#the emotional progress is slow but he's gonna do it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allmoshnobrain · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober 2024 masterlist | day two

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

dean winchester x reader | gun play

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, +18, mxf sex, gun play, early seasons dean

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You wanted to become a hunter. You really did.

It was hard not to want it, not after some freak disease tore through your town, turning your family and friends into monsters, leaving you the only one standing. Not after everything you knew in your life just crumbled, replaced by fear, anger and hatred — the need to get revenge, to make whoever caused all this hurt pay, or at least stop them from existing in the most painful way possible.

You wanted to become a hunter.

But damn, it was harder than you ever thought it’d be.

Putting all the emotional stuff aside, trying to get fit and strong wasn’t exactly on your radar back then. But when life flips on you, you’ve got to roll with it. Different situations, different game plans. You’d do whatever it took to get strong enough to take down as many monsters as possible, as fast as you could.

The Winchesters had your back from the moment they met you. After pulling you out of the mess you’d been through, they took you to Bobby’s place while you tried to piece your life back together. When you told them you wanted to be a hunter, Sam was the first to try and talk you out of it. But Dean — Dean got it. He knew exactly what that fire burning in your chest felt like. He knew there was no way you’d walk away from chasing your revenge.

And that’s how Dean ended up teaching you the basics. While Sam and Bobby were out of town chasing a lead on a new case, you and Dean spent whatever time you could practicing — shooting, self-defense, throwing punches, sure, but also learning about the different creatures out there, their weak spots, and how to take them down.

You were great at the book stuff. The physical part? Not so much.

“You still got a lot to learn,” Dean said, and you could hear the frustration in his voice. He’d been trying to teach you some self-defense skills for the past hour, but you hadn’t really made much progress. “You can’t go hunting if you can’t even defend yourself.”

“I’m trying,” you shot back, frowning, feeling just as frustrated. “I’m not you, okay? I haven’t been doing this my whole life!”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, giving you a look like he was trying to figure you out. “Maybe we should just take a break. You’ll probably do better tomorrow,” he suggested, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

You ended up going back upstairs to the guest room you were crashing in, grabbing some clothes, and heading to the bathroom. Maybe a warm bath would help loosen up your sore muscles from all the intense training you’d been doing for the past few weeks.

You knew Dean was probably waiting for you to come back down eventually to study more about the creatures you’d be up against — or, realistically, he’d spend hours bragging about his past hunts as a way to teach you the ropes — but you just weren’t feeling it. The frustration from your slow progress was really starting to get to you. You wondered if he’d even bother to come looking for you if you stayed in your room until morning.

Unfortunately, you got your answer pretty quick — right after you got back from your shower, hair still damp, muscles still kinda sore. The second you opened the door to your room, someone grabbed your wrist, their grip way stronger than yours. You yelped, heart pounding with shock and fear, and you were just about to yell for Dean, thinking something broke into the house, when you felt the cold barrel of a gun press into your back.

“Surprise, honey,” Dean said, and you struggled in his grip, trying to shake loose from his hold on your wrist.

“Dean, what the hell?” you yelled, and he grunted when you tried to stomp on his foot, just pulling you in closer, his chest pressed against your back while his gun dug into your lower back.

“Gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart. Come on, you got this,” he mumbled, his breath warm against your neck. You took your shot and elbowed him in the stomach. He let out a low grunt, his grip on your wrist loosening just enough for you to break free. You turned to face him, breathing hard, your face burning with anger.

“What the fuck, Dean?” you snapped. He had the nerve to smile, like scaring you half to death was just some kind of joke. You glanced at the gun in his hands and then back at his face, your frown deepening. “Is that shit loaded?”

“Of course it isn’t loaded,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out the bullet cartridge to prove it. You huffed, shooting him a death glare for that stupid grin. “Come on, sweets. I just wanted to see how you’d handle some pressure. Gotta say, it was way more entertaining than our regular training.”

“That’s not funny, Dean,” you shot back, and he just laughed.

“Funny or not, you still got me to let you go, didn’t you?” He grinned, and you rolled your eyes, feeling some of your anger slip away, but not all of it. Your heart skipped a beat when he stepped in closer, using the gun to lift your chin. “You think too much. You gotta go with your gut a bit more.”

You looked up at him, your breath hitching and your cheeks warming, not missing that little smirk on his lips as he stared down at you, tension bubbling in your stomach like a wave. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear:

“You’re not gonna make it as a hunter if you freeze up like prey every time you see a gun, honey.”

You grunted, trying to snatch the gun from him in one quick move, but he was quicker. He grabbed your shoulder and shoved you against the wall, putting his knee between your legs and trapping you with his body.

“You scared of this?” he asked, glancing at the gun in his hand. You didn’t reply, just shot him a glare filled with anger. He scoffed. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“Thought you were having enough fun yapping away by yourself,” you muttered. “Can you let me go? Please?”

He chuckled softly but finally pulled back. You let out a sigh, rubbing your wrist where he had grabbed you. It was a bit sore, and oh, how you wished you could make him pay for it.

“You're such a jerk,” you growled, and he raised an eyebrow. Oh, you caught on. He's getting annoyed.

“I was just trying to help you, dumbass,” he said, pressing the cold metal of the gun against your cheek. “That pretty face of yours isn’t gonna get you far when you’re up against someone with a gun.”

“I thought we were killing monsters,” you shot back, and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb. Some monsters know how to use guns if they have to,” he said, his gun sliding from your cheek down to your neck, then your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath when it traced the edge of your shirt, pulling it down a bit. You felt your cheeks heat up, your nipples stiff against the fabric of your shirt, a reminder that you weren’t wearing a bra. “You keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I might just think you’re into this.”

“Cut it out, Dean,” you breathed, your face going red. He laughed softly, stepping closer.

“You know, maybe I deserve a little reward for being such a great teacher, don’t you think?” he whispered, slowly. “How about you take your shirt off for me?”

“Oh, so you have to hold people at gunpoint to get them to strip for you?” you shot back, a sharp smirk on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, and then his mouth was on yours, lips rough and demanding as his tongue tasted your mouth. You grabbed the front of his shirt, a mix of annoyance and desire washing over you as he pressed his body into yours. “Wait, let me just stash this,” he said, looking for a place to put his gun, but you grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your face heating up. He blinked, eyebrows shooting up as he pulled back a bit.

“Oh, so you’re a little freaky, huh?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up,” you growled before pulling him in for another kiss. He grunted against your lips, his free hand tugging off your shirt. You yelped when he spun you around, shoving you toward the bed like it was no big deal. No wonder you were struggling with self-defense against someone this strong.

“Maybe you’re finding our training tough 'cause you kinda like being held like this, huh?” Dean grunted, his voice low as he bent you over the bed, your cheek pressing into the mattress. “Wrists,” he ordered, and you quickly put your hands behind your back. He chuckled, clearly surprised at how obedient you were, his big hand locking onto both your wrists with a solid grip.

You bit your lip as he set the gun down on the bed right in front of you, then used his free hand to slide your pants and panties down to your ankles. You shivered, a soft sigh escaping your lips as his fingertips circled your wetness. He let out a low hum and pushed a couple of fingers inside slowly.

“Dean,” you gasped. He grabbed his gun again, the cold metal gliding along your spine.

“Be good now,” he whispered, and you let out a whimper as he pressed the flat top of the barrel against your pussy, rubbing the cold steel against your clit. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need, huh? Just a little release? I can help with that.”

“Please,” you moaned, closing your eyes, and he chuckled softly, pushing his gun harder against your wetness. You gasped as tension started to build in your belly, your legs shaking a bit. “Dean, I—”

“Shush, honey,” he whispered, moving the gun gently. “Just let go, beautiful.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you whined, and he laughed. You moved your hips in slow circles, chasing that friction as tears threatened to spill, trying to catch your breath while Dean's teasing motions tightened the knot in your belly.

“You’re gonna cum all over my gun, huh?” he murmured, absentmindedly. You choked out a moan in reply, and he laughed. “Wow, you’re a fucked-up one, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one with a gun against my cunt,” you whined, and he snorted.

“You’re the one who asked for it,” he said softly, and you bit your lip, moaning as he pressed the cold steel against your entrance. “Damn… You’re so wet, I bet it’d slide right in.”

“Oh,” you moaned, your body reacting to his words, walls clenching around nothing as you got closer to your orgasm. “Dean…”

“Hmm, cum for me, beautiful, come on,” he whispered, his hand leaving your wrists to tangle in your hair while the other pressed the gun against your clit again. “You got this, come on.”

You moaned again, the cold, hard surface rubbing against your swollen clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Tears were about to spill from your eyes as your walls clenched — softly at first, then harder and harder — until you let out a choked moan, your peak making your body shake in Dean’s grip.

“Dean,” you whined, practically begging, a sob slipping out as your whole body trembled. He let out a soft hum, whispering sweet nothings as he helped you ride out your orgasm: how you were so, so good, coming all over his hand like this.

He let go of your hair soon after, pulling back as you tried to catch your breath. You shifted on the bed, lying on your back, eyes all hazy as you looked at Dean, who was wiping your juices off his gun with your shirt. You let out a small, breathy moan at the sight, and he looked up at you, pupils dilated and face flushed, a clear bulge in his denim pants.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said softly, setting his gun on the bedside table before unbuckling his belt. You felt your swollen pussy clench when he smirked mischievously, his eyes never leaving yours as he crawled onto the bed, positioning himself between your thighs. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

Participate in the kinktober writing list with my FREE SPACE dynamic. There are some free spaces for specific pairings and you can shoot me asks with suggestions for kinks and plots featuring them. I will choose one for each character featured to write! Free spaces available: Sam Winchester (SPN), Jason Newsted (Metallica), Cap. John Price (COD), Kakashi Hatake (Naruto), Cronos (Venom)

#ada writes fanfiction #kinktober 2024 #dean winchester smut #spn smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #spn x you #dean winchester #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #spn fic

300 notes · View notes

tlou-obsessed · 18 days ago

Text

Okay so I'm gonna ramble more about 'The Wild Robot': spoiler alert:

Brightbill was never supposed to come this far, he's what they call a runt, the odds were stacked against him from the beginning of his life. He got raised by Roz and became the odd man out, they bullied him, no one accepted him. All that happens and he starts internalizing that hate..

But then the importance of a support system is shown, because even as Brightbill wants to quit, Roz won't let him, and not only her but Fink and Thunderbolt start supporting him too:

This is so amazing, because what Brightbill has been led to believe is a disadvantage Thunderbolt lets him know it's not, that it's even beautiful.

Not only that but he compliments Brightbills wings after making him, not letting him, but making him show his wings off, rewiring his beliefs.

Then you have the way Longneck took him under his wing among all those bullies, and all he did was be gentle with him and believing in him, and they did an amazing job in showing how important that is, making Brightbill take the lead to get all the geese out.

What made me even more emotional is that this moment Roz tells him: "Remember, there's nothing he can do that you can't". We see him repeating the same thing later on

motivating the rest the same way his momma did...

"Fly like you, not like them". You may not be able to fly like them, but you can fly like you, and it might take a little longer and a little more work, but you'll get there.

Its so beautiful to see what wonders a support system does. What a beautiful movie to all the people who grew up or are living with disadvantages that slow their progress, this gives some hope, that Endurance is a mighty force, we'll get there eventually.

#I think especially now that Im tutoring some kids this hits me hard #because those kiddos are so insecure #so ashamed of making mistakes #so ashamed that they cant perform better and read faster and remember things #and it makes me so sad #especially when i see them get shy when I compliment them #or when they make their accomplishments less #the support system is so important #so insanely important for kids and adults alike #the wild robot #brightbill #roz the wild robot #rozzum unit 7134 #fink the fox #pedro pascal #lupita nyong'o

98 notes · View notes

anna-proxx · 6 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 (pt. 1)

pairing: low honor arthur morgan x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, violence

word count: 3066

description: you were captured by the van der linde gang for being colm's sister, in hopes you'd be useful. you have to deal with a big bad cowboy who isn't inclined to letting you go.

a/n: another part in progress!

The tree's rough bark kept pushing into your back as the rope remained tied around your body and the trunk, making you an inseparable pair for the time being.

You were agitated with the way your muscles ached and would kill for a short stretch. The sun was setting and shining brightly in your eyes, blinding your vision. You would admire such a sight normally, but now it made your head hurt and the heat made strings of sweat trickle down your skin.

All that was entirely pointless. Whatever this gang was, holding you captured would do no good for them. You were Colm's half-sister, no point in denying that – but you had nothing to do with him or the O'Driscolls.

This was simply stupid. They kept you here hungry and uncomfortable like a prize, as if Colm ever cared for you enough to be useful for them.

Your gaze shot towards the camp as you noticed someone coming your way. A big cowboy dressed in black, his hands placed leisurely on his gun belt as he walked towards you slowly but with a confident stride.

You slightly squinted your eyes, following him with your gaze with anything but a friendly expression.

He was there, when you were captured, and he was the one to tie you up and throw you onto the horse so crudely.

He stopped to stand right before you, a cocky smile on his face as he towered you, while you sat on the ground. Despite having to look up at him, your eyes were full of anger and protest, refusing to be submissive.

He took his time with informing you why he was there, clearly enjoying the power difference as he calmly pulled out a cigarette and held it in his fingers with his intense stare fixated on you, then flicked it alight and smoked in a relaxed manner.

"So..." he finally spoke, his voice low and deep, "ya gon’ tell me som'thing useful? We might not be killin' ya then."

You gave him a hateful look. What a jerk.

"I know nothing. Haven't seen Colm for ages," you said truthfully, your tone not concealing your irritation though.

He tapped on his cigarette as he continued to study you, clearly not believing what you said.

He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"I'd speak if I were u, lil rabbit. Don've a ton o'patience."

You sighed in frustration, letting your head hang low. "I. Know. Nothing."

You looked up again, meeting the same hard gaze that still lingered on you.

"And if you think that you can use me to manipulate Colm, I'll have to disappoint you. He doesn't give a shit about me," you added, hoping it would get through the thick skull of his that you were indeed not lying.

He lowly chuckled. "He was surely pissed when we killed his brother."

"Well I ain't his brother."

"Yer his sister."

"Half-sister." And much younger.

You squinted your eyes again, not liking at all how arrogantly he stood in front of you, smoking as if you were at his mercy.

Well, you kind of were, but if you got the freedom, you'd punch the annoying expression off of his face.

He took another slow drag of his cigarette, his other hand remaining on his gun belt as he seemed to think.

"Such a pretty face, what a pity," he muttered, no sign of a single emotion in his tone.

You slightly shivered and your heartbeat sped up. Were they gonna kill you, only for the misfortune of who was the one to conceive you? What a stupid death.

"Please, I'm telling you the truth. I know nothing about Colm and he doesn't care about me. You captured me for nothing."

Your gaze was now soft as you pleaded with your eyes, hoping for at least a little slice of empathy.

Maybe if you had the chance to talk to one of the women you saw in the camp instead of this crude outlaw? You did nothing wrong.

He took his time before taking a step forward and squatting in front of you to be face to face.

The sun was almost entirely hidden behind the horizon now and the shine wasn't so blinding anymore, just a gently lit sky, slowly clouded from east, a threat of a storm in its tail.

"Listen, lil rabbit," he threatened, his blue eyes piercing right through you, "I've been put'n charge of ya and I ain't much big on mercy. 'S not looking very bright for ya and if yer lying... M'not against makin' a lady beg me to kill 'er."

Your feisty side clawed its way out as you stared into this stranger's eyes. Being treated so unfairly despite none of this being your fault.

You were refusing to fold. If you were gonna get killed anyway, at least you'd keep your dignity. Hopefully karma would then get this son of a bitch.

"You bastar–" you said lowly before thinking, but were interrupted by a puff from cigarette blown right in your face. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you turned your head to the side, avoiding the smoke as much as you could.

When you looked back, you saw a cocky grin playing on his lips once again. You considered spitting in his face but decided against it. You were angry but not that suicidal yet.

"Lil rabbit has claws, huh?" He held the cigarette between his fingers now, away from his lips as he continued to smirk, the smoke flowing up the air.

"Why don't you just let me go? I won't tell nothing. Just release me and we can all forget about this," you tried to reason this time, but the annoyance in your voice was still obvious.

He cocked his eyebrow and seemed amused by your attempt. That man most likely had no interest in letting you go that easily.

A thunder echoed in the distance, roaring like an animal warning its prey. You felt a little shiver in your stomach; you wouldn't be left here outside in a storm, right?

The man looked in the direction of the sound shortly before stubbing out his cigarette and throwing it away in the grass, getting up to his feet.

You looked up and saw big black clouds quickly stretching themselves across the sky. The sky was clear just a little while ago, how fast did this come?

The man seemed to be leaving and you panicked, scratching your back against the tree as you tried to move. The rope dug into your abdomen and held you back, keeping you a prisoner.

"Wait!" you shouted and were met with a curious gaze from the outlaw who now stopped in his tracks, waiting for what you had to say.

"Don't let me out in the rain, I'll die of hypothermia."

You were dressed lightly, your arms exposed and the rest of your body clothed in a rather thin material. Sitting in a pool of rain, drenched through and through would do you no good.

The cowboy chuckled. What was so amusing?

"We ain't a resort, lady."

"Fuck you." The words left your mouth before you could consider them. You always had a big mouth, except now it could get you killed.

You froze as you realized what you'd just said, watching intently his every move.

He scratched his chin as if thinking, then walked back over to you, lowering to your level again. You noticed he smelled of tobacco, brandy and gunpowder. It tickled in your nose at such close proximity.

"Yer gon' keep your mouth shut and do what I say, u understand?" he threatened with a rough tone, a warning in his eyes.

You kept quiet and nodded, a small hope rising within you.

The rain started drumming around you as the clouds tore, the raindrops large and cold, gliding down your skin like tears.

The man hadn't moved, instead continued staring at you one moment more, his face shielded from the rain by his gambler hat.

Finally he drew out a knife from his belt and with one swing cut the rope. You felt relief around your waist and abdomen as the pressure was suddenly gone; the first thing you did was move from the tree trunk and roll your neck, quietly sighing in relief.

You were getting progressively wetter as the rain now came down mercilessly, hitting everything in its way. The last sun rays were hidden behind the ominous clouds, concealing everything below in their shadow. You found yourself almost in darkness, but could still make out the outlines of your surroundings and features of the man as well.

You sat on the wet grass with only your feet and hands tied together. He freed your legs but left your wrists as they were, then grabbed your forearm and roughly pulled you up, making you almost fall as fast as you got up.

Your head spun shortly and it took you a second to realize what was happening. Your legs were sore as well, so you tried your best to put one foot before the other, stumbling a few times as he strode through the camp with his hand around your arm, jerking you forward anytime you fell behind.

You didn't dare to say anything and only prayed he wouldn't harm you. He was much taller than you and bigger as well and though you knew how to defend yourself, there was no way of breaking free from this guy, at least not without any weapons.

You both were already drenched by the time you made it to his tent. He opened its flaps with one hand and dragged you inside, soft lamp light lighting up the space.

At least you were sheltered from the rain now, which was much appreciated.

But you were still in danger and you realized that very well.

You stood in the middle, following the man with your eyes. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at you, his face grim.

"Don' do anythin' stupid, unless you want a bullet in yer head."

His stern tone made the warning believable.

I thought you'd make me beg for death, you thought, but held your tongue. It wasn't a smart thing to say when staring into the insides of his gun’s barrel.

"Okay," you simply replied, keeping your tone neutral.

You held eye contact, waiting for whatever happens next while he appeared to analyze you. He probably wouldn't kill you just because, he seemed to be cruel but not mad.

"Sit 'ere," he then commanded, gesturing towards a chair with his gun.

You listened and sat without a word, just hoping not to get kicked out outside where, in the meantime, the storm unleashed all its might, creating a perfect nightmare setting.

Your capturer sat on the bed and put his gun aside, his gaze not leaving you.

"If yer smart, ya won't cause any trouble." He paused for a moment. "Are ya smart?"

"If I am, will you let me go?"

He chuckled. "And escort ya to the sheriff while I'm at it."

You leaned against the chair properly, relaxing your muscles while your wrists kept rubbing against the rope still.

"I already told you. I'll only be a burden and inconvenience if you keep me here, I've got no worth for you."

"We'll see."

"What? Why? What are you gonna do with me?" You straightened your back and leaned forward.

"Yer asking too many questions, lil rabbit." He got up and walked towards you.

You watched his every move intently with a subdued breath, your senses barely registering the thunder outside.

He put his hands on each of the chair's arm rests and leaned in so close you instinctively pushed yourself against the back of the chair, keeping as much distance as you could. You still held eye contact though, not wanting to satisfy his intimidation.

"What a pretty house we'd found ya in, you livin' alone, huh?" It wasn't a question as much as a statement – they had paid you an unexpected visit after all, clearly expecting you to be alone.

The smell of cigarettes and alcohol hit your nose again with every breath you took. It made you slightly dizzy.

"Yes," you replied dryly as you realized he was waiting for your response. You uncomfortably shifted under his piercing blue gaze. In other circumstances you'd find his eyes pretty, but that wasn't important now.

You could basically spot every blemish on his face and you felt more awkward every passing moment. Still you watched him as he watched you. A raindrop fell down from the rim of his hat onto the bare skin of your arm; you slightly flinched.

"The spot in the wooden floor under yer bed was a real smart idea," he spoke slowly, watching the wheels in your head turn, "Yer unfortunate y'weren't the only one to hav' it."

His voice rumbled deep from his chest, a hint of mockery in it.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the first signs of shock on your face, savoring your expression.

You indeed were shocked, frozen for at least a few moments, before anger spread out in you like a wildfire.

These fuckers not only kidnapped you, for all false reasons, but also robbed you. Took all the money you had been saving for years.

Was this some sick kind of karma for your old life? A joke of a punishment from God? You didn't know whether you should cry, curse or laugh. You squinted your eyes instead.

"You..." a low growl escaped your mouth but you struggled to find a fitting word to follow.

"Arthur," the man finished your sentence, grinning over your angered face.

His somewhat relaxed and mocking attitude made you loosen up your tongue a little.

"If my hands weren't tied, I'd claw your pretty eyes out," you muttered, a light sarcastic smile flashing on your lips.

You half-expected a slap or any other physical punishment but there was none. Just a raised eyebrow and more amusement.

"Yer a real feisty one, O'Driscoll girl."

"I ain't O'Driscoll! It's not even my name!"

It was true, you kept your mother's last name, you didn't want to have anything to do with the O’Driscolls.

Of course, Arthur only said that to irritate you, and it worked.

Arthur straightened his back and took a step back, finally giving you space to breathe.

"Yer entertain' fo'sure. But that big mouth of yers might get ya killed eventually."

He sat on his bed again but this time made himself more comfortable, resting in half lying position, arms propped behind his head and one leg hanging from the side.

"Your lack of understanding for personal space might," you mumbled in response, loosely sitting on the chair in resignation.

Another deep chuckle.

"Careful."

For a while there were only sounds of the raging storm, giving you time to think.

Technically, you could carry out a very lame attempt to escape, but to be fair, you didn't really want to. Not when there was an apocalypse happening behind the canvas.

Arthur must've known that too, given his relaxed supervision over you and his gun lying beside him as if you couldn't surprise him and snatch it away. Not like you could do much with it, he'd probably knock it out of your hand before your fingers could find the trigger.

Another loud thunder and more raining. In other conditions you might even find the ambience relaxing. It did make you feel a bit more sleepy. Especially when there was no more interaction now. Just a silent eye contact as the cowboy seemed to be deep in thought.

Then a daring thought crossed your mind and you bit your lip as you considered it. Despite his cruel handling and cold character, he didn't seem like he'd want to kill or hurt you. At least not now. He already had plenty of reasons to hit you but he didn't.

And if they still had plans with you, they wouldn't risk getting you killed, right? To put all the effort into nothing.

After all, you heard him being ordered to tie you up when they kicked your door down, so he wasn't the one in charge.

Maybe, just maybe, if you were annoying enough, he'd get so fed up that you'd eventually be released, instead of being kept around like a pig for slaughter.

You cleared your throat, getting back the outlaw's attention. "So… Arthur. And last name?" You paused for a moment, keeping your tone dry as you spoke. "Does it have anything to do with you being an asshole?"

You smiled sweetly, still angry about all the things he had done that annoyed you. He really was quite a pain in the ass. And you hoped to reciprocate the feeling.

"Ya should really go t'sleep instead, tiredness makes ya suicidal."

"I'm still drenched by the rain," you complained, not breaking the eye contact.

"Ya want me to change yer clothes?" He started getting up jokingly; your eyes widened.

"No!" You stopped him in the middle of his movement, making him grin and return to his former position.

"Yer lucky I'm in a patient mood t'day, ya know," he said, slightly furrowing his brow as he recalled something. "Knew this fella, forgot his name. He could've been fine. But, ya see," he told his story in a slow dramatic tone that could be interpreted as another threat, "he wouldn't shut his mouth. Could've been quiet but he preferred a bullet in his face instead."

Another warning?

"All you've done has been threatening me so far," you mumbled in response but froze as soon as you realized what you said. This might've been over the line, a little too teasing for your own good.

You immediately searched for his facial expression but hardly, considering it was partly covered by his hat and the oil lamp has been doing a frail job lighting up his face.

"So what, y'want me to hurt ya? 'S that your thing?" he replied, his voice laced with annoyance this time.

"No," you said clearly but your voice betrayed you with its shakiness. You still sat there with rope biting into your skin as it tightly kept your hands together.

You sighed; frankly, every moment drained your energy and you didn't have much left of it.

Your thoughts were becoming more muted and mushed every second of silence but you tried keeping yourself awake as long as you could.

However, your body demanded sleep.

Arthur had nothing else to say and only watched you idly, letting you slowly lose your consciousness.

God, you were really tired. So tired you even stopped minding the wet clothes clinging to your skin or the raindrops dropping from your hair.

The storm continued to rumble on, but you were slowly losing the sense of it as you drifted off.

With your wrists scraped, sitting on an entirely uncomfortable hard wooden chair that was already making your back hurt, the reality was slowly being replaced by strange chain of visions from your subconscious mind.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #low honor arthur morgan #☆ annie writes

230 notes · View notes

miniversse · 7 months ago

Text

⭑”race my heart”pt.2⭑

╰┈➤ OTHER PARTS

⭑ lee know x female reader

⭑ synopsis: lee know, your academic rival strikes your path again during a motorbike meet up, and the lines of hatred and love begin to blur. as the engines rev and the wind blows hard, these lines intertwine and you both spill the bottles of emotions you had for eachother.

⭑ content includes: unprotected sex, spanking, degrading, non-idol lee know, non-idol reader, in established relationship, enemies to lovers, drinking, semi-public sex

⭑ minors dni

⭑——————————————————⭑

as we zoomed through the city streets, the wind rushed past us, and i let my eyes fall shut to take in the cold air. the engine roared as lee know would pick up his pace and you had no other choice but to hold him tighter and push your body closer to his. the way he handled the motorbike, the way he wore his helmet, and the way the city lights reflected over him all made your stomach flutter…

you come to a slow stop at a red light and you gain your hearing again, hearing the other cars on your sides.

“you’re not gonna ask where i live?” you exclaimed over the loud rumbling of his motorbike

“i’m stopping by a kiosk first” the hues turn green and you squeeze him tighter, preparing to take off.

lee know stops at an empty, dark lot of a small kiosk. the parking lot haopened to be behind the building and you were terrified of staying alone.

“i’m gonna grab a beer, need anything?”

“i’m not staying here alone did you lose your mind?!”

“tough luck, i’m not risking my motorbike getting stolen because you can’t wait a few minutes in the dark” he takes his helmet off and adjusts his hair. god you’ve never seen anyone like him.

“i’ll be fast” he walks off, and you’re left waiting in the eerie lot that’s only light source was the kiosks ugly sign.

“so, where do you work now?” he cracks his beer can open and signals you to do the same.

“me? i’m the manager of a computer engineering team” the silence was long and painful, so you throw his question back at him. “what about you?”

“uh, i’ve got a job at my dads liquor store.”

lee know? the academic weapon? working at his dads liquor store? something’s not adding up.

“oh, that’s cool” you take another sip, storing all this information to bring to your friend next time you meet up. he gets on his motorbike, facing you and letting his back rest on the handles. his legs spread wide open, and he glances at you for long periods of time.

“you’ve changed, a lot” his voice is quite, as if embarrassed to state so.

“yeah, you too. no longer that teasing young fucker you were”

“who said i won’t tease you right now right here? hm?” he says confidently.

you scoff, and just before you get to answer him, he’s pulling at your legs and moving you closer to him. he pulls your body on top of his legs and his eyes search yours.

“answer me. how do you know i won’t tease you?”

“i-i don’t kno-“ his lips crash onto yours, silencing you once and for all. his lips were so smooth and captivating, pulling you in for every kiss delicately. he progresses to biting at your lower lip and sucking at it to numb the pain. you let out quite whimpers to address the pain, but he only seemed to go harder and faster.

“l-lee know” you struggle to voice his name between his tongue and mouth, but he places a hand on your back and keeps going.

“call me a fucker again, and i’ll be bound to do it to you. you hear me? whore.”

your developing a wet spot, and the dirty talk isn’t soothing it at all. your feelings of challenging him arise again, and you move your lips to his ear and linger for a moment.

“fu-cker” you pronounce every letter clearly, letting him know you’re up for a challenge and he squints at you in disbelief. his hands move to your shorts and he unbuttons and zips them, pulling you up to drag them off of you. you do the same to him, fighting his growing bulge to strip his lower body bare. vibrations of the engine intensified the knot in your stomach, and you squirmed in your place.

“get down you cumslut, let’s see how i can deal with you” you oblige and move down, the cold air caressing your skin.

“bend over, now.” he puts a hand on your back and another wrapping the top of your thigh, and your wet spot grew thinking of how he would fill you up.

his fingers hook the hem of your underwear and he pulls them down at a painfully slow rate, really teasing you. his fingers find his way to your folds and he feels how wet you are. he lets out a chuckle in your ear, fueling his ego. his fingers push into your opening and you let out a breathy moan. he doesn’t move much, taking his time and slowly exploring your cunt as if you weren’t infront of him fighting to keep your legs stable.

“does cumslut want my dick?”

“y-yes, fuck. please.”

“mmm, you can beg for it.”

your head falls as he curls his fingers inside of you and reaches your good spot frequently. you’re panting now and you needed him inside of you, to get rid of that knot in your stomach.

“p-please lee know, i need you inside m-me. please”

“who was better in school?” the question startled you, and you tried to stand your ground.

“m-me”. his hand strikes across your ass, and you let out a series of whimpers. he asked the same question and you gave the same answer for what felt like forever until you couldn’t handle the pain of him striking your ass, giving in to give him the answer he wants.

“y-you”

“good girl” he caresses the spot he abused, and it felt heavenly at that moment. he brings his head down to your neck, and he marks your skin with hickeys.

you were growing desperate and put your arm behind you, trying to find his length to guide it into you. he notices your desperate actions and you felt his tip nudge your folds, and you moved back into him to take him in, bringing your hand back to hold on. his cock enters you, and your moans fade into the large and empty lot. he pounces into you at a painstakingly slow pace, slowly picking it up as he widens your tight hole.

“god you’re so tight, i’ll fuck you till you’re loose” and with that he fastens his pace, the sound of his body slamming into you joined with his hissing and repetitive “yeahs” brought you to the edge, moaning sweet nothings to him.

“let me fill you up cumslut, y-yeah?” he picks up his pace and moves into you at an ungodly pace. his warm release fills your insides, and soon yours do too. lee know pants frantically trying to regulate his breathing, and you process everything that happened in the last few minutes. he pulls out of you and helps you put your clothes back on, frozen shocked at his act of kindness.

you sat back on his motorbike, finishing the remains of the warm beer. he had his hands on both sides of your legs, watching your every move. his face was perfect in every way, and he had a major glow up from your school days. the neon lights casted on his face, and his muscles peeked from his tank top.

“im not satisfied” his voice fills the silence and you look at him with a confused face

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that i need to fuck you till your dry” his confidence was something you envied, he would pierce his eyes into you every time he challenged you and it always worked. the growing emotions of desperation and love for him grew.

“are you sure you can? i don’t think you have the stamina”

“let me show you what stamina looks like” he pushes you to the back and rides in the front, placing his helmet on and bringing you closer to his body. you were on the city roads again, holding onto the man you once wished death upon.

⭑ hihi! im still debating whether to continue one last part or stop it here. if you’ve made it to the end, id really value your opinion!

⭑ TAG LIST

@rylea08

@captainchrisstan

@all4minnie

@strayywayy

140 notes · View notes

zyafics · 8 months ago

Note

But imagine that she refuses to drive home with him.

Like she is insisiting on walking home ,because of what he pulled in the bathroom. And he is just driving slowly, next to her walking , telling her to drop the act and get into the f*cking car.

listen. listen. i absolutely ADORE this idea, especially because her little attitude would be like "fuck off," and i thought of it BUT i already wrote the fourth part (and ur gonna enjoy what happens there), so what i'm about to do isn't canon nor an official part (in the series) but i wanted to write this out.

this is purely self-indulgence and a little treat 🥰

!! ❗️NON-OFFICIAL PART TO THE PLAY FAKE SERIES ❗️ !!

You stayed in the bathroom longer than intended.

After cleaning yourself up to the best of your abilities—which was rough, considering your makeup was ruined and your dress is practically wrinkled around your hips—you step out of the small space. You bid a decent farewell to the waitstaff before heading out of the exit, spotting Rafe leaning against his car, hands in his pockets.

"What took you so long?" He says when he sees you; the boyfriend act has since dropped since whatever happened in the bathroom. You can tell he's a bit calmer now; his rage channelled into fucking you. Yet, you still feel the ache between your legs—and a little bit of his cum.

You don't want to talk to him.

You say nothing in response, making a mental to-do list of all the things you need to do when you get home. It's the only thing keeping you sane right now. Your brain is fuzzy, trying to maul through the details of what happened just moments ago, and you are sure if you are touched wrong right now, you're going to explode and ruin whatever relationship credentials you spent the evening forming.

But, for a bitter, vengeful impulse, you considered saying fuck it all and chew him out right then and there. To let the entire Island Club know what type of selfish and entitled prick Rafe Cameron is, but you remember what's at stakes. Your goals. You weighed them, in cost-benefit, and discovered that it wasn't worth it.

You moved beyond the passenger seat, heading straight for the road.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm walking." You declare, keeping your voice as neutral as possible. You don't know where you are right now, or how you're going to make it back home, but you know this is a direct road to Tannyhill—and from then on, you'll figure out the rest.

Rafe calls out your name but you ignore it, making decent progress down the trek. Your feet are hurting you. It doesn't help that you're wearing heels, walking across uneven sidewalks. Not to mention, you're still a little sore from how Rafe was being back there.

Fucking asshole, you swear in your head, clenching your hands by your side as you hear a car engine roaring from behind. It doesn't take long before the familiar vehicle pulls up by your side, slowing down enough to match your pace.

He rolls down the driver window, watching you stubbornly make your way down the street.

"Get in the car."

"No." Your voice has an edge but is overall monotonic. You won't let him know how pissed off you truly are; how you're fuming underneath, trying to navigate the mixed emotions buried inside. You don't even bother to look at him. "I'm walking home."

"You're going to walk to the other side of the island?" He taunts, in that condescending voice, as if he thought you were dumb. You weren't stupid. "Yeah, fucking right."

"Unlike you, Rafe, I'm pretty fucking able." You snap, glancing over to watch as his face sneers at the insult. You don't care. You let that first string of restraint snap, and you're unwinding slowly but surely. You try to fall back to your neutral tone. "I'm walking home. If I need help, I'll be sure to call someone else. Maybe JJ or Pope."

You knew the blond didn't like either of them; he made his opinions clear in the car ride to Tannyhill earlier. You only said it to rile him up, which, apparently, works as his expression hardens and he parks the car and unlocks the door.

"Get in the car." He commands, his voice commanding the same authority as he did in the bathroom. However, this time, it feels more forged—like a front to keep up. You look away, deciding to speed up. "Jesus Christ."

Your feet are hurting badly now. While deciding to do a short sprint in three-inch heels, you bend down and unclasp them, ready to go bare-feet for the rest of your journey if need be.

You feel his hand grab your arm.

"Drop the fucking act, sweetheart. You're not going to walk all the way back to The Cut. You won't even make it before dawn."

You pull enough strength within you to rip your arm out of his grasp, just like you should've done in the bathroom, and face him.

"You think you have so much power, don't you? That because you're some Kook prince you can tell people what to do? Well, fuck you, Rafe," you announce, each word punctuated with more sharpness than the last. "If I want to walk till dawn, I'll do it. As long as I won't have to get into your stupid car."

Rafe looks at you, not understanding why you are so adamant on walking back. Was it something during the dinner? Was it the bathroom? Is this you trying to gain back whatever control you lost?

He scoffs. "Your little tantrum isn't going to work, Pogue."

It's the name. The nickname of Pogue that rolls off his tongue that just triggers you.

You're pissed.

Having nothing else, you chuck your heels at his chest. It doesn't do much damage, because of your close proximity, but it was enough for him to see your fury. To see that your refusal isn't just a spur of the moment thing, to gain back control, but was an accumulation of everything—enough to comfort you for the rest of the walk.

Rafe's irritation flares. You knew how to push all of his buttons and now, it's pissing him the fuck off. He thought he calmed down a bit, after the bathroom, but you're just trying to rile him up. For some fucking reason. He doesn't doubt that you're going to walk the rest of the path back to The Cut, even if it kills you. You were that stubborn. It took him a whole two hours to convince you to shut down Sailor for half an evening. Imagine you now, at the height of your anger, with nothing but spite for him.

He should just let you. Show you how your stubbornness can lead to stupid decisions. Dire consequences. But you're still in your stupid, fucking short dress. It practically exposed your ass when you bent over to take off your shoes. There's no way in hell he's letting you walk home, in the dark, in that.

So, he did the next best thing.

He comes forward, and with one hand on your waist, he throws you over his shoulders. You barely register it as he man-handles you, grabbing your heels off the ground and marching straight to the passenger side.

"Fucking brat," he mumbles under his breath as he rips opens the door.

"Let go of me!"

He drops you into the leather seat, quickly grabbing the seatbelt and securing you in. You went for the buckle, ready to click the release, only for him to grab your wrists into one hand.

Your heated eyes meet his angry gaze. "Drop the fucking attitude and let me drive you home." He warns in a low voice. "You're not dying under my watch. Not when you still have your half of the bargain to keep up."

You glare at him, saying nothing as he finishes securing you in. When he feels sure that you aren't going to unlock and run off, repeating this cat-and-mouse game, he slams the door closed and walks over to the driver side.

You say nothing for the duration of the ride. You refuse to. Rafe doesn't try to talk to you either, assuming you'll shake off whatever tantrum you're throwing by the next morning. He just needed to get your ass back home to make it there.

When he stops in front of your house, or as close to it as you would allow him, you silently get out of the car and head for the door. You don't bother saying thank you because to you, the waitstaff at the country club deserves more gratitude more than whatever Rafe fucking Cameron thinks he is.

He doesn't care. He pulls out the street the moment your ass leaves his car. You'll be fine, he thought, you always are.

#asks #fanfic asks #pf

154 notes · View notes

ghostsandfools · 3 months ago

Text

The psychology behind Lumini

Would Lunar and Gemini be a healthy couple? I don't fucking know, I've never read or consumed anything to do with psychology in my life, I have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about here, I genuinely don't know shit about mental health, BUT I'M GONNA TRY ANYWAYS! So if my takes here suck then sorry.

Lunar:

Lunar idolizes Gemini WAY too much. And that's absolutely going to set their relationship back. It's good to admire your romantic partner, but you need to realize they aren't perfect. YOU aren't perfect, so if you view your partner as a perfect person, you're going to end up feeling like you'll never be enough for them.

You have to realize that you and your partner both have flaws, and recognize that you can work through them together as a team. Gemini, despite how much I love them, has flaws. Lunar is going to have to realize that eventually, but I don't think that'll completely get rid of the issue.

Lunar is just a guy. He got thrown into all this star power stuff randomly. and Gemini is his TEACHER. It's okay, because they're both adults so it's not creepy, but even then, you should never EVER be in a relationship with your boss/educator. Gemini's job is to make sure he's progressing steadily with his star power abilities. And since the astrals are so impatient, they kinda have to hurry him along with his learning. Having your partner teaching you something is stressful, because you want to impress them and do well for their sake. It's even worse because for Lunar and Gemini, it's not "I have a hobby i think you'd enjoy, how about I teach you?" For them it's "You NEED to learn this quickly and without struggling or else my brother is going to fucking KILL YOU." Star power is a life or death thing. Lunar having feelings for Gemini is definitely going to make learning harder for him, not because he'll be distracted by them instead of learning. but because Star power is his entire life purpose now and if he doesn't learn how to control it, the consequences could be very grave for him.

On top of that, he doesn't know Gemini very well. Which is fine, people get crushes of course, but they'll need to take things slow with each other if they want to get to know each other better and work through their other issues.

Gemini:

Gemini needs to be more understanding of Lunar's emotions. It's clear that they care for Lunar, but they're very tough on him, and I don't think they understand the mental effects of that.

Gemini feels things differently than any regular earthling. Their feelings are clearly more rooted in logic. They can feel angry and sad and happy, but it's different than how we would. For example, when they rejected Lunar, they gave him a logical explanation as to why they didn't want to pursue a relationship with him, then didn't understand why he was so sad. They thought explaining it logically would help him feel better, but that's not how feelings work. Sometimes people feel sad or happy or scared or angry for no reason, and that's okay. You don't have to justify your feelings or have a logical reason behind them for them to be valid, but I don't think Gemini understands that, and that's okay, but it's something they'll need to work on. Right now, they seem to think Lunar is immature or over emotional, but that's not true. He's been through a lot, and they really need to begin to understand that.

Now. The elephant in the room. When Lunar killed Eclipse, Gemini got pretty mad at him. Which is reasonable, he did kill a guy. I don't really think either of them were in the wrong in that situation though. I've seen some people say Gemini was downright abusive in their reaction, and I've seen some people say that they should've been harder on Lunar, but I wanna see things from both of their points of view. When Lunar saw Eclipse, he was scared. Seeing an abuser again is terrifying, I don't know what I would've done in his shoes. With the way Lunar's mind works, he could've just lost control of himself, he could've regressed from the stress of the situation and not known what to do, and with the way Eclipse was taunting and threatening him, it makes sense that he'd have a violent reaction. It doesn't justify what he did, but it does explain it. Gemini had every right to lash out at him though, because they trusted him and they spent a lot of time training him so he wouldn't do something like that again and he still did. And maybe, for the first time in a while, maybe they couldn't control their emotions either. Maybe they let their anger get the better of them.

Now, I think it actually shows how strong they are, because they were able to recover from what happened. Lunar apologized for what he did, and they've started to rekindle their friendship and build up trust again, and that's good! Because it shows that they can have arguments and still get over it. I've just got one issue with how their arc is going. I wish Gemini apologized too. I know Lunar did kill a man, but they really, REALLY hurt him. I wish they said sorry. But generally speaking, I'm glad that they're becoming friends again.

Another thing about Gemini is their upbringing. They don't talk about the other astrals very much, and I wonder what their life has been like so far. The other astrals seem more like coworkers to them than siblings, and I wonder if anyone other than Lunar has shown them affection before. Did Aries ever play games with them? Did Libra ever comfort them when they were feeling sad? Did Taurus ever show them how to use their powers? Or did they have to learn everything on their own? Sadly, we don't know. But based on how they talk about the other astrals, I'd wager not. And if that's the case, being in a relationship might be a challenge for them. They don't know how to respond to affection, they don't know HOW to be in a relationship. And in all fairness, neither does Lunar. They would be each other's first lovers, which is even more stressful, because neither of them know what the hell they're doing. If they want their relationship to last, they'd have to be perseverant as HELL.

Anyways. I just spent 45 minutes writing that....

Again, I'm not a psychologist! I'm just some random person! I have never studied mental health in my LIFE! Not to mention, I was gaslit A LOT as a kid. I have some pretty sucky parents, so I don't know what a healthy relationship really looks like either! That being said, if I said anything so unbelievably, ungodly incorrect, please correct me! I need to learn more about mental health so maybe then I can ALSO start feeling better.

I have been shipping Lumini since the episode where they went to Paris together, and I was NOT expecting the shows to actually explore the possibility further. I would LOVE for them to get together in canon, because they both need some love and affection. I think it's good that they have these flaws, because they can grow together and progress as characters, and I'm glad they aren't just some cookie cutter automatically healthy no issues whatsoever relationship. I really do hope things end up working out for them.

#tsams #sun and moon show #sams #laes #the lunar and earth show #lunar x gemini #lunar x pollux #lunar x castor #lumini #laes pollux #laes castor #laes gemini #laes lunar #tsams lunar #I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT MENTAL HEAlTH #please correct me if i'm wrong #please.

47 notes · View notes

salamandergoo · 9 months ago

Text

STWG Prompt: Pisces

A magazine slapped down onto the table and Eddie dropped into his seat just a moment later. "Gentlemen! We enter into a new month, it is time for the ritual."

"The ritual," Dougie and Jeff echoed, rehearsed.

"Not the ritual," Gareth groaned, stabbing at his lunch. "It's going to be the same as last month, it always is."

"...what's the ritual?" Lucas asked, saying it slowly like Eddie might yell at him for asking.

"Oh, horoscopes!" Eddie opened the magazine with a grin, paging through it and clicking his tongue. "Hopefully no plagues are written in the stars."

"Horoscopes." Mike looked at him flatly. They'd only been sitting at the Hellfire Club table for a week now, and in that week, horoscopes hadn't been mentioned once. "You believe in that shit?"

"Nah. My mama loved 'em though. And it's kinda fun." He tapped the magazine on the table and cleared his throat. "We enter Libra season, may it be prosperous for our resident Libras!" He gestured to Gareth and Jeff. "It says here that Love is within reach! You just need to be brave enough to grasp it."

Gareth glanced at Jeff and scoffed. "Total bull."

Jeff grinned. "I don't know. Eddie, is this your little ploy to confess your long buried feelings for me?" He fluttered his eyelashes and blew a kiss."

"You want to be my type so bad it almost makes me love you," Eddie teased as he leaned in just a little closer.

Dustin balked and Mike had gone pink, staring down at his sandwich and refusing to look up from it. Gareth rolled his eyes again and gestured to the boys. "What are you guys? What are your signs?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" Lucas still seemed a little confused. "Is it like... by month? My birthday's in April."

"Early or late? What day?" Eddie tapped at the pages. "That'll make you either an Aries or a Taurus."

"The 8th. Early."

"Aries! According to your horoscope, you'll need to be brave and face your fears in the coming month. An emotional cold front is coming your way, young one."

Lucas glanced over his shoulder towards another table, where Max was sitting with her hood up, staring out the window at the overcast sky. "I'm pretty sure I've been facing an emotional cold front for a while already."

Dustin leaned forward curiously. "I'm a Pisces, what does it say for that?"

"Why do you know that?" Mike asked, some of his initial standoffish-ness worn away.

"Steve and Robin have this game where they make up terrible horoscopes for each other." He shrugged. "Robin's a Pisces too, and Steve is a Cancer."

Eddie hummed. "Pisces, huh?" He too a bite of his apple. "Be extra cautious with your belongings. Damn, looks like someone is going to rob you, Henderson. So the stars decree."

"So the stars decree," Dougie and Jeff echoed.

"I hate it when you guys do that." Gareth threw a chip at Jeff's head.

"Why do you think we do it?" Jeff grinned and threw the chip back. "Come on, Eddie, what's Dougie's? Something about doom and gloom, right? Something about how he's gonna die?" He laughed as Dougie kicked him under the table.

"Well, our fiery Aries friend will be facing- oh." Eddie's eyes widened a little. "It's actually not doom and glooom this month. Keep your aim true to your goals, even when progress is slow."

"Oh." Dougie nodded, considering. "That actually is kind of nice. I can live with that."

Eddie chuckled and turned his gaze to Mike, cocking his head with a smirk. "And you? Let me guess, fire sign. You're probably an Aries too. Or a Leo?"

Mike shrugged. "I don't know, end of December."

"After the 22nd?"

"Yeah."

"Capricorn, then. ...seriously? You're an earth sign?"

Mike squirmed a little under his stare. "Thought you said you didn't believe in this crap."

Eddie shrugged. "There's a little bit of truth to everything. That's what mama thought." He looked at the magazine and snickered. "This month may test your patience."

Mike hunched in on himself, glaring at Lucas when he tried to pat his shoulder. "Most months get on my nerves. This is stupid."

"Aw, he's like a baby raven," Dougie teased before elbowing Eddie. "Alright, come on man, what's yours?"

"The most important horoscope! Let's see here, Cancer says... I am invincible and nothing can bring me down. Damn right!"

"Let me see that." Jeff snatched the magazine from Eddie. "...oh. What do you know."

"The stars are in alignment for a good month ahead." Eddie chuckled and took the magazine back. He tapped it on the table before tucking it into his bag. "The ritual has been completed!"

"The ritual has been completed!" Gareth grinned as Jeff rolled his eyes.

"This is why everyone thinks we're satanists, you know-"

"Let the people think what they want, they're just mad I don't read them their horoscopes."

#stwgdailyprompt #stranger things #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff stranger things #unnamed freak stranger things #he does have a name tho it’s canon now so #Doug Teague stranger things #mike wheeler #Lucas Sinclair #dustin henderson #hellfire club

84 notes · View notes

lollytea · 1 year ago

Note

Love the idea that the feral, hormonal Willow post and the dress measurements post take place simultaneously, so you have this teenage girl holding onto her restraint by the skin of her teeth and then suddenly getting a text from her boyfriend with his measurements because??? what???does she do with this??? Is he making a move?? Is something happening here?? It’s probably too forward to send her own, right?? Should she just go for it or gather intel from her friends first?? meanwhile Hunter is just like “I’m gonna make Willow such a pretty dress :D”

YES!! That is exactly what's going on here. I have this vision of how Willow and Hunter's romantic relationship started off. Things moved quite slow, because Hunter got overwhelmed very easily and Willow liked him so much and didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable in what should be a safe space. It's very new and neither of them really know how to approach romance immediately, but one of them desperately wants to practise and one of them needs more time to ease into it.

Willow is always watching Hunter with sharp eyes, intently reading his body language, waiting for any kind of signal that he'd like to do a little more than hold her hand. It's usually Willow that initiates the less nerve wracking stuff like hugs and hand holding and casual affection, but she let Hunter kiss her first. She's very proud of herself for noticing the way he glanced at her mouth or she wouldn't have asked "do you want to kiss me?" and then he wouldn't have done it. Whenever Hunter initiates something, Willow knows he wants this. She knows they're making progress.

Once during a group movie night, he fell asleep resting against her side and she laid in that uncomfortable position all fucking night. He eventually started sleep snuggling her and she she was fucking EXHILERATED. This is what she's been starving for.

A headcanon that I hold so near and dear to my heart is that Willow is secretly batshit insane. Totally bonkers. Off the fucking rails. Yknow just in general. And Hunter definitely makes the crazy flare up. But she's always been good at hiding it so nobody suspects a thing.

Hunter is not very good at articulating how he feels about Willow but he's desperate to express it in any way that he can. So he's always doing nice things for her. And making her laugh. And supporting her in any way that he can. And surprising her with little gifts that he made.

Willow also isn't all that good at articulating how she feels about Hunter. "You're cute" and "You mean a lot to me <3" and other casual flirty lines are used a lot but she's not quite covering the extent of emotions. She feels a lot more intensely than that. She can't really put it all into words. All these feelings give her the unbearable urge to start gnawing on his flesh like a fucking damn griffin drumstick.

The texts make her wanna act up somethin fierce

Hello_willow: what are these?

RULERZREACHF4N: My hip, waist and bust size <3

Willow at her fucking LIMIT:

What does that MEAN?? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? Is this flirting? Maybe Hunter's idea of a scandalous text?? She knows from whispers in the hallways that sometimes significant others send pics when they wanna get bold. Like shirtless pics. She has been hoping every damn day that one day her scroll is gonna buzz and its her shy boyfriend, deciding that he likes the way his chest looks today and he wants to show it off to her. But it can never be that simple, can it? NO. Her fucking tailor of a boyfriend it trying to speak to her in tailor language and she can NOT fucking fumble him right now because there's a chance that if she gets this right, she might get to put her hands on the areas that he has given her the measurements of.

Hello_willow: Oh

Is she supposed to compliment him on his beautiful measurements? His broad chest? His slim waist? Should she say that she'd have no problems wrapping her arms around him? That he is the perfect size for squeezing? That she wants to come over and see for herself if he's being honest? Is that what he wants to hear?

RULERZREACHF4N: Is there something you want to tell me? :)

Willow panics, suddenly feeling the pressure to answer quick. What does he want?? WHAT DOES HE WANT????

She quickly decides that she CANNOT be bold here. Because all of the things she wants to say are shockingly indecent.

That's when she realizes. It's Hunter. Hunter, who told her yesterday that he used to be scared of the dark when he was little. Hunter, who might be trying, in his own weird Hunter way, to be a little more vulnerable. Give her more personal details about himself, so she knows that he trusts her and feels safe with her. Like when a beast rolls over on its belly.

A little of Willow's tension melts away. He's very sweet. She likes him an awful lot.

Not knowing how to proceed, Willow awkwardly tries to let him know that she appreciates him telling her things that he thinks are important.

Hello_willow: thank you

Feeling a little unsure, she adds a question mark at the end. And then, upon getting a few seconds of silence on the other end, she panics again and hurriedly types another message. A little more upfront this time.

Hello_willow: I love learning new things about you Hun. You have very elegant measurements <3

Another twenty seconds pass.

RULERZREACHF4N: Thanks. You're sweet <3

HALLELUJAH TO THE TITAN, TO THE SON AND TO THE HOOTY GHOST!!! HE THINKS SHES SWEET!!! SHE IS GONNA GET TO HOLD HIS HIPS TONIGHT!!!!

RULERZREACHF4N: Can I have your Dad's number?

NO!!! HOW THE FUCK DID SHE FUMBLE THIS!!!!

#huntlow

157 notes · View notes

cooliestghouliest · 9 months ago

Text

LOVE ME TWO TIMES, ch. two

(chapter one) (chapter two)

PAIRING: eventual Mungrove x Reader

SUMMARY: Struggling to come to terms with the abrupt abandonment of your father, you’re left with two options – attend an “all girls’ therapeutic boarding academy” that’s really more Bedlam Insane Asylum than trusty reformative school, or move half-way across the country to a small town in Indiana to live with your older brother, Rick. The upheaval of your life in Fresno might just end up being a little star-crossed and a whole lot serendipitous.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k+

SERIES TAGS: angst. some pretty heavy topics in later chapters. just enough fluff to hopefully balance it all out. eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI). not a slow burn; it’s pretty hot and heavy right off the bat. eventual love triangle. neurodiversity. dom/sub undertones (dom!Billy, switch!Eddie, switch!Reader), also bi!Eddie and bi!Reader but confused!Billy. drugs and drug addiction. no use of Y/N (but much use of nicknames and pet names). Reefer Rick is Matthew Lillard circa Senseless. more TBA as the story progresses.

CHAPTER TAGS: unexpected tears. some woeful reminiscing. wisecracking siblings. how Rick and Eddie met. flirting in front of a moody bartender. Eddie has a penchant for being self-deprecating but he tries to be funny about it. oversharing. dehydrated!Eddie 😉 (there’s a tease of f!rec oral here). even more cockblocking. a tinge of tension at the end.

TAG LIST: @babybatlover

—

chapter title: Nobody, That’s My Name

Packing up had actually taken three hours, mostly because you were so undecided on what to bring.

Your stomach was in knots with the realization that you’d have to leave some things behind. You wished you could just transport your entire room as it was to Hawkins.

This had been your sacred space since childhood. You were only two when your family made the move from Chicago to Fresno, so this house was really all you’d ever had memories of.

Your room had grown up and changed alongside you, a non-sentient appendage and an outward expression of every new trend and month-long hobby you’d picked up along the way.

“Bean, you good?” Rick’s voice called out from the other side of your closed door.

You’d been seated on your bed — it could have been for a few minutes or half an hour, you weren’t sure. You hadn’t noticed the wet line that rimmed your bottom lashes until you turned to look at your brother as he stepped inside your room. When you blinked, a tear broke free and rolled down your cheek.

“My face that ugly? You gotta cry when you look at me?”

You choked out a laugh, bringing a hand up to wipe your eyes dry. Leave it to Rick to try and lighten the mood. It’s what he’d been doing his whole life – never taking anything too seriously, refusing to get hung up on any emotion other than those aligned with happy hedonism.

You’d always wondered if there was a secret storm that raged somewhere deep inside of him.

“All my stuff isn't gonna fit inside your stupid van,” you said, not bothering to explain further.

You didn’t need to. Rick could read between the lines.

This was going to be the first time you’d left the only home you’d ever known for longer than a sleepover at a friend’s house.

The residence itself would never win any awards for being the greatest of places, but your bedroom, on the other hand — that had a surefire shot.

It was here where your dad had first read you the The Hobbit, the precursor to your love of fantastical tales.

It was here on the floor where you made your first prank call with Cynthia Toomey, your childhood best friend. It was to a teacher whose number had been written on a stall in the girl’s bathroom. It didn’t strike you as odd then why a twelve-year-old would know a much older male teacher’s phone number, but after the man had gotten arrested a few years back for soliciting a minor at a park, it all started to make sense.

It was here where you’d heard Janis Joplin for the first time, a record Rick had mailed you for your fourteenth birthday. Her deep crooning voice scratched at parts of your soul you didn’t even know were itchy.

It was here where you’d first taught yourself how to sew a patch onto your backpack; where you’d first tried on the lipstick and eyeshadow you’d stolen from the vanity in your parent's bedroom, something that resulted in a week's worth of extra chores (according to your mother, it was to teach you "the consequences of petty theft" or whatever); where you’d first experimented with a girl while watching Happy Days, soft tongues and even softer fingers exploring every inch of uncovered skin as Fonzie’s signature “Ayyyy’s” mixed with her breathy moans and your rapid heartbeat.

“I didn’t think I’d care that much about leaving,” you admitted, voice shakier than you’d hoped it would be.

Rick watched you from the doorframe, giving a knowing smile in an attempt to mollify you. “Y’know, you might not believe it, but I couldn’t sleep the first three nights after I left. Kept thinkin’ about how much I missed my bed and the noise the air conditioner made that I used to think I hated.” He quieted momentarily, observing his surroundings. Overflowing plastic bags and opened suitcases stuffed full of clothes, books, vinyls, and random knickknacks were scattered across the floor. “It’s still home, even if we never really wanted it to be.”

Rick walked over to one of the cases. He bent down to zip it up, having to put a foot on the grip to shut it enough so it closed completely. “But you’re gonna make a fuck ton more memories in Hawkins, Bean,” he pledged, grabbing the handle and pulling it towards the door. “We are. Okay?”

You chewed your lower lip and allowed yourself a few more moments of wallowing before heaving a sigh, slapping your thighs with the palms of your hands as you stood.

“Okay. You sap.” You snatched as many full plastic bags off the ground as you could. “The first memory’s gonna be about how much weaker you are compared to me.” You looked down at the single heavy suitcase he was carrying, scoffing lightheartedly. “Only one, Richard? Really? You have another hand. Use it.”

And he did, by bringing his free one up to flip you the bird.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Although your brother had a spacious purple-painted 1970 Ford Econoline the pair of you could have comfortably slept in, the back of the vehicle was currently filled to the brim with all of your luggage.

Any time the side door had to be slid open for whatever reason, an ample amount of contents came pouring out.

One of your "haunted-as-shit dolls," affectionately dubbed by Rick, had fallen victim to the concrete ground outside of a gas station in Colorado. Its glass eye had popped out and shattered, its arms detaching from its tiny body. You’d gasped in horror at the doll’s demise, smacking Rick on his chest for being so careless.

It was safe to say neither one of you were going to be getting anything from the back of the van until you’d made it to Hawkins to unpack, or else Rick would be forced to face your wrath.

Your possessions were prized, goddammit.

So, one motel stay and thirty-two hours after leaving the WELCOME TO FRESNO sign behind, Rick finally pulled into the driveway of his boathouse.

The orange neon lighting of the van’s dashboard clock read 10:13AM.

You’d been soundlessly sleeping for the last hour of the car ride, having dozed off shortly after Rick had put in a Talking Heads cassette, the G Major melody of This Must Be the Place lulling you into a dreamless nap.

Rick suddenly had the brilliant big brother idea to grant himself the honor of becoming your own personal wake-up alarm.

Putting the car in park, he switched the Talking Heads cassette out for Bad Religion’s How Could Hell Be Any Worse? He skipped to a track titled In the Night, cranked the volume to the max, and started to head-bang and sing along wildly off-key.

You startled awake immediately, arms flailing at nothing as you tried to rapidly blink your eyes open.

When you found Rick performing his solo concert, way too committed to the bit, you refused to laugh at the sight, even if it was your gut reaction. The last thing you wanted to do was encourage him. “Noooo, is this what you’re gonna be like the whole time?” you instead asked with faux abrasiveness, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music.

Rick grinned wide, never faltering in his seated moshing, not until the song came to an abrupt end a few seconds later, when you’d finally had enough and reached a hand over to eject the tape.

“I didn’t want you to have an aneurysm,” you told him plainly with a shrug, in response to his offended look. “I could hear your little brain rattling around up there in that thick skull. I got worried.”

Rick shot a hand up to cover his heart, as if he’d been stabbed. “You wound me, little sister. Deeply and completely.”

He pulled the keys from the ignition and stepped outside, hurrying to the passenger side of the van to slide open the back door. He tried with both hands to stop the cascade of your belongings from spilling out, but failed miserably, clothes and books landing in messy heaps on the driveway.

“Hey, what the fuck!” you called out, hopping down from your seat to start picking up what you could from the pavement, pulling your items to your chest. “Don’t you have any grace?”

Rick pretended to ponder this before saying, “Grace, huh. Think I dated that girl in high school. Don’t have her anymore, nope.” That earned a snort and an eye roll from you.

Rick remembered a time when your brattiness would have annoyed him to no end. He knew it would again, and probably soon, but he was surprised by how fond of it he was right now, how much he missed having you around.

“Once we get all this shit inside,” he started, grabbing two suitcases, filling both hands so he didn’t have to hear you comment about his carrying capabilities (or lack thereof) again, “you can unpack, and we can shower and relax. But then I’ve got plans for tonight.”

He’d begun walking to the front door, you trailing off behind him. “So you’re ditching me the first night I’m here?” you scolded, albeit playfully. You honestly wouldn’t have minded some alone time, being able to start decorating and acquainting yourself with your new abode. Still, you wanted to keep playing the part of bitchy baby sister, a role you hadn’t been able to play in so long but a role you fell right back into, as easy as riding a bike. “That’s very rude, Rick. What a horrible host you are.”

“Not a chance, Bean. Plans for us tonight. You’re comin’ with. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

He’d told you that he was taking you to some bar called The Hideout. It sounded sleazy, and you’d told him as much. He didn’t argue that, just said there’d be food and drinks and live music. And some guy there he knew that was in the same grade as you.

You didn’t know this, but Rick had a plan for Eddie Munson. He was going to barter with his young metalhead friend: be the lookout for his little sister when Rick wasn’t around, and he’d heavily discount the bulk weed and other goodies Eddie bought from him for the foreseeable future.

“What’s this guy’s name again?” you asked, moving to kick your feet up on the dashboard before Rick swatted your legs down. Again.

He’d told you several times already that sitting like that was one of the most dangerous positions to be in if he got into an accident. Said that your legs would snap and your bones would jam through your body. You thanked him for the visual, then kept doing it.

“Eddie," he answered.

“And what exactly does this Eddie look like…?”

You tried to breach the question with as much nonchalance as you could muster, but the intent behind your inquiry was still obvious: was Eddie attractive?

“Off-limits.”

“Hmm. That’s a weird physical description of someone.”

“I’m serious, Bean. Don’t.”

It wasn’t that Rick didn’t like Eddie.

It was quite the contrary, actually.

Rick had met Eddie the summer of ‘84, outside one of Al Munson’s many, many court hearings, after the elder Munson had mistakenly asked both of them for a ride home.

As an apology, Al invited both Eddie and Rick over to where he was currently freeloading at some guy’s apartment, to smoke a few bowls (that ended up coming from Rick’s personal supply) and order Chinese (that Eddie ended up paying for).

At some point that night, Al had mentioned to Eddie that Rick was the go-to guy for weed and weed-alike.

“Oh, shit, man – you’re Reefer Rick?” Eddie had asked after a particularly rough coughing excursion, having hit the piece a little too harshly.

“Reefer Rick? That’s what the kids are calling me?”

Eddie nodded, handing the bowl off to his dad. “Yeah, you’re kind of like a celebrity. Or a unicorn?” Rick’s brows furrowed deeply at this. Eddie laughed before explaining, “Meaning I very confidently thought you didn’t exist. Figured you were just who the posers from school said they got their shit from as a red herring, so they didn’t get in too much trouble when Hop took their stash.”

“Hop, like, Hopper? Beer-bellied fucking pig asshole Jim Hopper? That motherfucker knows I sell?”

Hopper had been a thorn in Rick’s side since just about the day he’d moved in.

Jim had been pulling Rick over for minor traffic violations almost weekly by that point, and if Eddie was telling the truth, the hard-on Hopper seemed to have for him now made a hell of a lot more sense. The cop was probably trying to catch him with something on him.

Eddie grinned like he was letting his company in on a joke. “Well, he knows Reefer Rick sells. You're just Rick Lipton, my friend."

From that night on, Eddie would stop by Rick’s house twice a month to re-up on his stock. The pair would sometimes get stoned around the fire pit in Rick’s backyard after they made the deal, and Rick soon found out that Eddie was not at all like the hardcore persona he projected to the world. And he definitely wasn’t a magnet for mayhem like his old man.

At heart, Eddie Munson was a total fucking nerd.

He liked mythology and board games and doodling and passionately debating which conspiracy theories he thought would stand the test of time. He often marveled at Rick’s comic book collection, standing at the shelves for an hour or so at times, just browsing the titles that stood out to him. Eddie’s favorites to flip through were Rick’s copies of Twisted Tales and Creepshow.

Rick had briefly thought a handful of times that you and Eddie would probably get along great if the two of you ever met.

But then the thought of just how great you’d possibly get along would get Rick irritated with Eddie for the non-existent relationship the boy didn’t have with a sister he didn’t even know Rick had.

On their last meet-up, Eddie had told him that he and his bandmates would dress up as pirates and paladins and go to the Ren Faire twice a year.

The band. That was another reason Rick was wary of introducing the two of you.

Being in the scene for as long as he had been now, Rick knew many musicians, and he wouldn’t trust nearly any of them around his baby sister.

They weren’t all like Eddie, though. Rick had to admit that.

Sure, the boy was a little rough around the edges, rowdy and flamboyant, but Rick remembered being kind of the same way as a teenager – and he hadn’t ruined the lives of any girls, had he? Not that he knew of at least, or at least not intentionally.

He’d been a bit of a relationship hopper, just desperate for attention when you got to the bottom of it, but Rick had never been disrespectful of women. He’d never forced himself on anyone, never pleaded to turn a “no” into a “yes,” never verbally or physically accosted any of them. Rick couldn’t bring himself to even imagine doing anything like that. He couldn’t imagine Eddie doing any of that either.

Despite cringing at the idea of you and Eddie maybe catching something more than just friendly feelings for one another, Rick still couldn’t think of another person he’d trust more to keep tabs on you when he himself wasn’t around.

But Rick could still at least try to persuade you to see Eddie in just a platonic light.

“He’s a dork, Bean. His favorite talking point is why Gollum is just a misunderstood victim. Doesn’t shut up about how they do the special effects in those gory B-horror movies, ruins the whole fuckin’ movie yapping. Plays lame board games with his little weirdo degenerate friends.”

“First of all, Rick, did you ever even read Lord of the Rings?” you started, throwing your hands up in disbelief, and Rick was sorry he even opened his mouth. “Sméagol is totally just a misunderstood victim. I mean, sure, whatever, he bit off Frodo’s finger, but he was basically the reason Sauron was defeated! It’s all the Ring’s fault. It was evil. It possessed everyone.” You huffed, settling back against the seat as you watched Rick pull into a parking space at what you assumed was The Hideout. “Also, are these things supposed to make me want to talk to this guy less? 'Cause if that’s the case, you’re really good at doing the exact opposite of what you intend.”

Rick gave a classic you move, rolling his eyes.

“Just don’t flirt with him, Bean, damn. Please. It’s, like, my only rule. He’s my… friend. He’s my friend. So just don’t.”

You pushed your lips to the side, stepping out of the car before Rick turned off the ignition.

Did your brother know nothing about you? Being told you weren’t allowed to flirt with this stranger, to even go as far as saying he was ‘off-limits’? You now knew exactly what your plan was for the rest of the night: try to break Rick’s only rule.

Isn’t that what little sisters were for?

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

You knew Rick had said there would be live music, but you definitely weren’t expecting four young men about your age on stage singing nearly spot-on covers of Slayer and Iron Maiden songs.

Rick had gotten the two of you a table towards the back of the bar. He’d bought you a vodka pineapple – which he wasn’t initially intending on doing, at first telling you a Coke was all you were getting, something you were not willing to accept; after a hefty amount of prodding, he moped off to buy you the fruity alcoholic beverage just to get you to stop being so fucking annoying about it.

You were nursing the last few sips, sucking the liquid noisily through the small black straw, when the cute lead singer with the mess of black curls brought his mouth to the microphone.

“You guys have been great, really, all five of you, couldn’t ask for better fans,” he spoke to the sparse crowd. No one clapped or cheered or anything, which made you laugh out loud at the one-sided interaction. “This’ll be our last song for the night – ”

“Freebird!” someone in the audience called out.

“Vince, I tell you every time, we’re not fucking playing Freebird, man — it’s never gonna happen,” tall, dark-haired, and handsome sniped from the stage.

Familiar chords started to echo out from the bassist, the moppy haired drummer hit his wooden drumsticks together in a steady rhythm, and the small-town rockstar began singing Enter Sandman.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Rick had been chatting with a handful of other bar patrons throughout the duration of the band’s setlist. A few of them — older, biker-looking men — occupied your table as the band on stage started to descend, done for the night.

You heard the jukebox start up, playing some Dolly Parton song, a hilarious juxtaposition from the heavy metal music that had just filled the bar.

Your eyes searched for the lead singer, spotting him heading over to the bar alone, the other boys in the band disappearing off backstage with their instruments in tow.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” you announced, but Rick just nodded and waved you off, in a deep conversation with one of the bearded men about something to do with Special K. The cereal? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care to stay long enough to find out.

What you wanted to do was to talk to this Kirk Hammett lookalike that poured his heart out on the stage of a hodunk bar like he was performing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden.

His back was to you when you approached, black ringlets of hair falling down past his shoulders, frizzy from the indoor humidity.

You put your now empty drink down on the bar-top, the clinking sound pulling his attention over to you.

Oh, wow.

He was nice to look at from afar, but even nicer to look at up this closely. His face was flushed, likely from the hour-long show he’d just put on, a small smattering of light chestnut freckles peeking out over alabaster skin. His big brown eyes widened as they took you in, as if he couldn’t believe you were staring at him.

“You were great up there,” you started, not able to contain your smile. “Made me forget I was in Hawkins. Thought I was at Whisky a Go Go or something.”

He looked surprised. Whether that was from your compliment or just from you talking to him in general, you weren’t sure. “Yeah?” he prodded, voice deep and raspy, obviously a bit blown out from the seven or eight songs he’d just belted.

You nodded eagerly. He grinned wide, chest puffing out a bit now. Boys plus ego stroking equaled checkmate, one of your favorite mottos.

“Can I, uh, buy you a drink? Whatever you want… whatever that was,” he pointed to your empty glass, “I can buy you another one of those.”

“Nice try, Munson,” came the voice of the bartender. Your new friend — Munson, supposedly — shot him an annoyed look. “I know you’re only twenty. You can have water or a soda. That’s it, kid.”

The raven-haired metalhead turned his attention back to you, face a bit chagrined. “Foiled by the barkeep. Sorry. You want a soda? Best in the Midwest. You’ll never drink another Coca-Cola like this ever again.”

You laughed. “Sure, I’ll take a Best in the Midwest soda. Coke with grenadine, light ice.”

“You heard the lovely lady,” Munson said to the bartender, obviously enjoying that he now got to order the man around a bit. “Coke with grenadine, light ice. Hop to it.”

“Lucky the boss likes you, you little shit,” the bartender was grumbling, but Munson didn’t seem distressed. Amused, if anything.

You watched as his eyes drifted up to the top of your head. “Now those are cool,” he acknowledged, pointing with a ringed finger.

Your brows furrowed in confusion before realization struck. Oh, yeah! You’d forgotten you’d put on a tiny little headband before leaving for the bar. It was black, but had two small red devil horns poking out on either side.

“Why, thank you,” you said, bringing a hand up to touch one of the points. “Although I wasn’t really going for cool. More along the lines of wicked or evil, maybe. Sinful. Be the reason everybody in here’s thinkin’ all those shameful thoughts.”

Had Eddie been anywhere else, or at least not high from the adrenaline he ran on after performing, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to fight off the blush from your comment. That, mixed with the heavy-lidded stare you were currently fixing on him, he’d have been a goner.

Thankfully for him, he was able to continue to false bravado his way through this conversation, as he’d just spent two-ish hours channeling his inner Eric Adams from Manowar. He could act like a big shot for a little longer. “With a face like yours, I don’t think I can call you anything but an angel.” He surprised himself with his flirtatious evenness, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

He watched as your eyes softened a smidge, but the moment was ruined when the bartender shot forward your glass.

“Coke with grenadine, light ice, for the lovely lady,” he mocked, his hard stare never leaving Munson’s face.

When the bartender turned away, Munson glanced at you, then shot a look over his shoulder at the moody man as if to say, What’s this guy’s problem?

You couldn’t help but laugh at his colorful expression before you brought your straw to your lips, taking a sip.

“Oh, fuck!” came the expletive from Munson. “Sorry. Here I am, buying you drinks and calling you an angel, and you don’t even know my name.” He fixed himself into a relaxed pose, leaning his side against the edge of the bar-top. “Hi, there. I’m Eddie.” He offered what he hoped was a beseeching smile.

Eddie… Eddie… where had you heard that name tonight? You knew you’d heard it from somewhere…

Oh! Eddie! As in, Rick’s off-limits, total dork of a friend, Eddie. This had to be him, right?

How lucky you were. You didn’t even have to go searching for your fun for the night. He just strolled off the stage, practically falling right into your lap. He’d even bought you a drink!

Achieving your goal of breaking Rick’s only rule might be a lot easier than you’d intended.

“Ooooh, so you’re Eddie,” you bemused, taking another small drink. “Of course you’re Eddie.”

A worried look overtook his previously collected features. “You’ve heard about me?” he asked. His voice now wasn’t as confident as it had been before. It was tinged with uncertainty, maybe a bit of anticipatory disappointment. “What d'you mean, 'Of course I’m Eddie’?”

“No, no, it’s nothing bad,” you cooed, bringing a hand to rest on his forearm. You could feel the solidity of his muscles beneath your fingers. You fought the urge to squeeze. “All good stuff, actually. Meeting you’s just adding to the intrigue. I promise.”

That seemed to put him more at ease. He nodded slowly, eyes briefly darting down to your hand which was still grazing his arm. You took it away, wondering if he wasn’t appreciative of it.

You’d read it wrong. He was.

“What’s your name?” he asked, finding your stare again.

Should you have told him?

It probably wouldn’t have hurt.

But you were afraid maybe Rick had already gotten to him, told him to steer clear of his little sister. Name dropping yourself might make Eddie back off, and you did not want that.

“You said you can’t call me anything but an angel,” you replied with puckish modesty. “So, let’s stick with that.” You put your free hand out, the one that had previously taken space on his arm. “Hi, Eddie. I’m Angel.”

You were a little bewildering, kind of cryptic, and super fucking hot. Eddie was a big fan of all three. He didn’t want to pressure you into giving an actual name if you didn’t want to. He could live with Angel. It wasn’t like the moniker was inaccurate.

“Okay, angel,” he granted, taking your hand in his. “It’s an honor.” He brought his lips down to press lightly against the skin of your fingers, eyes never leaving yours. He relished in the tiny bite you gave the corner of your lower lip at his action.

The bartender cleared his throat loudly. Both you and Eddie rolled your eyes simultaneously, turning your attention to him again as you pulled your hand back.

“You two mind? No one wants to come up here and drink with the both of you making Fuck Me eyes at each other. Scram.”

“You’re mean,” you admonished.

Eddie laughed at your accusation, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing at it under the heavy weight of his hair.

“You smoke?” he asked.

“Smoke what?” you countered.

Eddie grinned. “I was gonna suggest a cigarette, but maybe you’d be interested in something a little… greener?”

Your brows shot up in intrigue and you nodded, sucking the rest of your soda down in three long sips before slamming the glass back down on the wooden surface of the bar.

“Show me the way, rockstar.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“So, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before,” Eddie started, leading you out the door of The Hideout, heading into the parking lot.

You’d quickly scanned the crowd for Rick before exiting, wanting to make sure he was still otherwise occupied and wouldn’t catch you sneaking out with the one person he most definitely didn’t want you sneaking out with.

No longer was he talking to the biker bros that had basically accosted him at the table. Now he was sitting so close to a pretty purple haired girl that you were sure their foreheads were touching. His hand was on her cheek, and he was smiling goofily at her.

Good. He should be busy for a while now. Thank you, lavender loc’d lovergirl.

“'Cause you’d remember my pretty face if you’d seen it before, is that the rest of your sentence?” you teased.

Eddie grinned a bit bashfully, hand moving to rub at his neck again. You acknowledged it was probably a tell for when he was nervous or bordering on embarrassed. Good to know, perhaps an essential quirk to tuck away for safekeeping.

“Yeah, something like that,” he admitted with a laugh. “But really. You’re not from Hawkins, are you?”

“I am not from Hawkins, no. I actually just moved here today, if you can believe it.”

“Wow,” Eddie said, voice taking on a bantering tone. “Less than 24 hours here and you’re already walking alone at night with some stranger who many have dubbed a sinister cult leader. I may just be Indiana’s very own Satan incarnate. What ever will your parents think?”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be the offspring of a high-level Duke of Hell,” you countered, fully thinking of your mother when you spoke. “Guess it’s a match made in… Inferno?”

“My favorite kind of match,” Eddie confessed with a grin as you approached the brown and cream Chevy Beauville you figured belonged to him.

You paused for a beat as Eddie pulled open the side door before asking, “Do people really think that? That you’re a cult leader?”

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. When he spoke next, he took on a theatrical guise, words laced with performative shock. “When I walk down the street, men can’t help but to scoff and glare; women clutch their purses to their chests; mothers cover their children’s eyes before their children can shriek in horror; dogs bark and wolves howl and the whole Earth opens up beneath my feet.”

You found yourself watching in utter amusement at his sermonizing, your focus unwavering on his expressive hand motions and his demonstrative body language, your ears attuned to every shift in infliction of his voice.

Rick was right.

Eddie was a dork.

But such an endearing dork. A stellar storyteller. A winsome wordsmith. And it was like he wasn’t even trying. Like this ingenuity came to him as easy as taking a breath.

He reminded you a little of your father -- the eagerness to put on a show, the effortless spellbinding nature. The similarities filled your chest with a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Too much?” Eddie asked, cringing a little at your silence.

You shook your head slowly, smiling. “Not at all.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Eddie had a multicolor Afghan spread out on the floor in the back of his van, one he informed you was made for him by a past girlfriend of his Uncle’s.

He apologized profusely that the interior wasn’t more appealing, mumbled something about how he should maybe think about getting actual seats installed, but when you sprawled out wordlessly on the blanket, back plush against its scratchy softness, and positively beamed at him, he shut up.

He sat down next to you after finding a half-smoked joint in his middle console, offering it to you for the first hit.

“Where'd you move here from?” he asked after a few moments of peaceful silence, nothing heard but the sizzle from the lit Rizla and the steady stream of cars from the busy street outside.

“Fresno,” you replied, passing the joint to him as you held in your hit until the smoke burned your lungs.

“A California city girl in little ole Hawkins?” he bemused, taking a deep drag. “You must feel pretty out of place here, angel.”

With a shrug, you said, “Dunno yet. It’s only been less than a day, remember?” You took the joint as he extended it out to you, taking a smaller hit this time. “Ask me again after school on Monday.”

“You goin’ to the community college or something?”

“No, I’m still in high school. Senior. I think it’s just called…”

“Hawkins High. Yeah, I uh, I go there too.” That hand rubbing at the back of his neck again. “Um – Paul, y'know, that mean bartender, he… said something about me being twenty? I dunno if you heard. But, yeah. I got held back a few years, so…”

Turns out the hand thing was a sign of embarrassment.

“Eddie, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you told him, moving to position your weight onto one side, leaning against your elbow. “Everybody’s on a different path. Besides, high school is such bullshit. It’s basically hardwired for you to fuck up or fail. Believe me, I know.”

You took another hit, this one bigger, wanting to feel the lightheadedness of the high sooner rather than later, especially breaching this subject. It always warranted a lament from you.

“I’ve had specialized learning plans since forever,” you continued, passing the joint off to him. His brows furrowed in concentration as he listened. “I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was little. Like, five or six. I could never sit still in class, and I always needed way more time to take tests than everybody else, and I'd forget whole chunks of paragraphs that I’d just read the second I finished reading them.” You sighed, slightly frustrated at the memories, but the weed was beginning to work its magic. Your muscles felt like they were relaxing, tension drifting away, and your head felt a very good kind of heavy. “But then I got on medicine, and it helped. Still helps.” As an afterthought, you added, “When I remember to take it.”

Eddie considered this for a few moments before sticking the joint in his mouth, inhaling. “Shit. Maybe I have ADHD,” he surmised, exhaling a thick cloud into the air.

“Maybe,” you suggested. “I’d say you could talk to my mom, 'cause she’s a psychiatrist, but she’s actually a huge fucking bitch, so nevermind.”

Eddie laughed, not expecting you to say that, and he'd been in the middle of another inhale so he ended up choking and coughing hard on the smoke.

“Oh, no!” You hurried into a sitting position. “Are you – are you okay?” you asked, and you felt bad, but you couldn’t help the little laughs that were escaping your lips at his now bright red tomato face. You were stoned. “D'you – do you have water in here, somewhere?”

Eddie nodded, having a brief break in his hacking fit, pointing to the front of his van. “Y-yeah, shit,” cough, cough, cough, “o-over there. Fucking fuck, man.” Cough, cough. That last one sounded like it hurt.

You scurried on your hands and knees to the front of the van, scanning the dashboard for some kind of drink. The high made it seem like your eyes could only move in slow motion. Finally spotting a half-drank bottle of blue Gatorade, you snatched it, crawling hurriedly back over to where Eddie sat hunched over, trying to control his breathing.

He took the drink, spun the cap off, and quickly downed most of the contents in an attempt to soothe his raw throat.

“Goddamn,” he rasped out. He realized he was still holding the joint in his hand. He definitely didn’t want anymore now. He looked to you, offering it silently, but you shook your head, rejecting it. He stubbed it out in an ashtray that was laying at his side. Bringing the Gatorade back to his lips, he dipped his head back, finishing it off.

Without really thinking, and weed always loosening your already pretty loose inhibitions, you brought your hand to rest on his cheek, your thumb stroking a small path back and forth on the smooth skin under his eye. “You good?” you asked, the ghost of a laugh twisting at your words.

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat at your touch. He was happy he’d swallowed the Gatorade or else he probably would have started choking on that, too.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a careful caress like the one you were currently giving him. It was simple, but it felt so good. So soft. And – fuck – you were straddling one of his thighs with your legs, and he didn’t even think you noticed. But he definitely did.

Even though his skin was covered by denim, he could still feel the heat from your center warming him. His cock gave an appreciative jerk in the confines of his tight jeans.

Your eyes finally drifted down to the sitting arrangement you found yourselves in. Slowly lifting your gaze to meet his glassy, doe-eyed stare once more, you tilted your head to the side in quandary, hand not dropping from the curve of his face.

“Should I move?” you asked, voice a pitch louder than a whisper.

“Please don't,” Eddie answered, unblinking.

You let your weight rest fully down on his thigh, shifting your hips once, watching as his eyes rolled back at the contact. He was so receptive that it made your cunt clench around nothing, and you took that moment to pull his face closer to yours, pressing your lips to his almost hard enough to bruise.

Eddie groaned at the feel of your mouth, his tongue eagerly and immediately trying to pry open your lips. You grinned into the kiss, giving him what he wanted by allowing his hot tongue access to slide slippery against your own.

He thought you were sweet and citrusy, like sugared oranges, and a little tart, like ripe pomegranate. He thought fleetingly that if he could, he’d bottle you up and drink you with every meal.

You thought he was fresh and sharp, like spearmint gum, and heady, like expensive sativa. Your tongue fought with his for dominance, each moan from either one of you spurring on the other, greedy mouths working hard to stake their claim.

When you finally pulled away, you were a little out of breath. “God, Eddie, you kiss like you’re thirsty.” Your hand moved from its resting place on his face to tangle in the curls at the back of his head.

He groaned when he felt you tug at the roots of his scalp, bringing a hand up to cradle just under your chin, fingers stretching out over the expanse of your neck. A lazy grin curved at his lips.

“You wanna see thirsty?"

With that, he flipped the both of you over so you were on your back, Eddie positioning himself between your spread legs. You were happy for the padding of the Afghan, knowing the cool steel flooring of the van would have pinched your skin unpleasantly.

He wasted no time in pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking quick but harsh at your supple skin.

You moaned wantonly, lolling your head to the side to give him better access. Your legs moved to wrap around his slim waist, your hips moving up to feel as much of him against your center as you could. Eddie couldn’t help but give a thrust down against you, his persistently hardening cock straining taut against his jeans.

“Can I taste you?” he asked against your skin, pressing softer kisses to the tiny marks he’d left just moments ago with his lips and teeth.

A strained whimper escaped your lips at his request. You nodded, feeling more drunk than high, arching your hips up again to try and garner more friction from him.

“Say it,” he demanded, bringing a hand up to grip at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “‘I want you to taste me, Eddie.’ Tell me.”

“I want you to taste me, Eddie,” you repeated lewdly, ad-libbing after with, “please, Eddie, want you to make me feel good.”

His pupils blew dark and wide, and he slid the remainder of the way down your body, burying his head under your skirt. Without removing your underwear or even pushing them to the side, he pressed his mouth to the damp fabric, his open-mouthed kisses continuing there. A desperate sound came from him as he sucked you through your panties, the deliciously honeyed scent of you enveloping him completely.

In this moment, he felt like if he died with his face buried in your heat, it would be a very happy and welcomed death.

“Eddie, take them off,” you demanded, shaking your hips around in a frustrated movement.

He laughed at your impatience, but moved to grant you your wish. He hooked his fingers under the sides of your panties, just about to pull them down… before a loud pounding was heard on the outside of the van.

“Hey, Ed? Hate to interrupt you, dude, but my mom’s gonna be pissed if you don’t get me home by 10.”

Eddie groaned loudly, the noise sounding almost pained. It seemed like it took a lot out of him to have to move his head out from under your skirt. He glanced over his shoulder to the clock on his dash, the LED numbers reading 9:35PM.

“This dream just turned into a real fucking nightmare, angel,” he grumbled, biting down lightly at your inner thigh.

You jolted at the feel of his teeth, and couldn’t help but give a frustrated whine at his sentiment, wholly agreeing. Your entire body was thrumming, wanting so badly to be touched and given a release.

“Eddie…?” came the voice again.

“Yeah, Doug, got it. Give me a minute, man.”

Eddie took one more longing look at your clothed cunt, studying the wet spot made from his spit and your arousal. He gave a salacious lick of his lips before dragging his eyes up to meet yours.

“That’s my bassist,” he begrudgingly informed. “His mom’s like your mom. Huge fucking bitch, but don't ever tell him I said that. I have to drive him home or else she’ll forever forbid him to play another show.”

You offered him a placating smile, moving your hand to brush a few of his longer bangs from around his eyes. “It’s okay. I mean, it really isn’t, 'cause I’m so fucking horny right now, but I get it.” Eddie gave another groan at your admission. He cursed the universe for shit fucking timing, and for totally inconsiderate bassists who didn’t have their licenses.

“Can I see you again?” he asked, voice bordering on timid.

It was shocking to you how he could go from dirty mouthed amateur porn star to red-cheeked virginal teenage boy in the matter of minutes. The duality was enticing. You briefly wondered just how far you could push him to either end of the spectrum.

“I’ll give you my number,” you said, but then remembered, “oh, wait, I don’t know my number yet. Um. You can give me yours?”

Eddie nodded fervently, moving to a kneeling position as he reached over and started looking through a pile of stuff on his passenger seat. He pulled out a pen from the mess and ripped off a small piece of paper from an old report card, quickly scrawling down his digits.

“Here,” he said, moving to hand it to you. He did a quick once over though, realizing you didn’t have pockets, so he slid the folded piece of paper under the front hem of your panties. He patted it with his fingers and gave a pleased grin before saying, “C'mon, I’ll walk you back inside.”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

By the time you’d made it back through the front door of The Hideout, Rick was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, obviously in search of you.

“What the fuck, Bean!” he scolded, marching his way up to you when he spotted you walking in, not even glancing at Eddie. “I don’t pay attention for two minutes and you disappear for an hour?!”

“Two minutes, Richard, really?” you laughed out, the sound incredulous. Because, really, Rick’s timeframe was way, way off. You knew he wasn’t the greatest at math, but damn, right now he was straight up delusional. “You’ve been talking to everyone but me since we got here! You weren't paying attention for way longer than two minutes.”

“So not fuckin’ true,” he said, but his tone was quieter now as if he figured that, yeah, it might actually be true.

Rick’s eyes finally drifted to your side, observing Eddie’s presence. You’d taken great care to fix the boy’s hair and his clothing, making sure he didn’t look disheveled for this very reason – you could tell Rick was sizing the younger man up after finding out the two of you were off somewhere together. Alone.

Eddie looked like a lost puppy, glancing between you and Rick, trying to figure out what the fuck the dynamic between the two of you was. You tried your hardest not to look so amused at his sweet, utterly confused expression.

“Oh, yeah, I ran into Eddie while I was outside smoking,” you explained away easily. “He told me you guys are friends. I figured he’s who you brought me here to meet.”

Eddie side eyed you, unsure of where this was heading. He definitely did not tell you that he and Rick were friends. Eddie didn’t even think him and Rick were friends. He hoped they were, he wanted them to be, but he didn’t think it’s how Rick would have classified their relationship.

Rick turned his apprehensive gaze on Eddie. “Is that true?” he asked, eye contact steady and unblinking.

Best go along with it, Eddie thought.

“Couldn’t be truer.”

The older man seemed to consider Eddie’s response for a minute before a familiar silly grin etched itself across his pierced face.

“Cool!” he exclaimed, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.

Rick had been planning on propositioning Eddie tonight about being your watchdog, but after downing a few drinks and having basically driven around for the past four days straight with little sleep, he figured that conversation could wait a little longer. “You wanna come over tomorrow night, Munson? Hang out with me and the little sister for a bit?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed, shaking his head slowly in uncertainty. “Sure, but... who’s your little sister?”

Rick’s smile slowly began to fade in skepticism as his attention moved from Eddie and back to you standing beside him.

“Me, silly,” you admonished, bringing a hand down to grab at his, concealing the contact behind your back so Rick didn’t see. You stroked the skin on his thumb in a wordless apology for the whole not-being-totally-honest-about-who-you-were thing.

Eddie’s eyes widened at the reveal, still a little too stoned for the realization that he’d just had one of the hottest make-out sessions of his entire life with… Reefer Rick Lipton's… little sister…

Shit.

“Remember? I told you outside?” you were pleading at him with your eyes, still trying to make it not appear obvious that you were lying your ass off to your older brother.

Eddie indulged, not wanting to be on the receiving end of the rage of Rick if he found out what had just gone one in the back of his Beauville.

“Oh, yeah! Right, right!” Eddie tried to play it off. “Sorry, man, I’m just – totally fucking stoned.” That part was relatively true. This whole interaction was making him feel even higher than he thought he was in the first place, actually. Eddie gave Rick what he prayed was an easy-going grin.

You released Eddie and stepped in between the two of them, forcing out a wide yawn. “Rick, c'mon, I’m getting tired,” you brought your hand to your brother’s arm, starting to tug at him, pulling him toward the door. “Let’s go home.” You stressed the last word, hoping that by you referring to his Hawkins residence as that, it would soften and distract him.

It did.

Rick relented, figuring he was probably just looking too deeply into things, understanding his paranoia sometimes got the better of him. Nothing probably happened between you and Eddie. He was probably just being an overbearing older brother. Probably.

“Right. 'Kay. Lemme just go find this one girl and say bye.” He disappeared off into the dwindling crowd, and you assumed he was off to bid adieu to the same purple-haired girl from before.

You took this as your chance to turn to Eddie.

Eddie, who was currently staring at you a little too warily for your liking.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you implored, fingers finding his hand again. He didn’t make a move to pull away, so you took that as a good sign. “Just come over tomorrow night, okay? We can talk about it.”

It kind of freaked you out how much you didn’t want this – whatever this was – between the two of you to be ruined so quickly.

Since your dad left, you knew things in your life had gone a little downhill, and you also knew you’d been acting a bit belligerently in your attempts to try and ignore it. You’d been making irresponsible, rash decisions all over the board – from school, to home, to friendships and relationships. Nothing seemed to be sacrosanct from your newfound self-sabotaging behaviors.

From this, you’d encountered quite a few willing partners, of both the opposite and same sex, to occupy your mind and time since last summer, and not a single one of them was someone you were interested in getting to know more than just carnally.

Eddie was the first person in a long time you felt you actually clicked with on more than just a physical level, and that was evident from your discourse at the bar, your rendezvous in the van, and now with the realization that you may have screwed it all up by not being truthful to him. You were starting to get a stomach ache. This was so not how you’d planned on the night ending.

Across from you, Eddie seemed to weigh the entire situation as you just had, his dark brown eyes studying your face as he did so. Maybe to find a glimmer of further deceit? Of an ulterior motive? He was used to those things. It wasn’t often people wanted him just to want him. It was usually to get something from him.

However, he could find nothing but honest anticipation in your eyes. His fingers squeezed yours briefly before Rick made his way back over, your brother’s heavily tattooed arm sliding around your frame as he pulled you away.

“See ya tomorrow, Munson!” Rick called.

At the last moment you could, right before the door to the bar closed, you looked back over your shoulder at Eddie. He saw you smile at him. Your intention was to silently ask for the possibility of forgiveness, or at the very least, understanding.

Eddie watched the door you’d exited through for a minute or two longer. Blinking back to reality, he realized he was tired, at first thinking it was just from the weed, but then remembering that Corroded Coffin had literally played a show tonight.

That seemed like days ago at this point.

Being in the van with you had felt like a lengthy escapade, definitely more than just roughly sixty minutes spent together.

Eddie’s palms started to sweat.

He hadn’t known you before an hour ago, but now that you weren’t next to him anymore, talking and teasing, he’d felt more alone than he had in a long time.

Exiting the bar, Eddie headed back to his van.

The whole trip to Dougie’s house and then on his ride back to the trailer park, he was fake scenario-ing all the different ways tomorrow night at Rick’s could go.

Maybe he was bound to be screwed over by you eventually, fucked royally in a not-so-fun way.

But Eddie, ever the opportunist, would likely let you as long as that meant he got to go along for the ride.

#eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #billy x reader #billy x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #mungrove x reader #mungrove

109 notes · View notes

starcrossedxwriter · 1 year ago

Text

Built for Love Part 11 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

Warnings: a bit of angst, lots of fluff, NSFW

A/N: I don't wanna give a single thing away about this chapter so I'm just gonna say enjoy!

“What are you doing outta bed?” Michael paused scrambling eggs on the stove to throw her a glance that matched the exasperation and annoyance in his tone. “I told you I’d bring it to you.”

Charlotte’s slippers made scuffing noises across the hardwood floor as she made her way to the kitchen island.

“Thank you but you’ve sequestered me in that bed since Saturday and I didn’t fight you on it once. It’s Wednesday and if I lay there for one more second, I was gonna lose my mind. I’ve slept enough for a lifetime.” She glanced down at the kitchen island, heavy laden with breakfast. She spied breakfast potatoes, bacon, sausage, fruit, and biscuits. “Now who is all this food for??”

“You,” he responded simply. “You needed sleep and now you need calories. You’ve been losing weight since we moved here and that stops now.”

Charlotte could not deny that was true. It was unintentional but her soft curves had certainly lost much of their curviness since she moved to New York. She was not at her skinniest by any means, but the rigorous performances and practices, her regular workout routine, and the stress caused the pounds to shed without her even realizing it.

She popped a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth as she walked up to him. “This is very sweet and everything smells delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go sit.”

Charlotte moaned. Dr. Jordan was the strictest fake doctor she had ever met in her life. He barely gave her a chance to stand and stretch her legs.

“Babeeeee,” she whined, wrapping her arms around his midsection. Her forehead rested on his back. “I can stand for a few minutes. He fucked up my upper body, my legs still work just fine.”

“You need to rest and relax, Charlotte. Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Worst patient I’ve ever seen.”

“How many girls have you nursed back to health from near death, babe? Damn, I thought I was your first for once,” she joked. However, when it fell flat, she grimaced. “Too soon?”

“Wayyyy too soon, baby. How’re you feeling?”

“Fi-” she started to say but remembered her promise. It included this. She pressed her lips to his back, his taunt and bare muscles flexing at her touch.“B-better. Nightmares weren’t so bad last night… just a couple so that’s progress… torturously slow progress,” she added. “And I made an appointment with my old therapist. We’re gonna do virtual sessions till I get back to LA.”

Michael turned from the stove, still in the grip of her arms, to face her. He gave her an encouraging smile. “That’s great, Els.” He was proud of her, he knew how hard that was… that she likely felt as if she was backtracking or starting over. “Why didn’t you wake me last night?”

“You need to sleep too, Dr. Jordan. All this taking care of and fussing over me, I know you’re not resting.”

“I’ll rest when those heal.” He lifted her chin lightly to look at the bruising on her neck. He knew they would get worse before they got better but his eyes glazed over with rage every time he looked at her bruises, particularly the ones around her neck. He could make out exactly where his hands were, a temporary brand to what he tried to do.

Charlotte rubbed his arm, an attempt to soothe the brewing emotions she could feel inside him. She always admired his emotional intelligence, how he was able to reign in his emotions and rage even when he so clearly wanted to find the nearest punching bag or Shaun’s face and have at it. “I’ve had worse. It always looks way worse than it feels. Well, that’s not true. The first day, it felt worse than it looked. But it’s not too bad now. I promise. And I’d rather you rest now. I really am ok.”

Despite her assurances, she could tell he did not believe her. She sighed, wondering when she would earn his trust again. That was honestly the hardest part in all this for her, knowing that her actions had caused her to lose it in the first place.

“How long is it gonna take for you to trust me when I say that again?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t angry, there were consequences to her actions and this was one of them. But it did break her heart. She hated the idea that he did not trust her words. This was their first real issue as a couple, the first time she had to contend with them not being on the same page.

Michael sighed, his hand going to scratch the scruff of his beard for a moment. “It’s not a question of trust, Els. Because I do trust you. And I’m not tryin’ to hold this against you. But this taught me that for better or worse, your default is to deal with your shit alone. To hide and, if needed, lie to avoid bothering or worrying other people. And I get it, I understand why. But I won’t lie and pretend like this shit didn’t shake me up a lot. Being stuck in LA knowing something wasn’t right even though you promised it was. Seeing you after the show shaken and scared and not knowing why… seeing you nearly dead on the floor when I was one room over. That ain’t shit I’m gonna get outta my head anytime soon. When you say you’re good, I wanna know that’s true. But I also know it’s gonna take a lot more than a promise and a few days for that to happen. You gotta work on trusting me with your problems and your pain and that shit takes time. And in the meantime, I’m gonna work on taking you at your word but I might also just need… some reassurances that you’re really ok.”

She understood why Michael was being so protective. She could tell he still felt guilty, though he shouldn’t, about not being there to protect her in the first place. And now, he acted as if she needed to be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times. He barely let her out of his sight and if it was not an absolute necessity, he barely let her out of bed. She understood the impulse. If it made him feel better to fuss, she would not deny herself or him that.

“I understand. I didn’t think about how all of that would affect you… scare you. And I am sorry. Whatever reassurances you need and fussing you wanna do for as long as you wanna do it, I won’t fight you on it. Promise.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her nose, her face scrunching up a bit. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable. Head is still pounding, everything’s a bit stiff but I feel like I can get up and move around a bit. Or at least move from the bed to the couch for a change of scenery. Maybe convince the best and sexiest doctor in New York to take me on a walk after breakfast so I can breathe some fresh air?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “You sure you're up for that?”

“Probably not up for a long one,” she admitted. “But even if it’s just 10 minutes… the cameras and reporters have finally moved on to bothering someone else. We could escape for a bit. I’m going a little stir crazy, Bakari.”

“Fine. Just for a bit then Avengers on the couch?”

“Thank youuuu.”

She ate quickly, finishing two plates at Michael’s insistence.

As they went into their bedroom to change, she raised an eyebrow in shock as Michael handed her one of his favorite sweaters. She had stolen quite a lot of his clothes in the last few months, in which they basically became her clothes and he never saw them again. However, this coveted sweater had always been out of her grasp. He had always made it clear it was one of the few items that were off limits because he knew he’d never get it back. However, she had tried it on one or twice when he wasn’t home and it was like wearing a cloud, so insanely soft.

“Wow… so this whole time all I needed to do was almost die to get this?? Chile, I would’ve done that months ago to get this sweater,” she joked. Though she could see the corner of his mouth twitch, he did not laugh. “Still too soon?”

“If it was too soon 20 minutes ago, it still is, Els.”

“Sorry, Jackson wasn’t a fan of my dark humor about dying the first time either. But it helps to find some humor in it… somewhere. And you gotta admit, it is kinda funny…” She remarked as she pulled on a pair of leggings. They still had to bundle up, one thing Charlotte did miss about LA was the perfect weather year around.

“Ain’t a single humorous thing about any of this, babe.”

“I dunno… I mean no, it isn’t funny. But also, it’s kinda crazy… Since I met him, Shaun’s gone out his way to try to kill me twice… and each time, I’ve survived. Like he is really bad at murder… terrible. I mean, not complaining… Thank God for it. But I would just stop trying if I was 0/2 with the same person, you know? That’s embarrassing??” That did make a small chuckle escape Michael’s lips. “See!! It is kinda funny when you actually think about it.”

“I’m ignoring you,” he called as he went into the closet to pull out their winter coats, baseball caps, and shades. Thankfully, the press and paparazzi surrounding their building had started to dissipate. They had gotten a couple glimpses of her family and Michael coming and going but none of her, thankfully. That was the only thing that would have made this whole ordeal worse, her bruised and battered form thrown across the front page of every newspaper. She knew it was still a possibility, pictures of her injuries from the hospital could leak. The downside of fame, nothing was truly private.

She shrugged as he helped her pull on her coat.

“I’m just saying he’s bad at killing or I am just that good at surviving,” she muttered. “Maybe they should cast me in Black Panther too?” At his confused stare, she smiled. “Cause I clearly have 9 lives like a cat? I could be like your sexy evil accomplice… The Golden Cheetah?”

That did make him laugh for the first time in several days. His hands grabbed her jacket to pull her close to him. “I’ll talk to Ryan about it, how about that?”

“That’s all I ask.” She stretched on her tiptoes to kiss him before he took her hand to lead them outside.

Their walk did not last too long as Michael knew it would not. Not because Charlotte was not up for it but because neither of them wanted to be out in the cold long. But she still appreciated his willingness to acquiesce to her small request. A walk was really the only public thing she cared to do, at least, until all the bruises faded. And she did appreciate the activity, she wanted to keep her limbs from going too stiff. She’d be back on stage next week, the one thing she did have to fight Michael on. Chris was on the verge of an ulcer every day she was out. He called to check on her everyday. She knew he actually cared about her but she also knew he wanted his leading lady back… ASAP. She already felt guilty ruining his opening night, the least she could do is not send him to the hospital from the stress.

But Michael did not push back too much once she promised to have security with her, given that Shaun was officially out on bail. Restraining order or not, she and Michael were not interested in testing whether Shaun would adhere to it. She let Michael pick and vet the guy, who came highly recommended.cHis accolades included knowing more than an acceptable amount of ways to kill someone with his bare hands so she could not deny she would feel more safe in his presence. And the theater security and box office had been alerted and prepped to ensure her ex did not step foot on the premises again. And he no longer, thankfully, even had a legitimate reason to, Chris letting her know he had been fired from his investment firm immediately after the news broke.

Charlotte knew she would not know real peace or be able to fully move on until he was behind bars, which the DA warned could take a year given the docket unless he accepted a plea. But she would accept the small wins and forms of justice that she could get, she knew it was far more than many in her position would ever see.

As she pulled her outer layers and hat off, she got a glimpse of her hair in the mirror.

“Ugh.”

“What?”

“My hair… How can you stand to look at me like this? I look like a troll doll. I’m gonna have to go to the salon or pay someone to come and wash it. I look crusty as hell.”

“How about we relax in the bath and I’ll wash it for you?”

Her face lit up. She remembered when they talked about a similar scene in Creed, the intimacy of helping Bianca do her hair. Her heart swelled at the idea of recreating such a moment. The role of victim and caregiver over the last few days had stripped a layer of emotional intimacy the pair was accustomed to. She knew it would come back eventually but she hoped, perhaps, this small act would speed things up a bit.

“Really?”

He gestured toward the bedroom, taking her hand to get ready for the tub.

Soon, she found herself resting against Michael’s chest in the bath, bubbles surrounding both of them. He did all the work, his fingertips softly massaging shampoo and conditioner in her tresses, Charlotte could’ve fallen to sleep right there.

“Can I ask you something?” Her soft voice breaking the silence between them as Michael worked diligently and carefully to avoid causing her pain. It had been on her mind since they got home, stationed at the forefront for the hours and hours she spent resting or recovering in his arms. Several days removed, the shock had worn off for both of them, she felt like enough time had passed to finally talk about things unrelated to what happened or her safety. They could talk about the future, one she prayed to God she did not completely destroy.

“Shoot.” He took note of the nervousness in her voice. He did not know what she could be about to ask him, what could cause her to be nervous. He was an open book.

“At the hospital… you said you wanted to marry me…” her voice grew quiet, one of her legs drawing into her chest. “Did you mean that? Do you still mean that? Or was it just, you know, you caught up in the emotion of everything?”

His massaging stilled for a moment before he answered, “Yes, yes, and no.” Simple and to the point as he resumed his task.

He could feel her body relax against him again at his answers.

“You don’t wanna elaborate on any of those answers?”

He laughed. “Nah cause it’s pretty cut and dry to me. I’m pretty set on spending the rest of my life with you.”

And that was not him just trying to assure her, it was the truth. He knew in his soul Charlotte was the end game for him well before they went on their first date. He had just been waiting for her to catch on. And once she did, every step he had taken since, including this move to New York, was with the intention of spending every day of the rest of his life with her.

“Even after all this? After I lied to you?”

Michael knew she still felt guilty. Between the two of them, there was much guilt to go around in their household over the last 72 hours. Some of it was fair and some of it was not. But just as he was trying to work through his own guilt, he did not want Charlotte to continue to hold onto hers when he had forgiven her.

“Els, I meant it when I said I forgive you. And when I say somethin’, I mean that shit. Stop beating yourself up over it. I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into the studio for our screen test. And I’ve just fell more and more in love with you with every passing day. All of this changed nothing for me, except reminding me that whatever time we have together, I don’t wanna waste it.”

Her hands played in the tall bubbles of the bath as she contemplated his words.

“That been on your mind since I said it?”

“Yea,” she admitted. “You know, all my time in bed gave me lots of time to ruminate,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s just… I mean we just have never talked about marriage a-and the long-term stuff. I mean and I get it, we haven’t even been together a year. But w-when you said that, it made me really happy because I feel the same about you. B-But then I just… you know, obsessed over it for the last three days wondering if all this changed your mind or made you question whether I’m the person you wanna spend the rest of your life with.”

“Nah, I would’ve married you after our first date if I could’ve.”

Charlotte chuckled and shook her head, small droplets of water spraying everywhere. “We would’ve been skipping about 10 steps there. I want a proposal,” she laughed. “Knowing you, it’ll be something sentimental that makes me break down in tears.”

Thank God she could not see the giant smirk that fell on his face.

“And a big wedding, I assume?”

Charlotte tilted her head as if to contemplate. She knew he expected the answer to be yes, after all most girls dream of a grand wedding. But that had never been her. “Honestly? I was never the girl to dream about the big princess wedding… just the prince,” she teased.

Michael ran a comb through a section of hair, working to detangle it. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, knowing her head still hurt, which meant the whole endeavor took longer than it should have.

“Am I living up to the childhood fantasy?” He asked.

“My wildest dreams couldn’t have conjured you up.”

“I aim to please.” He kissed her shoulder.

“I don’t even really care about planning it. I had to endure J and Lauren’s wedding planning and whew… miserableeee. And they couldn’t even enjoy the day that much. I dunno, I don’t want to be more worried about whether some elaborate affair is going according to plan instead of actually enjoying my wedding day? I wanna be celebrating our love and the first day of our life together. I mean yea, I want a wedding of some sort but it could have 25 people in your backyard. As long as I’m in a drop dead gorgeous dress and you’re waiting on me at the end of the aisle, I honestly don’t need or care about anything else. I’d be fine with a big one if you want one but someone else’s gotta plan it.”

“I’ve never put much thought into my wedding so you won’t get much argument outta me. I would push back on the backyard thing though. Maybe a small destination wedding or a small venue in LA, something like that.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Speaking of destinations,” he mentioned, shifting gears of the conversation. If they went too much farther down this road, Michael would find a wedding planner to plan a small intimate ceremony for next week. “I think we’ll both finally have some time off in September when you finish here. Let me take you on a trip.”

“Oooo you tryin’ to fly ya girl out?” Michael rolled his eyes at her antics. “Where would you want to go?”

Michael immediately shook his head. His sweet girl was the opposite of decisive. She would let Michael make every decision if she could. And this time, he wanted to go where she wanted to go.

“Nahhh ma, it isn’t to celebrate me. It’s for you. Where do you want to go?”

“It should also be to celebrate us both… a bit delayed sure but we never really did anything to celebrate Creed. That’s your first big leading man blockbuster.” She flipped the script on him.

“Fine, it can be to celebrate us both but you still need to pick.”

“I really hate you,” she laughed. “Well, at least, help me narrow it down. What kind of vacation vibe would you want?”

“Preferably somewhere relaxing where I can have you naked or only in a bikini for most of the trip.”

She could not hide the sly grin on her face at his words, the heat that rose throughout her entire body. She forced the feeling to dampen. They had not had sex yet and given how the other night went, she imagined Michael would pump the brakes again. She understood, but she did not want to deal with the rejection again.

“The Caribbean is an option but September is dead in the middle of hurricane season, so we’d have to be ok with it being canceled potentially.” Michael smiled, he was never one to consider weather patterns before traveling. He barely checked the weather before he stepped outside each day. But of course, Charlotte would think about that. “We could do something like a spot along the Mediterranean? Or something like that. I’ve been wanting to go back to the Amalfi Coast but maybe we should go somewhere we both haven’t been?”

He learned something new about his girl every day. “When did you go there?”

“My first birthday after Shaun… My family surprised me with a vacation there. I had spent most of that whole first year miserable and in bed. The first six months were the hardest. But by the time my birthday came around, I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel but still wasn’t there. I was in therapy and still struggling to find me in all of it? And I was just really depressed so the trip was supposed to cheer me up a bit. Lauren, Jazz, one of our other friends, Chelsea, and I all went. And we had a ball,” Michael could feel her entire body light up as she spoke, as if the mere memories of that trip were fuel and power.

“We just ate and drank and ate some more and swam and went on boat rides and just… lived. God, it was the first time I felt uninhibited happiness and relaxation in years. It was kinda my Eat, Pray, Love moment as corny as that is,” she admitted. “One morning, I got up super early and went down to the beach by myself while we were in this town, Ravello. I had this necklace he gave me for my last birthday. Hideous, gaudy silver thing I’d never pick or wear myself. But I couldn’t let it go and clung to that stupid thing since the break up. Anyway, I watched the sun rise and I realized that I’d never be me again. The me before him was dead and gone. But I also realized that maybe that wasn’t a bad thing? Cause the me before him needed that necklace as proof that someone loved me, no matter how hideous and awful that love was. The me before him and during him needed any type of love, no matter the cost of it. And that part of me needed to die. So, instead of trying to resurrect the old me, I decided I would reconnect with the things that made me happy and forge something new. And then I ran into the water and tossed that terrible necklace into the sea. And then I regretted polluting the sea with something that was definitely not biodegradable,” Michael’s deep baritone filled her ears with laughter. “So long way of saying, it just represents new beginnings to me in some way. So even if we don��t go this time around, I’d want to go back with you at some point. But I’d honestly be fine with anywhere as long as I’m with you. So why don’t you just surprise me?”

“Fine. Don’t think I don’t realize you’re using my love of surprises against me.”

She turned and winked at him before he helped her stand and get in the shower to effectively rinse out all of the products. Their afternoon of hair styling continued as she sat between his legs on the couch, Avengers playing on the tv as he moisturized and styled her hair. She savored the help, she hated dealing with her mane of hair. And the intimacy it had created was exactly as she had hoped. And he did an excellent job. Though she could tell his arms were exhausted by the time he finished tying her scarf around her clean and moisturized curls and coils into a pineapple on the top of her head.

“You could’ve been a hairstylist in another life.”

“You didn’t tell me it was such a work out. Boxing didn’t hurt my arms this much,” he laughed.

“Well when you’re prepping for Creed 2 and wanna help me with my hair for extra arm training, let me know. I quite enjoyed not dealing with it for once.”

Her injuries made it difficult to cuddle on the couch as they wanted so Charlotte laid with her head on his lap, his hand resting on her arm as they watched the movie.

“Can I ask you something?” This time it was Michael’s turn, a question that had been on his mind for longer than a few days. He did not know if now was the right time or if there’d ever be a right time. And he did not expect an answer but he wanted her to know he would listen if she was ready to ever share it.

“Of course.”

“And you don’t gotta answer if you don’t want to. But you never told me… what made you finally decide to leave? Was it whatever you dreamed about that night you got sick?”

Charlotte’s eyes clenched shut. It was always a delicate balance. What of Shaun’s brutality to share and what not to. But she knew this was one of those things, the things she needed to learn to trust Michael specifically with. He was home and home was where you could bare it all… your whole soul. He asked and she would answer, no more hiding.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you about him. I mean a lot of it was the same old same. But somethings, I said I’d never tell anyone, Jackson, Lauren… even you. A-and that nightmare, it was bad, don’t get me wrong. Definitely made the ‘the CIA couldn’t get this out of me,’ shortlist. But the breaking point was, he saw me talking to a reporter after a show one night and thought I was cheating, God he accused me of cheating like twice a week, which just made me so upset. We argued all the way home. He asked me if I wanted to leave him a-and in my frustration and anger, I told him he wasn’t giving me many reasons to stay. Looking back, it was a real stupid thing to say, like pouring gasoline on a fire. But I w-was just so tired, tired of feeling like I was killing myself every day to be perfect and love him and getting so much pain thrown back at me. When we got home, he beat me. T-that wasn’t the bad part, that was par for the course. But then… he dragged me out onto our 11th story balcony. He picked me up and threatened to throw me off until I swore I’d never leave.”

She watched as his entire body stiffened, his fists clenching with anger. She wanted to offer him some assurance, something to ease the feelings that brewed but there was not really anything that could be said. That story and her life just were what they were, upsetting and enraging and all.

“He played God with my life for a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity, my body balancing on the railing like a rag doll with only him holding me there. There was one point, I tipped so far back, I actually thought he had let go and I s-saw my whole life flash before my eyes. I always thought people were being dramatic when they said that. But it’s true. Like a movie in fast forward and all I saw was every mistake that led me to that moment. When he was satisfied that I had begged for my life enough, he let me down and drug me back inside to finish the night. He knew I didn’t have much fight left in me after that,” she whispered, her hand wiping a tear. “Ugh,” she could not contain the groan of frustration at her own emotions. She hated that he still had this effect on her. “I don’t know why I’m crying over this o-old shit,” she shook her head. “He doesn’t deserve it. A-anyway, I decided that the next day that I had to leave or I’d d-die. I made a p-plan and left a week later.”

“I’m sorry, honeybee.” There were no other words he could offer, though those sounded inadequate in the space. With every story she told him, he felt like a layer of the complex onion that was her peeled back. “I should’ve killed him,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. And it was true. The fact that he still drew breath was enraging, another thing he felt guilty for. For not ending the monster that haunted her.

Charlotte reached over and grabbed his hand, their fingers interlocking. “Your soul is too good to be tainted by him. Besides, you did quite a number on him from what I heard. I didn’t know you had hands like that in real life, baby Creed,” she teased, thankful her joke caused a small smile to grace his features. “God, I wish I could’ve seen it… Saying that makes me feel like a terrible person,” her head fell into her hand, propped up against the back of the couch. “But j-just to see him, for once, feel a fraction of what I felt. Feels like a bit of justice for it all.”

“That doesn’t make you a terrible person. You’re far from a terrible person. If he dropped dead tomorrow, you would be justified if you threw a damn party. Hell, I would throw a party and I only met him once. You’re allowed to want justice for all of it.”

“Thanks.” She shifted, bringing her feet under her. “You know what’s crazy about it? I always regretted him… Regretted meeting him, agreeing to that first date, staying through all of that. B-but the last couple days, I’ve been thinking about my life right now… the last few months are the first time that I’ve felt like I was at home, like I know who I am and my soul is at peace. It’s pretty damn good. A little damaged around the edges, sure, but still so amazing that… If I had to go back and do it all again, I know in my soul I-I’d walk that same jagged path through all the pain, a-and landmines, and everything else if it was what I needed to do to end up here again, if it meant I would find home again.”

“And where’s home?” his voice was quiet as if he was worried the answer would not be what he expected, as if he were afraid to hear it.

Charlotte tilted her head to study him, her hand going to cup his cheek, the scruff of his beard tickling her palm.

“You.”

Waves of guilt crashed over him, causing a tear to fall. The first one he had shed since the hospital. Charlotte whisked it away with her thumb.

“Not feelin’ like I deserve that right now. You were in trouble and I didn’t even see it till it was too late. I never should’ve left you here. I couldn’t even keep you safe. What kinda fuckin’ home is that?”

The guilt in his voice broke her heart. She moved, slowly and stiffly, but moved to slide into his lap. Her hands rested on his shoulders as she looked at him.

“Look at me.” It was her turn to demand as he so often did, demand that he overcome the guilt and shame that forced his eyes away from hers. She knew it was difficult, had struggled to find his eyes too many times for fear she would see confirmation of her guilt, her shame, her unworthiness. But it was never there and he would not find that in her eyes today either.

“Every single time I’ve ever needed you, you were right on time. This was no exception. The truth is, you’ve been keeping me safe since the day I met you. I was so lost before I met you. I-I had healed my heart a-and my mind and my body as best I could. But my soul, I had vowed never to let someone so close to it again, had boarded it up with walls so high it would be impossible to let someone in again. To let someone see me again. And that was fuckin’ lonely,” she admitted. “A-and exhausting to force myself to keep my guards up like that, to deny everything I’d always wanted… a partner who saw me in my entirety and loved me for all of it. But I did it b-because it w-was better than the alternative. A-And then I met you. And you instantly knew the me I hid from everyone, you knew my soul and what it needed to finally mend. And you slowly but surely broke down every wall and barrier I had fought so hard to keep up so you could ensure I got what I needed, a safe place to land. And every day since, you’ve seen my soul in its entirety, all its light and darkness, its hopes and fears, its permanently damaged pieces and those that’ve healed. And you’ve loved me beyond my wildest dreams for it all. You are my peace and my solace and my safety every moment… that is the best home I could’ve ever hoped for.”

She wiped her tears that fell before offering. “He w-wanted me to deny t-that. Before he…” she lifted her own eyes to the ceiling as she re-lived that moment. “Told me it was him or no one, wanted me to tell him I would c-choose him. And I couldn’t. It’s insane,” she acknowledged. “And I knew you’d p-probably tell me just to lie to save myself. But I couldn’t deny what I’ve known to be true since we kissed in your apartment in Philly. You are it for me. You are my choice every day, every time, no matter.”

His lips crashed against hers, his arms wrapping around her tightly to pull her into his chest. Michael knew the depths of Charlotte’s love for him without a doubt. And he loved receiving a tear-inducing speech about it as much as he enjoyed doling them out on her. However, to know that, even in what could’ve been her last moments, she chose to love him loudly and unapologetically, hit his soul harder than he had ever experienced before.

No more words passed between them, each touch was a silent declaration of love between them that they did not have the words to capture. The day had laid them both bare in a way they had never experienced before or expected. And it was not their trauma guiding them, it was pure love. A desire and need to connect mind, body, and soul.

“You want… need me to stop?” He whispered as she sucked on the soft skin of his neck. In his heart, he knew the answer before the words left his mouth. He could tell in her movements that stopping would be near impossible this time. But he had to check, had to double check before they went down this road.

She immediately shook her head. Charlotte’s brain was mush, a complete fog of desire, need, and pleasure as she kissed every inch of exposed skin she could find. She had never yearned for a person as much as she yearned for the man beneath her. She wanted everything, all of him. She knew now, in hindsight, that the first night, she had wanted him for all the wrong reasons. And she was grateful that he, once again, saved her from herself. But now, in this moment, she wanted to feel him, feel his gentle touch and caress, and savor every moment of his love for her. And she wanted him to feel her, not her brokenness and fear, but the life pumping through her veins, the love she held for him, that he was her choice.

“No,” she whispered back, he was thankful to hear that word leave her lips. “Do you wanna stop?”

“Not this time.”

“Good.”

Michael immediately wrapped his hands behind her thighs and hoisted her up to carry her into their bedroom. She let him guide her to their bed, laying her down gently as he removed both of their clothes. Charlotte instinctively wanted to shrink up and cover herself, hyper aware of the bruises that littered her form.

Sensing her thoughts, Michael immediately leaned over her and started to press his lips to each one, gentle and lingering kisses on every cut, scrap, and bruise that sent jolts of electricity through her form. A silent but touching reminder that she survived and told her he did not care how they looked. He worked his way down her body slowly but this time it was not the usual teasing he liked to do. He simply wanted to savor every second of it.

He handled her with such care, as if she were perfectly sculpted glass that would shatter if he pushed too hard, too fast. She was not fragile, he knew that. She was strong and powerful. But her wounds were fresh. Fresh enough that he used every moment to assure her that his touch was different, would never hurt her as he had, and would never treat her body and soul with such pain and callousness. It had taken great restraint not to taste her or bury himself inside her the last few days, to be as close to her as he could, feel the life pumping in her veins. But she needed time and so did he, to reckon with what they both almost lost.

He could feel the frenzy beneath him as he worked, her body writhing with silent pleas that begged for more. But he did not want to rush. He remembered their first time, slow and measured as he took her apart piece by piece. He understood the impulse to rush but they had time, he kept reminding himself. Time with each other.

He returned to her lips, a quiet directive to slow down landing on her ears.

“Slow down, baby,” he muttered, “Slow down.” Their foreheads rested against each other as he forced her to take a breath.

“I need…” her words trailed off as she whimpered, her fingers twisted in the soft fabric of his t-shirt as if he’d turn to dust before her eyes if she let go of him. Her eyes searched his for understanding, that he knew exactly what she so desperately needed.

“I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, her head leaning into it to find his lips again. “Hey, hey. Look at me.” Their eyes connected, brimming with tears as she took in his undying love for her. “We’re both here, safe and sound, and no one’s going anywhere. I promise. Let me take care of you.”

At her nods, he resumed his touching until he found himself at the treasure trove between her thighs, her flower dripping and begging to be touched by the man she loved. And that was all he needed as he spread her legs and wrapped his lips around her bud.

Charlotte’s back immediately arched off the bed as he feasted on her. It had only been days but she had missed the feeling of his tongue on her and inside her. He spelled out his love for her in gentle caresses that made her head spin.

She melted against his mouth like chocolate, her cries of pleasure crescendoing with every movement of his skilled tongue.

“That’s it baby, let me hear you.” He slid two fingers inside of her, increasing the sensations that already threatened to overwhelm her.

Charlotte felt as if her body was in overdrive. Her hips rocked to meet every thrust of his hand, her thighs clamped around his head as he feasted on her. It did not matter how many times his mouth found its way to her core, he managed to reduce her to a mewling puddle begging for more, every time.

And usually, she let him stay between her thighs as long as he wanted, pulling out as many climaxes as he could. But this time, she needed more. She knew he wanted to take his time, take her apart and put her back together. But she could not wait. Her soul could not wait. She needed to feel him inside her. So much had been taken from her, so much had left her feeling empty in this life until Michael. Michael filled her up where her past and present trauma only drained her. And right now, she wanted to be filled. The emptiness ached and she wanted to be filled to the brim and overflow.

She pulled him from between her thighs, bringing his lips to hers. She relished in the taste of herself but only for a moment before she whispered.

“I need you. Inside me. I c-can’t… can’t wait,” she panted. “W-we have all night b-but I need to feel you now.”

He acquiesced, the vulnerability in her voice more than enough to forgo his original plan.

He kept her eyes on his as he thrust inside of her slowly. Charlotte moaned at the delicious stretch he always provided. Months, it had been months since she first felt that stretch and it still caused a gasp to escape her lips, her eyes to see stars, and every thought in her head to shatter.

“J-Just like that,” she whimpered, all her senses squarely focused on him and the pleasure he graciously provided. All she could feel was the sparks of bliss at the end of every stroke and the trail of fire that marked where his hands roamed as he explored her body. All she could hear were the symphony of their moans, his deep grunts as he fucked her and her screams of pleasure. All she could see were his brown eyes, a look in them that made her own eyes mist with tears. She did not know why she was crying, whether it be from the intense pleasure or the look in his eye, a look that no man before him had ever given her, a look she would have never deemed herself worthy of. The look of pure love and adoration.

Michael’s hips drove into her over, a primal growl escaping him as her muscles clenched around him repeatedly as he curved into her g-spot, their bodies made for each other. His eyes never left hers with every push forward and retreat.

As he pulled out every trick he could think of to please her, pour his love into her, Michael could not help but think about how he almost lost this. How he almost lost her. He had plans for this insanely beautiful woman beneath… plans to grow old with her, to celebrate every milestone and moment of his life and hers together, to build a life and family with her. And all of it could’ve been gone. He had never experienced this before, a year ago he could not even convince Charlotte to go out on a date with him but now? He could not fathom his life without her. And that brief moment where he had to consider such a life… it had shattered him in ways he never knew a person could be shattered.

“I love you,” his voice shook as tears sprang to his eyes. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I-I l-love… you,” she moaned back, her words choppy and broken between her pants and moans.

His mind drifted to the ring that he kept stashed in his bedside table, hidden in a box he knew Charlotte would never bother to open or examine closely. A ring he had started to design the day after that gala, the night she told him about her ex and decided to overcome her fears to choose him.

He knew she did not believe him when he said he had known he wanted to marry her since then. It sounded far-fetched, he recognized, to know that so early. Afterall, his friends called him foolish for designing and buying a ring for a woman who rejected him mere months prior. “Take your time,” they had all cautioned. “Make sure she is what you want.” But Charlotte was the one thing, the only thing, in this universe that he did not need time to consider, that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he wanted. And he used this moment, every second spent in her sanctuary to show her how deeply his love for her ran, past his mind, past his heart. He loved her with every fiber of his soul.

“You know how beautiful you are?” He asked as he draped her legs over his shoulder and leaned over to rest his forehead against hers. Charlotte gasped at the angle, he had not changed his pace one bit but this position allowed him to reach the depths of her pleasure center. Those tears she had kept in now spilled over as his words filled her heart and he filled her body with every stroke. That ache of emptiness? Gone. She was overflowing. “Do you know how much… I love you?”

She cried out, unable to form real words or thoughts beyond obscenities and his name, which flowed without thought from her lips.

“I’ll spend every day of my life loving you, keeping you safe. There’s nothing in this world I won’t do for you, Els. Nothing. ” His word was punctuated by a particularly deep thrust that turned Charlotte into a babbling mess as she came. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”

“More. Harder. Everything you have, please,” her voice was strained, trying to speak while her body calmed down again. She understood his gentleness, appreciated it. But now, she wanted to feel him in the depths of her bones. She was his and she wanted to feel that in every ounce of her being.

Michael helped her flip over onto her stomach, this time instructing her to hold onto the headboard so she did not have to lay on the bed. He allowed her a moment to situate herself in the position he so enjoyed. He still practiced some restraint, refusing to unleash his usual power onto her still healing body. But he loosened the reins just enough to give her what she wanted and needed.

There was nothing slow about how he rammed into her, her body thrusting forward with every delicious slam of his hips into hers. She was thankful he thought of the headboard, giving her the leverage laying face down on the bed would not have and protecting her bruises.

“Yes! Y-Yes! T-thank you,” she moaned out as he fucked her with abandon. She surrendered to the pleasure, her screams bouncing off the walls as he made her cum again and again and again.

He took her in any and every position that would not cause her pain. He buried his face between her legs and feasted off of her before plunging into her again, Charlotte allowing her body to be at his mercy. They had all night and all the time in the world and she wanted him to use every moment of it.

***

When Charlotte stirred again, she glanced over to find Michael sound asleep next to her. It was still dark outside, the clock reading 4:30 am. She laid there for a few moments, letting the soft sounds of Michael’s soft snores fill her ears. She turned and watched him for a few moments, the steady rise and fall of his chest. As she listened to him, the final part of a song she had been writing swelled in her heart. And when the pen called her, she did not dare ignore it. As quietly as she could, she climbed out of their bed and wrapped herself in her robe.

She tiptoed out of their room and into the living room, grabbing her pen and notebook before retreating to the balcony of their apartment. She had rarely been out here, her own fear of them and the frigid New York winters keeping her from enjoying this one feature of their home. But tonight, not even her past or the cold chill could send her back inside. She curled up in a blanket in one of the chairs as she listened to the bustling sounds of the city fill her ears.

It did not matter what time of day it was, New York City was always awake, always moving, always alive. Her lungs breathed in as much of the frigid air as they could before she breathed it back out. She knew she could not stay out there too long, it was freezing. But she also knew this was the only spot her singing would not wake up her sleeping boyfriend.

Baby, the sound of you

Better than a harmony

I want you off my mind

And on me

Holding me closer than we've ever been before

This ain't a dream

You're here with me

Boy, it don't get no better than you

For you, I wanna take my time

All night

She closed her eyes, curled in a small ball, as her siren song filled the night sky though she knew no one but her and God would ever hear it. But that was fine, she preferred it. This was just for her, just for her to commemorate the love she found and was grateful to God for.

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

Give you all, give you all of me

Her eyes only opened at the faint creaks of a door, surprised to find Michael standing in the doorway of the balcony as she finished the last line. However, as she started to stand and finish singing, he shook his head.

“Don’t stop. I wanna hear you.”

And so she continued, this time, her eyes on his as she finished her song, the second verse she had been struggling with flowing from her lips as if it had lived in her heart all along.

When you need it

'Cause I need it

I wanna fall like your favorite season

I'll never get up

Stay here forever, babe

It don't get no better than this

Your kiss

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

I wanna love you in every kind of way

I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes

If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today

I'm gonna love you in every kind of way

When she was finished, she sat up in the chair and glanced at him.

“I’m sorry, thought going out here wouldn’t wake you.”

He shook his head. “Bed’s cold without you, went looking for you and heard your voice. Wanted to hear you.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you heard it… it was about you anyway,” she winked. “Back to bed?”

“Umm… before we g-go,” he stammered slightly, Charlotte surprised to find a nervous energy suddenly surrounding him. He was usually so confident and assured, nervous was a rare emotion on him. “I have something for you.” He meandered to the balcony railing, standing directly in front of her before he pulled out the arm that he had bent behind his back, a small black velvet box in his hand.

“You didn’t need to get me anything,” she offered with a small smile. If he had not been so nervous, he would have laughed at how she missed the obvious. The size of the box really only lent itself to one thing and she had not picked up on it yet. “Though I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

He slid the box into her hand, Charlotte expecting to find a necklace or pair of earrings or something small nestled in the luxury box. However, all the wind seemed to knock out of her as she opened to find a sparkling and mesmerizing engagement ring, a giant pear shaped diamond set in the center with elegant but subtle diamonds nestled in the rose gold band around it. It was simple and yet, the most gorgeous ring she had ever seen in her life.

She glanced up from the box to find Michael in front of her on one knee. Every question that rose to her lips immediately vanished, caught in her throat as shock swept all of her senses. Her heart was beating so hard, she wondered if it was possible for it to beat straight out of her chest.

“A-are you serious? I-If this is j-just a dream…” she whispered, her eyes moving to the sky as if she was talking to God.

“N-No, this is real. Charlotte, I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Every day, you love me with your whole being. You support my dreams, however far fetched and foolish they may seem, you push me to be the best man I can be. Not just for you and my family but for myself. With you, I’ve always been right at home. Falling in love with you is both the greatest decision of my life and the easiest one I’ve ever made. And every day, I thank God for bringing you and your beauty, your laugh, your spirit into my life. I don’t know what the future looks like, I don’t know how much time we have with each other. But I know that I want to spend every moment of my life loving you and being loved by you. So, this is me being sentimental and making you break down in tears,” he joked to their earlier conversations. “Charlotte Elsbeth Bennet, will you marry me?”

Charlotte’s breathing was choppy as she took in his words. Tears flowed earnestly as she tried to form a sentence.

“M-Michael… God I love you so much. B-But are you s-sure about this? I k-know with everything that’s happened… W-we haven’t even been together for a year. Are you s-sure I’m what you want?”

“I’ve had this ring for months… I started designing it the day after the gala last summer. I was waiting for the perfect moment, wanting to plan the perfect proposal for you back in LA. But what happened reminded me that I don’t want to waste our time planning perfect or ideal moments. I just want to live in all those moments with you, by my side. All day, something kept pulling me to this ring, telling me that this was our moment. And I think it’s because our best moments, the realest ones for us, are just us… being us, comfortable and safe with each other. No planning, no overthinking, no obsessing. Just being home with each other. So here I am, unsure about so much, the future and where this life will take me and us. But this moment,” his hand rubbed her knee, her face covered by both her hands as she quietly cried. “This decision is the surest I’ve ever been in my life. I am sure about you. I’ve never been so certain that you were the woman for me. Marry me.”

Charlotte immediately launched herself from her seat and into his arms, the small box still wrapped tightly in her hand as she held him.

“I love you so much,” she whispered before kissing him, her body resting on his bent knee.

“I love you too…” he paused, realizing he never actually heard the magic word. “So is that a yes… or?”

She let out a watery laugh. “A million times, yes! Yes, yes, yes!” The box fell in her lap as she cupped his face in her hands. “ Now you’re really stuck with me, Mr. Jordan.” she teased as her hands wiped the tears that flowed earnestly from her eyes.

He took the box from her and slid the ring on her finger, his heart swelling at how she admired the piece. She was not much of a jewelry wearer so he went for a ring that was simple, one she would not mind wearing every day, but was worthy of her hand.

He wiped a tear from his eye and chuckled. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Mrs. Jordan has a nice ring to it.” He pressed his lips to her ring finger. His deep baritone filled the cold air as he let out an excited yell, standing and spinning Charlotte around. “Wanna go to the courthouse tomorrow?”

“Slow downnnnn. Another surprise this week might actually kill me,” she laughed. “Anndddd I wanna be my usual flawless self for our wedding photos,” she gestured toward her bruised face.

“You’re always flawless to me.”

“Alright I already said yes, don’t lay it on so thick,” she offered in jest, causing him to pepper her face with kisses.

“Well how about I take you back to bed and warm you up and I can make you say yes a couple more times?”

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I think I’d rather you make me scream it.”

“Oh that was always the plan.”

And before she knew it, Michael had her on her back, their hands interlaced on the pillow as he made her scream that beautiful word over and over again until the sun came up.

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh @passionxwrites @gopaperless @injerafiend

A/N: Our babiesssssss!! I went back and forth on the proposal scene for a while lol and this just felt right so I hope you all enjoyed it! Every Kind of Way by HER is one of my favorite songs. This is not the end of our story buttttt we are getting close. Just three or four more chapters to go.

Drop a comment and let me know what you think/let me know if you want to be tagged!

#black writers #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x oc #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan x reader #creed 3 #black panther #michael b jordan fanfic #adonis creed #creed iii #mbj fanfic #mbjedit #michael b jordan smut

196 notes · View notes