He glanced over at you. “I remember being…four, probably. My mom made pies during Christmastime. Cherry, pecan, whatever. But my favorite was her apple pie. I still remember it, because I haven’t had a pie since that tasted like that one.”

Your heart clenched, but your insides also warmed. Not just at the story of his mother, but the way Dean told it, his voice softer, steady, and deep. It told you a lot about him without him having to explain; just like you, he knew what loss was.

You curled your hands around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Then your gaze drew back up to his.

“Have you talked to your dad since the last time?” you asked, a bit cautiously. “About his investigation of the fire?”

Dean sighed deep through his nose. “No.”

But despite his father’s warning, he had spoken to Sam.

“It’s different this time, Sam. The brand marks are the same,” Dean argued with his brother, this time in the living room. He sat on the couch while Sam stood, trying to process everything Dean had just told him about Mary’s potential murder.

“You saw the pictures yourself?” Sam asked.

Dean frowned. “No, but Dad—”

“Dean,” Sam cut him off as he gripped at his temples in frustration. “This is what he does. He sees evidence where he wants to see evidence. I’ve been down this road with him too, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean gritted out. John had roped Sam into helping him a few times, using his ADA status to look into different leads that ultimately hadn’t panned out.

“They always look like connections to him, but they never end up being anything more than his obsession,” Sam said.

He was firm, and Dean understood why, but his gut was telling him that it was different this time…

Still, he had no choice but to let it go. For now.

Dean shook his head of that memory. Instead, he tried to focus on being here with you. He liked this little yellow sundress you had on, despite the fall chill starting to set in outside. As usual, your hair was clipped up away from your neck while you got ready to put the now full cake tin into the oven.

He came over behind you and freed your hair from the clip, letting it all tumble down. You yelped and glanced over at him.

“Dean,” you chided, even though you were smiling. “My hair’s going to get in the batter.”

“I’ll keep it away, don’t worry,” he said lightly. He curled some of your hair around his hand so he could once again press a tantalizing kiss to the back of your neck. He felt you shiver.

You subtly leaned back against him, even as you whined in protest.

“Can you just let me get this in the oven?” you asked on a laugh. He smirked against your skin. You did manage to get the cake in the oven, but his lips and teasing hands were unrelenting as you tried to start cleaning up.

So you felt you had to take matters into your own hands. A mischievous idea had you smiling. You reached out for some flour that had spilled on the counter.

You turned, and before he realized what you were up to, you marked his forehead with an arch of white against his skin.

“Simba,” you said in a deeper voice, trying to mimic Mufasa from The Lion King.

Dean’s brows rose along with his widening eyes. He’d never seen you do something that childish, but it sparked his competitiveness as he blinked a bit of flour out of his eyes.

“You’re real proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

Your little smirk was answer enough. You flicked a bit more flour onto his shirt.

Dean chuckled darkly. “Okay, you asked for it.”

Both a gasp and a giggle caught in your throat.

“Oh, no.”

He reached past you for some flour off the counter and flicked it down at you, into your hair, across your face. He grabbed your flailing wrist and marked your cheeks. All the while, his grin grew ever deeper at your shrieking protests.

But you grew devious. You stuck two fingers into the bowl and scraped out a gob of raw, yellow batter. You were fully prepared to fling it into his face, but Dean grabbed your wrist.

“Ey, ey!” he raised a warning finger with his free hand. “You’re about to take this to a new level.”

You met his gaze through your lashes with a playful smile. “So?”

Dean raised a brow at you. He could admit, you had audacity. All he could do was call your bluff.

He took one of your battered fingers into his mouth. Your eyes widened at the feel of his soft tongue swirling around your finger, sucking it clean. All the while, his eyes never broke from yours.

Lord have mercy, you thought. Really, it was the only coherent one in your head.

He soon released you with a soft pop, before he did the same to the second finger.

Your breath hitched, and your blush was a living thing spreading down your neck, even as warmth pooled between your legs. By the time your second finger slid out of his mouth, you had to reach back to grip the counter just to steady yourself.

His arm slipped around your waist, and you reached for his face with both hands, bringing him down for the hottest kiss you’d ever had in your life. Teeth clicking, lips and tongues warring and devouring. Your fingers slipped roughly through his hair, while he gripped your hips and ass with a passion just shy of bruising.

You almost didn’t register the way his hands slipped under your thighs, to then heft you up onto the counter. You gasped into his mouth and clung tightly to his shoulders. He chuckled and positioned himself to stand between your legs.

“What, need a little warning?” he teased. Though he was breathless as your soft lips veered away from his, starting a burning path across his jaw and down his neck. You left the remnants of your lipstick all along the way, but it was the occasional graze of your teeth that had him moaning for you.

“Maybe,” you whispered coarsely against his skin, uttering a small laugh, “Sometimes I forget how damn strong you are.”

He scoffed. “Sweetheart, if I can heft a grown man on my shoulders up a flight of stairs, I can get you up on a little counter.”

You snorted in response. Perks of dating a firefighter.

And you shoved off his plaid shirt from his shoulders. Dean helped you by letting it drop the rest of the way to the floor, followed by his black undershirt.

You couldn’t believe this was the first time you were seeing him with his shirt off. It was a damn shame, really. But you caught the bit of smugness curving his lips at the way you were ogling, first with your eyes, then with your exploring hands over his toned arms and chest, and the solid plane of his abs, all the way down to his belt. You started undoing the clasp.

Dean couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he stopped you with his hands gently curling around your wrists. You looked up at him in confusion. To him, you looked unbelievably sexy then. Thoroughly kissed, hair tousled, a strap of your dress fallen to one shoulder while your lacey black bra peeked through.

Just the memory of having your curves in his hands had his dick hardening in his jeans, but he blew out a breath.

“Dean?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

His hands tightened on yours as he peered down at you. “Are you sure?”

You blinked incredulously. “Did I look not sure?”

He paused, licking his lips. He raised a hand to hold your cheek.

“I just…you know I’m trying to do this right with you,” he said. “I just want to know…”

He couldn’t seem to finish what he was trying to say, but you thought you understood. You smiled up at him warmly. You leaned up for a kiss, softer this time.

“Dean, I trust you,” you said. And you could finally say it with no reservations. “I think this feels real. More real than anything I’ve had in a long time… What about you?”

When Dean smiled, it was warm, melting away the doubt in his eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” he said.

He seemed sincere. Maybe this man spared few words when it came to how he felt, but you’d seen a glimpse of the deeper parts. He felt things deeply, down to his bones.

His fingers sunk into your hair, and he guided you into a kiss. It was slower, but no less heady and wanting than the first. Your arms wrapped around his middle, letting you flatten your palms against the muscles in his back. But just as you were getting comfortable, Dean broke the kiss. He flashed you a smirk.

Before you could ask what the hell he was about to do, he’d hefted you back into his arms and over his shoulder. You squawked in protest as your whole world tipped over. Your face thudded on his back with a soft oof, your hair loose and falling like a curtain. Your hands accidentally fell against his ass.

“Ooh, someone’s handsy,” Dean teased.

“Dean!” you exclaimed, despite your peals of laughter. “Is this really necessary? I think I can find your room just fine.”

��Call it an officer’s escort,” he supplied.

“That’s for policemen!” you argued.

You couldn’t see it, but you could imagine the way he was grinning from ear to ear as he carried you through the apartment. You never noticed just how long his bowed legs were as he strode onward. But it felt like his shoulder was digging into your appendix.

Grunting in frustration, you slapped his ass again for good measure.

Dean laughed. “Hey, you’re only fueling my fire, baby.”

He slapped your ass right back, since he had an even better vantage point. He even slipped a hand underneath your little sundress and squeezed the inside of your thigh teasingly.

Your answering yelp, and the futile kick of your feet, had him laughing harder. His cheeks were aching.

Finally he reached his room, where he shut the door with his foot. He was gentle as he eased you off his shoulder and laid you down on his bed. You let out a breathless huff once your head hit the pillows. Your face was all red from being suspended upside-down, your hair a mess, and your dress pooling over your folded legs.

You gave Dean a playful glare. “Get over here.”

His smirk deepened, but he obliged you. He chucked his shoes off first, just like you let your sandals slip off the side of the bed.

He soon made his way up the bed, until he was hovering over you with his arms braced on either side of your head. He liked the way you were all laid out for him over his sheets, your wild hair spread over his pillows. He’d pictured something like this before, but nothing came close to having you for real.

He just didn’t know you’d been dreaming of the same thing.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to truly fall for someone, not in a long time. You’d been too focused on pivoting after school, on building your career, on taking care of your family. You’d dated here and there, but nothing had stuck for more than a few months. Even then, you’d never felt half of what you felt right now.

It scared you a little, but it also made you feel alive. Being with Dean made you feel that way.

So you took his face between your hands. His stubble rasped against your palms and the pads of your fingers. You didn’t mind that though. He’d left it a bit long for a shave last week. When you’d mentioned off-hand that you liked the thicker scruff (thinking it made him all the more handsome), he’d kept it for you.

Now, he seemed like he was waiting on your cue.

You guided him down to you. He kissed you hot and slow, while a hand moved to your waist and clenched in the material of your dress. He slipped a heavy thigh between both of yours. The pressure was welcome, but you wanted friction.

You bunched up the skirt of your dress and aimed to slip it off, but Dean stopped your hands.

“That’s my job,” he teased.

“Then how about you get to it?” you countered with a smile. He rose a brow at you.

“A bit bossy, but I can dig that,” he smirked.

His kisses dropped against your neck, down your exposed neckline, and he peeled down the straps of your dress one by one. Your breathing became more labored as he touched you, squeezing a breast over the bra as he exposed more inches of your body.

Your fingers carded through his hair on a sigh as he made his way further down. Though he finally got impatient enough to work your dress off all the way, followed by his jeans and your bra and matching lacey panties. He lavished attention what felt like all over your body.

Really, he was just strategic. He stopped in places where you lost breath, moaning his name. Like the spot just under your ear, where he sucked hard enough to make you see stars. Or over your breasts, taking a pebbled nipple in his mouth, swirling with his tongue like he had the cake batter off your fingers.

His hands mapped out the soft planes and curves of your body for the first time, sometimes smooth and grazing, sometimes adding pressure that made warmth continue to pool between your legs.

He went further still, wrapping an arm around your thigh and pressing nipping kisses along the inside. All the while his mouth drew closer to the place you wanted him the most. Even though you still raised up on your elbow and gave him a questioning look.

“Really? You want to…” Your voice came out in a whisper.

Dean looked up at you with puzzled brows. “Why not?”

You shook your head, your eyes widening marginally.

“No reason, I guess. I, um…I’ve never had someone do this for me first.” And certainly not on the first time having sex.

Dean frowned.

“Really?” he asked. “A guy’s never gone down on you first?”

You blushed. “Well, maybe with his fingers, but not…”

He shook his head and let out a breath. You felt it between your thighs, and your core clenched in anticipation.

“Okay, baby. I gotcha,” he said. He guided you back down with a gentle hand. “Just lie back and relax.”

You smiled, despite your lingering blush, and you stroked the hand that rested above your stomach. That hand soon slid down as he once again kissed and licked down your thighs. They quivered a bit as his fingers slipped between your folds.

“So fucking wet for me already,” he said in approval. You peered down at him, unable to help a smile.

“You want a medal?” you quipped.

Dean’s brows rose.

“Oh, I’m about to earn it.” His eyes found yours. “You know what my real favorite pie flavor is?”

Your brows knitted together. “What?”

A familiar smirk crossed his lips. “Cherry.”

Before your choked surprise could be broken with a laugh, he began.

And he wasn’t lying, about any of it. The pads of his fingers began toying with your clit, and that alone had your breath hitching and your hips squirming.

He held you down with one hand on your lower belly while his tongue joined his fingers, seeking your heat and finding the hot channel where you craved to be filled. You gasped.

“Oh, God,” you uttered. Once his warm tongue began rolling inside you, you almost couldn’t breathe.

He worked you over with fingers, lips and tongue until you were arching off the bed, fists clenched in his hair and in the sheets, releasing broken gasps of his name. He didn’t relent until your thighs stopped shaking around his head. Your knees were damn near pinning him there.

He eventually withdrew, wiping his mouth and nose with the back of his hand. He moved smoothly back up your body and heeded the pull of your hands on his arms, and then his face. You tugged him down for a sloppy kiss.

“How’s that for a first?” he asked breathlessly. His tone was teasing, but he was half-serious you thought, by the look in his eyes.

You were honest, without a hint of a joke. “Fucking incredible. Just like you.”

Dean wouldn’t admit it then, but what you said warmed him. He looked down on you with a smile.

Your hands caressed his face, down his neck and firm chest, and further still to caress his straining length over his boxer briefs. Dean let out a halting moan at your gentle touch.

“What if I want to return the favor?” you asked with a smile. He made a sound deep in his throat when you cupped him more firmly, letting your thumb brush over the head.

Well hello, you thought. He was thick, and a bit bigger than your first thought. Your already sensitive core tightened at the thought.

Meanwhile, Dean squeezed your arm. His hot gaze bore into yours.

“Very, very tempting.” His thumb brushed your lower lip. “I’ve no doubt you’ve got some talents yourself.”

You smiled under the pad of his thumb. Part of you was contemplating some retribution, sucking it into your mouth the way he’d done to your fingers in the kitchen.

“But I’m thinkin’ I want to skip to the part where I have you coming apart all over again,” said Dean. His head bowed near your ear, though his lips skimmed the side of your face. “This time, from the inside.”

His voice was deep and threaded with grit. You bit your lip on a giddy laugh. You managed to nod, sweeping your shaky fingers through his hair.

“Okay, next time then,” you promised and gave him a sensuous kiss. “But first, just want to make sure you’re ready for me…”

You pushed at the center of his chest so he'd let you sit up, so you could lean down to slide his underwear for him, down to his knees. He helped you the rest of the way, kicking them off his legs. When he came back, you soothed warm hands along his thighs. Then you took his cock into your hands. Dean dropped his forehead onto your shoulder with a grunt, again squeezing your arms as you touched him properly for the first time.

Dean had a habit of impressing you, and this was no different. You liked the feel of him in your hands, warm and thick and heavy.

After licking your hand to coat it with some wetness, you experimented for a moment in how you stroked him, trying to get a feel for what he liked just as he had for you. He gasped and jolted on one particular twist, and he finally stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

“Okay, baby. Keep that up and we’re not gonna get much farther for a while,” he said coarsely.

It was satisfying to know you’d made him feel even a fraction of how he’d made you feel.

You pressed a purposeful kiss into his neck. “I told you, next time I’ll take care of you for real.”

He chuckled, cupping the side of your face.

“Oh, you’re about to. Believe me,” he said.

He kissed you long and deep, until you were once again breathless. The two of you were kneeling in the middle of the bed like you had all the time in the world. And yet, you wanted him more than ever.

“I’m on birth control,” you told him between more fervent kisses, hands drifting, feeling skin to warm, dewy skin, breaths mingling.

“And I’m clean,” he said. You nodded, hesitating…

“It’s our first time,” you said. “Condom, just to be safe.”

He hesitated only a beat before he nodded back, agreeing to your request. “Yes, ma’am.”

He broke from you briefly. He turned and dug into his nightstand while your nails drew light patterns down his back. It was distracting in the best of ways. A trill of excitement had his hands moving quickly, ripping the foil packet open and fitting himself with the condom.

When he was ready for you, he turned and hooked an arm around your waist. You twined your arms around his neck, and once again, you let him lay you down. His kiss came first, and then his fingers between your legs, past your folds to stroke you back to life.

You moaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around his hips. Though he surprised you again by hooking your legs over his shoulders. Your brows raised at him, and he shot you a wink.

“Trust me, you’ll like it this way,” he said.

You did trust him. Your hands caressed down his neck, down his chest, and you subtly urged him with your heels on his back, encouraging him where you both knew he needed to be.

And with one slow push, his cock was stretching your inner walls with slow, delicious friction. You both groaned at the feeling. His forehead pressed against yours. His hand trembled slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. And he began moving inside you in steady strokes.

Dean was putting his all into this tonight. He thought your promises to take care of him next time were as endearing as they were sexy as hell. Even now, you were touching him wherever you could reach, occasionally moaning his name in his ear, encouraging him with every thrust inside you.

Fuck, he was right, you thought. He was reaching places deep inside you, filling you to the very brim. And you were already on the edge of pleasure, brows furrowed, biting your lower lip so hard that your teeth nearly broke the skin…

Your fingers slipped down between you to further part your folds and rub your already sensitive clit. Dean caught the hint and moved your hand to do it himself, as in time with his thrusts as he could. Finally, you unraveled for the second time that night. Your gasp gave way to a moan.

Your tightening walls gripped him like a vice. His release hit him with the same force, choking a near shout out of him. His hand was a bit too tight in your hair, he realized, so he forced himself to ease up.

He petted over your hair instead as he came down with ragged breaths. After he released your shaky legs back to the bed, he leaned mostly on his elbow and thigh instead of sinking all his weight onto you.

You appreciated that. You soothed up and down his back while you panted for breath.

“Wow,” you managed to say.

Dean’s chuckle took him by surprise too.

“Yeah,” he agreed. He turned his head to press a sloppy kiss where your neck met your shoulder.

Just then, a distant-sounding jingle reached your ears. It was familiar…and you remembered it was the alarm on your phone, which was probably in the kitchen.

“Oh shit,” you gasped. “The cake’s still in the oven.”

He blinked. “Well, I don’t smell burning, so we’re good.”

“Dean! You’re a firefighter, remember?” you laughed, but you still tapped his shoulder so he’d roll over. Reluctantly he did, but he still took you with him, even after he’d slid out of you.

You yelped and clung to his shoulders to balance yourself. “I gotta get the cake!”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled into your neck. He also liked the way your breasts were pressed against his chest.

“It’s going to be so…damn…burnt!” You punctuated each of those syllables with a playful smack on his arm, until he finally released you with a lazy smirk.

You shook your head and huffed in amusement. Sliding out of bed, you searched around for your dress. The first thing you found was his discarded undershirt. You slipped it on real quick and cautiously padded out of Dean’s room. You didn’t know if Sam was back from work, but this was not how you wanted to meet him.

The halls were quiet, so you didn’t think he was home yet. You managed to get to the kitchen unscathed, where you turned off your timer and grabbed some oven mitts. You opened the oven and pulled out the cake, setting it down on the counter. Your eyes narrowed at the almost perfect dome on top.

“What’s the verdict, Chef Ramsay?”

Dean leaned in the doorway, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else. The view was delectable, but you sighed and gestured at the cake with a shake of your head.

“It’s burnt.”

“What? No, it’s not,” he refuted. He joined your side and stared down at the top of the cake, which was half browned. “Looks all right to me.”

“Trust me, it’s going to be dry,” you said, “even with the lemon drizzle on it.”

It was the perfectionist in you that smarted with disappointment. You didn’t want to serve anyone something you weren’t proud of, especially Dean. But he just leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” he said. “I’m still gonna eat the crap out of it.”

You glanced at him, unable to help a small smile. He grinned back.

“Anyway, I think it was worth it. Don’t you?” Dean said. He pulled you in towards him by your waist, and you went willingly, resting your hands against his bare chest. You let your nails drag against his skin a little as you contemplated.

You looked up at him with a grin of your own.

“Yeah. Definitely worth it.”

Dean later sat with you again at the table, this time with your chairs closer together as you each ate large slices of delicious cake (even if it was a bit dry). Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the copious number of dishes still left in the sink and the flour and batter sprinkled across the counter.

He knew Sam was going to have a conniption when he got home (in the morning at this rate). He was probably crashing at Eileen’s apartment tonight.

Good, Dean thought. That meant he’d have the place all to himself, with you.

“You know, I just realized something,” he said.

You knew that look in his eyes. He was about to say something smartass.

“What’s that?” you asked. He reached out and thumbed at your chin.

“I just got my dessert twice in one sitting,” he remarked. “That’s pretty damn good, if you ask me.”

You snorted in laughter. You also blushed, but you were unable to stop smiling either.

You set down your fork and eased back from the table. Your hand on Dean’s shoulder encouraged him to do the same, so you could sit across his lap. He welcomed you with a warm hand on your bare thigh. Already it was creeping under the shirt you borrowed.

You stroked his cheek with the back of your hand and gave him a mischievous smile.

“Think you could handle another serving?”

AN: 🫣 Was it everything you wanted it to be? lol I love me some baking innuendo. What did you like more: eating the cherry pie or making the lemon drizzle? 😏❤️‍🔥

In Part 8, Dean's past comes a knockin'...

Next Time:

While you were getting dressed, a phone buzzed on one of the nightstands beside the bed. It was Dean’s phone.

You went over to it curiously as you fixed the straps of your dress. The screen showed a missed text message from last night, around 10:00 p.m., and another one this morning. You read the latest one with a sinking feeling in your chest.

From Marissa: Surprised I didn’t hear back from you last night. The offer still stands. 😘

Keep Reading: PART 8

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle #Smoke Eater #Part 7 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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alphajocklover · 7 months ago

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There's this... thing I want to try out involving spiritual medium-ing, where you summon a lingering spirit to talk through you... It's dangerous, but I want to try it anyway along with adding rapid change effects to the mix. Prepped my average nerdy body with the spell, and summoned up a big jock who lost his body just a bit too early, And basically let him share. What do you think will happen to me?

Dude… I’m sorry but that's a horrible idea. It’s one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard. I don’t know if you have a possession kink (which I’m not shaming, I’ll admit that possession can be hot), or are just really altruistic guy and want to help some poor jock who passed on too soon experience some semblance of life, but you are not thinking this through. You’re allowing another human soul to enter your body. I don’t think I have to tell you that most human bodies are supposed to have one soul in them. So this… this is going to get weird.

You, knowing it was already dangerous to have someone possess you, plan to cast a spell on yourself that would change your body as you did it, and you didn’t wonder if those spells would interact in a way you didn’t expect them to. I can think of a hundred different ways this could go terribly wrong. You could simply turn into the jock who was possessing you, with him changing your body to fit his needs and then pushing your soul out into the netherworld. You could end up as some sort of werejock, transforming into the jock who possessed you both physically and mentally at some time of day or whenever you encounter some trigger. Any number of things could happen really. But I think I know what would happen. I think I know the spell you’re planning on casting on your body, and it’s more powerful than you think it is. When it senses two souls in one body, something that most human bodies can’t handle, the spell will react… and split you in two.

It wouldn’t be as graphic as you’re probably imagining. Magic, even the accidental magic you’d be using, is rarely gruesome unless you want it to be. It’ll be quick too. A flash of light, some pressure, a little pain, and soon there will be two of you. One body for each soul. It’ll be almost like a resurrection for the jock you’ll be summoning… but of course things won’t be that simple. Even for the small amount of time your soul and his soul are in the same body, they’ll have a large impact on eachother. His soul will most likely be the stronger one, since it was strong enough to survive after death, so he’ll have the most influence. See, when you split it won’t end up with one version of him and his new version of you, or even two versions of you. In the end you’ll end up with two versions of him. You’ll end up bringing back the jock, but becoming his twin.

It won’t be all bad. You’ll still be you, just a slightly altered version with more jockish characteristics and a new muscular body. The jock who you summoned will have changed a bit too, sharing some of your memories and traits. In a way you and him will end up like real twin brothers, each your own person but having a lot in common, like brothers do. If you go through with this I’m sure you’ll end up a hot jock with an equally hot brother who loves you dearly. It might not be what you were looking for but it’ll be a good life. Here’s just hoping I’m right.

#muscle growth tf #muscle tf #jock tf #jock transformation #jockification #nerd to jock #possession tf #twin transformation #split transformation

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numinousher · 11 days ago

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“This is nice.”

You and Jungkook, after having gone on a ride, ended up on this hill that oversaw the city.

You two were leaning against his bike, his phone playing his r&b playlist that he said he liked listening to during nights like these. He was smoking and he had even asked permission—much to your surprise—if he could do so. With a nod of confirmation, he relaxed even more, in his element, as he blew out smoke from his lips.

“It is, huh?” He asked. “I usually come here to think. I found it after I got pissed at my job and needed to go somewhere. Sienna made me lose my fucking brain.”

You snort in agreement. “It’s a nice place, though. This will be something you’ll have to yourself now.”

“Well… and with you.”

“Why, I feel so honored.” You sweetly smiled. He rolled his eyes rather playfully and looked ahead towards the scenery of the twinkling stars and the buildings. You stayed silent before you said something he was feeling. “I’m not ready for them to move back, you know…?”

Jungkook sighed, digging his hand into his pocket while the other held the cigarette between his pointer and middle finger.

“Me neither,” he admitted with a breathy tone. He blew out smoke. “I just… I’m so fucking hurt still. I can’t even. I want to just smack the shit out of Jong-seok for both me and you.”

“And I’ll hit Sienna for both of us.”

He smiled a little. “Don’t do that, idiot. You’ll hurt your hands.” He looked away as he grinned in amusement at your scoff of surprise. He took another hit.

“My hands can handle it.”

“I didn’t say they couldn’t,” he chuckled. You rolled your eyes and huffed, crossing your arms. You grumbled under your breath, clearly defending yourself. “Just don’t want Sienna’s filth on your hands. What if you get infected?”

“With what?”

“The disease of cheating,” he answered in such a serious tone you acknowledged and remembered his humor was much more different than yours. He had a dry humor, sometimes dark, but he tried to crack a smile sometimes so people could see he was kidding. You got used to it in the few weeks together, you could only let out a snort of laughter now. “I’m being serious! What if you cheat on me with another roommate huh? Are you going to give another person’s roommate the cookies you bake for me? Who knows.”

You smile. “You know, I can never betray you like that. You’re the only one who can handle me crying at a movie I’ve watched 7 times a day sometimes.”

“6,” he corrected, dozing off, clearly not meaning to let that out. “Anyway, we need to let those two assholes realize that we’re fine.”

“How? They’ve seen our twitters at this point and our instagram stories.” You scoffed as you remembered what Jungkook had told you. “I can’t believe Sienna is still stalking your account.”

“I dicked her down good that’s why, she can’t stop thinking about me,” he muttered, blowing out smoke. You scrunch your nose in disgust before a horrified look crosses your face.

“Jungkook.”

“What?”

“We’re going to hear them fucking, dude,” you dramatically whispered out as if someone were hearing in the bushes—there was no one. “What the hell?”

“Then we’ll pretend we’re fucking but we’ll do it louder,” he said as if what he said wasn’t absurd. You let out a loud ‘huh?’ as you processed his words and his calm nature. “What?”

“We are going to pretend?”

He nodded and let his hand with the cigarette rest on his lap. “Yeah, we’ll pretend, princess. No, matter of fact, why don’t we pretend like we’re fucking dating? Those assholes think we’re affected, like we’re moping after them—”

“We are…” you commented, though it fell to deaf ears as Jungkook continued to think while you thought about the nickname he gave you.

“We can’t give them that satisfaction,” he scoffed out, more determined. “At all. They cheated on us and they get to be all happy? Hell, no. So, we’re going to pretend to be a couple for tomorrow while they show up because one thing they will do is show off.”

You bit your lip. “I don’t know… I'm a terrible liar. I can’t lie and I don’t know if Jongseok will remember the tell I have that always reveals I’m lying...”

“What is it?”

“I scratch the tip of my nose,” you mumble.

“I’ll just grab your hand,” Jungkook said as if it was the easiest thing. Maybe you were only overthinking it because that’s what you were good at, but you’re afraid Jongseok will see through you. “Listen… Do you want them to think we’re miserable?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“Look, fake dating isn’t going to be where I do things without your consent and where I play around with your feelings,” Jungkook clarified. “I’m not that type of person, I don’t play around and fuck up. Fake dating will be us just… putting on a show for them. I’ll do things at your pace and I’ll respect you.”

“Are we really doing this?”

“That’s what friends are for and we’re just helping each other.”

He stepped on his cigarette as you gasped dramatically, fanning your eyes as if you were crying.

“I just got called a friend.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You softie!”

He scoffed. He turned to you. “Since we’re doing this… we need a safe word just in case you don’t want to do this anymore or if I don’t want do this.”

You nodded in agreement.

“What should it be?”

“2.”

“Why?” You frowned, confused at the random number.

“Your account,” he answered. “It has a 2 in it.”

“You think about me so much, I live in your head rent free,” you chuckled, shaking back his hand. He gripped your hand a little tighter before he let go. “But, are you sure this is a good idea?”

He hummed. “We’ll be okay. You can be annoying sometimes but… you’re not that bad.”

“Aw, thank you!”

He shook his head with an amused smile before sticking out his hand. “Come on… let’s go on a little walk.”

“In the dark?” You exclaimed.

“Come on, princess.”

2U⭑.ᐟ ── O1O. safe word

BEFORE MASTERLIST AFTER

NOTE: im not late updating you are

TAGLIST: @an-ever-angry-bi @parapiop7 @renoirgoh @ldysmfrst @futuristicenemychaos @skyys-universe @carolinexkpop @han-nah-banana @somehowukook @joonsprettygf @svnbangtansworld @butnotmontana @iammeandmeisiam ... (open)

#── .✦ 2u!#jungkook #jungkook imagine #🫧 jungkook #🫧 jungkook fic!#jungkook smau #jungkook fake texts #jungkook bts #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts smau #bts series

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achromatophoric · 13 days ago

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Wenclair Week - Day 1: Proposal

Wednesday: Tanaka, explain to me why Kent must masquerade as my— *grits teeth* —husband?

Yoko: *glances at Kent, who looks about the casino in wonder*

Yoko: He’s the closest dude in our group to Woody Harrelson.

Wednesday: *glares expectantly*

Yoko: Right, negative pop culture knowledge. Look, so there’s this old flick from 1993, Indecent Proposal. Stirred up controversy back in the day, had people all riled up about—

Wednesday: *waits for something relevant*

Yoko: *eye roll* Fine. So like—Enid and I watched it back in high school and even though she wouldn’t admit it for years, she thought the premise was hot as fuck.

Wednesday: Get to the point about THIS— *holds up her ringed hand* —particular absurdity.

Yoko: Bitch, I was just getting to that! The premise is that some hot strange offers this troubled married couple an indecent proposal.

Wednesday: And did this proposal deserve to be eponymous?

Yoko: Well, back in the day it was like—absolute filth. Nowadays? More fifty shades of meh.

Wednesday: My interest wanes.

Yoko: Damnit Addams, just—shit!

Yoko: *turns* KENT! Get away from those slots! Divina said I’m allowed to beat the scales off you if you touch even one machine!

Kent: *sheepishly backs away* Sorry, dude!

Yoko: *mutters* I knew we should’ve gone with Ajax.

Wednesday: He wouldn’t have survived the ride here.

Yoko: Uh huh. Anyhow, that proposal. Long story short, rich hot dude propositions the wife to do the deed. Reluctance, temptation, blah blah adultery blah—and they bang.

Wednesday: *flat sarcasm* How Shakespearean.

Yoko: Har har. Look, this bit of sexy role-play is for Enid, and I know for a fact that you’ll do anything for her, so you can cut the complaints.

Wednesday: *grunts*

Yoko: Okay, so we’re almost to her table. Do you remember your character?

Wednesday: *sighs* Diana Murphy, real estate agent and disillusioned wife, portrayed by Dewmi More.

Yoko: *pinches bridge of nose* For Vlad’s sake—It’s Demi Moore!

Wednesday: Whatever. *snatches Kent’s hand and drags him to the table* Come along, David. Let’s get this over wi—

The seer nearly stumbles upon spotting Enid at the blackjack table. The werewolf rises to greet Wednesday, cutting a sharp and masculine figure in her tightly-fitted suit and tousled hair.

Enid: *introduces herself with a subtle growl* John Gage.

Kent: David Murphy. And uh—this is my wife—

Wednesday: Do me more. *blinks* Ah… my name is—it’s do me—I mean pleased to do me—more?

Wednesday: *proceeds to girl fail spectacularly*

Yoko: 😎

#wenclairweek2024 #proposal #roleplay #indecent proposal reference #nevermore university #wednesday addams #yoko tanaka #kent wednesday #enid sinclair #wednesday netflix #wenclair #incorrect wenclair #incorrect wednesday addams #incorrect wednesday quotes #incorrect quotes #ficlet

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nervoussagittarius · 8 months ago

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self control

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: two best friends who have been flirting for years finally confess their feelings for one another, request

warnings: fluffy, short little cute moment

chris has been trying to hide it for years. four years to be exact. he refuses to admit it but he’s completely infatuated with you. even though you have been in and out of multiple relationships, chris is holding on for the day he can call you his.

you’ve spent your day with the triplets and are currently getting ready to film a night vlog with them. this isn’t an unusual situation. you often filmed with the boys and appeared in different projects of theirs. you loved it. although you could never give up your job and do it on your own, you enjoyed being included.

chris was currently stood behind you resting his hands on your shoulders as you watched nick start up the camera. you reached your hands back to intertwine your fingers and leaned you head back to lean on chris.

you were both very touchy people so this was no rare occurrence for you two. nick began to intro the video not giving you two time to release eachother. “hey guys welcome to todays vlog. we’re just gonna film our night because we forgot to film the rest of our day so you’ll see what we do tomorrow as well.” you let out a laugh as nick panned to you and chris.

“what are your guys plans for the night?” nick asked. you moved to sit in the counter as you wrapped your arms around chris’s shoulders from behind. “we’ll y/n doesn’t know this but she’s spending the night with me and we’re watching all of the spider-man movies.” he looked over his shoulder at you. “is this your ploy to get me in your bed?” you asked raising your eyebrows. chris looked at the camera and signaled for nick to come in closer before whispering “she wasn’t supposed to figure that one out.”

you jokingly pushed chris away as you hopped off the counter. you felt his eyes on you as you left the room.

later in the evening as you all were sat in the living room watching old videos of the triplets together, nick pulled out the camera again to film you all.

as nick adjusted the settings you all were sitting in a brief scilence, which chris couldn’t handle. he turned to you as you were looking down at your phone. “who’s your celebrity crush?” he asked as he tilted your head up to look at him. “ya know i’m kinda a celebrity so it’s basically me right.”

“sorry to break it to you babe but it’s actually ross lynch.” you said with a shrug. “what are you talking about dude. it’s definitely me. but i could learn how to play the guitar if you really wanted.” he said giving you a wink.

“yeah but have you seen him? he’s like a quadruple threat. he sings, dances, acts, and plays multiple instruments.” you continued. chris rolled his eyes at you and nonchalantly moved away from you on the couch. the spot where he was laying in you becoming cold. “i could definitely do all of that.” chris mumbled.

the rest of the night chris was distant. he didn’t want to admit it but he was jealous that you spoke so highly of this guy you’ve never met. you noticed his change of attitude towards you and it eventually started to hurt your feelings. he was pulling away from your touch and not responding to your jokes and comments towards him.

you became tired of the way chris was treating you so that night when you made it to his room you spoke up about it. “did i do something to upset you? ‘cause if i did i’m sorry and i didn’t mean it.” you slowly climbed onto chris’s bed and watched as he turned his back to you. “i really don’t want to talk about it. it’s fine.” he is tried to act unbothered but you could read him like a book.

“i know something wrong can you please talk to me.” there was silence and a deep sigh from chris. almost five minutes went by before chris started talking. the way he shot up and almost exclaimed startled you. “i just don’t understand how you talk so highly of these people that you let treat you so horribly.” you were stunned by his statement. you didn’t know how to respond to that.

“wh-what?” “you talk so highly about your exes or random people that you don’t know when they treat you like shit. i would treat you so well if you gave me the chance but your so hung up on these people that mean nothing instead. i’m so obsessed with you it’s not funny. i love being around you and i love hearing about your day but you don’t see that. i just want you to see that.” chris’s tangent got quieter as he finished his thoughts. you were at a loss for words.

“i don’t know if it’s because im exhausted or because im just in shock at what you’re saying, but im so confused.” you were looking at chris like he had three heads. you didn’t know what was going on or how you got here, but you weren’t necessarily mad about it.

“y/n. i think im in love with you.” chris said taking your hand in his. “all jokes and flirting aside i really really like you. and i hate that you don’t see that. i understand and if you don’t feel the same way but i can’t keep flirting with you like i don’t mean every word im saying to you.”

“im in love with you two, chris.” you said as you rested his free hand on his cheek and leaned your forehead in his.

#nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)

it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending

pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader

notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)

biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*

(f1 masterlist)

| one | two | three | four |

friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.

typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.

he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.

he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.

it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.

he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.

logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."

oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."

"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."

losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.

"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"

"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."

oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.

"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"

logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.

"frederik knows a guy."

oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”

logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”

“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."

logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"

oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."

he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.

as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.

"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."

"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."

"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."

"i doubt that, actually."

"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."

logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."

frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."

oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."

"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."

"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"

there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.

he's figured it all out.

the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.

"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"

"i could probably beat you."

he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.

"yo, isn't that-"

"liam, read the room."

logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."

he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.

and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.

"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"

mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."

"i know you will. but will he?"

"trust me?"

you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."

"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"

mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.

logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.

this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.

someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.

"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."

mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."

"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."

you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."

logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"

"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.

logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"

mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."

liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.

"i can teach you if you'd like."

"no, i think i can handle myself."

"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."

logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.

logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.

mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”

“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”

the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.

logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.

he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?

“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.

logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.

mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”

“mate-“

oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”

“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”

“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”

“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”

“yeah. best of three?”

“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”

“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”

“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”

liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.

the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.

in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.

“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”

mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”

“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”

“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”

“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.

he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.

mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”

you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”

you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.

mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.

and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.

he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.

“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”

“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”

“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”

mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”

“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”

“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”

“don’t act like you care.”

“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”

logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”

“mate, i do not want to hit you.”

“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”

mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”

“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”

“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”

“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”

“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”

“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”

mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”

“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”

mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.

“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”

“do you?”

“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”

“ah. so?”

“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”

“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”

logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.

“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”

mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”

“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”

“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”

logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“

“aw, fuck’s sake!”

logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.

lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”

oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.

“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”

logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.

oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”

“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”

mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”

you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).

when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.

and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.

you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.

“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”

@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #frat!au

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hellfirenacht · 1 year ago

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Wing Man Part 1

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You are sick of seeing Steve striking out, so you come up with a solution that could work for both of you.

5.5k words

Tags: Eddie Muson x reader, weirdo!reader, bestfriend!Steve

You hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. In your mind, he was still that cocky freshman who happened to be good at playing Basketball during your senior year of high school. You’d never paid much attention to sports or the popular crowd back at Hawkins High, but word had quickly spread about the new kid.

When Steve and Robin approached you to help hook them up with a job at Family Video you were skeptical at first. Robin was a no-brainer when it came to hiring. She had the experience and clearly knew her stuff when it came to movies. Steve you were more on the fence about, as he seemed less cinematically inclined but Robin had vouched for him, and you were tired of having to cover so many of Keith’s shifts. Even when he was here, Keith was basically useless, always hiding in the back.

At this point, you were desperate for any sort of help, so you hired them both.

You quickly took a liking to them- they were easy to hang out with and were able to quickly pick up on what needed to be done. Robin always knew what movies to show on the preview televisions, and Steve was quick to pick up on any busy work that needed to get done.

“I’m always willing to go the extra mile to slack off.” he’d said once, which had earned your approval. As long as shit got done, they could slack off all they wanted. You hated that ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ bullshit. It’s not like the job was especially hard either.

Eventually you and Steve started talking on the nights where the two of you would close together alone. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were good for that sort of thing, they were your slowest days. You learned that he was floundering a bit after high school, struggling to find a place in the world now that he was no longer King Steve. It was also clear by the way he talked that he was still hung up on his ex Nancy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

That was probably the reason why he kept striking out when flirting with customers. It was actually kind of sad.

“You know, I really should probably tell you to stop hitting on every cute girl that walks through that door.” you said, taking out some tapes from the VHS re-winder and putting in new ones. “People come here for movies, not to be hit on.”

It was a speech you’d given at least a dozen times over the past four months. You’d said it so many times that Steve was mouthing along the words as you said them, and you gave his arm a smack. Your heart wasn’t in it though, in truth you knew that at least half of the young women who came to Family Video were here to see Steve and flirt, which is why you were so baffled that he was striking out so hard.

He was good with customers, great even. When he first started working here he would get several numbers slipped to him between returned VHS tapes. But as the Summer months shifted into Autumn, he seemed to be running out of steam.

“I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming.” Steve said, with over-compensated confidence. “I don’t even need to think, I’m just that good at flirting.”

“Yeah, I think your charisma stat has taken a hit over these past few weeks dude.” you snorted.

“I still don’t know what that means.” Steve said. “But I have plenty of charisma!”

“You know, if you actually paid attention to what me or your children said every once in a while you’d understand us better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few months, so many freshman had come in just to bother Steve while he was working. “How is the single mom life by the way? Am I giving you enough hours to pay the bills? Do the kids need new shoes for school?”

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter.” Steve shot back, before realizing how lame that actually was then he sighed. “I think they’re doing okay. Henderson’s the only one who actively keeps up with me.”

You didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “It’s hard when they grow up.” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t put you in a home.”

Steve snorted and brushed your hand off. “Says the one older than me.” he rolled his eyes.

“See, I don’t have six kids to raise, so I’m going to stay young and fun forever, Harrington.” you teased. “You’ve got a full brood to look after. Oh look, I think I see a gray hair right there!”

You reached over to touch his hair and he swatted you away again. “Like hell there is!” he said, mild panic in his voice. You didn’t let up and kept reaching for his hair and he kept pushing you off.

“Yup, that’s a gray one, you’re about to go full Doc Brown on me before the end of the year!” You declare as he attempted to push you off.

Despite him trying to push you off, there was a smile on his face. A lot of nights ended like this with you annoying him and teasing him for his relationship with so many kids. It was endearing really.

The door to the front of the store rang and you two immediately jumped apart as a girl came in, looking to be about Steve’s age. She was pretty, and you slipped out from behind the desk to put away some movies. He really shouldn’t be flirting with the customers, you know this. But... well it was Tuesday night and you were bored and this was far more entertaining than reorganizing the movies in the back room. Less sticky too.

“Action!” You heard Steve call from up front and you moved casually between the aisles and cringed. Oh, no. He was doing the bit again. How many times have you told him that it wouldn’t work? “Oh, I’m sorry you’re so beautiful I thought you were an actress.”

You had to bite your hand to stop yourself from laughing. You couldn’t handle this, this didn’t work the first dozen times, why the hell would it work now? Steve’s voice carried easily, projecting around the video store and allowing you to hear every single word that came out of his mouth.

You listened as Steve threw everything at this poor girl. Talking himself up as some sort of cinema aficionado when you knew the last movie he rented was Star Wars for the third time to watch with Dustin. And he called you the nerd.

“So yeah, I was thinking, beautiful girl like yourself might enjoy watching this movie with some company.” Steve said, handing over the movie. The girl in question gave a polite smile and declined the movie, renting the two that she had actually came for and left.

“That... was sad, Steve.” you said, as she disappeared into the parking lot. You walked over to the counter and picked up the movie that Steve had tried to offer her. “‘The Karate Kid?’ Really? That was your big plan?”

Steve’s was leaning over the desk, bracing his hands against the side of the counter looking down. “I panicked ok?” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I used to be so good at getting any girl I wanted and now I keep blowing it.”

You felt for the guy, you really did. He’d gone from the top of the world to treading water in just a few short months. Steve had told you that he had been at Starcourt Mall the day of the fire, and you had a feeling that it affected him more than he let on. You’d seen him get rejected so many times, but he was always able to brush it off. This time it looked personal.

Well, he was your friend now, and as your friend it was up to you to help him out.

“I think you need to learn how to talk to women now that you’re not in high school anymore, Steve.” you said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The tactics you used before just aren’t going to cut it now. Welcome to “life after high school” where everything you learned over the past twelve years is socially useless.”

“Yeah? And what would you know about social skills?” Steve said. “I haven’t exactly seen you going on any dates lately either.”

“Rude, but fair.” you admitted. He didn’t mean anything mean by it, but the two of you were very much opposites when it came to how you both approached things such as your social and dating life.

Steve was interested in taking any pretty face he saw out on a date. You had not been on a date in months, and had barely tried. Steve had countless tales about his time dating in high school, you went to Homecoming stag with your friends once. Steve talked about a time where he was almost having too much sex. You shamelessly rented porn from the back room and made Steve ring you up as he rolled his eyes.

He’d asked you on a date once and you almost laughed in his face. He was good looking, in a traditional sense but not your type.After thinking about it, you decided that kissing Steve sounded too much like kissing your favorite cousin. You had politely declined and he seemed relieved.

It’s not that you didn’t have an interest in dating, you did. You had tried to explain it to Steve one night, that so many people were into being popular and caring about things that you just couldn’t. You’d tried to fit in, but your interests were just weird. You could have fun at a football game if you were with friends, but that came from the excitement of being in an excited crowd and being with people you liked. You didn’t blame anyone for it, you were glad that people could care about these things. You just wished someone could get excited about the same things that you did.

You and Steve were both fish out of water, you’d just grown used to not being able to breathe.

“Sorry.” said Steve, standing up straight again. “That was below the belt.”

“You’re a dick, but it’s fine.” you shrugged. You’d been called worse for less. “You know, I may not be the pinnacle of normalcy but I do happen to be a woman.”

“I thought you said you were the Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Steve laughed under his breath.

“Only on special occasions.” you replied. “But that’s not the point. Look, you need help getting your groove back. I’m tired of renting movies from the back. I think we could help each other.”

Steve turned to you, brows furrowed. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking we could try wing-manning for each other.” you said. “I’ll talk you up and help you not make a jackass out of yourself, and you can help me get a date too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something smart, but he closed it quickly with a tilt of his head. He looked to the side, thinking about the proposal.

“You can’t do any worse with my help.” you said. “I mean, that ‘actress’ line was bad. Really bad. Like, horrible. I don’t know why you keep using it.”

“It worked with Linda Mendelli.” Steve said defensively.

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” you said.

“She got the lead in the spring musical two years ago.”

“So your actress line worked on a high school actress once.” you laughed. “That explains everything.”

“Like you could come up with a better line!” Steve pouted.

“I can think of a million different lines that would work better than that. And I’ll share them with you, if we have a deal.” you said.

“So you want me to get you a date?” he clarified. “That’s what you want out of this?”

“That’s what I get out of this. Well, that and I can stop nearly puking when I have to listen to you come up with some weird line when a cute girl walks in. It would save me a lot of money on nausea medication.” You smirked.

Steve thought about it for a moment before looking you up and down. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re already not interested in changing anything about yourself to make this easier on me.”

“Again, that’s really rude. That is correct though, you get me a date as I am. No make-over montage, no pretending I’m something I’m not. I spent all of high school trying to be something else, and I’m done with that.” you said firmly.

Steve turned away from you, ran his fingers through his hair, and then turned back, offering his hand. “Fine, you have a deal.”

With a smile, you spat in your hand and grabbed his in a firm shake. “Deal.”

“Ew!” he jerked his hand back as you laughed. Steve wiped his hand on his pants looking disgusted. “That’s so gross, you really are giving me a run for my money.”

“Right then,” you said with an amused grin. “Let’s start with lesson one, and stop with any stupid pick-up lines to get attention.”

Over the next few weeks, in the slow times during work where there was nothing to do but dust the shelves and rewind tapes, you coached Steve on how to talk to women.

“It’s really not that hard.” you explained one night. “It really does come down to just two things; be sincere and be confident. You already have probably too much confidence coming out your ass, but the sincerity isn’t there. You keep throwing these random lines out and hoping something sticks. Fine, that works in high school but not anymore.”

“I’m always sincere about asking them on a date!” he protests. “I’m not just asking every girl I see out on a date!”

“That’s statistically incorrect but I’ll humor you.” you said, as you organized the candy shelf, restocking the skittles. “I believe it when you ask a girl out, but you’re so oblivious about them as people. Newsflash, not all girls are the same Harrington.”

“Yeah, some of them are you.” he said, leaning against the counter, having already given up on pretending to work for the night. “How many times have you seen that Rocky Horror movie now?”

“I see it once a month with my friends at the old Cenimaplex right outside town. Been doing that since I was eighteen.” you confirmed. “I’m hoping to get to be part of the shadow cast at some point.”

“See? That’s weird. Most people maybe go see it once in October.” Steve points out.

“We aren’t talking about me, Harrington. We’re talking about the type of girls you’re into. Also, don’t knock it. I plan on dragging you along this month. It’s about time you lose your virginity.” you smirked as you ripped open a box of snickers and handed him one. “Don’t tell Keith.”

He took the candy bar. “You know I’m not a virgin. I have had sex before you know.”

You shook your head, that’d be a conversation for another day. “Let’s get back to the point. You keep asking girls out but you don’t know them.”

“I get to know them when I’m on a date.” he said.

“That’s all well and good, but you need to be able to see what kind of person they are before you go on the date. Not everyone is like me and wears their personality on their sleeves.” you explained, taking your own candy of choice off the rack. “Okay so today for example. Remember the girl that came in with the brown hair and rented out Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure?” Steve nodded. “So, she also rented out The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay? And what does that have to do with anything?” Steve asked.

“It means she has a kid sibling, and is probably a burnt out older sibling.” you said. “Loves her baby brother or sister but is also very introspective and trying to figure herself out. You came on too strong with her, asking her to a high school basketball game was too high energy.”

Steve gawked at you for a moment. “I hate that you just made sense.” He rubbed his cheeks with his hands. “Shit.”

“Dude, just pay attention to whoever you’re interested in and all the pieces will fall in place.” you said. “Pay attention to the movies, what she’s saying, and if she’s giggling at you then that’s a good sign.”

“Pay attention. Right. I can do this.” he said.

Two weeks after this conversation, Steve nabbed his first date in two months. It had taken a little bit of coaching and some hyping on your end but he got a girls number and had set up a date.

Three days after that he had another date set up.

Two days after that, another three dates.

It was the start of October now, and you were decorating the store for the season. You were standing on a ladder putting up a strand of black garland while Steve held the ladder.

“So I’m taking Shannon out on Tuesday to get ice cream at the new place down the street.” Steve explained.

“We work Tuesday.” you said.

“Tuesday morning.” Steve clarified. “Then Thursday I have two dates with Amy and Marissa since it’s my day off.”

He’d been going on about this for an hour. Steve had been going on dates steadily again for at least three weeks now. It had only been a little over a month that the two of you had agreed to the deal. Now King Steve was back, and you were now subject to every detail of his romantic escapades again. You were happy for your friend, really, but sometimes you’d sneak into the back room and organize the porn just to give you a moment away from hearing about your friends new-found sex life.

It didn’t need to make sense, it just needed to work.

“Do you ever stop to sleep?” you asked, taping up the final end of garland and coming back down the ladder.

“Sometimes I sleep before I have to sneak out a window after I’ve-”

“Nope. No more words, Harrington.” you said, holding up a hand as he laughed. “I get it, I’ll give you more hours so that you can expand your condom budget. Your poor kids must feel neglected while you find them a new mom.”

“I thought you said that I was the single mom?” Steve asked as you both moved the ladder to a new spot. He handed you a bat from the box that held the Halloween decorations.

“Oh, you are. Your kids can have two moms, I’ll allow it.” you said, hopping up on the ladder again. “Hey look, I’m Ozzie Osbourn!”

Jokingly you bit at the head of the bat as Steve looked up at you as if you were insane. “...What?”

You frowned and looked down at him. “Black Sabbath?” you asked. “The guy bit a bats head off on stage?” Now he was looking at you like you were a total psychopath. “Oh come on, you didn’t hear about that? The first time it was a fake bat but then he somehow managed to grab a real bat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” Steve said, shaking his head. “What movie is Black Sabbath again?”

It was your turn to stare at him now. “How are we even friends?” you asked. “You and I don’t have a single thing in common. ‘What movie is Black Sabbath’ be so for real right now.”

“You asked me last week if the Pacers was a marathon I was going to race!” Steve shot back.

“And I stand by that, because that does NOT sound like the name of a basketball team.” You climbed higher on the ladder to hang the bat.

“You’re thinking of the Fitness Gram Pacer Test.”

“Sports!” you cried out, giving the bat a small bap to make it swing. “Movement like that means nothing to me!” you gave a pause. “Unless you’re actually going to compete. I’ll care for your sake if you’re playing. Otherwise I’m just gonna smile and nod. Give me another bat.”

Steve dug into the box again to pull out another bat for you. “So what’s Black Sabbath then?” he finally asked.

“Look at you taking my lessons to heart and asking questions about a girls interest!” You reached down and pat his hair, causing him to swat you away again with a comment about not touching his hair. “It’s a metal band.”

“I didn’t think you were into metal.” Steve said as you came back down the ladder.

“I’m into anything I like.” you said simply. “Why limit yourself, you know? If I like something I need to learn everything about it or I feel like my brain will explode.”

“You’re kind of weird.”

“I know.”

The two of you continued to decorate the store between taking care of customers. You were going a bit overboard, if you were honest. Keith had handed you a pathetic box of a few paper decorations to use, and you had gone out with your own money to buy more. If you were expected to be here to earn a paycheck you may as well get something out of it, even if it was the feeling of being surrounded by cheesy holiday memorabilia.

“So how are the kids, Harrington?” you asked, untangling a fake spiders web.

Steve sighed, messing with the candy counter. “Dustin’s doing good. He’s made a friend at school.”

“You seem tense about that.” you looked over at him. “Care to share with the class how that makes you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything about it.” Steve said, clearly defensive. “Henderson has a new cool older friend who’s into the same nerdy shit he’s into.”

Steve was so jealous, it was written all over his face. How long had he been the cool older figure in that kid's life?

“Should have taken him up on playing D&D with him.” you said with a grin. “Now your child is going to divorce you for a new dad.”

“You really need to sort out whatever metaphor you’re going to use with me and these kids.”

“Nah, gotta keep you on your toes.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh. “It’s funny you know? One minute I’m the coolest guy in the room to everyone. I was king of Hawkins High, had these kids that annoyed the shit out of me but looked up to me, and the best girlfriend I could have asked for. Then I graduated, the kids took over school, and now I’m single even after going on all these dates.”

“Yeah, life’s funny like that.” you agreed. “If it makes you feel any better I don’t think you’re super lame. You’re actually kind of an alright dude.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“...So speaking of you going on dates.” you started slowly, unsure how to bring this up.

“Right, yeah, so I said I was going out with Amy and Marissa on Thursday-” Steve started.

“No not that,” you interrupted. “Well, sort of but not really. So I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Harrington.”

Steve froze for a moment before looking up at you on the ladder. “Oh, right. So about that, I have no idea what you even like in a guy.”

“Fair enough, I have not exactly been as pro-active as you have been.” The past few weeks had been so busy with the changing of seasons and weeding out old movies that you hadn’t really had time to think about dates. You’d been stuck in a perpetual loop of work and school with the occasional odd movie night with Steve and Robin when they were free.

“So what do you like?” he asked. “If you want my help, you’re gonna have to open up about that.”

“Oh but that involves being vulnerable with King Steve of Hawkins High and that’s not exactly my style.” you sighed dramatically.

“Last week when we got together for movie night you got drunk and cried about how you got asked out to prom as a joke. Is that not opening up or being vulnerable?”

You winced and made a face. “I did that? Yikes. I’m never drinking again.” You did remember renting out Carrie with the others and crying because she had been a very relatable character in your early high school years. Things were a lot better now that you left high school, but you supposed that had struck a nerve.

“Come on, just give me something to work with. I know you’re a weirdo who obsesses over the most random things. You like Rocky Horror and anything with music. But what do you like in a guy?” Steve pressed.

You fiddled with the decoration that had been perfectly hung a moment ago, just to give you something to do with your hands. This was a very good question that you had thought about a lot.

“I guess I want someone who’s as weird as I am.” you finally said. “I’d like to at least meet someone who understood the things I cared about, or was at least willing to learn. I know I’m different, and I’m okay with being different. I want a guy who gets being like that, and won’t make me feel less for it.”

“That’s... specifically vague.” Steve said, thinking. “I was thinking more looks wise.”

“I like guys with long hair.” you said immediately.

That he could probably work with. You hopped off the ladder for the last time and he helped you pack it away in the storage closet.

Steve was thinking hard about what to do about his end of the bargain when the door rang and someone walked inside.

“Steve!” A voice called out, and your co-workers face immediately lit up and ran to the front of the store.

“Henderson!”

You watched as the two boys ran to each other, immediately going into a secret handshake that you couldn’t help but find endearing. The kids that Steve was friends with were always fun, but you had to admit that you had a soft spot for Dustin. That was a kid who knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to be it. You admired that a lot about him.

Deciding to give them a bit of space, you made yourself busy with the horror movie section, making sure that everything was in place. Lucky for you though, those two were still very much boys and you could hear every single part of their conversation.

It’s not eavesdropping if they’re that loud. Probably.

“The store looks great!” Dustin said, looking around. “You guys really went all out with the decorations, huh?”

“Yup, we just got finished. She bought most of this stuff herself.” Steve gestured to you and you gave a wave.

“Hey, Dustin!” you called out, and he waved back.

“They’ve started putting up decorations at school too, but people keep stealing them.” Dustin said. “There are at least three skeletons missing from the science labs.”

“Those aren’t decorations, Henderson. I think those are supposed to be educational.” Steve replied.

“Not when they’re wearing witches hats and cat ears.” Dustin countered. Steve shrugged in agreement.

“So is school going alright? How’s Lucas doing on the team? What about Mike?” Steve asked and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but he was absolutely a single mother to these kids. You wished that you had a way to record him so that he could see the way he was fussing over them.

“Lucas is still a bench-warmer.” Dustin said, grabbing a candy bar from the snack stand. You conveniently were too busy making sure that a copy of Sleepaway Camp was properly rewound to notice the blatant theft. “He still goes to practice every week, but he hasn’t been on the court yet. He’s been making a lot of cool and popular friends.”

There was no hiding the disdain in his voice when he said that.

“Well Basketball is the best way to secure your ranking at Hawkins.” Steve said. “I would know.”

“Yeah but it seems like he never has time to even come to Hellfire Club anymore. We’re lucky if he makes it to one or two sessions a month.” Dustin sighed. “He totally blew off me and Mike last week to go hang out with his cool new friends.”

“You know, you have an in with the popular crowd now Henderson. You could use this as a chance to be popular.” Steve pointed out.

“But I don’t want to be popular, Steve! I’m happy with the friends I have and enjoying what I like.”

“Ignore Steve, he’s stupid. Keep doing what you’re doing, kid!” you called out to them, making Dustin laugh and Steve sigh.

“Thank you.” Dustin said before turning to Steve again. “Anyway, Eddie says that conformity is overrated. He says it’s better to be a freak with a few friends than some weird version of normalcy and be miserable.”

“Right, because ‘the freak’ is so wise.” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“He is!” Dustin frowned. “You know, he’s the only person who’s been nice to me and Mike since we started school. And last session he had us-”

That was when you started tuning the conversation out. You looked up at the clock and swore, you had some work to do in the back before your shift is over.

“Steve, watch the front for me. I’ll be finishing up in the back.” you called out, and Steve only waived in response.

Once you were out of earshot, Steve held up a hand to Dustin to signal him to stop talking.

“What?” asked Dustin. “You told me that I get at least five uninterrupted minutes to talk about the campaign when we hang out.”

“Yeah, and I’ll let you have seven minutes if you help me out.” Steve said.

“Seven? An extra two minutes? Make it ten.” Dustin crossed his arms,

“Eight.”

“Deal. What do you need?”

Steve stares at Dustin for a second. He doesn’t want to ask this question, as he never had any interest in knowing anything about Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. Eddie had been a stagnant 2 years ahead of him and somehow still hadn’t graduated. Steve couldn’t comprehend being 20 and still in high school, and he almost felt bad for entertaining this thought. Then again, you had also spent an extra semester at school, so maybe that wouldn’t be a deterrent.

“I need you to tell me more about Eddie.” Steve finally managed to get out. Dustin looked like Christmas had suddenly come early.

“You want to know more about Eddie?” Dustin had a shit-eating grin on his face that Steve hated. “Since when do you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“I still don’t.” Steve said firmly. “I never have and never will understand your game. And I’m not asking about him for me, I’m asking about him for her.” He motioned to the door to the back room.

“Her?” Dustin looked at the door, as if he could see you through the flimsy wood. “Is she wanting to play?”

“I don’t know, probably? She’s made enough references to playing before. Listen, no, that’s not what this is about.” Steve sighed. “We have this deal going on. She’d help me get dates if I helped her get a date. And she followed through, and I still have no idea how to get her a date.”

“She wants to date Eddie?” Dustin had a look on his face that was a mix of surprise and confusion. “How does she know him?”

“I don’t think she knows Eddie.” Steve said. “But she wants someone weird and as much as I hate to admit it, your new friend might actually fit her criteria.”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Dude, come on.”

“Fifteen uninterrupted minutes, and you let me rent an R rated movie.”

“Jesus, Henderson.”

“Deal or no deal?”

Steve turned and looked at the door that you had disappeared behind. You had been a good friend to him over the past four months, a really good friend. You and Robin had been able to keep him grounded and going after the Starcourt Fire. You’d more than held up your end of the bargain.

“Fine, deal.” Steve agreed.

Dustin smiled and seemed content. “So what do you want to know?”

Part 2

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile

#eddie munson x reader #nacht fic #wing man

630 notes · View notes

schoenpepper · 3 months ago

Text

Spiraling

Intro: Ace would make for a very bad detective.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, very bad words, kind of crack???, not yuu, not in heartslabyul reader so pick a different dorm, bad suicide jokes

A/N: Woah I am aliveeee and kind of kicking-ish. Sorry these are so slow, I was busy...studying (grinding for kinich's weapon because the weapon banner is my mortal enemy). For @xphantasmagoriax on my Fate, Destiny, and a Shit Ton of Mushrooms event.

Masterlist

“One. More. Word.”

“Trey senpai said he already has someone he likes—” smack! “Ow! ”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Dear sevens help you when the time comes; you can no longer restrain yourself, and it ends with the murder of one Ace “Dumbass” Trappola. It’s okay because your second cousin’s girlfriend’s aunt is a great defense attorney, so if you make it look enough like an accident…

“I don’t like that look on your face.”

“Shut up!” you hit Ace’s shoulder one more time for good measure.

The redhead shrugs and, perhaps out of what twisted sense of sympathy he has left, your stupid best friend pats your head (or maybe this is just his way of emphasizing your height). “It’s okay doofus, there’s plenty of fish in the sea,” you smack his hand away with a grimace. He just doesn’t get it. Trey isn’t just some guy you saw one day and decided, ‘that one, I want that one right there’. No, Trey is someone that the universe has linked you with; he’s the person who fate itself wants to be with you forever.

Trey Clover is your soulmate.

Who apparently wants absolutely nothing to do with you.

The first meeting was so cliche it made you want to throw up, but in a sense, it was a meet cute.

Just kidding. It was a meet disastrous.

The stack of ungraded potionology quizzes in your hand (Ace’s on the topmost with at least half the answers that you can vaguely guess as incorrect), a large crowd of rowdy teenage boys littering the hallway—it’s fairly obvious you’re unlikely to pass through unscathed. But being the stubborn person you are, you trudge onwards with little to no fear. Surely when they see you coming through with Crewel’s stuff, they’d be polite enough to make way for you and—

Of course not. How dare you assume that NRC students have even a modicum of decency? You tumble on the floor like a ball, papers flying everywhere.

And you’re saved from the fate of picking up each and every one by hand.

Magic flows through the air like a breeze, tinged with the smell of puff pastry. The papers float before ever reaching the ground, flying single file into a neat stack as your savior holds out a hand to you. Straight, silky locks of hair like ceremonial-grade matcha, pretty honey eyes that looked just as sweet when they reflected your figure. The man looks positively delicious, that’s for sure. You take his hand, and he pulls you back up to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmur in a daze, “you’re hot as fuck.”

…Wait, what?

He was about to hand you the pile of papers when he doubles over in laughter from your blunt words. Heat creeps up your face with many legs, like a spider of shame shooting your cheeks with webbing. ‘Shame on you, Y/N, how thirsty must you be to just hit on a random guy?!’

‘But I didn’t even mean to say that!’

Your inner war is quelled when the handsome guy gives you the stack of quizzes.

“Thanks, I’m flattered,” he grins, one eyebrow raised and the other arched. “I must admit, it’s not too often I hear compliments as straightforward.”

“You mean shameless?” What? Why would you say that?

You cover your mouth with a start. Words seem to be against you today, and you’d be damned if you spill out the rest of your thoughts to this dude who seems to already see you as a laughingstock.

Anyway, that was the day you found out that Trey Clover, the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul, was your soulmate.

Soulmates aren’t ridiculously uncommon, but they’re quite difficult to find. After all, the only way you’ll know if someone is your soulmate is by talking to them and trying to lie or keep something to yourself. When you realize you’re physically incapable of anything but telling the truth, that’s your soulmate.

The problem!

That short encounter was clearly not enough for your upperclassman to realize that you’re his soulmate. And you’re a coward. Lacking audacity if you will. In Ace’s words—

“Damn, why don’t you just stop being such a fucking pussy?”

You glare at him, “Meow, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”

So two weeks with no contact at all, only helpless pining. Ace swears up and down that you’ve become a stalker with how much you’re staring at the guy, which is why you’ve never told him that you have, in fact, stalked Trey’s social media accounts. And eventually you’re led down the path of thinking:

You should, like, totally make a move. Totally. But to be super duper extra sure that you even can make a move, you make use of your resident dumbass (who also happens to be in Heartslabyul) to scope out the enemy (read: your future husband).

And the ginger returns unvictorious.

Okay, you’re caught up now. On to real time.

Real time, you’re sulking because why is your soulmate in love with someone already?! It’s just not fair. 1 out of 20 people never meet their soulmate, and 5 out of 30 don’t even realize they’d met their soulmate until it was too late!

You’re apparently in that five out of thirty statistic.

You could approach him. Tell him you’re his soulmate. Would he choose you over that person that he already likes? Is a soulmate worth half as much as you’re making it out to be? There’s a pang in your heart; it hurts because the person you’ve been waiting for your whole life didn’t wait for you at all.

Were you not worth waiting for?

“I mean, he likes someone,” Ace speaks up, “but he never said he was in a relationship. You could still confess.”

Right.

Y/N YOU HOMEWRECKING SLU—

No no, you’re not a homewrecker yet. There’s still hope.

THERE’S NO HOPE!

You’re done for. You’ll live a long and lonely life because Trey Clover found someone he likes, and it’s just not you.

Ace seems genuinely dumbfounded at the sudden waterworks, but you can’t stop the tears when the realization sinks in. Tomorrow, it’ll be Valentine's Day, and you’ll be spending the day crying into a tub of half-melted ice cream because the other half of your heart is out there, and he’s probably [redacted] some other [redacted]. “He will rue the day he rejected me,” you mumble as you wipe your tears away on Ace’s jacket sleeve.

“Ew, gross! Get away!”

Fast forward, and your plans are ruined because the school does not give a fuck about whether or not your future ‘forever’ just DUMPED you. A Tuesday is still a Tuesday, and a Tuesday means ✨physical education with Coach Vargas✨. You trudge on over to the field in your fugly PE uniform, hair looking like it got swept through by a hurricane and deep bags under reddened, swollen eyes. You expect a rowdy scene upon your arrival: a teasing Ace, a worried Deuce, a laughing Grim, and a Yuu who’s very likely to push you right back into bed. You get—

“Y/N. I like you.”

Oh Ursula, Queen of Hearts, Jafar, all of the seven, please, please just kill me where I stand.

The prayer doesn’t work. The ground does not open up and swallow you whole.

In the middle of the field is your matcha-haired school senior, holding a large bouquet of ruby-red roses with a shy smile. Behind him is a large group of Caters; one is holding up a camera; the rest are holding up placards that spell out ‘Y/N x Trey Forever’ and truly, you’ve never felt so suicidal in your life than in this moment of public execution. You try to smile through your tears of shame, and when you try to speak niceties, you’re very rudely reminded of the soulmate thing.

“Wow. I hate it. I like you, senpai, but I hate your confession so much I want to cry.”

Anyway, it turns out Ace forgot to ask who Trey liked. But at least you won’t die alone?

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #trey clover

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