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pedgito · 30 days ago

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𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 | Eddie Munson x reader

summary | Eddie had taken on the responsibility of watching over you when you were younger. But, now back home after dropping out of college, watching over you seems to mean something entirely different. Alternatively, seducing your dad's best friend who just so happens to also be a virgin.

author's note | this is as close to writing eddie as i think i can get anymore hdsjfk. thanks to my wives (@gracieheartspedro, @amanitacowboy & @chaotic-mystery) for the beta & support!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, set in the early 2000s, older!eddie, virgin!eddie, the double whammy everyone needs in their life, age gap (20s & mid 30s), DBF!EDDIE!!!!, eddie knew reader as a kid but nothing nefarious, internal conflict, money issues, dropping out of college, flirting, eddie catching you half-naked, confident!reader, screwing and screwdrivers amirite, fingers, couch sex, eddie comes in a millisecond, pull out method

word count — 9.5k

The email comes through Friday night.

The college name and yours bolded at the top and a sigh slipping from your lips as you’re already anticipating the inevitable.

This email is to inform you that your enrollment is being terminated due to outstanding financial obligations on your student account, payments must be continued in a timely manner for the issue to be resolved. — Warm regards

You’re packed up by Saturday afternoon and back home by midnight, settling back into the small and cozy childhood bedroom you were so desperate to leave, begging to escape the stuffy trailer park the moment you turned eighteen.

But, here you were, stuffing your feet into your fuzzy slippers as you took out the kitchen trash to the dumpster at the end of the short driveway, the frigid wind biting at your skin as you tugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

It was the time of year where mornings were unbearably cold and by noon, you were sweating.

The problem was that you had tried.

You sacrificed a few assignments picking up extra shifts at the diner near the edge of campus, barely minimum wage with the few and far between tips. It felt like life or death sometimes, deciding between studying, paying for a few items to enjoy a decent dinner, or paying on your tuition.

Eventually, it all became uncontrollable. It was like a giant, looming monster hovering over your shoulder at every turn, threatening you with the power it held. What came now was relief, but still the slightest hint of worry.

You had to find a job, pick up the slack—the trailer was, to no surprise, a mess.

Your father worked grueling shifts at the factory in Hawkins, twelve hours days that wore him out, enough time to grab a quick meal and shower before he was turning in for the night on the worn-out recliner in the living room despite his perfectly good bed.

He wasn’t working today, but he was having breakfast with a friend.

You got an invite but decided against, determined to make the place spotless by the time he returned and you do as much, picking up the mountains of growing trash, starting laundry, vacuuming, every possible task until the place smelt somewhat pleasant and livable, propping the windows open as the air started to warm, hearing the faint laughs coming up the drive as we’re spraying down the deck with a hose, washing away the caked up dirt between the slats of wood.

“She lives,” His voice is easily recognizable, married with the shake of metal from his litany of jewelry and trademark jacket, jingling like a cat with a bell on their collar, you’re smiling before you turn around, though it quickly fades as he continues, “how’s college been treatin’ you?”

Your dad isn’t slick, but he makes an attempt, his hand mimicking a slice over his neck as a warning for Eddie to cut the conversation dead, though he’s more focused on your face and the way it falls.

“Er, or not?” he guessed, “Or not, yeah—you doing alright?”

“I’m surprised dad didn’t spill the beans,” you admit, “an hour together and he didn’t mention his college dropout daughter and how she’s unfortunately back home, wasting away her genius,”

“Honey, you know I’m happy to have you here—if I could pay to put you through, I would,”

“I know, I know,” you soothe his worry, “so much for scholarships when schooling still costs a fucking fortune, I should’ve tried selling shit on the black market like everyone else, I can live without a kidney,”

Eddie chuckles at your efforts to lighten the mood, “Tough break, squirt,”

“Hey,” you retort quickly, “I’m not five anymore, quit it,”

“She’s all stuck up now,” your dad jokes, your mouth dropping in offense,

“Am not,” you quickly snap, “is this fucking open season on bullying me?”

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie offers a half-smirk as he shoves his hands into the pocket of his jacket before nodding a goodbye to your father, then you, softening you with a wink that has the same effect as it did on fifteen year old you, swallowing hard behind the unusual swell of nervousness in your throat.

“Language,” your father warns as he approaches, kissing the top of your head as he walks by, “and thank you, kiddo, for being’ here—cleaning up the place,”

You nod quietly, offering a smile as your eyes drag back toward Eddie’s trailer, the same one you’ve wandered toward many times before, his uncle Wayne sitting on the steps offering out a pre-packaged lollipop or candy that he never told your father about, so easily becoming a second family to you and your father, him raising you by himself from such a young age.

Unfortunately, Wayne had passed a while back.

You were nineteen now, a couple years older than your father was when you were born, kidless, and relationships nowhere near your radar for the time being, it felt odd. But, you were settled and secure with yourself in that regard, praying that things would fall into place in due time.

But, more urgently, you needed a fucking job.

–

As much as you don’t physically see Eddie the first few weeks you’re settling back in Hawkins, he’s everywhere; posters plastered on brick walls or taped up on the glass windows of stores in town, shoutouts on the local radio as you drove down the backroads to town, he’s a small celebrity around town no doubt, but to you, he was annoying Eddie Munson.

He’s the guy who liked to scare you as a child when you were giving your father a hard time about falling asleep, making up convoluted stories about monsters that came after bad kids that still had you checking over your shoulder some nights. He’s the guy who liked to tease you for being tone deaf but still insisted on teaching you how to play guitar despite you not retaining any of it.

You admired him more than you could admit—he’s never cared what people thought of him. Eddie made a habit of standing out and being confident in his choices, going against the fray of students fighting tooth and nail for college admissions.

It didn’t matter that Eddie was a super senior by the time he graduated, he’s made a name for himself now, kept to his roots, and was still the same person you knew before you could even reach his kneecaps.

It was the rare nights as you grew older, just on the cusp of seventeen and listening to your father and he relive the times before you—how wild and carefree Eddie had encouraged him to be.

It wasn’t that he’d lost his life when you arrived, he just had different reasons to be happy.

Their mouths worked in tandem as they talked through their food, enjoying a shared dinner on the couch watching an old comedy from the 70s that you couldn’t remember the name of, the men finding great humor and joy in a movie you could care less about.

You remember the moment it happens, the skip in your heart as the smell of Eddie’s cologne wafts to your nostrils, admiring the straight edge of his defined jaw as he ate, the dimple that deepened as he smiled.

It was the same feeling you had when you found out you had a crush on sixth grade on a boy who was just as nervous to talk to you as you were to him, but this—it was in a league of its own, making you seek asylum in your room as you escape from dinner with a lazy excuse.

Eddie goes touring for the next few months after you arrive back, in and out of town, but you’re lucky enough to miss him by minutes, seconds, occasionally. Because as much as you had hoped that schoolyard crush would go away, it hadn’t.

The same sinking feeling in your gut returns with every appearance of his face, even the presence of his empty trailer, his voice echoing in the back of your head like he’s there.

You spent the most of his absence applying for jobs and praying for anything at this point, even if the pay was absolutely shit. You end up at the grocery store in town as a stocker, nothing crazy: the hours were flexible, the job was distracting, and you could keep to yourself.

The last thing you wanted was a familiar face from high school wondering how girl genius had dropped out of college, not that it was anyone’s business, but the judgement was the last thing you needed.

When you arrive home after a longer shift, feet scraping tiredly against the pavements as your keys jingled in your hand, trying to move quietly because you knew your father was sleeping after an equally long day, you hear the whistle from a few feet away.

You could mistake it for a bird, but given the time of day, you knew it was Eddie, the melodic hum to the whistle that has a smile tugging at your face.

“Finally pullin’ your weight I see,” he remarks with a grin, arms resting over his hood as he stares, you with no response other than your lips pulling into a tight line as you slump your shoulders, “tough crowd—‘lright, fair enough.”

“Gotta start somewhere,” you respond, gravitating toward the arm of the stairs that led to the porch of the trailer, “not all of us are gifted with the ability to perform, remember?”

Eddie chuckles at the thought, watching you fumble with his guitar, “Yeah…yeah,” he nods, fiddling with his keys and the chipped guitar pick on the key ring, “but—seriously, you’re doing okay? Your dad didn’t tell me much about what happened, so…”

“There wasn’t much to tell him,” you admit, “I’m broke, stressed, and life isn’t very forgiving to some of us,”

Eddie’s eyes squint in thought, averting awkwardly.

To you it seems as if he’s trying to think of how to comfort you, campaigning his next words on his head.

But internally, he’s fighting the thoughts that this wasn’t how he pictured you ending up; not because he thought you were above it, but because he'd always imagined you running far from this place—admittedly, you tried; away from the faded street signs and rusted trailer roofs. He stops himself from saying something stupid, knows that even if the words feel gentle or caring, they'd sting.

He can’t help but admire you either, despite that nagging feeling in his chest.

You’ve changed, grown into the permanent scowl on your face that matched your feisty personality, aware of how you carried yourself with a confidence that mimics his own, fake it ‘til you make it.

“Hey,” he says finally, voice softening. “If you need anything…well, you know I’m like—down the street.” He motions vaguely toward his own trailer, and you nod knowingly, “well, across…the grass, I guess. You get the idea, dollface,”

That was a new one.

You chew at the inside of your lip to hide the grin brought on by amusement and delirium from your long shift, wondering how you were still on two feet and listening to Eddie ramble, somehow you manage the energy to be teasing, easing back into the familiar playfulness you both threw at each other when you were younger and more naive.

“And what do I owe the great Eddie Munson for his generosity?”

He gives a dramatic sigh, flicking his wrist like he's dismissing the idea, “I’m all for charity, helpin’ out the needy.. Why? You feeling needy?”

It’s your turn to squint now, the skepticism easing into a smile. There’s a comfort in this banter and it lifts the weight off your chest in a way you can’t describe, rolling your eyes at his growing smirk.

“Careful,” you warn him, a glint in his eyes, “I’ll take advantage of you if you’re offering, just like old times,”

You wrap your grin up in a perfect bow of innocence, palms meeting at your chin to frame your face up with a picture perfect smile before you’re leaving him, yearning for your bed.

Eddie recognizes you, he thinks.

It was you, personality and mannerisms to match.

But, you’re different now.

He couldn’t admit it out loud though or even begin to linger on the thought out of fear and a sudden guilt that pinged in his gut, chastising himself over it.

–

A weekend and privacy came with a much needed bath, lounging in the comfort of the tub until your muscles stopped aching, eventually wrapping yourself in a towel after a quick shower as you walked through the living room, spending most of Saturday and Sunday alone as your father had escaped for his own getaway—the only difference this time was that you didn’t need a sitter.

It was a designated job of Eddie’s for many years, always offering to keep an eye on you.

But, you are an adult now. Fully grown, filled out. The towel is shit and thin but you hold it tight to your body anyways, readjusting it over your bare chest as the front door squeaks open on the rusty hinges and—

"Jesus!" you gasped, clutching the towel tighter.

“Oh, shit!" Eddie practically jumped back, hands up as if he were surrendering. "I thought you'd be gone. Sorry, sorry!"

You’re standing wet and unsteady, staring at him with a mix of embarrassment and amusement while he’s caught red-handed, looking increasingly guilty as he covers his eyes with his hands.

“Sorry,” he repeats, “Your dad wanted me to check in on the place, figured you’d be gone,”

You force an awkward laugh, the tension dipping into something easy and familiar despite the situation, “Well, I’m not..”

He turned to look away now, the tips of his ears burning red. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to, uh—”

He uncovered his eyes slightly, peeking at you with a crooked grin as you responded with a teasing, “Obviously, Eddie.”

You swore he was blushing—you’ve never seen it before. Not like this. You raised an eyebrow, shifting your weight to one hip, watching him squirm as the towel parts slightly, revealing a risqué sliver of skin by your inner thigh.

Eddie clears his throat suddenly, looking up at the ceiling with a finger pointing randomly, like he’s doing an inspection of the place before he’s stumbling over his words, “I’m—gonna…go? Place is good, you’re good—I mean,”

“I know what you mean,” you interject, walking toward him as your fingers press against his chest on his backwards trek outside, pointing lazily toward his trailer as he fumbles for the doorknob, “now, if you don’t mind?”

Eddie knows he deserves a special spot in the worst parts of hell now, finding himself curious of how you’ve grown, something that has never plagued him until recently, seeing you back in town and nothing like the young girl he used to know.

Of course, you’re still you, but then again—not at all.

He can’t quite place it, but he knows this is bad.

Not good.

And he returns home to take a shower of his own, longer than necessary for a number of reasons.

–

Later that night, you perch yourself in the old, plastic chair on the side of the trailer and light the rolled joint, savoring the soft hum of nature as you wrapped the blanket tighter around your body, curled up barefoot and closing your eyes as you inhale the smoke until it burns, blowing it out through your nostrils.

"Didn't know you smoked," Eddie chirps, cigarette in his mouth as he approaches quietly, startling you slightly. He’s dressed for bed—a loose, tattered old band shirt and sweats hung low on his hips, black socks with a growing rip on the side of his left foot.

He’s always been broad, but the defined muscles of his biceps were new. Thicker, a little tanned, tendrils of muscle stretching underneath the skin as he crossed one arm over his chest.

As your heart settles, you smirk and add darkly but joking, "College changes people."

"Yeah?" He exhaled a slow cloud of smoke. "Guess I never really changed, have I?"

"You still play with the band?"

You already knew the answer, making conversation.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Not famous yet, though. Maybe next year. We’re just doing shows around Indiana—pays the bills and then some."

Eddie was well enough off, you knew that. There wasn’t a single person in Hawkins who didn’t know his name, negative connotation or not—you would have to be living under a rock to not know who Eddie Munson or Corroded Coffin was.

The conversation eventually drifted into quieter places, dragging the equally dilapidated empty chair beside you, closer, knees knocking.

He asked about school; you asked about life on the road. He admitted, too easily it seemed—that he never really caught up with most of the kids he graduated with. "Most of 'em settled down," he said. "Married. Kids. Guess I just... never did."

He'd never been shy, but something in the way he said it felt more vulnerable than usual.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you shrug, puffing quietly as his eyes track the movement, his cigarette long forgotten before you’re offering him the joint, the corners of his mouth turning upwards quickly as he snatches it from your fingers eagerly.

“Right,” he doesn’t entirely believe you, haunted by the idea of never being able to move on—stuck in this revolving circle of trying to make it big but just coming up short.

It’s been almost twenty years, something had to give way.

"You're much better company than the guys, by the way," Eddie smirked as he took a long drag, his eyes finding yours through the haze of smoke, “you should come out to a show, too—I’ll comp your tickets.”

“I’ll make an effort,” you tell him honestly, “but—with work and trying to make sure my dad isn’t running himself into the ground…I’ll—I’ll try, I promise,”

“Do you have plans to go back?” Eddie asks, passing the joint back to you, “Like, to college?”

You shrug, “I want to, but money is tight. I’d need a fucking miracle to happen before—”

“I can pay what you owe,” he responds like it was the easiest thing in the world to offer, “if—I mean, if you want. Or, at least a chunk to help you out. It helps, living in Wayne’s old trailer. Everything is paid, I just keep the lights on and the water running.”

You stare at him, momentarily speechless.

“Eddie,” you’re unsure how to continue as his name falls out like a breath that’s been held too long, “that’s not fair to you,” you tell him, unable to ignore the weird, twisting feeling in your chest that makes your heart flutter nervously, “I can’t let you do that.”

You knew Eddie wasn’t the type to expect anything in return, but the idea—just the thought of him helping in such a way, it was tempestuous. But, you’re stubborn.

“I think I need to give myself time,” you decide, “find out if going back is something I want to do—if it’s even worth it.”

Eddie never even attempted college, so he figures his opinion is null and void.

Instead, he pokes you with a finger to your ribs as you squirm, giggling softly.

"You should come on the road with us then. Be our groupie, for all intents and purposes."

You laugh, not sure if he's joking or serious or somewhere in between. "You’re asking me—the daughter of one of your oldest friends, to be your groupie?"

Eddie considers how it sounds, pausing as he tries to work it out in his head before he laughs, shaking his head with amusement, “Fine—bad way to describe it. You could just…come and help, or not. We don’t really have a manager, either. We’re wingin’ it. Weren’t you going to college for something in that field?”

“A minor in music management, yeah, but—”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise in intrigue and you look away with a flurry of emotions.

Amusement, forthright. You laugh, the sound bubbling around the joint between your lips, but his eyes fall so easily on you, wide and glazed over and it makes you nervous in a way you’ve never felt.

“Your dad asked me to keep an eye on you, take care of you when I could—” Eddie begins, legs spreading out as he leans back in the chair, memorizing the subtle curl pattern to his hair and his bangs that begged for a trim.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” You remind him, tilting your head to meet his eyes as he lazily pivots his head to look at you, a distant but genuine smile on his face.

“I know,” Eddie responds, his hand rubbing gently over your knee, the cold press of his rings into your skin as his knuckles curled around the bone, “doesn’t mean I don’t care or worry about you.”

It was such an innocent touch, reassurance wrapped in a perfect bow.

But, his hand doesn’t move immediately, slowed, almost as if hindered by the weed in his system. He watches the way your legs part, his hand slipping further to curl around the bend of your knee and around the inside of your thigh, fingers tucked between the space.

Your reaction is delayed too, eyes locked on the movement of his hand before you’re forcing yourself to kill the tension, wrapping your fingers around his own and returning the gesture with a gentle squeeze.

“I appreciate it, Ed,” it bleeds sincerity, “thank you—but, that is something I’d really have to think about.”

“No rush, dollface,” he grins, slipping his hand away casually.

He moves to stand, but you stop him, hand pressed against his chest.

“Don’t—don’t tell my dad,” even if you were an adult, your father still had his ideals, “that I—that we, you know…”

Your finger circles the general area before you pick up the small remnants of your impromptu smoke session with Eddie and his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he nods.

“Seems hypocritical considering how much weed we used to smoke in high school.” Eddie reminisces and you only persist, hand still pressed against his chest until he gives you the answer you were looking for, “Oh, come on—I can keep a secret. Don’t worry.”

You nod slowly, unsure. Eddie grins again, a half smirk as his fingers wrap around your wrist and gently push your hand away, “You seem a little…agitated,” Eddie ponders, “are you sure you’re alright?”

His look is smarmy and cocky, a mixture that gets under your skin like nothing else can.

You shake your head dismissively, stumbling slightly on your feet as you stand with him.

“Sick of me, aren’t you?” he teases.

“I mean, we’ve seen more than enough of each other today.”

“That shit wasn’t intentional and you know it,” Eddie defends, not an ounce of bite in his tone. It’s rather playful, feels like a mirage as his eyes crease at the corner and he smiles again, a trademark look for him but you since the admiration in his gaze, beyond what it should be for his best friend’s daughter.

And you catch yourself thinking about it, too. Looking, considering any other possibility that could have happened—a slip of your towel, if Eddie had gotten worried and progressed further into the trailer, if you had forgotten the towel entirely.

This wasn’t innocent and it wasn’t a crush.

“Watch yourself, Munson,” you warn, flicking a finger at the necklace hanging over the soft cotton of his shirt.

Eddie can’t describe how it feels like quicksand at his feet, unable to move as you corner him where he stands, intimidated but enticed by every single aspect of you.

He’s in such deep shit.

–

Eddie disappears for a few weeks—not without warning, though.

It was a short stint of shows around Indianapolis and he had asked you to watch over his place while he was gone despite there never really being any worry around this side of town—it was quiet anymore, eerily.

Still, it integrates into your daily schedule. A quick glance inside before work and another check after your shift, taking a couple days to throw out any moldy food in the fridge or water his dying plants, surprised by the fact that he even had any—though, the cactus seemed to thrive amongst the death and decay, centered at his kitchen table with a small figurine buried in the dirt resembling a mystical dragon.

It always makes your smile so big that your nose crinkles.

Eddie hadn’t changed at all, really.

A few days before Eddie’s due to arrive back, you hear a concerning sound coming from his fridge and immediately enlist the help of your father who had the magic touch for everything. There wasn’t anything that he couldn’t fix, really. And this was no different.

You tried calling, but Eddie never answers.

He was busy—understandably. You leave him a note on the fridge indicating that your father had fixed the condenser fan and you could thank him another time.

When he does arrive back in town, he does so quietly and in the middle of the night.

You hear the roar of his engine around midnight but don’t stir, followed by the crack of metal as the driver’s side door closes, some rustling of keys, and then you’re succumbing to sleep again.

“Sweetheart, I think I left my screwdriver at Ed’s,” your dad tells you from across the trailer.

“Got it,” you answer swiftly, “I’ll bother him later.”

Later that night, you do.

Eddie looks tired upon first glance, hair tied up loosely but it is a welcomed change to his usually untamed mane.

He invited you in, beer in hand as he returned to the couch and laid his guitar across his lap, an unspoken and hefty amount of empty bottles lining the table.

“I’m fine,” he reassures your silent thought, catching his glance as you stand, arms tucked behind you back loosely, “gotta unwind somehow, right?”

You shrug, indifferent. You weren’t going to judge him.

“Uh, my dad said he left a tool here,” you finally say, “did you see a Phillips laying around anywhere?”

“Drawer at the end of the counter,” Eddie instructs, not looking up as he fiddled with the strings on his guitar, “gonna have to give it a good tug, it likes to stick,”

You nod, moving toward the draw and giving it a sharp pull, watching as the screwdriver rolled toward the front.

Perfect.

“Did you want a beer?” Eddie ask offhand, “I’ve got a few left in the fridge,”

It was a silent invitation—but for what, you weren’t sure.

Eddie often seemed lonely back home, no real purpose when he wasn’t on the road and performing, attempting to fill his days with anything that wasn’t band practice or sound checks.

“I’m not twenty-one,” you respond, laying the Phillips screwdriver on the counter.

Eddie shrugs, hands held up in defense.

“I’m not the police, dollface,” he jokes, “I won’t snitch.”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t drank in college.

Fuck it.

The fridge cracks open as the seal separates and you reach for the bottle, finding that Eddie has approached in the flurry of motion to reach for the beer.

You watch as he brings it to his belt buckle, using it as a makeshift bottle opener before passing it back into your waiting hand.

“Show off,” you tease with faux disdain, taking a small sip from the beer as Eddie leans against the counter, one hand curling around the edge while the other nurses a bottle.

You both drank, talking about nothing in particular, until his words slurred a little and his smile turned softer, a faint flush to his cheeks.

“No plans?” he asks curiously

“It’s Friday,” you shrug, “I should make some, but I haven’t reconnected with anyone since I’ve been back.”

Except for Eddie, obviously.

“You’re all dolled up,” he notes, though there isn’t much to be considered notable aside from the dress shifting mid-thigh and your bare shoulders on display, bare-faced.

“I showered,” you laugh, brows knitting together in confusion, “but—thank you, I guess?”

He’s terrible at this, isn’t he?

Eddie clears his throat, chin tilting down as he his shoulders square and you feel the undeniable urge to tease him, though your eyes are stuck on the way the muscle moves underneath his shirt.

“You should wear your hair like that more often,” you suggest, nodding toward his messy up-do as you sip at the beer, “it’s…cute.”

“Cute?” Eddie throws his head back and laughs, watching a few strands slip from the bun as he shakes his head.

You reach forward, invading his space, brushing a hair away from his cheek as he tenses slightly, reveling in the subtle effect it had on him.

“Undeniably…adorable,” you reiterate, patting his cheek gently, his eyes trained on the way your eyes linger over his face before you smile, stepping away.

“So, you tease me and ask me to keep your secrets,” Eddie says, counting on his fingers.

You feign innocence, looking him up and down in a way that Eddie could easily misconstrue, part of you prays that he will.

"You know," he said, gaze sliding lazily over you in a similar manner, "I always knew you'd grow up to be trouble."

"Trouble?" you laughed, but something tightened in your chest.

"Yeah." He drained the rest of his beer and set the bottle down with a thunk.

It was like a silent challenge, begging him to elaborate.

But Eddie just smiled, lopsided and knowing.

He leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, nodding a subtle invitation for you to follow him to the couch, your task forgotten as Eddie shoved his guitar aside to make room for you beside him.

“How were the shows?” you ask curiously, one foot pressing to the couch as the other crossed behind your heel, separating your dress and exposing your skin, barely attempting to cover the slip of your panties underneath as the fabric fits between your thighs, your hand pressing against the cushion of the couch to keep it in place.

Eddie watches it happen, how easily you’ve slipped out of your shoes and made home on his couch, like you were always meant to be here, like this had always been your home, too.

He sinks into the couch beside you with a deep sigh, the furniture shifting with the weight.

Tipping his head back, he shrugs.

“Same old,” he replies easily, fiddling quietly with the thick skull ring on his middle finger, flexing them, your eyes watching the insistence of his movement, “things are weird though, lately—like we’re all feeling stuck but no one wants to bring it up.”

“Complacent?” you inquire and Eddie nods with a smirk.

“Complacent,” he tries the word out on his tongue as he looks over at you, an immense amount of appreciation on his face, “that’s the word—smart ass.”

“I think the words you’re looking for there are—thank you.”

Eddie shakes his head nonchalantly and the corners of his mouth turn down, “No…no, I think you enjoy being a smart ass.”

Your fist digs into your cheek as you lean against, “Okay, well—go and run to my dad and tell him how you’re being bullied by his daughter,” you reach a finger forward and poke at the dimple in his cheek, “that you’re feeling oh so threatened by me.”

Eddie has a limit—a bullshit meter if you will.

Before, it would end with him sending you on your way back home, a smug but annoyed expression on your face. But, as you sit here now, he doesn’t feel the urge.

He reaches forward, dexterous fingers attacking the sweet spot underneath your ribs before he’s tickling you into submission, jumping forward to latch onto his right shoulder, attempting to wiggle away from his grip.

He’s relentless, though.

One hand turns into two and soon enough you’re leaning over his lap with your hands on the empty cushion beside him and panting, begging for mercy.

“Stop—stopstop,” you plead, “Eddie—fuck, please,”

Something there lingers, trying desperately to shove his hands away but finding yourself slipping backwards in the process. A soft yelp rips from your throat as you slip back, but Eddie’s already got a hand on your thigh, tight and harsh as it digs into your skin to keep you upright.

Your face morphs from momentary fear to frustration, a harmless scowl forming on your face as you shove at his chest.

“Sorry,” Eddie responds playfully, trying desperately to ignore how warm your skin feels against his palm, maneuvering you back into your spot beside him, “shut you up though, didn’t it?”

“I think if you wanted me bent over your lap you could have just asked,” you retort with a fire in your chest as you readjust your dress, fixing the straps on your shoulders.

Eddie looks surprised at your outburst, eyes wide.

You shoot him a look that tears right through his ignorance, “What? It’s not like you’re some sexless virgin, we’re both adults, aren’t we?”

The silence is especially deafening on his behalf.

You quickly come to the conclusion on your own, “You’re the lead singer of a metal band and you’ve never had sex?”

Eddie avoid answering outright and instead attacks, “Okay, now you’re just being a little shit and judgy.”

He won’t meet your eyes as you stare at him, the faintest hint of a smile on your face, finding his innate shyness over the topic immensely endearing.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—seriously? There’s no one just throwing themselves at you?” you ask curiously, “All this time and you’ve never once got caught up with a groupie?”

You sit back on your legs, having never been more interested in a conversation in your life, helplessly curious.

“Not ones that I want,“ Eddie admits, “besides, one thing or another happens and it just…doesn’t work out.”

Huh.

You’re quiet, processing the information.

You’re not sure why it shocks you, but it does.

Any idea or assumption you’ve ever had about Eddie was completely shattered, like you were staring at him for the first time, eyes averted. The chain on his wrist jingled as his knee shook anxiously.

You curl your fingers around his kneecap, similar to how he had weeks before, calming him.

“I’m sorry…for assuming,” you apologize, “it’s just…you’re—“

“Old,” he says deadpan and you can’t help but laugh.

“You’re not old,” you reply in defense, “what do you consider old?”

“I’m the same age as your dad, dollface.”

“My dad hasn’t worn an Iron Maiden shirt since ‘95, so I think you’re still safe,” you tease, squeezing his knee.

Eddie smirks, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in his eyes that makes your chest feel strange and soft. He’s silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

He should cut the conversation short, but then you’re opening your mouth again.

Another question, another step further.

“So, I mean,” you pause, adjusting yourself to sit criss-cross to face him, hands resting in your lap, “what qualifies?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Eddie replies like an empty threat, wincing at how eager you look to receive the information, a split second away from a sticky situation.

“No sex,” you start to recite to yourself, thumb jutting out as you count on your hands like he had earlier, “oral is a no-go, I’m assuming,” pointer finger out as Eddie watches you work through the list in your brain and he’s nothing short of mortified as his lips part and he stares at you with a wild gaze, “fingering? What about fingering? Have you ever kissed anyone?”

You look up eventually to find him speechless, his cheeks reddening as you continue and you shrug so nonchalant he can’t believe this is reality, “What? I’m curious.”

“Well, get un-curious,” Eddie retorts with a lazy chuff of laughter.

“You were the one who asked me to be your groupie, remember?”

Eddie scoffs, slapping your hand down gently where it was lingering near him, fingers still laid out in count, “Bad choice of words, remember? This is—”

“What? Am I not your type?”

And, there it was.

Eddie gulps, his hand curling into a fist as his knuckles dressed into his thigh, the fabric creasing under the pressure and he doesn’t answer outright.

You hold your hands up in surrender, “Okay, fair—I’m not offended if I’m not—”

“No,” Eddie quickly interjects, “it’s not that.”

He flattens his hand against his leg, tension slowly loosening as he huffs out a breath.

So, you were his type?

“Is this a morality thing?” you cut through the tension, “Because if we want to go down the list of things that make us adults I think I might have you beat, you know—graduating, college, relationships, a steady job,”

Two of those were a shaky defense at best, but you were trying to prove a point.

Any qualms Eddie had were built solely around his hesitancy to defile his best friend’s daughter or even suggest the implication that he might want to—that he might even find your the slightest bit attractive now, grown up and incredibly sure of yourself, oozing a raw confidence that Eddie has learned to fake.

With you, it was genuine.

You knew exactly what you wanted.

“Is it?” you repeat.

“No,” Eddie breathes out, “I mean, yes—kind of. I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Oh god, Eddie,” you say, exasperated. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says desperately.

“Then what?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes twice before giving up altogether and just staring at you.

You stare back, unyielding.

He sighs again and shakes his head, “You really don’t get it.”

“I think I do,” you insist and then you hear yourself say, the words just tumbling out, “I’m into you too.”

Eddie’s eyes widen comically. “Shit,” he mumbles.

You can see the shift in his features, the way he’s chewing at his lip like he does when he’s working out a new song or trying to find the right chord.

Eddie always had this way about him—passionate, intense.

Your lips curl into a teasing grin, but there’s understanding behind it.

He’s struggling, caught in the moment, unsure whether to take you seriously or play off your relentlessness with humor and break the growing tension.

“Can I try something?” you ask curiously.

“Try what?” His voice is wary, but there’s a glimmer of intrigue underneath.

You pause for the briefest of moments and then decide to seize it.

You lean forward, resting your hands casually on his knees where he’s angled his body toward you. It’s enough to make him freeze, his eyes locked onto yours with a flicker of panic, like he’s suspended mid air and unsure if he’s going to survive the drop.

“Don’t freak out, okay?” you murmur and Eddie nods as you grin every so slightly on your approach.

His breath catches when you close the space and press your lips to his.

It’s tentative at first, slow and steady like testing the heat of running water, but sooner than later you feel his resolve slip. His hand ghosts upward almost involuntarily, right where it should be, finding its place at the back of your neck and pulling you closer.

He inhales sharply and parts his lips to meet your tongue with his own.

Alright, he’s not clueless.

You sigh softly into his mouth as your fingers dig into his thighs, an eager pace growing as you lick into his mouth, the faintest hint of beer on his tongue and thick layer of lust invading your collective brains before Eddie was pulling you fully into his lap from where you’re already halfway leaned over him, taking his silent guidance in stride as your thighs spread out over his and your arms fall over his shoulders, taking his face between your hands as you slow the pace of the kiss.

You pull back eventually, just slightly to gauge his reaction.

His eyes are still shut tight, as if he’s afraid that opening them will make you run for the hills.

Instead, when he finds that you’re not returning, he does.

It was tentative, a peek through one eyelid before he decided to open both.

You’re not smiling, rather observing, a curious wonder on your face.

“Your dad,” Eddie gulps, “he’s waiting for you, isn’t it?”

You nod quietly, his face still cradled in your hand.

A man you’ve admired for years suddenly feels small in your hands, delicate.

“You’re gonna go home,” Eddie instructs softly, “we’re not gonna talk about this, alright?”

Your shoulders slump in defeat but you understand—there were too many cons, too many worries.

“Say it,” Eddie encourages.

“I’m gonna home,” you appease him, “we’re not gonna talk about this.”

“Go on, dollface,” Eddie nods toward the door, helping you off of his lap like a gentleman despite the rejection he’s throwing your way, unknowing of the immense amount of self-restraint he’s using to end this before it starts.

He watches you leave, but not before pressing a kiss into your hair.

He’s done it before, a gentle gesture.

The door locks behind you and the blinds are quick to shift closed, the lights to Eddie’s trailer turning off soon after—from your point of view, he’s resigned to bed, kicking you out for the night.

But, for Eddie, it was an attempt to control himself.

To not let things ramp up so far he couldn’t find a reason to come down.

Usually, he’ll relieve himself in the shower but his cock was straining hard under the confine of his dark-washed jeans, belt jingling loudly as he struggled to rid himself of the fabric until it pooled at his ankles, sinking back into his couch with his shirt pushed halfway up his stomach, letting out a sharp curse as he wraps his hand around his cock.

He can’t deny the fact that he’s thought about you before like this, almost a constant paint imagine of you in his head after he’d caught you at home, a few quick flashes before then that he couldn’t even bring himself to admit—ever since you had showed up in town again, you were everywhere.

He felt you in the similar sense that you did with him, but the problem for Eddie was that he didn’t have a reason for any of this—and it was a suffocation of guilt trailing his immediate need for release before he blew his load in his jeans like he was a goddamn teenager.

It was long, hurried strokes with an iron grip; Eddie knows your hands would be softer, gentler. But, he doesn’t allow himself that thought for longer than a moment, white knuckling his cock until his head looks bruised, red and pulsing. It’s embarrassing, the melody of skin against skin matched with his pathetic grunts, chest heaving with hurried breaths until his cock twitched violently, pearly white strips of cum spurting over his stomach in mindless pleasure, eyes slipping shut.

“Gah—fuck,” Eddie says in a guttural groan, “fuck!”

He’s not sure how long he lays there in the dark, breathing heavily with a slick mess coating his front and jeans still pooling around his ankles. But, he knows one thing—he couldn’t let you near him again.

–

You don’t hear from him for weeks and that’s fine.

Sort of.

Not really.

He’s been aorund the entire time, coming and going, but he’s been home.

He sees you when you’re coming back from work or when he’s leaning against the railing of his porch as he smokes his morning cigarette without anything more than a nod of acknowledgement.

Maybe you had pushed things too far, been too forward, overstepped some boundaries.

But, you know Eddie—he would have told you.

It was the weekend of your twentieth birthday when his silent treatment festers to a head, invited over by your father for a small cookout—it was only ever the three of you anymore, aside from a few lingering friendly neighbors that your father was more than happy to pass a plate or two of food too.

When you weren’t looking at him, he was always looking at you.

You feel it.

It was a heat that prickled the back of your neck and every time you turned to catch him in the act, Eddie was already haphazardly engaged in conversation with your father—talking about work or music or whatever.

An intentional silent standoff that lingered into the night, the summer bugs buzzing in the grassy courtyard as the two men and a small group of neighbors laugh amidst their supposedly riveting conversation.

You didn’t like the cake or big celebrations, so by the end of the night you were curled up on the stairs and staring down at the trail of ants that traveled through a crack in the pavement, bare feet against the grass and not hearing the voice that calls for you until the fifth try.

Your father tossed Eddie’s keys into your hand as you looked up, barely registering what was happening but able to snatch them before they hit you square in the face.

“He’s on a call,” your dad mouthed to you, “beers?”

Uninterested but compliant, you stand and make your way across the yard.

The kitchen is still close enough with the chattering of your father’s friends that you don’t hear Eddie trailing behind you until you’re stopped at the fridge, fingers curled around a handful of cold bottles.

“I got it,” he interjects and you pull a face out of habit, annoyance overtaking your features as you pull the beer away from him.

“So now you decide to talk to me?”

“I’ve been busy,” he replies defensively, scratching at his jaw. “I didn’t think—”

“You know, if you’re scared of me you could just say that—”

“Scared?” Eddie chuckles, “Of you?”

You drop the bottles on the counter, one nearly toppling over but Eddie catches it before it hits the floor. He sets it back upright and just stands there, contemplating. Eventually, he holds up a finger.

“Don’t leave, alright,” he tells you, scooping the beers into his arm, “I’ll take these to your dad and come up with some excuse—just, stay, alright?”

He’s standing there, waiting for an audible response before you eventually throw your hands up in frustration, urging him to move.

Eddie scrambles then, gone and back in under a minute, slightly out of breath as he closes the door to his trailer behind him and locks it, “I told him you needed some quiet,” Eddie explains.

“Are we…okay?” you ask impulsively, hand twisting anxiously around the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” Eddie asks, taking a seat on his couch and placing his guitar carefully against the adjacent wall.

“You haven’t spoken more than a word to me in almost a months,” you confront his facade, “I kissed you and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with me, sorry if that gave me the wrong impression but—”

“It…wasn’t that,” Eddie explains, “things have been picking up for the band lately...kinda, out of nowhere. These big record companies in LA are interested in signing us but we’re all…older and they’re hesitant. I’ve been busting my ass trying to prove our worth, but,” he throws his hands up, “seems kinda pointless.”

“That’s good though, right?” You ask, seating yourself on the arm of the couch near him, whatever frustration you had toward him dissipates quickly, “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Eddie leans his head back, eyes tracing the ceiling. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I’d have to sell my soul for it.”

“That’s a little dramatic, besides—s’kinda your brand,” You try to catch his gaze, but he’s staring to the side, lost in thought, “so you’ve just been busy?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists, “busy.”

You study his face, trying to decide if he’s lying to you or himself.

And when he turns to you his eyes are sincere, pleading almost.

“And the kiss?” you press, unable to stop yourself. “You didn’t freak out because of that?”

Eddie sighs, his foot tapping anxiously against the leg of the coffee table. “I didn’t freak out,” he says. “I just—didn’t want to ruin things for you. I mean—your dad, and sweetheart, I’m twice your age.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, looking down at him, “Well—if you make it out in Hollywood you might finally find the right one,” you tease him, “they can snatch that illustrious title from you.”

Eddie chuckles softly, “I don’t care about that,” he admits, “I never have. I don’t think about it…or talk about it. I’m not ignorant about it, you do understand that, right?”

“The way you kiss, I would fucking hope not,” you admit in a crass manner.

“Frankly, I think you’re only interested in defiling me,” Eddie jokes, your brows perking up at the mention before a laugh bubbles from your chest, “I feel like you’ve had it out for me since you got back.”

His eyes are focused on the bare skin of your thighs under your dress now, exposed by the way you were sitting, the back of your calf resting over his knee as you leg bounces idly, his hand grazing over your shin to stop that insistent movement.

“You know, I used to think it was because of what you were,” you explain openly, “I thought you were cool—cute, out of my league obviously and off limits. I dated and every time I thought I found the right one—I couldn’t help but think…well, they’re not as cool as Eddie. I had a huge crush on you but I almost admired you.”

“So, s’just because you think I’m cool?”

“I think you’re sort of an asshole now, actually,” you admit, “But, I know you think about me, too—I know you kept staring at me tonight. You always are…and the way you touch me,” your eyes linger on his hand now, his fingers molding against your skin.

“What about it?” Eddie asks.

“You’ve always taken care of me,” you remind him, ”let me take care of you.”

His thumb press gently into the sinew below your knee, his hand curling around the back of it.

Eddie slowly guides your legs apart, revealing the thin fabric covering your cunt.

His hand lingers on the inside of your thigh as if he was weighing his options.

You know that he is.

Too considerate and focused on all the other things surrounding you both to actually be present in what’s happening now. Always worried about the right thing to do, always considering everything.

His eyes flick up to look at you briefly, your hand pressing into the back of the couch as you lean back, balancing on the arm of the couch as you take a small breath.

“I’m just saying…this is a terrible idea,” Eddie sighs out, his voice low as he feels like a rabid animal, watching your skin tense under his touch, “we shouldn’t.”

“Suit yourself,” you tell him lazily, aware of how he hasn’t bothered to stop touching you, “but I think you’ll regret it.”

Quietly, you reach for his hand and cup your hand around the back of it, pressing his palm flat against your cunt, the heel of it adding a delicious pressure against your clit under the fabric.

Your mouth parts in anticipation, watching him repeat the action on his own a few times before he’s pushing the fabric aside on his own volition, fingers drifting through the short, but coarse patch of curls as his middle finger drags down the seam of your folds, the digit glistening with a sticky slick.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you?” you ask curiously.

“Specifically, this?” he asks, “A couple times...I’ve been told my fingers are like magic if that helps.”

You pull your lips together and let out a soft pfft as you laugh quietly, gasping when his finger breaches your hole, pressing inside with gentle pressure, wrist angled so his thumb can catch over your clit in the same, sinful motion.

“I…like more,” you direct him with a soft voice, “like, uh—”

“Like what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“Just…more,” you explain, “I like the pressure, the stretch…it—”

“Feels good?” he finishes for you and you don’t have to look to know he’s smiling.

You nod jerkily and feel his pace quick, your head dropped back and eyes closed as his unoccupied hand holds your thigh open, the fingers digging into your flesh occasionally when you squeeze around his fingers.

“I like..the feeling,” you gulp quietly, “of being filled, you know?”

“Uh huh,” Eddie answers idly, focused intently on your pleasure alone as he pumps his finger, then two, eventually three, until your fingers are tight around his wrist and he has no other option than to focus on your clit, rubbing over it in tight, quick circles until your letting out a sharp gasp, his hand pulling away in an instant as you cunt spasms around nothing, thighs shaking as your orgasm washed over, completely unsatisfied but overwhelmed with momentary euphoria.

When you finally resurface, there isn’t a moment lost.

Eddie moves with you, just as eager.

You quickly unbuckle the belt to his jeans, bunching your dress up and lifting it over your head as Eddie shifts his pants down, cock bobbing free against his stomach as you pause, noticing the flush in his cheeks as a smile grows on your face, his eyes locked on you.

“This is probably a bad time to mention I don’t have condoms,” Eddie jokes, your hand reaching forward to wrap around his cock, thick and uncut, pulling the skin back as your thumb swipes over the slit of his head, rubbing the precum over the top.

“You’ll pull out,” you assure him with a smile, “don’t worry.”

Eddie nods obediently, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was racing, watching you position yourself over his lap, his hands raising up to squeeze at your hips nervously, chin tilted down in awe.

“Waitwaitwait,” Eddie interjects, eagerly waving you forward with a hasty motion of his hand, “c’mere.”

You’ll bite, leaning forward obediently, he latches his lips onto your neck, gentle kisses that trail slow until he’s reached the valley of your breasts, tongue curling around your nipple before he captures it between his teeth, squeezing dutifully at the other, squealing quietly at the sharp sting of his teeth.

Slowly, his cock presses inside with your guidance.

He chokes out a gasp into your skin, wet and hot against your breasts.

“Shit,” he curses, turning his head to lean against your chest, his hands returning to your hips as you begin a slow, gentle, and manageable pace for him to adjust, but also to allow yourself to adjust to the stretch of him.

Eddie was trying so desperately to not blow his load right there, focusing intently on the steady beat of your heart, fingers tangling into his hair as you kept him tight against your chest and moving your hips in slow circles, occasionally raising your hips for the inevitable descent that made Eddie’s chest tighten.

His moans are broken, soft gasps as you bounce on his cock with an eventual quickened pace, his hands roaming insistently for anything to anchor him, met with your softer gasps and the gentle murmur of his name, “Oh, Ed,” you whine, “you’re doin’ good, I promise.”

He nods dumbly, barely acknowledging your praise as he felt you squeeze down, a cry ripping from his chest as he squeezed tight at your hips, turning his head to look up at you, cradling his face in your hands as he stared you with glazed over eyes, lips flush and parted.

“Baby, I—” He breathes, eyes squeezing shut as your heart clenches at the sight and sound of his voice, “I’m not gonna last, m’sorry—I can’t—you’re so fucking…god,” he groans, his head falling back as he relaxed in your grip and let you take control, controlling the pace until it was nearly unbearable for him, the small hint of tears forming in his eyes as he desperately, but gently shoved you back.

He’s been in this position before, not so long ago, hand gripped tight around his cock and wish you were there—but this is reality even if it seemed like a fucking dream, jerking himself until the pressure at the base of his cock swelled and pushed to the head, coming in long, thick spurts over your stomach, his head rubbing against the skin as he squeezed from base to tip with a fucked-out expression, groaning through the high of his orgasm.

“That was fucking close,” Eddie says after a long pause, watching as you grabbed his hand—specifically a finger and dragging it through one line of his cum and gathered it on his finger, bringing it to your mouth with your tongue presented out, licking the digit clean, “oh, fuck—”

He laughs so hard it makes him cough.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—I didn’t even get to…while we…” Eddie begins, but is quickly silenced by your palm over his mouth, shaking your head insistently.

“I’ll survive,” you tell him, “seriously.”

Eddie laughs again, mostly out of disbelief.

“And here I was, thinking I’d be taking advantage of you.”

You smirked, leaning until you were a hair's breadth away from Eddie’s face, taunting, “Not a chance.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #my writing

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jjscrybaby · 5 months ago

Text

no one hurts you.

rafe cameron x fem!reader | angst | (attempted sa, murder, rafe being the best bf ever🥰)

thankyou for the req anon! i switched some stuff up, i didn’t want to add a new character (rafe’s brother like you requested) so i used topper instead bc i hate that man🙂‍↕️

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“Do you have to go?” You huffed, pouting up at your boyfriend as the two of you stood by the front door. You were covering it, arms crossed over your chest to try and stop him from going.

Rafe let out an amused chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “It’s just a night, baby. We’ve spent longer apart.”

“Yeah, and when you came back you promised never to leave me again,” you whined, stomping your foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He just carried on smirking down at you, used to your behaviour after three years together.

You’d stuck by his side through everything. He got locked up, for four months after an incident with a Pogue. It was supposed to be three years, but a mixture of good behaviour and a lot of payments had him out early. It had been six months since he got out, and he’d matured incredibly. He didn’t pick fights anymore, he hadn’t touched a line of coke since before jail, and he was finally working a proper job rather than doing drug deals for Barry. You were utterly proud of him, until now.

He had a business meeting on the mainland, and he’d decided to book a hotel for the night so that he didn’t have to travel twice in one day. You were definitely unhappy with that decision, considering you hadn’t spent a second away from him since he came back home.

“Look, you’re gonna be fine. Top’s gonna come over later to hang out, and I’ll call you after the meeting. Now be a good girl and stop pouting, if this deal goes well I’ll buy you that necklace you keep lookin’ at,” he stated, making your pout vanish.

You grinned up at him, nodding your head. “Mkay. Promise you’ll call?”

“Promise,” he murmured, leaning down to press a loving kiss to your lips. You tried to keep ahold of his shoulders to stop him from pulling away, but he just smirked and eased you off of him. “See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

“Bye,” you mumbled, another pout appearing on your lips as you realised he was actually leaving.

He patted your cheek, giving you one more fleeting kiss before he walked out the door. You didn’t move from the doorway until he’d got into the car and driven away, waving at you as he went.

You spent the majority of the day trying to distract yourself, watching rom-coms, cleaning up the house, making dinner. It was six pm when the doorbell rang, you’d honestly forgotten that Topper was coming over so when you opened the door to see him stood with a bottle of wine and a six-pack you were shocked.

“Oh, hey, Top,” you greeted, moving out the way to let him in. “You didn’t actually have to come, I’m okay by myself.”

“Rafe wanted me to stop by,” Topper shrugged, giving you a charming smile as he walked further into the home that you and Rafe had recently purchased (or Rafe had purchased and you just came along). “I can leave, if you don’t want me here.”

“No, no. The company would be nice.” It was the truth, you weren’t used to being alone and you’d started to go a little crazy with the amount of movies you’d watched.

Topper had been Rafe’s good friend for awhile, but since Rafe got out of jail and became a better man they didn’t hang out as much. Topper was still pretty immature, partying as much as he possibly could, hooking up with random chicks and texting Rafe details he didn’t need to know. He was also still big on the drug use, and Rafe knew he couldn’t be around that. But, no matter what, they were close friends, and he trusted him to take care of you.

“Cool. I brought you some wine, know you aren’t a huge fan of beer,” he teased, holding the bottle out to you.

You tilted your head, accepting it with a cautious smile. “Didn’t realise we would be drinking.”

“Yeah, well, I figured you’re probably grumpy with Rafe gone and a drink could loosen you up.” He winked, trying to portray his words as a joke, but something about his tone made your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Right,” you agreed with an awkward laugh. “Um, we can sit in the living room.”

You’d poured yourself a glass of wine, but you’d only had a few sips. Topper, on the other hand, had finished five out of six of the beers. You’d started off on opposite sides of the couch, but over the last half an hour he’d slowly edged his way closer to you. You’d noticed it, of course you had, but you were trying not to think anything of it. He was Rafe’s friend, he was here as a favour, you felt guilty for feeling so uncomfortable around him.

“I like that skirt,” Topper murmured, hazy eyes looking your outfit up and down.

“Um, thanks. Rafe got it for me,” you said, tugging it down as you noticed it had ridden up.

Topper’s fingers brushed against your skirt, your whole body tensed up. “It’s nice.”

“Thankyou,” you replied, trying to move away from him without it being noticeable. Except that was impossible, and he picked up on it immediately.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked, tilting his head to the side as he faced you. You shook your head, giving him a shaky smile. “C’mon, have some more wine.”

You didn’t want more wine, you wanted to kick him out and go to bed, but he’d come all the way here, and he’d paid for the bottle, you felt rude to not drink it. You reached for your glass and took a few more sips, his eyes watching your every move.

“There we go,” Topper grinned as the last sip went down your throat, you grimaced at the sour taste and put the glass back down on the coffee table.

Another twenty minutes went by, Rafe’s meeting would be over soon and he’d promised to call. You wanted Topper out by then, so you could have a conversation without feeling like a bad hostess. You turned to him, noticing how his eyes were already on you.

“Um, it’s getting late…” you hinted, messing with your necklace.

“I thought maybe I could stay over.” Your eyes widened at his words, you were certain Rafe wouldn’t have suggested that. Him being here for an hour or two was fine, but for the night? You didn’t want that, and you were sure your boyfriend wouldn’t either.

Before you could even respond, his hand landed on your thigh. Your words got caught in your throat, heart racing with anxiety as you stared down at his hand. His rings were cold against your skin, his thumb starting to rub circles into your inner thigh as he edged his hand higher and higher.

You jumped up, staring at him like he’d lost his mind. “I think you should leave now, Topper.”

“What?” He laughed, looking up at you as if it was you that had done something wrong. “Seriously? I’m not going to tell Rafe, a’ight? You don’t need to worry about that.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You exclaimed.

Topper stood up, towering over you with a scowl on his face. “Stop acting dumb. I know how you feel about me, I’ve seen the looks. I mean, shit, wearing that tiny skirt when you knew I was coming over.”

“I— I forgot you were coming, Top. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I’m happy with Rafe—” you started to ramble, hands growing sweaty.

“Bullshit!” Topper snapped, glaring down at you. “You want me, I know you do.” His hands landed on your hips, gripping so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You shoved at his chest, but he didn’t move. He leant down and tried to kiss you, which had you using all your strength to pull out of his embrace and rush out the room.

You ran all the way upstairs, to your shared bedroom with Rafe, and locked the door behind you. You sat by the window, breathing heavily with tears down your cheeks as you waited to see him leave. After twenty minutes of him yelling at you through the locked door, he finally departed. It was only once he was out of sight that you ran downstairs and locked all the doors and windows.

Rafe called you as you were pacing the bedroom, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick up.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

It didn’t take a genius to notice you were acting off. It had been a week since Rafe returned, and you’d been jumpy, flinching every time he leaned down to kiss you, pushing him away when he’d try and initiate something, anything.

He was sick of it. At first he’d thought you were just being a brat because he’d left, figured you’d be back in his arms by the next day, but nothing had changed and he was starting to feel as if you weren’t even his girlfriend anymore.

“You comin’ to bed?” He asked, looking at where you sat on the opposite side of the couch; eyes hardly open as you stared at the tv.

“After this episode. You can go,” you mumbled. It was the same every night, you’d wait until he was asleep to crawl into bed even when you were falling asleep.

“Alright, enough of this shit,” he snapped, making you look over at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Why are you actin’ like this? Did I do somethin’?” He asked, begged, for an answer. You opened your mouth to answer, but all that came out was a choked sob. His anger faded and was replaced with panic, he moved so he was sat right up next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Baby, just talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” you argued through a sob, covering your face with your hands.

He pulled your hands away, hands on your face to force you to look at him. “Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. Just tell me what the problem is and I’ll fix it, okay? I’m worried, baby. You’ve been bein’ so weird the last week.”

You thought you’d be able to get over it, thought maybe it wouldn’t bother you all that much, but every time you took a second to think you’d be reminded of what happened. Topper’s hands on your hips, the look in his eyes as he leaned down to kiss you. You didn’t want to tell Rafe, what if he was mad at you? What if he believed that you really had given Topper signs?

“Something happened when you were away,” you whispered shakily, big tears running down your cheeks. You couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore, you had to tell him.

“What happened?” He murmured softly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone.

“When— when Topper came ‘round, he…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “I can’t say it.”

His eyes narrowed, fear taking over. “What did Topper do?” His tone wasn’t soft anymore, it was angry, dark, you hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since before he went to jail.

“He… he was touchy, too touchy, he tried to kiss me,” you confessed, feeling both relief and panic at the fact you’d finally told him the truth. “He was saying loads of stuff, about how he’s seen the way I look at him and that he knew I liked him. I promise, Rafe, I don’t know what he’s talking—”

“Hey,” Rafe cut you off, tone sharp. “Non of this is your fault, you hear me? I’m not mad at you, I’m not disappointed in you, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A sigh of relief left your lips as you collapsed into his chest, sobbing as you clung to him. He stroked your hair, mumbling praise into your ear to try and calm you down. Eventually, you exhausted yourself so much that you fell asleep against his chest. He lifted you up and carried you to bed, but instead of getting in beside you he grabbed his gun from the bedside table and left the house.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

When you woke up the next morning the space beside you was empty. Your head hurt from all the crying you’d done, your eyes felt heavy but you forced yourself out of bed. You walked downstairs, finding Rafe sat at the kitchen counter with an unfamiliar phone in his hand.

“Rafe?” You murmured tiredly, moving to stand next to him. He looked up at you, bags under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you into his lap.

“Hey, you sleep okay?” He asked softly, kissing your temple as he kept his eyes on the phone.

“Yeah… what’re you doing up?” You questioned. There was a look in his eyes, manic and angry. You ran your hand over his cheek, making his eyes flicker over to you.

“Listen, baby, I need you to do somethin’ for me. Somethin’ I promised you’d never have to do again,” he sighed.

“What is it?” You asked worriedly.

“If anyone asks, I was here, with you, all of last night,” he stated, making your eyes narrow in confusion.

“Were you not here all night?” You stared at him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

He didn’t get the chance, because the next thing you know your phone is pinging with a text from Sarah. Have you heard the news about Topper? Followed by: is Rafe okay?

“Rafe, what happened to Topper?” You asked shakily, looking between him and your phone.

“He got what he deserved,” Rafe replied bluntly. He leant in a kissed your cheek. “I’m sorry, baby. I took it too far, I know that. But no one hurts you, no one.”

You should have been horrified, running from him or calling the cops, but you didn’t want to do either of those things. You leant in and pressed your lips to his, his arms around you tightening.

It was no secret that Rafe would kill for you, you just never thought it would actually happen.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #outer banks #obx #obx fic

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semperama · 20 days ago

Note

if you're still taking setting prompts - 46 💛

the back of a taxi stuck in traffic

"Where are you?" It's Buck's voice in Eddie's ear, crackly from poor signal and thready with...something like panic?

Eddie feels an answering anxiety stir in his stomach, because—Buck doesn't know, right? He can't know. Eddie shoots Christopher a look, and Christopher looks back at him, eyebrows raised. When he mouths Buck, Chris's eyes widen and he makes a cutting motion with his hand across his neck, like Eddie needs to be told not to blab.

"What do you mean, where am I?" Eddie asks. He cranes his neck to look out the front window of the Uber—a Prius, as luck would have it—but the traffic still stretches interminably ahead of them, cars inching forward at the customary crawl. Eddie almost picked the 5 am flight for exactly this reason—so they could avoid rush hour—but he's pretty sure waking a teenager up before dawn is against the Geneva Conventions, so. Here they are. Stuck in traffic. The anticipation of surprising Buck fizzing under his skin, making him jittery.

But now Buck has called him, is asking where he is. Does he know? How can he know?

"I'm, uh." Buck pauses, clears his throat. "I'm at your house," he says.

"I know that, Buck," Eddie says slowly.

"No, I mean. I'm at your house. In Texas. Right now." Each word drops like an ice cube into Eddie's stomach. "But you weren't answering the door, and—and I looked in the front window and there's no furniture here?"

That's—what? No. Eddie shoots a panicked look at Chris, who must be starting to put it all together too, because his expression is scrunched up with dismay. Their furniture isn't in Texas, because it's on a moving truck on the way back from El Paso as they speak. And if Buck had showed up at the house a few hours later, he'd have been tipped off by the For Sale sign the realtor promised she'd put up later today.

Did Buck drive all the way to El Paso? Or did their airplanes pass each other in the air?

"Buck," Eddie says, "Chris and I are in the back of an Uber on the 405. We're like three miles from home."

Silence on the other end of the line. Crackling static, like a puff of air. Then, "You're in LA?"

"We were going to surprise you." Eddie had it all planned. He tested the waters a couple weeks ago, told Buck that Chris hinted about maybe wanting to come back to LA eventually and asked him if it was okay if they all shared the house for a while. Of course Buck said that was fine, more than fine, they could stay as long as they wanted, It's really your house anyway, Eddie.

Eddie called the realtor the next day and got to work making little last-minute repairs so he could sell the house for enough of a profit to recoup his down payment. He'd had to cut back on FaceTiming Buck from the house so Buck didn't see the boxes, calling more between rides to make up for it. And he swore Bobby to secrecy when he called last week to ask for his job back.

Everything was going off without a hitch. Eddie should have known something would go wrong.

"Surprise me?" Buck repeats. "I was going to surprise you."

"Well, I—yeah, I'm pretty damn surprised, Buck," Eddie says. He shoots an apologetic look at Chris for the swearing, but Chris just rolls his eyes.

It's just...this kind of sucks. Eddie has been looking forward to this for weeks. Longer than that, actually. Even before he knew for sure he'd be coming home, he imagined it, the look on Buck's face, the way a smile would spread over his face like the sunrise, the way they'd fall into a hug, the scratch of Buck's stubble against his neck. Before Christopher moved back in with him, sometimes imagining that moment was the only thing that got Eddie through a day. And once it became a real possibility, once Chris said he wanted to go home, it became all Eddie could think about, the reunion playing in his head in technicolor all day long, in a hundred different ways,

"Shit," Buck says on the end of a sigh.

"Yeah," Eddie agrees. He scrubs a hand over his face. The traffic keeps inching, inching, but it doesn't matter as much anymore. They'll get there when they get there. "Please tell me you didn't drive."

"No, I flew," Buck says, and thank God for that. "I was only going to stay a couple days. I just thought—Chris said he was kind of missing LA, and—"

It's Eddie's turn to roll his eyes in Chris's direction. "And you thought if you showed up, you'd remind him of what he was missing even more, and he'd want to come home?"

"Something like that," Buck says, and Eddie can hear the sheepish grin in his voice. "Ugh, changing my return flight is gonna cost an arm and a leg."

"I can split it with you," Eddie offers automatically, but Buck scoffs.

"It was my stupid idea, not yours."

"Uh, we had the exact same stupid idea, Buck," Eddie says. This will be a funny story later, but for now, it stings a little. All this waiting around, and he doesn't even get to see Buck at the end of it.

"I wish I could laugh," Buck says, echoing Eddie's thoughts, "but—"

"Yeah," Eddie says softly. He glances at Christopher, then away, willing his blood to stay away from his face. "Look, Buck—"

"No, hey," Buck says in a rush, "don't—don't say anything, just. I'll get the soonest return flight I can, and I'll see you soon, okay?" And then Buck does laugh after all. Just a little chuckle, but it warms Eddie all the same. "The way LA traffic is, maybe I'll be on the plane before you even make it home."

It doesn't happen quite that fast. Eddie and Chris have time to make it home, to take showers, to order pizza. They have time to put a good dent in the stash of cookies Buck made with Jee the previous weekend, and then to clean up their crumbs. They have time to blow up an air mattress for Chris, because Buck left his room empty.

It's midnight, and Eddie is fast asleep, when a rush of cool air wakes him up. The blankets pulled back, then hiked up again, a warm body at his back. He turns, slow, and there's Buck, looking at him wide-eyed in the dark.

He puts his hand to Buck's face. Buck's fingers wrap around his wrist. This isn't the reunion Eddie pictured.

"You're in my bed," Buck says.

"Mhm." Eddie shifts forward, his knees slotting between Buck's. "That's what you get for leaving it empty."

"Are you—?" Buck whispers, stuttery. "Can I—?"

"Yeah," Eddie says. "Of course. Anything."

This isn't the reunion he pictured, but as Buck nudges their noses together, as they breathe the same air for long moments before their lips brush, Eddie finds he doesn't regret it at all.

#buddie #911 show #911 abc #my writing #i AM going to get around to all these setting prompts guys #i'm sorry i've been slow but i'll get to them i promise!!

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karalianne · 29 days ago

Text

I did not create this summary but I have permission to share it.

Act I, the background:

The video opens with a timeline of Nano's history, Kilby glazing herself, and bragging about participation numbers.

When Kilby joined the board, she "figured we must be getting five- and six-figure support from big publishers" and "big authors." But, SURPRISE! "Nanowrimo never had that level of backing."

Shows some charts (screenshots, below). Note that the charts show that right around half (give or take, depending on the year) of Nano's funding came from charitable contributions.

Immediately after showing these charts, she says the organization was "primarily funded by sponsorships and merchandies, and not by charitable contributions." This is a great sign for what's to come. *As of 2020, Nano was "six-figure[s]" in debt. Her time on the board was focused on fundraising.

Act II, the scandal:

Kilby claims that the grooming of children ONLY happened off-site, NEVER on nano itself.

Kilby claims that the board publicly shared the findings of its investigation into CF after 10 days. It is implied this was done back in MAY.

Kilby admits nobody had any relevant training or certification for dealing with children.

Kilby claims nobody at NaNo knew who CF/Mod X really was (blatant lie) because they just didn't keep those records, which prevented them from being able to work with child protection organizations.

Kilby claims she was tapped for the ED position because she "understood youth-facing organizations" and "had experience with the required state-mandated training." No evidence of this understanding or experience is supplied.

More self-glazing

"Our top priority is, and was, child safety." lol

Kilby claims they implemented staff background checks "immediately" (later in the video, she'll claim that some unspecified number of people had been "vetted" and were working with the org again).

Further claims that they "developed an advice content [sic]" aimed at teaching minors how to be safe online. ….where? who knows?

Claims they started verifying educators on YWP.

Act III, the community:

Forums: Inconsistent moderations, outdated TOS. Saw problematic, unaddressable behavior. Couldn't maintain the integrity of the space.

One of the problems was that they had "encouraged" "volunteers" to set up "unofficial" Discords and facebook groups with the Nano name. "Nobody under nanowrimo's authority was moderating those groups." Using resources to deal with issues from these "unaffiliated" groups.

"The number of people who view themselves as experts by virtue of how long they've been doing Nanowrimo… numbered in the tens of thousands." [The salt really starts here]

Act IV, the fallout:

ED job was "bigger than rebuilding after an educational crisis" [because you're so good at that, clearly]

When Kilby took over, there were more than a dozen existing labor violations.

Participation had been declining since before 2020, fell off a cliff.

Sponsor money in March 2023: $310k. Sponsor money in March 2024: $125k

2023's funding shortfall was equal to 20% of their total annual budget

"We were operating outside of our mission." Claims they became an "advocacy group that actively lobbied for authors." No further specifics of how, for who, or to whom are provided.

We COULD recover from this, except for not having money.

Act V: Conclusion (why is there still 10 minutes left in the video??)

Nano is shutting down.

Website will stay up "as long as possible, but we cannot guarantee a specific end date" [because I don't know what the host's non-payment policies are or when the check will bounce]

We were going to merge with another writing org, but they noped out when they saw our debt.

"Other potential supporters" were scared off by mean, dastardly 'ol REDDIT

"Many people who withheld their support, or supported us anonymously, told us that the tone of the community was a big issue."

The press was mean to us and inaccurate about our position on AI. (what press? Youtubers??)

Kilby claims they TURNED DOWN "a number of" AI sponsors because it "went against our mission."

"The real alternative to the organization closing, and I can't say this enough, would have been for us to been funded [sic] by the community." No kidding?

"Community funding shouldn't have been a problem."

The collapse of Nano was because of things that happened before I got here (financial mismanagement), but it absolutely wasn't because of AI or a scandal. Don't put it in the newspaper that it was because of AI or a scandal. Those were just a coincidence.

Thank you to everyone I fired, drove away, etc. etc.

#nanowrimo #nanopocalypse #nanowrimo is dead

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adieutristana · 2 months ago

Note

Can you write fic about Isha and Jinx where Jinx accidentally saying Isha that she loves her. I mean without reader at all. And Isha x Jinx are platonic ofc. You can ignore that req, I just think it might be cute

of course! thank you for the request <3

rebel yell by billy idol on repeat rn

summary; jinx accidentally telling isha that she loves you while you’re away.

characters included; jinx (romantic), isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; fluff, early relationship, mother/mother/daughter dynamic, reader isn’t present until the end

men dni.

"hey, pass me that screwdriver, would you? no- yes, that one."

ever the little helper, isha is. while you're out making an honest living at one of the local shops, jinx is keeping herself occupied with a new experiment. trying to see how far she can push those little hex crystals. just how much power can they provide? when is the breaking point if there even is one?

jinx didn't know the first thing about children when she first found the little girl in an alleyway. she didn't know how to interact with them, especially not how to take care of one, yet over time it became second nature to her. one of the most crucial things she'd learned while caring for isha is that kids want to feel useful.

simply asking her to hold something or fetch her a spare part kept the girl happy, so she'd made it a point to include isha in her (less dangerous) experiments. seeing her wide eyes light up when told she was doing a good job and seeing her content just to organize spare parts brought jinx more joy, more peace than she could describe.

but the time seems to drag on. you're supposed to be back at the hideout in thirty minutes tops, but jinx has never been a patient woman. she'd be with you every second of every day if she could, but she knows that's not possible. so she'll settle for trying to distract herself. isha glances over at the wall clock as well, then back at jinx. she can’t read words yet, but she knows numbers.

"i know, kid. it won't be much longer."

a pout forms on isha’s face, but she doesn’t move from her spot beside jinx.

“oh, come on. don’t give me that look.”

each minute stretches while jinx continues looking at the clock, even through welding metal and sketching over blueprints. usually you’d be here taking notes for her, but you’re not. she’d ask isha, but the little girl couldn’t read or write yet, and jinx isn’t the person to ask to teach a child literacy.

it should be about twenty minutes now. jinx tries to picture it: you talking to a customer, taking their payment with that polite smile on your face. using your ‘customer service voice’ as she called it, but glancing down at your wrist watch. you’re always eager to get back, you tell her. customers tire you out. she knows you, knows that you’re eager to get back to your little family.

she lets out a dramatic, long-winded huff and sits back in her chair. sparks keep flying through the air, but this is boring. jinx swivels around in her chair to where isha is sitting, ruffling her fluffy hair in an attempt to distract herself. fifteen minutes, tops. you’re probably wrapping up with final customers now, though it’s rush time. someone else would be coming in to cover soon, you’d take your apron off and bolt out the door towards jinx’s hideout.

the both of you are still finding your footing in this… relationship business. you’d started out as friends, good friends. meeting at your job of all places. jinx wouldn't ever pay for anything, not that she could if she wanted to. your manager had been eyeing this short girl with twin braids, sneaking around and stuffing things in her pockets, and told you to go see what's going on. you knew who she was- who didn't? silco's daughter. jinx.

you'd huffed and rolled your eyes at the prospect. you weren't paid enough to be a cashier, and now you're expected to act as a security guard? but orders are orders, so you'd went over to her and tapped her on the shoulder. told her you'd seen her, you knew she was stealing- you didn't care, but your manager did. you'd taken the items from her pockets, put them back on the shelves, and been on your way. but in the midst of this ordeal, you slipped a folded piece of paper into her pocket which had your contact information written down.

it had gone uphill from there, and now, here you are, about a month into an official relationship. still awkward, a bit nervous and clunky, but so right.

"just be patient, yeah? i bet she'll bring you some snacks too. the little... sticks you like. the ones covered in sugar."

isha seems to perk up at this, eliciting a dry chuckle from jinx. she's getting a bit antsy. taking a pink pen, clicking and unclicking it, the noises and action doing little to quell her impatience. fifteen minutes. fourteen. thirteen. twelve. eleven. ten.

until finally, it's about exactly the time you're usually back, and you're not. your workplace is within walking distance from jinx's hideout, surely you hadn't gotten swept up in traffic. today was one of the least busy days of the week as well, so it's not like there was much chance of you being kept late for a rush. jinx bounces her heel anxiously, and isha rests her elbows on the cold metal of the workbench. placing her chin in her hands and looking up to jinx, as if she'd have the answers. isha had always had fun playing with you, and now she's being kept waiting.

"i know, i know," jinx huffs, rolling her eyes before glancing back at the clock. "i don't know what the hold up is. i mean, geez, i love her, but-"

jinx catches herself before she can continue. isha's yellow eyes widen at the words, and she gasps softly. she loves you. jinx had never uttered those words to or about you before this, and now, here she is, admitting it in front of your adopted daughter. yes, she does love you- she's known that longer than you've been together.

but the surprise on isha's face is obvious as well. you've both told isha that you love her, jinx often doing so upon greeting and leaving her. tucking her into bed. reassuring her after particularly scary days in the lanes. but she knows that it means something different when said between grown-ups.

“you heard nothing, kid. okay?”

isha slowly nods, though something tells jinx she’s gonna hang onto those words. great. it’s then that jinx hears the door click open, and she sees you stumble in with your satchel. clearly exhausted.

“sorry i’m late… boss insisted on keeping me for the end of rush.”

#jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #arcane x reader #reader insert #arcane x you #sapphic #lesbian

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kitasgloves · 7 months ago

Note

Hiiiii! Just read your classmate Fyodor, and I'm telling you, it made me fall from heaven then up again for another skydiving experience, loved it. I'm just wondering what would happen if we figured him out and confronted him. If we offered him a deal, "if you make us pass, we can still share a bed and..." you know, would he agree, or is us failing a part of the fun for him???

omg thank you sm anon! i'm ready to deliverrrr <3

— ♬ NSFW

part 1

Now, proposing a deal to FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY could seem like a gamble considering what kind of person he is. He does enjoy seeing you fail after he got what he wanted from you. It does seem that he's merely using you for his selfish desire or gain, and the idea of him discarding you afterward is possible. But a deal where he and you can mutually benefit sounds appealing. To think that the sex he initially thinks is a one-sided benefit is also a benefit for you, captures his interest.

The genius didn't anticipate you to find out sooner he was taking advantage of you and tricking you. He didn't expect you to sternly approach him after class. He was mildly impressed by you expressing your distaste of his trickery, though you weren't completely mad at him. That's when you proposed the deal that if Fyodor helps you pass the class, you'll let him have sex with you. Of course, he was reluctant and cautious at first, he's used to taking deals where only he would benefit. But ultimately, he thinks the deal will be harmless and that he has the upper hand.

Fyodor will tutor you at the same café previously, but this time teach you the correct information. And afterward, you two would fuck either in your dorm or at his house. Since the exams are coming up and students are beginning to prepare, those tutoring sessions become frequent. You two didn't often study at the café.

Sometimes it would be in the university library, you would secretly suck Fyodor's dick in the inconspicuous corner of the library near those boring history books. There are moments when you two would be at the park, and then it would end up with you pressed against one of the trees, away from prying eyes, with your skirt flipped up and your panties down while Fyodor pounded into you. And there's that café that became you and his favorite, you two would be quiet and seemingly deep in study, but it's either you're jacking Fyodor off or he's fingering your pussy from under the table.

However, the most frequent spot would be your dorm room or his house. Your roommates aren't constantly there, so there are chances to sneak Fyodor in for a tutor and a quick fuck. But you genuinely looked forward to studying in Fyodor's house. The genius reeked of old money with how large and empty his home seemed. It had a dark undertone that gave the impression of an old Victorian household. Fyodor would invite you in with nobody home but there are instances where you would briefly encounter a few members of his family.

His mother saw you the most, it's evident that Fyodor got his stunning looks from her. She was a kind and religious woman. She welcomed you in as if she had known you for years, even insisted that you eat dinner after being 'tutored' by Fyodor. Unfortunately, Fyodor would always insist with a tight smile that you weren't hungry, which made you pout. On a rare occasion, you'd see his father. Fyodor got his mysterious and intelligent aura from him. You can't help but feel like that man knew you and his son were doing more than just studying. Something about his knowing gaze as he smoked a cigar made you internally squirm.

Fyodor's room had a minimalist and old look to it. There were multiple bookshelves with books but there was a touch of modernity with a single computer for browsing the internet. Fyodor would tutor you on his study desk, which was often littered with papers either written in Russian or shorthand. The only reason you took the tutoring seriously was the fact that you'll get fucked by Fyodor in the end as payment and secretly a reward. But you're beginning to understand and appreciate everything the genius was teaching you.

Fyodor felt conflicted at the beginning. Something about you casting him a beaming smile and showing him the results on your test paper, which was significantly higher, made his stomach stir. Fyodor did think of maliciously tricking you again and taught you topics that he knew weren't going to appear on the exam. However, you seemed to learn quickly and managed to pass despite being tutored incorrectly.

He was annoyed and was rougher when you two were fucking after those tutoring sessions. He didn't like how you seemed to benefit more than him. He'd express his frustration by delaying your orgasm to the point that you would sob nonstop. Sometimes, Fyodor would punish you for not answering his questions right by pressing a vibrator against your clit while having you tied against the chair, he revels in seeing you squirm and struggle as he slowly increased the vibrator's setting to max. Sometimes, he'd let you cockwarm him. You'd be situated in his lap with his cock deep in you while you wrote your notes. He'd smirk and thrust his hips up making you yelp and mess up your handwriting. You'd always give him that adorable glare before restarting in a new page again only for him to do it again.

You and Fyodor agreed that the duration of this deal will only last until the end of the semester. As disappointed as you seem, you know that you shouldn't build a studying habit of being dicked down by the genius. After all, you just need a little help passing this one class.

It was the final exam the next day, and you busted your ass (or rather got fucked in your ass) studying. With a miraculous surprise, you ended up getting the highest score in the entire class. And what made it seem more unbelievable was that you managed to get a higher score than Fyodor. Naturally, this became the talk of your peers. Who is this ordinary girl who surpassed the mysterious genius Fyodor Dostoevsky? You were showered with praise and attention by your classmates and professor, which made you blush. You did feel genuinely proud to pass that exam with flying colors.

When you turned to Fyodor, eager to rub your test paper all over his face, you froze at the sight of him seething at you in his seat. He was gripping his pen, and his balled fist rested on top of his test paper. You gulped. Why was he mad? Was it because you surpassed him? That's ridiculous! But Fyodor seemed to care about results and being bested by someone as lowly as you.

You tested the waters by approaching him and congratulating him for also passing the test. He coldly ignored you, grabbed his things, and left the classroom. You were dumbfounded. You figured he'd get over it. Plus, the deal you and he had expired today. You won't be needing him for tutoring anymore and he can go fuck with someone else. Though the last thought pained you, it was best to not get hung on about it.

Fyodor behaved like he never knew you. There were a few classes he shared with you, but he acted like you didn't exist. His parents wondered about you and why you stopped visiting, he'll always give some sort of convincing excuse to shut them up. He didn't like how they were seemingly fond of you. He couldn't focus when he was studying in his room. Fyodor got too used to you being seated beside him, or on top of him, warming his cock, or with your hand jerking him off.

He gritted his teeth and dropped his book as he hastily pulled his pants down. Fyodor fisted his cock with the thought of you bouncing on it. He has put you in so many positions. On your knees, on your back, on all fours, against the wall, on top of him. Fuck, his hand goes faster. He has never jerked off so aggressively before. He thought about your smile, the sound of your laugh, the smell of your perfume, and the lingering touch of you tracing his jaw after he had exhausted you.

"Fyodor..."

His name sounded so natural coming from your mouth. You called for him and moaned his name countless times that it repeated in his head like a broken record. Fyodor has an earth-shattering orgasm with his hips bucking up wildly as spurts of cum stain his abdomen and hands. He comes down from his high and realizes how much of a mess he has become. He scowls as he goes to clean himself up.

You did try your hardest to not seem affected by Fyodor's avoidance. You knew he didn't view you as a friend or much less a lover. He probably only saw you as a toy to play with or someone to relieve his stress with.

During one of your shared classes with Fyodor, you two ended up being paired for a project. Your heart fluttered with excitement as much as you wanted to deny it. But you wanted to be professional this time, completely discarding your history with the genius. The deadline for the project was due in two weeks and it needed joint effort.

After class, you took the initiative to approach him so you and he could discuss how you two would do the project. Fyodor surprisingly agrees with you. Initially, you suggested the café as a place to do the planning, but he rudely cut you off and changed the location to his house. Your heart skipped a beat.

Fyodor's parents seemed overjoyed at seeing you again after so long, you admit that you've missed them. You couldn't even mutter a greeting to them when Fyodor grabbed your wrist and led you up to his room. You were roughly shoved inside as he locked the door. Fyodor corners you to his bed and leans down to grab your jaw. You looked up at him with bewildered eyes before he smashed his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss.

The kiss was unusual. It was filled with urgency and had a hint of desperation. Fyodor has kissed you a few times when you two used to fuck, but it was always quick and lazy. But this one was fueled with passion. You try to pull away from him for air.

"Fyo—mmph! The pro-project—!"

Fyodor pulls away and frowns down at you. His pale face was unnaturally flushed.

"I don't give a damn about that stupid project"

"But we'll fail—"

"Заткнись!"

[Shut up!]

He yells at you making you freeze. Fyodor seemed breathless as he pressed his face against your neck before slowly pulling you into an awkward embrace.

"I'll...I'll take care of the project just...stay"

"Stay?"

"Stay here, with me"

You blinked at his reply. You reluctantly returned the embrace making his chest constrict. Fyodor didn't want to admit his growing attachment to you. He did feel pathetic but to think you might return the sentiment made the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

damn this really got self-indulgent whoops

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #— ♬ signed by; kitasgloves #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd smut #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor smut

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jinwoosungs · 6 months ago

Text

11/03/24; 06:20pm

sylus x fem.reader

love and deepspace - spy au | canon divergent | inspired by the kingsman movie series

warnings: unedited; 18+ content; potentially ooc; alcohol use; death of a family member; angst to fluff / smut; sylus is referred to skye in this story / au.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the spy who loved me.

sylus qin-

a name that was synonymous with fear among the underground world.

much of his background was left a mystery, but that didn't stop people from trying to fill in the missing details with their own rumors-

like how he wasn't human due to the destructive evol he carried; that he had struck a deal with the devil himself to obtain such an ability.

or how his movements were as quick and silent as that of shadows, and that sylus had millions of eyes around the world due to his connection to the crows-

yet there was one fact that remained true regardless of what the rumors said, and it was how that man was a vital part of onychinus, a hidden sect made up of skilled assassins and spies that only a select few of people even knew about-

which included your father, the current head of your family's mafia.

he paces around his office, trailing his eyes over his mahogany desk before landing on a picture of you, his sole daughter. his gaze was solemn when he picks up the picture frame, carefully tracing at your smiling features as you were being held within your mother's embrace.

you had turned 24, celebrating your birthday with your mother as you wore the bracelet she had given you that day as a gift. looking at this picture causes the man's heart to clench almost painfully within his chest.

his wife was still so vibrant; how could he have possibly known that her life would end just a mere few weeks later? a bullet had pierced through her heart, his men unable to shield her when a rival faction had targeted her. and upon realizing that your mother had died-

you had changed drastically.

no longer were you the starry-eyed girl who clung to her parents, basking in their unconditional love for you. now, you became someone that had little regard for her own life-

you drank copious amounts of alcohol, going out to bars every single night with every intention to get blacked out drunk. the pain of losing your mother took its toll on you, and truly, your father understood where this behavior was coming from. the loss of your mother was enough to push you over the edge.

despite his best efforts of trying to soothe your broken soul through various means (buying you a new car, filling your room with all of the things you loved)-

it didn't work.

and if he couldn't stop you soon, then he would lose you, too.

he no longer trusted his men to truly keep you safe during this dire time in your life-

which was why he resorted to hiring the devil himself to be your shield.

{ ... }

when sylus was told he had a new client by luke and kieran, he was barely interested and simply waved off their excitement.

however, once the twins showed him the down payment the man, mr. zero, had given him-

he was all too willing to meet with the man to see what his next job would be like. using one of the many bars he had owned as a meeting spot, sylus had sent his client a text detailing the time and place with a thinly veiled warning of what would happen if he was ever late.

adjusting his suit, sylus brushes back his hair while entering the club, crimson eyes scanning the area before heading towards one of the private rooms. the bouncer greets him before opening the door, revealing a middle aged man seated in front of him.

the door was heard shutting from behind him, and sylus takes a brief moment to finally assess zero's features. as the onychinus leader stared at him, he noticed how the man appeared much older than he probably was. a weary expression was seen on his face, and even when he was smiling at him, it was filled with a bitterness.

"i hope that my payment was enough to get your attention, mr. qin." sylus hums, going towards the bar to pour him and mr. zero a shot of whiskey. "you could say that... after all, there's not many people who would give me a down payment of 50 million."

after pouring the drinks, sylus hands zero a glass before sitting across from him. he takes casual sips of the amber liquid, allowing the smoky flavor to burn down his throat as he waited for the older man to speak. zero runs a hand across his hair, tilting the glass up to his lips as he downed the shot of whiskey within seconds. as he slams down the glass, zero pulls out a photograph before sliding it across the table.

setting his drink to the side, sylus takes a moment to admire the picture, seeing a young woman smiling with what he assumed was her mother.

"that's my daughter and her mother... my wife- she was killed a year ago, and i have never been able to forgive myself for being unable to protect my wife." sylus frowns at the image, detecting the way zero's voice broke down. "my daughter still grieves the loss of her mother, and i'm afraid that she'll go down a path that not even i can save her from."

"please, i beg of you, mr. qin. i need you to protect my daughter by whatever means is necessary. if you do this for me, with each month that she remains safe- at least until i can finally bring my wife's murderer to justice, i swear to you, i'll give you 10 million."

sylus's eyes darken with amusement, tilting up his own glass of whiskey as he downs the shot in one gulp. letting out a satisfied sigh, sylus sits back against the couch while spinning the glass around his pointer finger, "10 million per month... and if my services were to last an entire year-"

"money is not an issue when it comes to protecting the ones that i love." zero's gaze was filled with a determination, making sylus break out into an almost shit-eating grin.

perhaps the best clients were the doting fathers who would give anything for their daughters.

{ ... }

your dad had put you on lockdown again.

but were you going to let that stop you?

hell no.

surrounding the borders of your room were dozens of men that worked for your father. not only had they put an external lock on your bedroom door, but a tracker on your phone as well.

deep down, you knew the true reasoning as to why your father kept you in such a luxurious cage-

but you refused to acknowledge it.

feeling your heart begin to clench with pain, you look away from your door and allowed your gaze to land on the shimmering gold settled on your right wrist. as you take in the various charms and the way the gemstones glittered below your bedroom light, a memory of a loving smile was brought to the forefront of your mind-

a loving smile you would never see again.

panic was felt rising against your throat, the raw pain of it all threatening to spill out of you as bitter and harsh as bile. your heart continues to pound, filling you with a desperation as you quickly headed toward your window.

fueled by your own grief, you push open the window and breathe in the cold air, allowing the rush of adrenaline to course through you. your eyes look at the distance between the edge of your window and the ground below. knowing that this was the only way for you to get out of your stifling prison, you began to climb out of your window sill, trying to hang on to the best of your abilities as you decided when the best time to jump was.

as you focused your attention on the pristine grass that was settled below you, the sounds of a motorcycle passing by makes your heart jump within the confines of your throat. your eyes become quickly blinded by the searing light, making you lose your grip on the windowsill.

your body make its quick descent to the ground, and you clenched your eyes shut, preparing yourself for the painful impact-

yet the impact never comes, with your ears managing to pick up the sounds of something shift within the air. your eyes become wide, seeing a tall man with silver hair appear in front of you as he captures you in his arms.

time seemed to stand still, with the perfect stranger shielding you as he landed on the ground with an audible grunt. he ends up taking the brunt of the fall while keeping you safely tucked away with his embrace. blood was felt rushing to your ears, making you feel dizzy as you steadied yourself by placing the palm of your hand against his chest.

you found yourself straddling this man's waist, lips parted as you drank in the sight of him. never before had you seen such a pure, masculine beauty quite like him, with full lips and ruby red eyes that could make your heart melt-

and judging from the sheer girth of his arms wrapped around you, the strength of his body was evident to you as well.

he smirks at you, and you wince when he places the pad of his thumb against your lips, "what's this? has a princess just escaped from her castle?"

your mouth goes dry upon hearing his voice, and had you been given more time, you would have basked in his voice-

however, sudden cries of your name was what succeeds in breaking you out of your reveries. with a gasp, you cling to this hot stranger and look at him with pleading eyes.

"please, you've got to get me away from here, i beg of you."

he shoots up an eyebrow at you, but thankfully does not ask questions. taking you in his arms, he takes quick strides toward the single motorbike settled on the street. you take in the sight of the sleek vehicle, eyebrows furrowed when you saw two helmets settle on the seat.

but you were given little time to think about it, feeling your bare feet land against the concrete as he relinquishes his hold on you. tossing you the other helmet, he gestures at you to get behind him, "if it's a getaway you want, it's a getaway you're going to get, sweetie."

calls of your name were getting louder now, which prompted you to get on the back of his bike while donning the helmet. as he revved up his bike, you made sure to flash your middle finger at your father's men all while clinging to the front of your savior's chest.

{ ... }

sylus wasn't expecting you to be so damn alluring up close. as he felt the way your body was pressed against his back, a strange warm begins to surround him, the sensation being enough to make his heart begin to race steadily from within his chest. when sylus made his escape from your home, the change in your demeanor was immediate.

the sounds of your melodious laughter echoes from behind him, and he sees the way your hair whips from behind you. reaching a stoplight, he brakes in time, balancing his bike while taking a moment to look back at you-

which ends up being the biggest mistake he could make.

he feels the way your head rests against his broad back, noticing the almost wistful expression in your eyes. ignoring the way his heart began to pound, sylus focuses on the traffic light. deciding to hide his emotions behind a snarky remark, he begins to speak, "it's not normal for spoiled princesses like you to get on a bike with a stranger."

sylus swore he could hear your pout, "i'm not a princess... i'm just... i just want to forget."

he hears the way your voice breaks and frowns, ready to say something, but stops when the light turns green. shaking his head, sylus chooses to forget about your pain, recalling the reason why he was put in this situation to begin with.

strengthening his resolve, sylus picks up speed and weaves expertly across the city, the sound of your laughter no longer echoing from behind him.

{ ... }

your savior ends up taking you to the top floor of a high-rise apartment. carrying the two helmets within his hand, you watch as he extracts a sleek black key card from his pocket, opening the door for you to step in first.

"after you, princess."

"i have a name." you fold your arms across your chest, telling the man the syllables that make up your name. amusement was heard in his voice, and you forced yourself to remain calm when his rich voice repeated your name.

"i like that name, it suits a feisty woman like you. as for me, you may call me skye."

as you step into his apartment, you take in the the luxurious furniture, recognizing the brands while your hands traced at the onyx figurines of crows settled on the table. you look back at the man and scoff, "skye? i'm sorry, but that name does not suit you at all."

you look away from him, becoming interested in the cabinet that was filled with expensive bottles of liquor, completely missing the offended look on skye's face. you step closer to the cabinet, pulling the glass door open before gripping at a bottle of cognac.

before you could twist the cap open, sylus stops you by placing a hand around your wrist. a stern expression was settled on his face, "and what do you think you're doing?"

"i'm trying to forget." a flash of emotion was seen in his gaze, yet just as it appears, it was gone within mere seconds. even when you attempted to remove your hand from his grip, skye doesn't relent, managing to take the bottle of cognac away from you.

"whatever you're trying to forget, i'm sure using liquor isn't the answer."

skye places the bottle back into the cabinet, slamming it shut before taking your hand. as he grips at your wrist, you caught sight of your bracelet shimmering against your skin-

making your throat close up in response.

caught up in your painful reveries, you were dimly aware of how skye places you on a seat, settling you in front of a dining table. your eyes never once looked away from the bracelet your mother had given you-

the last gift you would ever receive from her.

you think back to your last day with her-

and the need to reach out and get a bottle to help with drowning your emotions quickly resurfaces, with you ready to bolt towards the cabinet when the sound of glass being slammed in front of you snaps you out of it.

skye was settled in front of you, a frown painting his devastating features when he slides the glass of ice water toward you. "drink this instead, you need it."

unable to find it in yourself to go against him, you take the glass and place it to your lips, draining it within a few gulps. skye watches you intently, noticing the few droplets that fell from your mouth before descending toward your throat, making his eyes darken in response to the sight.

letting out a weary sigh, you place the glass back down on the table, not meeting skye's gaze. listening as he gently inhaled, skye tentatively asks you, "this is none of my business, but i need to know... just what are you trying so hard to forget?"

you don't answer him for several seconds, clenching your eyes shut as you allowed your hands to form into fists against the table. no matter how much time had passed, this was something you would never get over-

"i lost my mom... she was killed..."

you keep your eyes shut, just basking in your memories as you told skye everything. it was strange, but something about skye made you want to open up to him-

that even though you knew it was crazy to feel such a thing for a man you

"to keep it simple, my father... he's a... he's a really powerful man. he comes from a long line- from old money, essentially. when he was younger, he fell in love with my mom, who happened to be a normal civilian."

you take a moment to gather your emotions, taking in a deep breath as your hands began to tremble. just when you felt like you were close to losing it, skye places a hand over yours, engulfing it in a warmth that soothed your anxieties.

opening your eyes, you gasp upon seeing how close skye was to you. his rufescent eyes appeared... softer, somehow. you felt the way his hands gently frame at your face as the pad of his thumb traced at your bottom lip.

"and you were born out of love." skye's voice was solemn, with his expression void of its playfulness. yet his words succeeds in making your throat clench even further in response. you were left dumbfounded, watching as sylus slowly inched closer to you, with his lips a mere few inches away from your own-

why did it feel like he knew?

his breath warms at your lips, and just as you were about to close your eyes to meet with him-

a sudden knock at the door makes you jump away from him.

skye clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he stands from his seat to answer the door. you were about to ask who it was, but stopped when you smelled the familiar scent of your favorite takeout. with the bag in hand, skye returns to you, placing the food in front of you. as you looked at all the containers, you said out loud, "all of these are my favorites..."

you catch the momentary stiffness in skye's composure before he visibly relaxes. "sweetie, you are mistaken, since such a meal can be anyone's favorite."

the strangeness of it all was starting to get to you-

but when skye opens up a container and offers it to you, you allow the lingering scent to wrap around you, awakening in you a hunger that you hadn't felt in a long time. taking a hold of your utensils, you began to dig into your favorite food-

with the lingering doubts still settled at the back of your mind.

{ ... }

being around you proved to be a much more challenging feat than sylus could have ever anticipated.

before he got to know you, sylus had every intention of whisking you away after your failed escaping attempt, keeping you within his penthouse for 12 months with the goal of collecting the 120 million from your father-

but now that he was forced to be in your presence-

forced to see the vulnerability in your eyes along with the pain that came from missing your mother-

he felt something change.

why did it suddenly feel like the money didn't matter to him anymore?

why did the sight of your smile cause his heart to do somersaults within his chest?

why did it feel like his mission was to truly protect you without any conditions?

sylus quickly erases those thoughts from his mind the moment his phone rings. looking down at the screen, he notices the caller's name and visibly stiffens.

it was your father, the man who chose his alias to be zero.

was it already time for his monthly report?

closing his eyes, he answers the call while ignoring the feeling of guilt that threatens to take root inside of him.

{ ... }

your relationship with skye was... odd, to say the least.

despite how serendipitous your meeting with him felt (like he was in the right place at the right time the night of your desperate escape), you couldn't deny that a part of you felt safe with him.

perhaps the loss of your mother made you lose a bit of your rationality. losing her felt like you were left with a gaping hole deep inside of your chest-

a hole that you wanted to be filled by skye.

it was maddening, trying to sift through your emotions when it came to skye. you had been staying with him for close to 6 months now, yet the way he payed so much attention to you (seeming to care for you while buying the things you needed, never once complaining about your presence) coupled along with his lingering kindness-

it was enough for him to weasel his way into your heart-

yet at the same time, you knew that he was acting suspicious. there was something that skye was hiding from you, which did nothing but further complicate the feelings you had for him.

despite how strange everything felt, one fact remained undeniable-

and it was the fact that his presence was enough to pacify the shattering pain of your mother's death, with you practically clinging to him as the days went by. with his snarky and haughty attitude, you felt incredibly safe when he was close to you-

even now, you found yourself yearning for his presence, even though he was settled a mere few feet away from you. your hands itched with the need to grab on to his hand and ruffle his hair each time he teased you-

so caught up in your thoughts, you end up unconsciously walking toward his room, noticing how it remained slightly open. his deep voice was heard speaking in hushed tones into his cellphone, and as you neared the room, you heard a familiar sound coming from skye's phone-

"i don't want the money anymore, i'll send every last penny back, just please-" skye harshly speaks into his phone, making your heart turn to ice when you recognized the booming voice on the other line-

it was the sound of your father's voice.

"how do you know my father?" skye immediately faces you, dropping his phone in the progress. the man visibly pales, swallowing thickly as he shakily called out your name.

"i-it's not what you think, please believe me, it's not what you think it is-"

"you...you lied to me? you had b-been working for my father this whole time?" angry tears cascades down your face, and when skye visibly winces, looking away from you while letting out a string of curses-

that was all the evidence that you needed.

you turn away from him, running out of his room as the tears marred your vision. reaching the front door, you pull it open with a brute force that nearly rips it from its hinges. knowing that he would catch you if you tried to use the elevators, you hurriedly take the stairs, making your desperate descent while choking back your sobs.

everything made sense now-

like how strange it was that skye had another helmet for you-

or how he knew your favorite takeout-

and the way he seemed to read your mind these past couple of months-

it was all because of your father.

everything had been meticulously planned by him-

and you were stupid enough to fall for it.

gasping for air, you manage to escape out of the apartment building, the tears streaming even faster down your cheek as you staggered into the street, breaking out into a run while praying that skye wouldn't find you.

your mind was in a deep haze, exhaustion tingeing your every step when a low whistle was heard.

"i knew you'd run out of onychinus's cage eventually."

your movements ceased when you felt the barrel of the gun become pressed against your head, an icy sensation now felt coursing through your veins. your throat turns dry, and you caught sight of a tattooed man sneering at you, cocking his gun once more before pressing it against your temple.

"you're comin' with me, princess." he smirks at you, continuing to press the gun even closer to your head, "as much as i'd like to shoot your pretty little brains out like i did with your mama, i'm sure your daddy's willing to pay a hefty price just to have you back. once i get the money, then i'll kill him before claiming victory-" he was suddenly cut off when a crow manages to slam the gun out of his hands, its beady eyes never once straying from the man as it let out a harsh caw!

"what the fuck-"

the man was unable to finish his sentence when darkness surrounds the entirety of his body, wrapping around his form like deadly tendrils-

"close your eyes, princess."

recognizing skye's voice, you immediately turn away from him and clench your eyes shut, hearing a piercing scream before the wet sounds of something imploding in on itself echoes throughout the area. you fell down to your knees, only to be caught by a powerful pair of arms.

you were openly sobbing now, clinging to the front of his shirt, "s-skye... w-what...why-"

skye cuts you off, swallowing your words with a searing kiss when he crashes his lips against yours. you moan at the sudden sensation, tightening your grip on him as he pulls you into his broad chest, shielding you from the gruesome sight that was settled a mere few inches away from you.

"not here," he purposely crushes your face within his chest, blocking your vision when he picks you up. your tears were still falling, yet you felt the strange sensation of your body being pulled, with the air seeming to crackle with static in response for a brief moment-

before landing back within the quiet safety of skye's living room.

with your face still hidden within his chest, you felt the way skye began to tremble, pulling away from you. he shakily frames at your face, using the pad of his thumb to trace at your bottom lip before telling you, "fuck, i thought i lost you-"

as if remembering the moment, skye takes you back into his arms, pressing another kiss against your lips, filled with an even greater desperation than the last one.

not daring to break apart his connection to you, he takes you to his bedroom, kicking down the door before falling into his bed with him. your hands grip at the silken sheets, letting out a moan when skye dips a hand into the waistband of your pants.

"it may have started out as a lie, but my feelings for you are true." you feel the way he dips a finger into your folds, collecting your arousal as you tossed your head back in response. his breathing becomes labored when he inserts his middle fingers inside of you, thrusting the single digit in and out of your core before huskily admitting to you, "my true name... is sylus qin... and your father hired me to protect you."

a part of you felt angry and annoyed, but feeling the way skye sylus was moving his thick finger in and out of your slick heat was making your mind go hazy. instead of using your words, you allow your nails to grip at his biceps before raking down his skin, earning a hiss from him.

"fuck, kitten, that hurt- but how about you punish me more and give my back those same claw marks?"

you hated how the sight of his smirk was enough to make your legs clench in response for him, feeling sylus remove his finger from your slick heat momentarily, now gripping at the waistband of his pants as unbuckled himself-

his crimson gaze was eclipsed by complete darkness now, his desire and need for you evident in the way he tore off his clothes, ensuring that he was utterly bare for you. your traitorous heart ends up racing in response to his nakedness, and you felt a powerful ache settle between your legs at the sight of sylus's godly form. recognizing the lust in your eyes causes him to smirk as he places his large hands against your clothes, now working on tearing off your own clothes until you were utterly bare for him.

hungry eyes raked through your form, and you watch as sylus licked his lips before laying back down against the bed. he spreads your legs wide open for him, giving your inner thighs a kiss before whispering against your skin, "let me show you the true depths of my devotion to you... let me make it up to you."

"sylus-"

you had only said his true name out loud, but it was enough to make sylus surge forward, burying his face within your slick walls. the sensation of his tongue drinking up the evidence of your honeyed arousal makes you fall back in bed, hands gripping at his soft hair. instinctively, you spread your legs wider for him, allowing sylus to take you to heaven when he kept devouring you like he was a man starved.

never had you felt such potent sensations of pleasure before, with sylus expertly eliciting moans and gasps of his name, allowing it to fall from your parted lips like a never-ending mantra. as he continued his ministrations on you, the more you felt a coil seem to tighten within your abdomen. "o-oh my god, s-sylus!"

you gasp when your back arches against the bed, with sylus keeping your hips still as you spilled yourself into his hot mouth. with a grunt of your name, sylus drinks in everything you had to offer. red hot pleasure courses through you, making you cry out to him as you tightened your grip against his hair.

"ngh... fuck... you taste s'fucking sweet." sylus manages to release his hair from your hands, crawling toward you as he spread your legs wide for him to settle between. drunk off of the sheer taste of you, sylus presses his lips against yours, purposely deepening the kiss, allowing you to taste yourself with his kiss alone.

distracting you with his kiss, you managed to remain relaxed for him when sylus suddenly pushes his cock into your entrance, the sudden intrusion making you toss your head back as you cling to sylus. a string of curses was heard coming from the man settled above you. when you felt your walls taking in every inch you had to offer (completely sheathing him), you lost all train of thought, allowing the man to piston his hips in and out of you.

"fuck...!" sylus grips at your hips, keeping it still as he begins to thrust his cock in and out of your slick walls at a breakneck pace. the squelching sounds of your lovemaking echo throughout the room, making you cry out to him when you felt the moisture flowing out of you.

"o-oh...!" you gasp, wrapping your legs around sylus's naked waist, allowing him to reach deeper inside of you with each pound. by now, he was quite literally fucking you into his bed-

and you found yourself enjoying every minute of it.

from the way sylus seemed to harshly grip at your waist, you were certain that it would leave a bruise-

yet you didn't care, allowing this powerful man to bring you towards another release while you sloppily met his thrusts with your own-

the telltale sensation of his cock growing inside of you as he tightens, stilling his hips one last time before spilling thick ropes of his cum deep within you succeeds in making you cry out to him, your voice seeming to echo throughout the room along with sylus's growl of your name.

unable to help himself, sylus captures your lips once more, purposely swallowing your moans as he rode out both of your releases, his hips weakly pounding in and out of you, making sure that you had milked every last drop out of him before landing next to you on the bed.

your body was damp with sweat as a pleasant haze goes through you. not wishing to break your connection with sylus, you tentatively move closer to him, resting your head against his chest before pressing a kiss against it.

"y-you... did you want me... to forget that i'm mad at you by fucking my brains out?" you weakly manage to tease him, earning a rich chuckle from him.

"depends... is it working?" he leans down to press a kiss against your hair, making you smile when you cheekily tell him,

"how about you find out... when we go a few more rounds...?"

sylus needed no further urging from you, returning back to you as he placed a desperate kiss against your lips...

[ epilogue ]

your father was pacing around his office, filled with anxiety at being caught.

he prayed that you would forgive him-

that he could see you again, happy and whole despite your own pain.

truly, your father wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms, to bring you back home all while telling you that he did this all in the name of love-

that losing your mother made him go crazy at the thought of losing you, too-

but a part of him still felt too guilty to do anything.

as he was caught up in his thoughts, the sound of a notification coming from his phone startles him, making him look down at his phone to see a message from sylus himself.

eager to know what it says, he opens up the text and reads through it, eyes filled with relief as the older man breaks out into a grin. in the text was what looked like a screenshot of a bank account wiring back 110 million dollars along with a single text:

i finally understand. she's worth all the money. with this payment, i promise to protect her for the rest of my life - s.q.

end notes: omg i can't believe i'm gonna lose sleep over this story, but lmaoo, it's my dream story, and i need to finish writing this. spy!sylus, how i need you so 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes tomorrow, it's bedtime for me!! also, for the reader's dad using an alias to contact sy, i wanted to do something so you readers could use any name that suits you outside of the alias! making it a true insert hhhhhhhh 🥹 this was a tough story to write though, but i hope you readers enjoyed it all the same!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lads smut #lnds smut #l&ds smut #writings 📖

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bitter-me · 1 year ago

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Hi if possible a part two to the Wriothesley fic?

https://www.tumblr.com/bitterchocoo/731525542873055232/who-is-he

This one. But if not then maybe a Gallagher and reader as Wriothesley. Maybe Wriothesley reader is like a significant other.

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide

Gallagher | M. Reader as Wriothesley [Genshin Impact]

----------

"Word of advice: Don't break the law."

----------

The Bloodhound Family are in charge of Penacony's security. But.. that wasn't always the case. As an inmate climbed the ladder and became the Head of the Fortress of Meropide. Penacony's underwater prison.

This caused some uproars.

How could someone like that be in charge of the Fortress? Shouldn't it be a member of the Bloodhound? And someone with a criminal record nonetheless? Is this truly the right move? Has the Family went insane?! But it's true. Someone like that did indeed became the most respected man in the Fortress.

----------

"Bartender! Could you give me one glass of Glorious Hour?"

Immediately recognizing the voice, Gallagher turned his head towards the voice and was met by none other than the Duke himself. Letting out a chuckle, he replied. "Oh! Your Grace, fancy seeing you here!"

As far as he knows, the man is always in the Fortress, he never really went out. Always so busy... but look at him now! Suddenly showing up at Dreamjolt Hostelry!

"Well many of my new inmates were fighting in this very place, so I figured I should give this place a shot, see what's the hype is all about."

"Oh so you're saying that you're investigating then? What? Are you trying to shut this place done, Your Grace?"

"Maybe."

The two broke into loud laughter as it echoes through the establishment. Their playful banters never gets old. No matter how many times they've done it. It never fails to being out a laugh or two. The atmosphere of the place is as lively as always. It's a nice change to the usually gloomy underwater prison.

Calming down from his laughter [Name] gave Gallagher a bouquet of flowers that he had bought prior to his visit. With a charming smile he says. "It appears I forgot to bring my wallet, will these flowers do?"

His eyes widened for a moment before letting out a chuckle, taking the bouquet Gallagher examines them and couldn't help but smile at the thoughtfulness of the Duke. He rarely leaves that damn prison and yet when he does, he never fails to make it special. "I'm terribly sorry, but we don't accept flowers as payment." Gallagher replied teasingly.

Raising a brow at the other's words, [Name] asked as he put his hands together and his elbow on top of the table. "Then what do you accept?"

Putting the flowers aside, Gallagher then put his hands on the table and leans forwards, their face only a few centimeters apart as he answers with a teasing grin. "I believe you knew the answer to that, you're a regular after all, Your Grace."

Letting out an amused laughed, the Duke spends no time to close the gap between them as the other let out a hum of approval. Savoring the sweet taste, the two soon pulls away.

"Alright then, one glass of Glorious Hour coming right up!"

"On second thought, give me something bitter. You were simply too sweet and I'm afraid I might get sick if I continue to consume anything sweet~"

#seme male reader #top male reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr gallagher #gallagher x reader #gallagher x male reader #x male reader #x reader #genshin impact #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #genshin

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2-dsimp · 7 months ago

Note

(period is talking im sorry) dear god. the way i need an absolutely filthy marathon with danny for like a week or two.... is danny cool w degrading his darling? does he fuck with a mean mating press? started crying thinking of danny with a darling dressed as if they were straight outta nekopara...

If Danny the boss has a million fans, then I'm one of them.

If Danny the boss has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE.

If Danny the boss has no fans, that means I'm dead.

(i think im now 🫙 anon. if thats cool)

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

Cw: NSFW MDNI FEM! Reader Dubcon, degradation, slight pet play, objectification, creampies, cosplay, overstimulation

---☆ • ♧ • ♤ • ♧ • ☆ ---

“What the fuck… Did you spill soda on my goddamned limited edition figurine? On purpose?”

You jumped, at the words he seethed under his breath. You were wearing a cat maid outfit determined to seduce your shut in otaku. Which wasn’t all that hard to be honest, but you craved getting dicked down in the most degrading way possible.

Danny was always the sweetest, worshipping your body as if it were the holy grail. Loving on every part of you, it was endearing but at times you craved for his cruelty. Whenever he got that cold icy smolder in his sunken eyes, it always made you shiver from how sexy he looked when pissed off.

“Since you want to desecrate my prized figurine…How bout I take my time in getting payment from your body. Maid-chan? Since I doubt you’ve got the money to reimburse me.”

He hissed in a gravelly tone, snatching you up by the wrist to send you scrambling to grip the edges of his desk for support. The Hitman Boss’s expression was heated as he hunched over you. tired red-blue eyes trained on your every facial expression.

While he one handedly flipped up your skirt, a slender finger snapping at the waist band of your panties. Before digging his fingers greedily in the meat of your ass.

And soon enough your funishment began.

“Oi maid bitch-chan. I didn’t give you permission to stop wiping my figurine down, now did I?”

The Otaku drawled out, having you bent over his PC monitor making you put that be maid cosplay to use. By shakily wiping up the soda spillage with a rag while he humped your ass.

“Keep going until it’s spotless. You can at least do that much besides just being a sweet fuckhole for my stress relief yeah?.”

He had a firm grip on your tail which ensured the rocky slapping of his balls against your folds. As he grinded his pelvis viciously against your mound. To make every pump of his cock scrap crudely within your squelching cunt.

“Cmon don’t get quiet on me now! Meow for me, you’re a neko maid right? So you better act the damn part, you dumb whore”

Your hand eye coordination became extremely faulty from the tremors of the impact he left on your body. You pathetically mewed trying your best to live up to expectation but it came out as a garbled mess. And the Otaku wasn’t too happy about it as he trailed a hand down to your chest to squeeze those breasts like a stress ball.

“Fuuuck. You’ve got me so pissed off you know that? Do you think I wanna call you a useless slut every time your cute ass. Can’t focus on anything other than cumming on my dick?”

“You know how I love to praise you baby so why do you gotta make me the bad guy?”

After Danny creampied your pussy till it was dripping globs upon the wooden flooring underneath the desk. It was only then he had forgiven you for your transgressions. After you finally managed to undo the damage you’d done with the cleaning supplies he had prepared at the ready.

The Otaku did feel a little guilty about wrecking you, so he made sure to give you his anime themed snacks and sat you on his lap to stream some episodes of Windbreaker. He didn’t clean you up of course, he was still peeved. So he figured that you could carry his seed inside you. As a reminder to you, should you ever did that shit again.

。

A/n: if you wanna be degraded the best way would be to piss Danny off since it’d be awkward from the start if he’s of clear conscious. You’re his goddess after all and he’d want nothing more than to worship you like the wonder you are.

#Danny the boss #yandere hitman #yandere boss #yandere smut #smut imagine #smut headcanons #smut scenarios #smut blurb #smut drabble #anime smut #tw yandere #tw degradation #tw objectification #tw dubcon #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

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aidaita · 2 months ago

Text

Oreo’s urgent Vet Bill

Hi everyone, this is the proper post I promised a few days ago and I apologize for the delay, the last 2-3 days was stressful but I’m emotionally stable to type everything down.

I’ve made an update post on my Ko-fi a few days ago if you haven’t seen it.

To start off, Oreo is my male cat son I’ve take care of for the past 9 years since that fateful day I encountered him 8 years ago. At the time, I was in a dark place mentally as I was heavily depressed from losing a dear friend and in an effort to cheer up, I went outside for a walk with a close friend to the canal two streets down from where I live, and that was where I saw a pair of eyes staring at me. A month old kitten I named Oreo and from that day, Oreo has brightened my world and I’ve taken him in as my precious fur baby ever since. My family unfortunately lost our other cat, Blueberry, last year to cancer for the medicine and treatments weren’t enough to ease her suffering from the cancer, so when Oreo’s second blockage on the evening of February 28, 2025 occurred, I was absolutely terrified.

That night, I skipped dinner, I stayed up half the night watching over Oreo and had a fitful sleep of a few hours, waking up in between the few hours to the noises Oreo was making from the blockage. And so on March 1, I went directly to an animal hospital I normally go to for his check ups, exams, previous surgery he had, but unfortunately they had to turn me away for being fully booked, so I was forced to go to another vet clinic that accepts emergency visits and that’s where I ended up in VCA Knowles Snapper Creek pet hospital and the very expensive vet bill.

The initial estimate is the one I originally posted on my other post which I’ll upload here for 48 hours observation.

I was also given an estimation for 24 hr observation but in both estimations, it was super expensive and I work at a $13 part time retail work shift and I could not afford it whatsoever. The last surgeries were paid for by my mom but this time she could not pay for this, and she has other health-related financial payments to recuperate financially and that was when I begun to get very stressed and panic. It was made worse and broke me into an emotional panic when my mother suggested that we may have to put him to sleep as we cannot keep paying $3k every time he gets a blockage.

My heart sank, I was not ready to let Oreo go yet. I became so distraught.

What can I do to save Oreo?

I’ve been frantically looking online what to do, looking into pet insurance, frequently asking for payments plans, asking what they can do to reduce the prices, etc. all while I’m on a time limit as I had a work shift in the next 2-3 hours and with this emergency situation, I absolutely needed every hour I can get. It was the most horrible position to be in the middle of.

Oreo could not qualify for pet insurance because it does not cover for pre-existing conditions/treatments (this is his second blockage), the pet hospital (both the first I went to and the second) do not have payment plans, every new estimations they gave me in an effort to help me and Oreo came with high risks such as one that is the bare minimum (just unblocking Oreo) but there’s a big possibility he could be blocked later that day or the next day.

Secondly, Oreo has already been on a treatment plan with his strict diet of prescription Urinary Care food with Science Hill’s ever since his first blockage sometime last year (or 2? I’m not sure, I don’t have the papers from the first one as my mom took him to the vet that time). And the doctors told me that it seems despite the strict diet he has been in, he still got the blockage from built-up sediments. On top of that, in the last vet visit on January 25, 2025 with the first pet hospital, Oreo has IVDD, or at least the beginning of it that the doctors told at the time said “it’s not a big deal right now,” so it will be a problem to look out for as he’s still young.

My mother’s comment of possibly putting him to sleep loomed over my head over all this…

And that was when I decided I can’t do this alone, I’m not ready to let Oreo go yet, not like this, not so soon. So for the first time, I’ve come to you all on the internet for help.

Due to the time constraints, I have no choice but to open a credit line with CareCredit just for this bill for Oreo but the fact he could get blocked again, issues with IVDD possibly rearing its head more urgently so soon, and with this massive bill to pay with my $13 part time retail shift, I knew that if another emergency or urgent vet visit occurs, I will have no choice but to put him to sleep.

That is why I’ve come to you all for help with the emergency vet bill on March 1, 2025 and… my goodness, within 24 hours, we have reached a little more than 1/3 of the $4000 goal (41% reached as I post this) and I could not be anymore thankful and grateful for all of you kindness and generosity to save my baby in this difficult time.

Yesterday I got to visit Oreo, he’s unblocked and appears to be urinating fine, recovering seems to be going well although he does have UTI so there’s a bit of blood in his urine (doctors reassured me that the UTI and blockage are not linked) so he’s getting treatments for that as well.

Today, Oreo will be discharged later in the afternoon or evening so he’ll be coming home soon.

The bill is still stressful but with all of you kind words, encouragement, generosity, and advice, it doesn’t feel as heavy as before. It is still a lot left to pay off so if you can, please donate to my Ko-Fi here so I can focus solely on strictly ensuring Oreo stays with me much longer such as wet food, running water fountain, new litter box, etc.

All donations received will be used solely for the bill and any additional expenses that may come up in the last few hours as I type.

And to everyone who donated so far, thank you… Truly, thank you. The tears I’ve shed the past 2 days were of stress and huge relief.

I will keep posting updates as they happen.

#avia speaks #pets #pet health #mutual aid #tw: animal death mention #donations #fundraiser #pet fundraiser #medical fundraiser

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fireflysymphony · 1 year ago

Note

Oh my god your Aventurine x Bodyguard!Reader so good I have to give you so many praises for that! But I have to ask… if you can may I please hear your thoughts on Aventurine with a Reader that he adores to take with him to the casinos as like a lucky charm but in reality he just absolutely loves to show off that they are partners, if that’s alright please and thank you! I hope you have a wonderful day today!

Aventurine showing off reader

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I really enjoyed writing it, and seeing someone else appreciate it makes me really happy. Here are some of my thoughts! I just love this man an unhealthy amount. I hope you enjoy this <3

Word count: 1.6k

Content Warning: GN! Reader, suggestive but mostly a crazy blond and some fluff, mentions of alcohol, not proofread, hope you enjoy <3

Headcanons

Long before the two of you began to date, he’d take you to his casinos with the intention of scamming you out of your money and possibly getting you drunk and taking you home with him later that night.

He got it in his head that it would end up like one of those sexy pornos where once he gambled you out of all your money, he’d seductively lean down and whisper in your ear “All your money’s gone, a shame angel, but let’s have one more round, yeah? If I win again, you’ll have to pay me back with something more… intimate.” And then he’d win and take you home with him to get his “payment.”

It never ended like that though. You were either too smart to gamble with him, or your teary eyed, defeated face once he won for the third time in a row would break his heart in a way he didn’t like or fully understand, so he’d stop himself from sucking you dry of anymore cash. And the next day you would find the money you lost plus some extra back in your bank account. He hoped you never found out that your tears were the only thing to melt his heart in a long time.

If you so much as mentioned not going with him one day, you’re in store for another one of Aventurine’s famous tantrums. This is when the phrase “good luck charm” started getting thrown around. You jokingly told him to get another person who throws themselves at his feet to be his lucky charm, and he lost it.

“No, no, no! It’s you that I want with me, nobody else! You're my good charm, singular! Please, come with me, angel, please!”

You didn't know why because you thought that’s what he was doing anyway since he often canceled your casino dates. In reality though, when you weren’t with him at night, it was because of dangerous work he didn’t need you getting involved in.

Most people who visited the casinos regularly already thought you and Aventurine were dating for multiple reasons. He always had some part of him touching yours whether it be a hand on the small of your back or him leaning on you whenever he was a little tipsy or bored of a game. He never let you pay for anything while you were with him, and despite being a rich man who could definitely afford two cocktails, he’d much rather hold his up to your lips and watch you drink from his glass. Aventurine wouldn’t let anyone approach you, especially if it was someone he had to confront for work that night, and if anyone tried flirting with you, they’d be out of luck, out of money, and out of a life depending on Aventurine’s mood. He didn’t like things that belonged to him being touched or stolen.

Safe to say, most people had pretty good evidence to conclude that you and him were together.

As you can imagine, this only got worse when you became official partners since Aventurine didn’t have to hold anything back. Your seat wasn’t the one next to him anymore, it was in his lap. He didn’t need to hold himself back from kissing you, and conveniently he mostly did it when other people were watching him. Before each round of poker, he’d ask you for a good luck kiss to bless his hand which lasted a little too long for everyone’s— but his— comfort.

Pretty much everyone knew that you weren’t just a good luck charm but a prize for him to show off, and he wasn’t letting you go anytime soon. Anyone who knew what was good for them backed off from trying to pursue you, and those brave souls who didn’t were in for a treat because Aventurine LIKED having them stare…. When he was in a good mood anyway. Bad mood, jealous Aventurine was a different story, but he’s for another day.

“I like it when they look at you, dove.” “But they look at me like you do.” “Exactly. But I’m the only one who gets to have you, pretty thing.”

Right after kisses, his eyes go straight to find the men he knew were into you, wanting to see their disappointed faces. He’ll even let them chat you up before pulling you onto his lap and kissing you. To him, crushing them emotionally was far more entertaining than outright killing them. This only goes for when you’re dating though. As stated before, Aventurine hated the thought of someone taking what he owned, and since you didn’t know you were his yet, he had to dispose of anyone who thought they had a chance.

It hurt him that the only place he could show you off was at the casinos. He owned them, so nobody was going to try to harm you unless they were prepared for the weeks long torture he had in store, not even the IPC spies he knew were around were safe from his wrath. To the IPC, you were nothing more than one of Aventurine’s ordinary flings, and he wouldn’t let anyone see past that facade, even if he wanted to rub his relationship in Topaz or Ratio’s face.

—-

“You always win, so I don’t understand why you need me here every night, wouldn’t you rather bring someone who’s unfamiliar with your tricks to scam?” You asked him one night before the two of you were officially a couple. He took you up to one of the VIP rooms, a few people mingling and chatting over cards around you. The two of you got a couch to yourself, yet Aventurine had an arm around your waist, not allowing an inch of personal space despite the size of the sofa. Aventurine was bored of the easy fish at the casino tonight. The card shark didn’t like his prey to fall too easily unless it was you, but you weren’t interested in losing any more money to him tonight..

“No, I’ve told you before! You’ve never seen me lose before, doll. Isn’t it obvious why? Because you’re lucky!” He answered, taking a sip of his third glass of champagne. He acted a lot more honestly when he was tipsy, his conniving grin never left his lips though, so nobody could tell how serious he was. That was if he let himself get tipsy in front of anyone but you— which he didn’t. You were the sole one who got to hear his slightly slurred speech and, on particularly rough nights, his lack of inhibitions.

“If I’m so “lucky,” why haven’t I beat you yet?” You hummed, shivering at the amount of money he’s coerced you into betting, yet somehow you’re more well off now since you met him than ever before.

“Because you’re my good luck charm, you have to find your own; I’ve sucked you dry of all your lucky, so nobody else can have you.” He waved his hand in the air like it was the most obvious explanation in the world before leaning his head on your shoulder, his glasses sliding down his nose and letting you see his pretty shining eyes. “You’re only mine to have, do you understand that?”

All you could do was sigh and fix his glasses. He was prone to say stuff like this when he was drunk and when he was sober too but it was worse when you had a little alcohol in his veins. Aventurine’s normal flirting was so teasing that you could chalk it up to him being just that, a teasing flirt who did this with everyone, but when he was tipsy or drunk, a serious edge pierced his words, a large contrast from his usual over-the-top teasing. You couldn’t trust that either. “You’re drunk, Aventurine.”

“Maybe so, but you still don’t understand, doll.” He took off his glasses, tossing them next to his empty glass on the table. He laid himself down on your thighs, his head turned away from you to face the rest of the room. When he was normal sober Aventurine, you didn’t take his advances seriously, and when he was drunk, you still didn’t take him seriously. It was annoying! Did he just give up? Was this a bet lost?

Sensing an incoming tantrum you set your hand on his hair, playing with his blond locks. You bit your lip, already regretting the ego boost you were about to give him. “…Now that I think about it: maybe I do have a good luck charm.”

The way he jolted up gave you an idea of where this was going, so you braced yourself for the storm about to hit. Shit, pouting might have been easier to sit through.

“D’awwww! Lovemuffin, do you mean it?! Really?! Say it again! Come on, say it to me again!” He somehow wormed his way onto your lap, poking at your cheek in eagerness. His legs straddled your waist, and everyone in the small quiet space turned their heads to look at you.

“What are you doing? Stop, get off of me! no-no it isn't you!” You shrieked, batting his hands away from your face as you shook your head. Now you really regretted saying anything. “You’re making a scene!”

“Sure it isn’t! Aren’t you just the most adorable thing, such a sweetheart to little ol’ me!~” He threw his arms around you, resting his head in the crook of your neck. He took back everything he previously thought. No matter what you were going to be his! “But if I am your lucky charm, I don’t think I’m working. You always lose!”

“Shut up, Aventurine!” You grumbled, hugging him back with a tenderness your words didn’t hold. Was it possible his words weren’t all faked?

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this more fluffy Aventurine post! Whether it be the sexy or scrunkly menace, I hope you enjoy him! <3 thank you to the requester for this idea

Requests are open!

#star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #fluff #suggestive #aventurine #honkai star rail #star rail x reader #star rail

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ghostlynightpanda · 1 month ago

Text

A Taste of Something New

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

Synopsis: After moving into a flat above Onigiri Miya, you form a good friendship with Osamu, which eventually leads you to meet his friend Kita. As you spend more time together, a bond forms, and before long, you find yourselves growing closer.

warnings/content: Kita Shinsuke x fem!reader, fluff, 3.848 words

Moving into a new apartment always came with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The scent of fresh tatami, the unfamiliar hum of the neighbor, the way the light hit the walls differently—little things that made the place feel strange yet full of possibilities.

For you, moving felt like the perfect fresh start. After settling into your cozy little flat above Onigiri Miya, you quickly fell into a routine. The first week had been a blur of unpacking, navigating the streets of Hyogo, and inevitably getting drawn downstairs by the irresistible aroma of freshly made onigiri.

That’s when you met Osamu Miya.

He took one look at you—hair still slightly messy from unpacking, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion—and pushed a warm rice ball into your hands without a word.

“Looks like ya need it,” he said simply, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

You blinked at him, then down at the neatly wrapped onigiri in your hands. “Uh—thanks?”

“Welcome. Payment is yer eternal gratitude.”

That was the start of an unexpected but easy friendship. Osamu quickly became a familiar presence in your daily life. Whether it was quick chats as you picked up dinner, him grumbling about rowdy customers, or his occasional smug remarks about how you “obviously moved here for his cookin’,” he made settling into town feel less lonely.

It didn’t take long before you started helping out in the restaurant occasionally—not officially, but whenever Osamu was swamped, you’d lend a hand wiping tables or packing takeout orders. He never asked, but he also never stopped you. Instead, he paid you back in endless onigiri and the occasional teasing remark about how you were one step away from becoming his business partner. Not that you truly had time to work with him full-time—you were working as an intern at the hospital, after all.

But you liked it here. You liked the small-town warmth, the smell of rice and miso that drifted through the building, and the way Osamu always seemed to have some ridiculous story to tell.

You had no idea that soon, a certain rice farmer would change your life in a different way.

— — — — — — — — — —

It was one of those unexpectedly busy afternoons at Onigiri Miya, where the lunch rush just wouldn’t die down. A never-ending stream of customers had Osamu running between the kitchen and the counter, shouting quick instructions over his shoulder while shoveling rice into molds at a speed that seemed almost supernatural.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, tying an apron around your waist. It was your day off after a twenty-four-hour shift that ended early this morning, so right now, you had time to help him.

Osamu barely looked up as you stepped behind the counter. “Didn’t even ask ya to help this time.”

“You didn’t have to.” You grabbed a tray of orders, slipping through the tables with practiced ease.

It had become routine at this point—when things got hectic, you’d step in without a second thought. And honestly? You didn’t mind. There was something oddly satisfying about the rhythm of a busy restaurant, the warmth of freshly cooked rice, the chatter of satisfied customers, and the way Osamu grumbled about needing to hire a real assistant but never actually did.

The bell above the entrance jingled, and you turned just in time to see someone different walk in.

He wasn’t a customer—at least, he didn’t carry himself like one. Neatly dressed, posture straight, expression calm but unreadable. He carried a large sack of rice effortlessly over his shoulder, stepping inside with a quiet kind of presence that somehow still commanded attention.

Osamu glanced up and waved him over. “’Bout time, Kita.”

Kita?

You had heard the name before—Osamu had mentioned him once or twice. Something about an old teammate who ran his family’s farm, providing the rice Osamu used in his onigiri.

“This all for today?” Osamu asked, wiping his hands on a towel.

Kita nodded. “Yes. The rest will come next week.” His voice was steady, polite. Not stiff, but deliberate. He shifted the bag of rice with ease, setting it down near the kitchen. That’s when his eyes met yours.

You quickly straightened, feeling oddly caught off guard by the sharpness of his gaze—not intimidating, just attentive. Like he took in every detail with quiet precision.

Osamu gestured lazily toward you. “Oh, right. This one’s my new neighbor. Keeps showin’ up in my kitchen.”

You shot him an unimpressed look before turning back to Kita, offering a small smile. “I promise I don’t just wander in uninvited. I only help out when it’s too packed and I have a day off.”

Kita gave a small nod. “I see.” You weren’t sure what to expect from him—maybe something polite and distant. Instead, after a brief pause, he added, “It’s good to help out.”

There was something about the way he said it—simple, but genuine. Like he truly meant it.

You found yourself standing there for a second longer than necessary before clearing your throat. “You’re the one who brings the rice, huh? Osamu’s always bragging about it.”

“’Cause it’s the best,” Osamu cut in proudly, nudging the sack of rice with his foot.

Kita didn’t react much, just gave a small, almost imperceptible tilt of his lips—not quite a smile, but close. “It’s just rice,” he said modestly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just rice that makes my onigiri unbeatable,” Osamu shot back.

Something about their dynamic made you chuckle. Kita was the complete opposite of Osamu’s loud, easygoing personality, but somehow, the two balanced each other out.

As Kita prepared to leave, he glanced at you again. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” you replied, feeling an odd sense of curiosity linger.

Then, almost as an afterthought, Kita reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “If you ever need anything, you can call.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. It wasn’t a direct invitation, not exactly. More like a practical offer, as if giving someone your number was just the natural thing to do.

Still, you took your phone out and exchanged numbers with him, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you the entire time.

As soon as Kita stepped out, Osamu leaned against the counter with an infuriating smirk. “Well, that’s new.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start.”

But even as you went back to work, you found yourself glancing at your phone, the new contact sitting there as a quiet reminder of today’s unexpected encounter. Maybe this town had more surprises for you after all.

So, when your phone buzzed a few days later, you didn’t expect it to be Kita. It wasn’t that you didn’t think he was the type to reach out—on the contrary, he struck you as someone who did exactly what he said he would. But even after exchanging numbers, you had assumed his offer was just out of politeness or practicality.

Kita Shinsuke

Osamu mentioned you were helping out at the restaurant today. Don’t forget to take breaks.

You blinked at the message before a small, amused smile crept onto your lips. Of course he’d check in like this—direct, but thoughtful in his own quiet way. Not that you knew much about him, but Osamu had told you quite a bit about his former team captain after your encounter.

You

Are you implying Osamu overworks me? Because you’d be correct.

Kita Shinsuke

I’d tell him to be mindful, but I doubt he’d listen.

You

Yeah, probably not. But free onigiri is a solid form of payment.

Kita Shinsuke

Hard to argue with that.

From there, it just... continued. A natural rhythm of conversation.

Some messages were short, little check-ins about your day. Others were longer, especially when you asked about his farm. He never bragged, never overexplained, but there was something fierce in the way he talked about his work—the kind of pride that didn’t need to be flashy to be real.

You liked that about him.And, slowly but surely, texting turned into more in-person moments.

— — — — — — — — — —

Kita started stopping by a little more often. At first, it was just for deliveries—same as before, nothing unusual. But then, there were moments when he wasn’t even dropping off rice.

Like the time he passed by in the evening, just as you were locking up the restaurant for Osamu. That day, you didn’t exactly help out—you just sat there, sipping a glass of wine and watching your friend work after your own exhausting day. But after resting for a bit, you decided Osamu should head to his flat for a shower while you took care of locking up.

“You’re still here,” Kita remarked, entering the store and glancing at the keys in your hand.

You shrugged. “Osamu was exhausted, so I closed up for him.”

Kita nodded, then looked at you for a moment before asking, “Have you eaten?”

You paused. Of course, you had a small bite when you arrived here two hours ago, but the idea of spending more time with him while eating together sounded nice too. “Not yet.”

Without another word, Kita reached into the bag he was carrying and handed you a neatly wrapped rice ball.

You blinked. “Wait—did you just casually have this on you?”

“I bring them sometimes when I visit my grandmother.” His tone was casual, but his intent was clear. He brought extra. Just in case.

You took it, something warm settling in your chest. “Thanks, Kita.”

“Hm.” He gave a small nod, watching as you took the first bite.

It was simple—rice, lightly salted, but somehow perfect.

You found yourself smiling. “Okay. I’m impressed.”

Kita’s lips quirked just slightly. “Good.”

You stayed downstairs at the restaurant for another hour, just chatting with him until he finally had to go home, and you locked up for real. That moment was just one of many.

— — — — — — — — — —

It was impossible not to notice how easy it was to be around Kita.

He wasn’t loud, wasn’t showy. But he always noticed the little things.

When you forgot your jacket on a chilly night, he handed you his without a word.

When you mentioned liking a certain type of tea, he brought some the next time he stopped by.

When Osamu teased you about something, Kita would sometimes give you a small glance, as if silently checking if you were actually bothered—and if you were, he’d effortlessly redirect the conversation.

It was subtle. But unmistakable. And, as much as you tried not to overthink it, there was something about him that made your heart stir.

One evening, after a particularly long shift, you sent the first message.

You

Hey, do you ever take breaks? Or are you secretly part machine?

A pause, then a reply.

Kita Shinsuke

I take breaks.

You

I’ll believe it when I see it.

Kita Shinsuke

I could say the same to you.

You

…Touché.

Then, after a brief pause—

Kita Shinsuke

If you’re free this weekend, let’s take a proper break.

You stared at the message for a moment, heart skipping a beat.

You

Are you asking me on a date, Kita?

His reply was quick.

Kita Shinsuke

Yes.

No hesitation. No unnecessary words. Just a simple yes.

You felt warmth creep up your face as you typed back.

You

…Then I’d love to.

Despite how naturally you and Kita had been growing closer the last few weeks, you still felt a little nervous as you got ready for your first official date.

It wasn’t that Kita made you nervous—quite the opposite, actually. He was probably the most calm and steady person you’d ever met. But there was something about this being an actual date that made you second-guess what to wear, whether you should do your hair differently, whether he’d even notice if you did.

You sighed in frustration as you stared at your reflection, trying to decide. Of course, this was when Osamu chose to barge into your apartment without so much as a knock.

“I heard from Kita,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe. “First date nerves, huh?”

You frowned at him in surprise. “How did you—?”

“Come on,” Osamu said with a smirk. “Kita’s not exactly subtle when it comes to things like this.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “He’s not the problem. I just... don’t know what to wear.”

Osamu’s expression softened, and he stepped further into the room. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got excellent taste.” He gave you a teasing look. “I figured you’d be nervous, so I’m here to make sure you don’t embarrass yourself.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I can dress myself, thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. But let’s be real, you’re overthinking this,” Osamu replied, walking over to your closet. “I’ll pick something that looks nice but also says, ‘I didn’t try too hard.’ Kita’s not into the flashy stuff, remember?”

You sighed in relief as he pulled a simple outfit from your wardrobe—nothing too fancy, but nice enough to look put-together. As he handed it to you, he shot you a knowing look. “Trust me. He’s going to like it, and you’re gonna look great.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the nerves lift just a little. “Thanks, Osamu.”

He winked. “Don’t mention it. Now go get ready—Kita’s waiting for you, and you’re gonna be fine.”

When you stepped outside, he was already there—right on time, of course.

“Hey,” you greeted, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets.

Kita gave you a once-over—not in an obvious way, but there was a brief moment where his gaze lingered just a little longer than usual before he nodded. “You look nice.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “Thanks,” you said, hoping you sounded normal. “You too.”

“You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

As you stepped out the door, you couldn’t help but smile at the small but meaningful gesture. There was a touch of nervousness in your voice when you finally admitted, “I wasn’t sure what to wear, so… Osamu helped me pick something out.”

Kita’s lips quirked up in the faintest smile, and you caught the soft look in his eyes as he responded, “I think it’s cute that you got some help.” His tone was light, but there was something warm there, something fond.

It made your heart flutter a little, and you felt the tension in your chest ease, as though the nerves of the night had just been soothed with a few simple words. You didn’t need anything flashy—his sincerity was more than enough.

You hadn’t expected Kita to plan anything extravagant—and he didn’t.

Instead, he took you somewhere peaceful and familiar—a small outdoor café near the river, one of those places you’d walked past before but never really noticed. The kind of place that felt comfortable, much like Kita himself.

The two of you sat outside, where there was a soft breeze and the quiet murmur of passing conversations.

“This is nice,” you admitted, glancing at him. “You come here often?”

“Sometimes,” he said, stirring his tea. “It’s quiet. Good place to think.”

That made sense. Kita always seemed like someone who valued peace and routine.

For a while, you just talked—easily, naturally. It wasn’t like those dates you’d seen in movies where there was pressure to be overly charming or make grand romantic gestures.

Instead, it was comfortable.

You asked him about the farm, about what he did when he wasn’t working, about his time playing volleyball in high school. He answered in his usual way—concise but thoughtful, every word meaningful.

At one point, you found yourself just watching him, taking in the way his eyes stayed focused, the way his fingers tapped lightly against his cup as he listened to you ranting about a rather rude patient you encountered yesterday.

He was so different from anyone you’d ever been interested in before. There was nothing loud or overly expressive about him. And yet, you found yourself drawn to him in a way that felt natural—undeniable.

After finishing your drinks, Kita suggested a walk.

The riverbank wasn’t far, and the two of you fell into step beside each other as you walked along the water, the golden hues of late afternoon making everything feel calm, unhurried.

At some point, without really thinking about it, your hand brushed against his.

You expected him to pull away or ignore it—but he didn’t.

Instead, he gently took your hand in his, interlinking your fingers. Your heart leapt at the simple but deliberate gesture. His touch was warm, steady, just like him.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked, glancing at you.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “No. Not at all.”

And that was it. No dramatics, no big speech—just Kita, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

As the two of you continued walking, it hit you:

This wasn’t just a first date. It was the start of something genuine. A connection that felt solid, unwavering.

It was him, in every way.

After your first date, something between you and Kita shifted—but in the most natural way possible.

There were no grand confessions, no sudden rush into something intense. Instead, it was quiet and steady, like the way the seasons changed—gradual, but undeniable.

Kita didn’t overwhelm you with constant texts or sudden romantic gestures. That wasn’t his style. But the way he showed he cared? It was in everything he did. He was paying even more attention than before.

If you mentioned being tired, he’d remind you to get rest—and if you brushed it off, he’d send a message later, just to check if you actually did.

If you liked a certain snack, he’d casually bring it the next time he stopped by, acting like it was nothing.

If you were overwhelmed, he didn’t push you to talk—but he’d stay close, making sure you knew he was there.

It wasn’t just that he remembered things—it was that he acted on them.

And honestly? It made your heart ache in the best way.

— — — — — — — — — —

One evening, you were hanging out at Onigiri Miya, helping Osamu close up once again. It had been a long day, and you could feel the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

“Yer draggin’ your feet,” Osamu pointed out, tossing a rag onto the counter. “Go home, ya look dead.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Osamu just waved a hand. “Quit complainin’ and go. Kita’s here anyway.”

Wait—what?

You turned toward the door, and sure enough, Kita was standing there, hands tucked into his pockets, watching you with that quiet, unreadable expression of his.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you said, tilting your head.

“I figured you’d be here late,” he replied simply. “Thought I’d check that you’re not overworking yourself.”

You blinked. He hadn’t texted. Hadn’t asked. He’d just… known.

Osamu smirked as he untied his apron. “Sheesh, I feel like a third wheel.”

You shot him a glare, but Kita—unfazed as always—just said, “Want to take a walk?”

Your exhaustion was immediately gone, the thought of taking a nice walk in the cool night air, making you wake up. “I’d love to.”

The night air was cool as you and Kita walked side by side, the streets quiet except for the occasional passing car.

For a while, neither of you spoke. And yet, it wasn’t awkward. It never was with him.

At some point, Kita reached out and took your hand—just like he had on your first date.

You smiled, squeezing his fingers slightly. “You really didn’t have to come all this way, you know.”

“I wanted to.” His voice was steady, certain. “That’s enough of a reason.”

You glanced up at him, heart skipping a beat. Kita never said things just to say them. Every word had weight.

“…You’re kind of unfair,” you murmured, more to yourself than anything.

Kita raised a brow. “How so?”

“You just—you say things so plainly,” you said, huffing out a soft laugh. “Like they’re the most obvious thing in the world.”

“Isn’t it?” He tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning your face as if he were assessing something important.

And then, without another word, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It was such a simple gesture, but the way he did it—calm, deliberate, like it was the most natural thing in the world—made your heart ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

Your breath hitched. Kita’s hand lingered just slightly before dropping back to his side.

“…I don’t think you realize how much you affect people,” you muttered, looking away.

Kita was quiet for a moment. Then, his fingers brushed against yours again, his grip firm but gentle. “I don’t need to affect everyone,” he said simply. “Just you.”

And just like that, you knew—this was real. This was him.

Steady. Sure. Yours.

Life didn’t change suddenly—but it changed surely.

Your relationship with Kita wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t full of dramatic confessions or over-the-top romantic gestures.

But it was real.

He didn’t smother you with constant attention, but he was always there—in the little moments, in the thoughtful gestures, in the quiet certainty that no matter what, he was someone you could rely on.

And the best part?

You didn’t have to guess how he felt.

— — — — — — — — — —

One morning, you woke up to the sound of soft knocking.

Groggy, you shuffled to the door and opened it to reveal Kita, standing there with two cups of tea and a small bag of rice balls.

“…Did I forget we had plans?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

“No.” He handed you a cup, as calm as ever. Just thought you might want breakfast after your twenty-four-hour shift yesterday.“

You blinked at him, warmth spreading in your chest. “I was literally about to just eat cereal,” you admitted, taking a sip.

Kita’s lips quirked slightly. “This is better.”

“…Yeah. It is.”

Without even thinking, you leaned up and kissed his cheek—a small, fleeting gesture.

The moment your lips brushed his skin, you realized what you’d done and froze, eyes widening.

Kita, ever unreadable, simply looked at you. “Hm.”

“…Was that okay?” you asked, suddenly unsure.

He tilted his head, considering. Then—without hesitation—he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The feeling was brief but firm, certain.

When he pulled away, he simply said, “Yes.”

And just like that, it was decided.

Kita wasn’t the kind of person who rushed things. He didn’t fall in love loudly—but when he fell, he meant it.

And that morning, standing in the doorway with tea in your hands and warmth in your chest, you realized something.

You hadn’t just found someone steady.

You had found home.

Masterlist

#haikyuu #kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuke fluff #Osamu miya

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luvzxr · 4 months ago

Text

Little Pougie

Hello! Hopefully you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am. I noticed a mistake I made in the last with the MC name but it's fixed now!

Thank you to the people who reblogged, it means so much to me that people enjoy my writing and I hope you continue to do so! now onto chapter 3!

Warnings: Mentions of drug use and alcohol, mention of physical abuse, possible smut in the future throughout this book.

Thank you for reading! xx

previous and next chapters

03. Jaw Breaker

JJ Maybank was trying his hardest to hold it together.

He cranked the wrench over and over again, tightening up a bolt on the inside of his bike. He was trying to find things to do to keep himself from going absolutely ballistic, But over time it was becoming increasingly hard to control.

Normally, he would have lost it by now. He would let his emotions get the best of him until that's all left to control him but instead of seeing different emotions; Sad, Happy, Anxious- But the only emotion that ever showed was pure rage.

Unfortunately, anger was the only thing he could ever show.

He was being evicted.

Usually, this situation wouldn't have remotely been something he was worried about since there were numerous occasions he was being thrown out, and then he'd work his magic like he always had and promised the property owner that he'd do some under-the-table work for them and that would help pay the bill.

But they wouldn't take that as payment this time around, unfortunately.

And what he truly felt the need to do was pummel someone's face in. He wanted to grab someone by the back of their head and slam it repeatedly into the ground. He wanted to feel the electricity shock igniting throughout his body, starting from his knuckles and ending up buried deep into someone else's cheekbone. He had nothing but the unkempt rage that he so desperately needed to let out in the form of violence.

He knew that John B would have no problem with taking him in and giving him a place to stay, for JJ was like a brother he never had- but John B didn't know, no one had. And he'd be damned if John B was going to have the opportunity to look at him like a charity case.

He grasped his chest, watching as his free hand shook from the amount of suppressed adrenaline rushing through his body like gasoline. And the longer he stood doing nothing was the exact moment he decided to change that.

He swung around to land the hardest punch he could on the closest firm object around him which just so happened to be the tree.

Two punch, three punch, four. His fifth hit the bark with a loud 'crack.' And with that, he knew he broke something- Was it his knuckles? or his hand? It certainly could of been his middle finger. But he didn't have the time or patience to care.

He turned his body back around and felt it slide down the bark. He glanced down at his fingers, a grimace working its way up his face once he saw the raw skin surrounding them. He used an old, grease-filled rag to wrap up his poor hand temporarily until he could use proper bandages.

Anger and violence were all that JJ knew. It progressively became worse over time. He didn't care what he broke. He didn't care how much blood was shed. He'd hit anything and everything that came into view.

The part he hated the most afterward was that he felt nothing but the antagonizing pain that came with busting his hand. That was the only thing he could feel, for the throbbing aligned with his heartbeat.

And this was the part where he'd crack open can after can until his liver was screaming at him, but at least he would have been way too intoxicated to feel a damn thing.

But he hadn't made that decision because he didn't want to.

A part of him hated himself. scratch that, he did hate himself but the part of him he hated the most was that he resorted to the same things that his own father fell back on, and that made him just as bad. But what should he care? The town had already seen him as the same piece of trash as they did his father.

He heard the rustling of someone approaching. He then began to find the figure to be a very familiar girl he's been trying so hard to avoid recently.

"JJ,"

"What do you want?" he barked, pinching the bridge of his nose before he decided to push himself up off the ground. He saw the person who stood before him was none other than, Kiara Carrera.

"We need to talk dude," Kiara said, approaching closer to him until the only thing separating the two of them was his bike.

"Do we really need to fucking talk right now?" JJ snapped.

"Yes. We do JJ."

"Then talk," He muttered. He loved Kie with every piece he had left of him, and he in a way understood where she was coming from- she just couldn't have been worse with the timing.

"JJ, something happened with us the other night-" She paused, noticing the dulled red cloth wrapped around his hand, "oh my god JJ, what happened?"

"Nothing that I haven't done before," He muttered unhappily.

"What was it this time?" Kiara asked, carefully.

For someone who wasn't born on the South Side of Outer Banks, Kiara Carrera was one of the most compassionate people JJ knew, other than Sophie. It was always one of the most amazing things to him how the girl managed to keep herself together; both around the Pouges and her own family.

"Don't worry about it."

"Please talk to me, JJ"

"What is there to talk about, Kie?"

"Us. What happened between us a few nights ago? It was weird but not a bad weird."

"No. It wasn't a bad weird." He was practically inches away from her now, glancing between her eyes and lips before he pulled himself back, "What are we doing? We shouldn't be doing this. Nah,"

"It would all blow up anyway, y'know. Like, look at you. You got your new Freds on,"

"Nah, y'know. You got parents that live on figure 8," His hand raised, curting in the direction Kiara came from.

"That's not my fault," her voice was soft, almost fragile as if it and her heart would break any minute. But perhaps her heart was already broken.

"You got that," His hands grazing through his hair before wringing his fingers together at the back of his head.

She sighed, "If you need us; we're gonna help you. I'm-" Kiara was on the verge of tears, trying so desperately to hold herself together, "I'll help."

"Kay, that right there!" He swung around, pointing his index finger in her general direction.

help. He's heard that word so many times that it was beginning to sound tedious to him, "okay. like, It's so easy for you to say that. You know why?" His voice began to break.

"Because you're a Kook. You're a Kook Kiara," He spat, referring crudely to the fact she never had to worry about not having somewhere to go or being able to have food on the table. She didn't know the true struggle of life that JJ had been hit with more times than he could count.

"JJ-"

"You wanna help?" He scoffed in disbelief, "Let it go. Because It's never gonna work, Kie."

(Y/n) could hardly keep her eye's open.

Despite the infinite amount of appreciation, (Y/n) had for Kie- she had been the one who got (Y/n/n) the job after all. The Wreck was completely desolated of Pouges, Kooks, and employees alike. Which only bored Sophie, because she couldn't stand how inactive and dead it was.

Actually, disregard that completely. She loved inactivity. Just hated it when she was working a twelve hour shift and had nothing else productive to do with her time.

She had hoped that maybe JJ or even John B would show to keep her company but soon came to realize that probably wasn't going to happen either, which was only more of a bummer. Usually, she'd be working alongside Kiara, and things never got boring. But Kiara hadn't shown up for her shift, which worried (y/n) a bit but neither of Kie's parents seemed too surprised about her absence at the restaurant, for they probably assumed she ditched to hang with JJ or the other Pouges.

She'd never worked this late before. John B would never let her. But (Y/n) had practically begged him and She pulled off the old-fashioned puppy dog eyes to let her pick up a few extra hours. John B couldn't possibly tell her no then- though now, she was slowly beginning to regret her little scheme against her older brother.

(Y/n) watched as it began to get darker with each passing hour and If it hadn't been for the fact that John B always picked her up after her shifts, she probably wouldn't even step foot outside.

She also could always just become a big girl and catch a ride in an Uber- but that required money that she desperately needed in order to help pay the bills, And the fact in general that catching a ride with a complete stranger scared her. Her whole life she was told not to trust strangers or Kooks, but she truly didn't trust anybody she didn't know. So getting into a car with a complete stranger wasn't exactly at the top of her bucket list.

Her shift was nearing the end and she was practically jumping for joy. Her feet felt achy and her eyes felt like ten pounds were added to them just on their own- she couldn't wait to kick off her shoes and crash on the couch watching a dumb cartoon play reruns as background noise while she dozed off.

She heard the single door to the small restaurant sliding open, catching her attention momentarily. She then saw an unfamiliar, masculine figure out of the corner of her eye, hardly being able to ignore it.

"Well, aren't you a pretty little dime."

She hesitated. Did she hear that correctly? Was this strange man talking to her? He had to of been, for she was the only one in the room momentarily which had only made her stomach churn. She was in this room- alone, with this much older man and she had no clue who he was.

He stood in the doorway, momentarily. And at first, it seemed that was as close as he'd ever get but eventually he staggered over- Inching closer and closer, shortening the space between (Y/n) and himself.

(Y/n) tried to disengage, she tried to keep to herself and not give the man even a smidge of attention- for that would probably only make the man stay for a much longer period of time and she certainly didn't want that.

She tried explaining that they were closing and he would have to come back tomorrow or another day but that didn't seem to phase him. He wasn't leaving.

"Come on, sweetheart. I just wanna talk to ya,"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a bit busy trying to close up and my ride should be here shortly," She muttered back. She was panicking deep down inside and it only got worse the longer she had to stand and listen to the disgusting pet names. She simply wanted to slam her head face-first into a wall.

She took a few steps back from the man. He was practically breathing down her throat and it was beginning to make her increasingly uncomfortable; more than she already was.

The man made a swift movement, gripping her wrist, "Come on, I just wanna take you back to my place. We don't even have to talk because your pretty little lips would be preoccupied with something els-"

"You're disgusting," (Y/n) interjected, utterly revolted by the words slipping from this man's mouth and the undermining confidence in them. It was as if he personally convinced himself that there was a way of persuading her. It made her stomach churn even more.

"Ooh, look at the pretty girl finally gathering enough courage to speak up when only moments ago she wouldn't even look at me," He smirked. (Y/n)'s cheeks reddened at the way he mocked her; he didn't even know her but knew all the ways to make her feel so little compared to him. The fact he knew just the right things to say to make a girl feel so powerless, quite literally, unnerved her.

Her tone was soft and hesitant, "Please, stop,"

"I've heard those words a million times, love." His face crept closer to hers, and that was when she could smell the overpowering stench of alcohol on his tongue.

(Y/n)'s lips began to purse at his crude statement, the lump in her throat was threatening to choke her. Her heart was racing, and if it had a mind of its own; it probably would of chosen to kill her at this very moment. But at least it would save her from the horrid things this man had cooking up in his own head.

"The things I'm going to do to you, sweethea—"

Before the man could finish his sentence he was being ripped away from (Y/n), his grip on her wrist moments ago was no longer. A loud and elicited groan from the man fell from his lips while he now was being pinned against the brick wall behind him.

A loud yelp was earned by (Y/n). Neither of them was expecting the sudden switch- For as Sophie was expecting to be dragged out of there and all that would be left to find from her was her body; months later in a ditch somewhere.

JJ Maybank was standing before her, practically turning the man against the wall into a mixture of fear and confusion, and a part of him almost wanted to laugh, for it was something worth taking a picture of and framing. The man was trembling in JJ's grasp when moments ago he had ahold of a sweet, Innocent girl the same exact way.

JJ was ready to punch him- he wanted to. He wanted to beat the ever-living hell out of him until the man was begging for his life while laying in a puddle of his own blood. The veins in his arms protruded, his knuckles turning ghost white from the pressure he held with his balled-up fists.

"You want to finish that sentence, man?!"

"What the fuc-" The man's eyes grew frantic, desperately trying to wiggle out of JJ's grasp.

"What were you gonna say? You'd do what exactly to her?!" JJ shouted.

"No- No!- I was just leaving! Let g-"

"You like touching her and girls like her?"

"I- I didn't- I didn't touch her!"

JJ adjusted his grip, shaking the man with a voice of furious resentment.

"Ooh, you didn't touch her? It looked pretty clear to me that you were!" He bellowed, slamming the man harder against the wall, fury coursing through his own veins like wildfire.

This was the side of JJ that he rarely let loose. The side of him where he didn't care anymore, he didn't care how long he'd be in jail or if he'd ever get out cause he caught a case where the murder was what the trial was for. It was terrifying.

He was being blinded by vexation, exasperated to the point he couldn't possibly believe that a pervert like him would be so messed up in the head to even remotely try and touch an innocent girl like (Y/n).

Millions of thoughts ran through JJ's head, each one more crude than the last.

The things I'm going to do to you.

He could feel the man trying to escape him, trying to push JJ off or pull away from his grasp. He could see fear in the man's eyes as his grip only grew tighter against the balled up cloth held in JJ's fists.

Your pretty little lips would be preoccupied.

He wanted to take advantage of her. He wanted to use (Y/n), Innocent (Y/n), one of the only people who would trade her own happiness just so someone else could finally be happy.

I've heard those words a million times, love.

JJ lost it. He couldn't hold himself together anymore.

He retracted his fist, closing up the small amount of space between the man's neck and his forearm before clenching his jaw, pursing his lips, broadening up his stance, and striking the poor guy right across his jaw.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj outer banks #obx4 #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks #john b routledge

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