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steddieas-shegoes · 7 months ago

Text

i wanna make your heartbeat run like roller coasters

for @subeddieweek day one with the prompts manhandling and accidental subspace

rated e | 3,520 words | please check ao3 for tags

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Eddie gets pushed against a lot of lockers.

It’s rarely accidental.

It’s always painful.

He doesn’t exactly have a lot of meat on his bones. Every hit leaves a bruise.

So when Steve fucking Harrington does his own dirty work for once, even though he graduated the way Eddie was supposed to, it’s just a bit embarrassing that it doesn’t hurt. It feels…kinda like he should be on his knees.

Which is really not something he wanted to think about when Steve’s got a hand on his shoulder, gripping hard enough to bruise, and something like fear in his eyes. Why is he scared?

“Did you sell weed to Robin?” he asked, teeth clenched.

Jesus fucking Christ. Steve’s got himself a band nerd girlfriend. How the hell did that happen?

“No, I sold to her friend. She waited by the treeline talking to herself the entire time.”

Eddie could hear his own voice shaking, but he wouldn’t back down. Black eyes were kinda metal weren’t they?

“Which friend?”

“Dude, I don’t even know. Someone else in band.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened and he barely bit back a whimper.

Steve’s eyes were very pretty this close. They were pretty from far away, too. Honestly, having Steve this close was probably rewiring something already broken in his brain. Having Steve’s hand on him like this was making his brain do somersaults trying to stay focused.

And then his hand was gone.

Eddie breathed in, breathed out.

“Sorry. I-” Steve shook his hands out and backed away. “Sorry.”

Eddie ignored whatever the fuck was happening in his stomach. It shouldn’t be happening so it isn’t, simple as that.

“Maybe you should ask your girlfriend if you’re so worried about her buying drugs.” Eddie should learn to shut his mouth at some point. “I only sell to the people who come to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I remember.” Steve wiped his hand down his face. “Sorry again.”

Eddie looked him up and down, taking in the fact that he was genuinely apologizing. No one ever apologized for knocking him around, not even when it was on accident.

“You good?” He eventually asked.

“Yeah. Just, she’s been through a lot. I didn’t really want her to get pressured into buying something,” Steve sighed. “Has she come out of the band room yet? I’m supposed to bring her to work.”

“Uh, yeah man, everyone left an hour ago.”

Eddie watched Steve’s face fall as he checked his watch and must’ve realized the time.

“Shit. Okay. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Steve looked pitiful. Eddie’s seen dogs in alleys who looked less beaten down and neglected than Steve currently did.

“I can help you find her?” Eddie offered for some unknown reason.

Well, he knew the reason, but he was choosing to ignore it.

“She’s probably already at work. It’s my day off so I ended up getting distracted with something and didn’t realize it was so late,” Steve admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks, though.”

Wayne liked to tell Eddie he was too nice to undeserving people. Lord knows he gave his dad too many chances and got let down every time. He even tried to be friends with Tommy Hagan in middle school because he could sense something was going on with Tommy’s dad much like his own.

But Eddie liked to remind Wayne that Eddie is often considered undeserving and he took him in and gave him multiple chances regardless.

“You wanna smoke?” Eddie asked, despite knowing he barely has anything left after the long week of midterms for students. His busiest times of year were right before school breaks, midterms, finals, and graduation weekend. He usually stocked up, but with Rick being in prison again, he had to try to stretch what he had out.

“Uh…smoke what?”

“Weed.” Then it hit Eddie that maybe Steve was into harder stuff. But he hadn’t ever even bought from him in high school. Tommy had, Carol had, almost everyone at his parties had, but Steve never did. “I have regular old cigs too if you prefer.”

“Yeah, man, cool,” Steve sighed with relief.

“I got a spot behind the cafeteria if you wanna…”

“Sure, yep, let’s go,” Steve nodded, gesturing towards the double doors that led outside to the cafeteria and auditorium buildings.

As they walked, Eddie’s mind raced with thoughts of being alone with Steve, Steve’s arm brushing against his, Steve pushing him against the wall of the cafeteria, of Eddie dropping to his knees and unbuttoning Steve’s pants and-

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there.”

Steve’s voice shook him from his thoughts, but his dick didn’t quite get the memo. When did he even start getting hard?

“No worries, dude.” His face scrunched in disgust at calling Steve dude. What was next, the bro pat on the back? A fist bump? “Kinda jealous of how protective you are of your girlfriend.”

Okay, actually, what the fuck? Eddie needed to shut his fucking face, right the fuck now.

“She’s not my girlfriend, but uh, I don’t think you’re really her type either,” Steve gave him a look, one Eddie knew well and one he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing on Steve’s face right now.

“Right, right.” Eddie wouldn’t make him say it, especially if it was actually the look he thought it was, but maybe he could offer a little something in return. “Yeah, she’s not really my type either.”

Steve stopped just before they reached the hidden area behind the dumpster and picnic table for staff to smoke.

“Really?” Steve’s eyes were wide. “So you’re more into…someone like…me?”

Eddie was actually leaking into his goddamn boxers. Why was he getting turned on just talking to Steve?

“That would be one way of saying it,” Eddie said. Still easy enough to back out of it, at least. Could just say he likes women who wear polos and use more hairspray than Melvald’s has ever carried at any given time.

“Huh,” Steve continued walking to the picnic table, sitting on top of it and kicking some dirt off the bench by his legs for Eddie to sit. “So those rumors were true?”

“That depends on if I’m gonna make it back home to my very loving uncle if I say yes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not gonna judge you about it when my best friend is-” He cut himself off and Eddie had to give him major credit. The Steve he used to know never would’ve cared if he outed someone, or at least never would have realized that was wrong. He coughed and then looked down at the bench. “You gonna sit?”

Eddie sat down on the bench, extremely close to Steve’s legs. Almost touching. Was that heat coming from his body or was Eddie just extremely warm?

“Did you actually wanna smoke or did you just wanna get out of the hall?” Steve asked after another minute of awkward silence.

“We can smoke.” Eddie reached into his pocket, hating how tight his jeans were in the front, and grabbed his lighter. His pack of cigarettes were usually stored in his van because he rarely smoked them, but luckily he’d brought them with him all week to sneak smokes between classes. He pulled one out and handed it to Steve.

He started to light his own when Steve leaned down, his face right next to Eddie’s, breath hot on his neck.

“You aren’t gonna light it for me?”

Eddie whimpered.

He would deny it a million times over if anyone asked. He almost had himself believing he imagined it.

But Steve laughed and backed away, pulling out his own lighter and giving Eddie a second to catch his breath.

What the fuck was that? Did Steve know he was making Eddie’s brain flatline?

He watched Steve take a long drag out of the corner of his eye, his mind shuffling between ‘what if he fucked me right here?’ and ‘get the hell away before your dick pops a hole in your jeans.’

Steve’s lips were so pink, and looked so soft, and just wet enough from licking his lips before taking the next drag, and Eddie was really going through it right now.

He’d gone through his Steve Harrington phase just like everyone else, thought it was over when he graduated. Had avoided the mall all summer when he heard he was working at Scoops so he didn’t have to see him in those tiny blue shorts. Had even gone so far as to avoid being around when the kids were being picked up from Hellfire because Dustin mentioned Steve was his ride.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Except for Eddie’s imagination was impressive, and his late night thoughts turned into very vivid scenes of Steve working him to the edge and making him beg, or pushing him against a locker and making him take his cock with barely any prep, or-

“Dude, anyone ever tell you you’re kinda space-y?” Steve’s voice once again lifted him from his thoughts, though he felt a bit hazy.

“Think I’m comin’ down with something,” Eddie squeaked out. All he was coming down with was a sickness deep in his chest: Harrington Heart-itis.

“Did you hit your head?” Steve sounded concerned now, setting his cigarette in the ashtray left on the table and moving so he had one leg on either side of Eddie. His fingers landed in Eddie’s hair, pulling his head closer and inspecting it for injury. “I didn’t think anything but your shoulders hit, but maybe-”

“No,” Eddie gulped. He should pull away. “Didn’t hit my head.”

Steve’s fingers tightened, not quite painfully, but enough of a bite to it that Eddie whimpered. Again.

Steve’s grip loosened, but his fingers stayed buried in his curls, and Eddie felt pressure guiding him to rest against Steve’s thigh.

“You eat today?” Steve asked, though his voice sounded kinda far away, like he was above the surface of the water and Eddie was sitting at the bottom of a pool looking up at the sun. “Eddie?”

“Hm?” Eddie blinked up at Steve. “I ate.”

“When?” Steve’s hand was cupping his cheek. “Lunch?”

“Mmm, no,” Eddie shook his head, blinked. “Breakfast? Cereal.”

Steve cursed under his breath.

He was so pretty. Had he been told how pretty he was? Surely when Nancy was with him, she told him.

Even if Robin liked women, she had to at least notice how pretty he was, right?

Steve’s sharp intake of breath somewhat centered Eddie.

“I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Steve whispered, leaning down so his face was only inches away.

Eddie could kiss him. It would be the easiest thing in the world to lift his head the final two inches to make their lips meet.

“Eddie, eyes open,” Steve’s fingers tightened again, gaining Eddie’s full attention. “Should I call someone? Are you dynamic or something?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed. What did that even mean?

“Like the sugar thing?” Steve continued.

“Diabetic?” Eddie still felt a little hazy, but he was starting to come back to it with Steve’s hand migrating from his hair to his shoulder. “No, my sugar’s fine.”

“I’ve got some soda in my car. I can drive you home and then bring you to school in the morning. You probably shouldn’t drive like…this.”

It all came crashing down when Eddie realized how vulnerable he’d just been, how he’d actually lost track of time, not sure exactly how long he’d been sitting between Steve’s legs with his hands in his hair before he started coming back to earth. He stood up, maybe a bit too quickly, rocking a bit before finding his balance.

“Woah, take it easy.” Steve held his hands out, grasped his biceps to hold him steady. “You were pretty far out of it. Don’t rush it.”

How fucking embarrassing.

Eddie had only gone down that far one time with someone and they got freaked out when he was giggling and couldn’t walk on his own because his legs felt like jelly. But that had been on purpose. This was- Steve didn’t– Jesus Christ.

“I’m fine now.” Eddie was not fine. He knew what would happen if he left right now. Aftercare was a major part of this whether Steve was prepared for it or not. “Just, um, walk me to my van.”

Steve looked like a kicked puppy, but Eddie didn’t have the time to explain all of this to him.

Steve Harrington didn’t know how much of a freak Eddie was even if he did know he was gay. There’s no way Steve participated in any type of BDSM with the many girls he slept with in high school.

There was absolutely no fuckin’ way Nancy Wheeler let herself get tied to a bed and get fucked by Steve.

He shook his head at the thought.

“I’d feel a lot better if you let me drive you. I promise we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Steve sighed. “I just don’t know if you should drive when you went down so hard.”

“You have no idea what even happened,” Eddie argued, pacing back and forth. “I can drive. I just need to walk it off.”

“You don’t walk off subspace.”

Eddie froze. Steve was standing right in front of him now, concern in his big, stupid, adorable eyes.

“How do you even know about subspace?” Eddie whispered.

“I slept with half the high school and two guys in Indy. I know what subspace is, Eds.”

Eddie must still be in space. Or maybe another galaxy.

“Sorry, did you just say you slept with two guys in Indy?” Has Steve seriously fucked more guys than Eddie has? Eddie, the resident gay man of Hawkins, has only been with one man in his entire life and Steve has apparently slept with two?

“Well, I wasn’t gonna sleep with two men in Hawkins!” Steve threw his hands up before putting them on his hips. “I hit up a gay bar and didn’t realize it doubled as a BDSM club until I was already in it and then a nice guy showed me the ropes. Literally. There were ropes involved.”

Eddie snorted. Steve was pretty and funny. Great. Just what he needed.

“I have a quick recovery, so I’ll be fine to drive home,” Eddie tried, though even he could hear his voice still shaking.

“No one is that quick,” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him into a hug. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Not like that.”

“We should probably talk about it.”

The last thing Eddie wanted to do was talk about how someone playing with his hair and moving his head around while showing the bare minimum of care was enough to send him into subspace, but he had a feeling Steve wasn’t gonna give up easily.

“Fine. What should we talk about? How no one ever touches me gently so the moment someone did, I slipped? How I’ve been avoiding seeing you anywhere in public because I knew it would make my crush come back full force? Oh, I know!” Eddie laughed hysterically as he pulled away. “Let’s talk about how I still think about you in your stupid basketball shorts when I’m fucking myself on four fingers, which is never enough because I can never reach the spot I need to. Or how I once cut out your yearbook photo to keep for jerking off material because my mags weren’t enough. Could even talk about how earlier I wanted you to put your leg between mine so I could rub off on you. Or maybe the weather if you’d prefer that.”

Eddie was panting, could feel the heat on his face rising as he realized everything he’d just said, admitted, to Steve.

He’d never said any of that out loud. Shit, he’d barely said most of it in his own head.

Steve’s arms were pulling him in and Eddie let himself have it, let himself feel small for just a moment. If Steve wasn’t completely disgusted by what he said, then he would at least accept this offering of kindness for now.

They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Eddie started to wonder if he could just live here, right in Steve’s arms.

“It’s looking a little cloudy,” Steve said quietly, hands still rubbing Eddie’s back slowly.

“What?” Eddie still felt a little out of it, but that was entirely out of left field.

“You said we could talk about the weather.”

Eddie snorted. “Oh my God, you’re so-” Eddie looked up at Steve, who was smiling down at him. He felt off-kilter, being the object of that particular Steve look. “Stupid.”

It was fond, probably too fond for someone who needed to protect himself from whatever the hell was happening. He needed to shut this down.

“It’s been mentioned,” Steve’s eyes flickered down to Eddie’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “You good to head out?”

Eddie started to nod, but stopped.

This was his only chance. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d ever be alone with Steve again. If he was gonna kick start a spiral over feelings, he might as well go all out.

He stood at his full height, almost eye level with Steve, and leaned in.

The kiss was not even close to perfect. In fact, as far as kisses go, it was probably in the bottom three for Steve. Eddie chose not to think about how he screwed it all up.

But once the initial shock wore off, and Eddie put his teeth away, Steve’s hand cupped Eddie’s cheek and he licked past his lips.

Leave it to Steve to turn this around, make it something worth the risk.

Their lips moved in sync, both of them deepening the kiss without making it too wet, too filthy for a public space.

It was, dare he say, romantic.

Most kisses Eddie had managed to have were dirty and rough, hidden away in dark bars and alleyways, not exactly prime teen romance.

Of course Steve was good at this, of course he made Eddie melt against him, and of course Eddie was going to start writing hearts around Steve’s name in his notebook as if they were high school sweethearts.

When they pulled apart, it took him a minute to open his eyes. How stereotypical.

Steve was already looking at him, softer than he probably deserved.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Eddie breathed out.

“It’s been mentioned.” Steve’s lips turned up in a smirk before he pulled away completely. “Let’s go.”

They walked back through the school, stopping at Eddie’s locker to grab one of his textbooks as if he actually would use it. By now, he didn’t really need the textbooks to get his work done. And he was actually committed to getting it done this time around.

They were quiet as they continued out to the parking lot, only a few cars belonging to teachers left, maybe a few students stuck here for football or basketball practice. Steve’s car was towards the back, but Eddie’s was almost all the way in the grass field by the main road. It was less risky leaving it further away, less likely that anyone would slash the tires or key the side.

“You’re sure you can drive?” Steve asked as they stood outside his car.

“Yeah. Only five minutes to the trailer. It’ll be fine.” Eddie shrugged like it was nothing, but he was actually a little worried the kiss set him too off balance to focus on the road. Fuck the subspace, Steve’s lips were like discovering a new galaxy.

“Can I call you later? To check on you?” Steve seemed hesitant to ask.

“Uh, yeah? Do you…have my number?”

Steve shook his head, opening the door to his car and reaching into the glovebox to find a pen and an old receipt. As Eddie wrote down the number to the trailer, he thought about how much worse this would be tomorrow, how shitty it would be to have had this absolutely out of this world experience with the one person he never thought he could and then be left with scraps for the rest of his life.

“You uh, you don’t have to call, man. Don’t feel pressured. My uncle will be home so it’s not like I’ll be alone.”

Steve took the paper and pen back, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket and throwing the pen back into the car.

“I’m gonna call.” Steve moved a piece of Eddie’s hair from in front of his face. “You got a phone in your room?”

“No, but the one we have reaches to the bathroom?” Why the hell did he need one in his room?

“Good. Need you to be alone.”

“Steve, what the hell does that mean?”

“How else am I supposed to tell you what I wanna do to you?”

Well, fuck.

Day two: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

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buuniebaby · 5 months ago

Note

your first time with hamzah 🙈🙈

THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 🎀

includes: losing your virginity, awkward sex talk, very sweet sex ! 💝

word count 3.2k purr

you’re too tired for this.

you and hamzah are becoming sleep deprived, something you usually do together: come over to each others houses, watch a movie, eat food your stomach will regret in the morning. it’s been a tradition since you guys were just friends.

even now as you’re dating, it still feels.. the same. not that you’re complaining; you love having a partner who’s also a best friend to you. it just feels like there should be some sort of change, but you can’t put your finger on it.

it’s 2 in the morning now. you and hamzah have watched about 3 shitty 2000s movies, enjoying every moment of each one. your brain feels absolutely fried, and you can only imagine his is as well.

“are you a virgin?” hamzah spoke suddenly, but also casually. a little too casually. you choke on your own spit at that, face turning red with embarrassment.

“…what?” is all you can reply back. “what- why?” you say, eyebrows furrowing at him. your voice has noticeably pitched up.

“i dunno. just tell me.” hamzah says, rolling his eyes. you hate how confident and sassy he is, but you’re also sort of attracted to it.

“you’re so weird.” you practically squeal, jokingly. you grab onto a pillow as you fall back first onto the bed. “why do you even wanna know? that’s so like, random.” you ask, more genuine this time.

“i guess,” hamzah starts, but then pauses, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“i was just kinda thinking. like, we don’t really talk about sex, ever. and we don’t have to- I don’t wanna bring it up if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just like, curious if you’d be down to talk about it.” he rambles, making up his words as he goes. you furrow your brows as he speaks, still kind of confused. you know there had to be something that started it, you just aren’t sure what.

“oh. well like,” you flush, sort of embarrassed to admit what you’re about to say. “yeah, i am.”

“a virgin?” hamzah asks, head tilting like a lost puppy.

“yes, idiot. what else would i be talking about?” you reply back sarcastically.

“you’re right, you’re right,” he banters with you. “I just- I guess I’m surprised.”

you perk back up, sitting yourself upright again.

“surprised.. that im a virgin?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“i guess.. i dunno. I just feel like you’re like, too pretty to not have found someone who wants you like that.” he rambles. you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks again, knowing he’ll always praise you for your pretty face.

“i mean, I’ve found a lot of people who want me,” you say, rolling your eyes at the thought of a particular ex. “I’m just like, picky, I guess.” your giggling as hamzah somewhat laughs with you, but you watch as his facial expression starts to falter. you know something’s on his mind.

“do you want to?” is all he mutters. again, he keeps this quiet, casual tone that you rarely see with him.

“i mean, yeah, kinda. I just like, don’t know where to start I guess.” you answer honestly. “feels like everyone’s way more experienced than i am anyways.” hamzah turns over to you, looking in the eye. you feel him think for a second, as if he doesn’t know whether he should let his thoughts out or not.

“well, I don’t really have experience either.” he mutters back, scoping for a negative reaction from you. your eyes widen a bit, and he doesn’t know if he should take your body language negatively or positively.

“you’re a virgin too?” you ask, a more shy tone than usual.

“..yeah. well I’ve done like- stuff. just like, never had sex. never had my penis like, in there, y’know-“

“you don’t need to go into detail.” is all you have to say, talking over him.

“-but i would go all the way with you.”

that’s all you remember from that night before blacking out, yet somehow the short memory haunts your mind. it’s eating you up inside, the thought of losing your virginity after so long to him.

you’ve seen all the edits and thirst traps of him online and can admit that they’ve made you feel some type of way about him - hell, you’ve touched yourself to the idea of your boyfriend too. yet for some reason, the thought of actually having sex with him was never really a priority to you. it’s not until now you’ve understood people’s cravings for sex, but god can you feel it now.

you’re making breakfast the next morning while his hands are around your waist and all you can think of is that conversation. when you help him with editing throughout the day, leaning over his shoulder, all you can think about is him having you bent over like that in a different context. you feel like you’re in a haze almost, clouded by the thought of hamzah.

“baby?” hamzah asks, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to get your attention. you perk up and face him, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

“i was just gonna ask if you wanted me to order something for lunch.” he says casually, but his face begins to fade into an expression between concerned and confused. “you okay?”

“what?!” you reply, scrambling at bit as you didn’t think he would pick up on your behavior. “im fine. what do you mean??” you question; rapidly.

“you’ve just been like, really spaced out today. i get like that, where i like dissociate sometimes when something reallyyy bad happens. so i just wanted to make sure.” he rambles a bit, genuine concern in your eyes. despite the horniness driving your body right now, you do feel a bit warmed by the way he cares for you.

“you can always talk to me if something’s up, y’know-“

“did you mean it?” you ask, staring at him blankly.

“mean… what?” he stares back at you, looking at you like you just killed a man in front of him.

“what you said last night. that you’d like- y’know..” you look down shyly, hiding in your hair as a warm blush creeps onto your face.

“that I would..?” hamzah looks at you, genuinely clueless.

“lose it to me hamzah. have sex with me. loose your virginity.” you look up at him, speaking sternly. you’re a little too pent up to take his stupidity today.

you watch as his expression changes, going from confused to something you can’t even put a name on. a mix of shocked, embarrassed, amused - but most prominently, you watch that urge crawl up into his body. you can tell in his eyes that he wants you in the same way you crave him.

“yeah.” he says, breathy. “i want that. like, now though? or like later, what are we doing-“

his words are cut off as your lips land on his. he gasps into the kiss, caught by surprise. you try and swipe your tongue against his slightly parted lips, but he pulls away before you can get it anywhere significant.

you look at him concerned after he pulls away, taking a second to breathe.

“have you like- kissed anyone before?” he asks, and you can tell he’s serious. you giggle a little.

“yes, ive kissed before.” you say, a little smile still formed on your face. “buuut..” you drag on your words to edge him on a bit.

“ive only made out with someone once, and i can already tell you’re the better kisser.” you say, slyly. he likes it when you boost his ego like this - he’s already proud of himself for pulling you, so you make him feel like some sort of greek god.

he smirks before he pulls you into another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours a lot firmer. it’s more intense this time around, a hand cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as his tongue glides inside your mouth.

you kiss until you physically can’t anymore, pulling back when you need a break for air. there’s an awkward silence before he kisses you again, putting his hands on your waist sometimes. you’re taken aback a bit as he lifts you in the air.

your immediate reaction is to hook your legs onto something, hamzah just being the nearest option, of course. your legs wrap around him, straddling his hips. you arms are grabbing onto his shoulders gently. he’s strong enough to hold you without support, but you like the physical aspect of clinging onto him like a koala.

he reaches the room, fumbling with the doorknob as he struggles to lift you at the same time. he kicks the door closed softly behind him when he eventually gets in there. he drops you in the middle of the bed, body landing gracefully.

you sit yourself up into a more comfortable position, and hamzah sits himself right next to you. it’s here when you realize how comfortable you are around him, even if you’re about to reach a life milestone you can never take back with him.

but fuck, you’re never gonna be able to take this back. the anxiety crawls back up into your brain for a second, but the feeling of hamzah’s hand on your thigh relaxes you. a single look into his eyes and you’re already reassuring yourself again. you’re not gonna want to take this back, because god, you love this boy.

“have you ever-“ hamzah pauses mid sentence, stuttering. he does this when he doesn’t know what words to use; it’s one of his mannerisms that you’ve picked up a little yourself over time. “like, felt anyone up? or like- dry hump them, I guess.” he says. you feel him cringe a bit at his own words - he gets embarrassed easily.

“not really,” you say. a smirk creeps onto your face as you have an idea. “but you could show me how.”

hamzah’s eyes widen a bit as his hand moves from your thigh to your waist. he picks you up again like it’s nothing, sitting you down on his lap. his hands massage your waist, moving up briefly past your chest. he runs at your collarbone for a minute, staring at your clothed breasts.

“can i take this off?” he asks in a low voice, toying with the fabric at your shoulders. you bite your lip as you give him a nod, and before you know it whatever garment was covering you before is gone.

“fuckkk,” is all hamzah lets out before a hand is cupping your chest, squeezing at your soft and fleshy skin. instinctively, you push your chest into his hands. you let out a soft noise as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

he’s fully hard now, and you can feel it straining against you. you can tell he’s trying to keep his hips still, not wanting to get worked up too fast.

his hands leave one side of your chest as his mouth attaches to your other nipple. you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him suckling at it. he pulls of for a second, and you can feel his hands fumbling with the fabric of your bottoms for a second.

“take this off for me?” he pleads in a sweet tone, and you can tell he’s starting to get needy. you comply, of course, leaving you in just your underwear. you don’t want to be the only one undressed though, so you shimmy his pants down a bit and get his shirt off too.

you’re left in both just underwear - a weird feeling. there’s not a lot of fabric separating your crotch and hamzah’s, so when he bucks his hips up into yours it feels good. he ducks down to kiss you again, chest pressing to yours, and god, you feel like you’re in heaven. there’s heat burning through your body as your bare skin touched his.

his hands are on your hips as you grind against him, the thin material of his boxers straining against his cock. he reaches down to rub you through your underwear, eliciting a moan as you hide his head in your shoulder.

he stops your grinding for a second, a hand trailing up your thigh. he uses it to spread your legs wide, causing you to make a small noise. he pulls your panties to the side, showing off what he’s wanted all this time.

he’s already settling lower, head balance with your hips, and now you’re nervous. it’s your first time being touched like this - probably his too, and it’s scary. you close your eyes when you feel him plant a kiss on your hip, teasing you. he continues to kiss around, even guiding a hand back up to play with your chest, but it’s not enough.

“please,” you whimper, begging for more stimulation. hamzah takes it as a sign you’re ready, and before you know it, you’re squirming again.

he presses just a single finger inside you, scoping how much you’re able to take. your stomach flips as you feel him spread you open. he adds another finger once the first one is in knuckle deep, then begins to curl them inside of you. you whimper at the feeling as his fingers excel in speed, working you open.

“hamzah- fuck.” you whine, letting out an especially sharp gasp at the feeling of his fingers hitting that spot.

“yeah?” he asks, playfully, curling his fingers to hit the same spot. your pelvis thrusts up at the movement, only motivating him to go further. his hands are so fucking big and he’s so strong when he thrusts his fingers up into you. it burns in the best way possible.

“ah- hamzah!” you squeal, squirming around. you whine when you feel him pull away from him; you were so, so close to finishing. you look up at him and whimper, a sad expression plastered across your face.

“didn’t want you to cum yet,” hamzah mutters under his breath. “not done with you.”

you flush red, his words washing over your body in a hot wave. suddenly hamzah is moving, pulling down his boxers, and god his dick is big. you can’t help but whine at how badly you want it inside you.

“so noisy.” he mumbles, lining his cock up with your folds and sliding the tip between them. you only whine more at his teasing.

“hamzahh,” you complain, eager for him to stop teasing you and just put it in.

“mhm?” he replies, edging you on. he strokes himself a bit, acts as if he’s going to put it in, but then doesn’t. he knows what he’s doing and you hate it. “need something, baby?”

he’s so mean, making you beg.

“I need it so bad, hamzah, pleeasee-“ you beg, desperate. you don’t care how humiliating it is now, you need him.

“need what, baby?” he asks, obviously only to get a reaction out of you. you sigh, but you know what you need to do.

“fuck me, hamzah. i need you - your cock.” you beg, no - demand, firmly.

hamzah doesn’t stall once he’s gotten what he wants. he’s done with the teasing, pressing his tip into you. you let out a shaky moan - it hurts a little when he slides in, like ripping off a bandaid.

“hamzah- hurts.” is all the words you can get out. his hips still inside of you, waiting for you to take a breath before he continues.

“it’s okay baby. gonna feel better once I’m all the way in.” he mutters, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding him up. he wasn’t lying - it’s painful as he slides himself into you, stretching you out, but once your hip-to-hip with him there’s a comfortable peace to the feeling.

you two lay in that position for a minute, feeling the warmth of connection between your bodies. it’s a soft, loving touch - you feel safe in his arms.

“s’okay if i move now?” he whispers to you, keeping a gentle tone. at the end of the day, he’s here to take care of you.

“yeah. thank you.” you say, genuinely grateful for his patience. you remind yourself that it’s his first time doing this too; you’re not alone in your anxiety.

you clutch onto his shoulders as he nearly pulls out, cock sliding out of you to the tip, then slams back into you.

“h-hamzah!” you whimper, clawing your nails at his back. he keeps a similar pace, thrusting into you deep. even hamzah makes a small noise at the feeling of being inside you, hips stuttering against yours. the sound of skin slapping together and breathy moans fills the room.

you wrap your arms and legs around hamzah as he continues to thrust into you, clinging to him.

“so pretty.” he says, looking down at you. “there’s a reason- fuck- i wanted to fuck you in missionary. pretty face.” he stutters, moving a hand to caress your face. you can’t say anything else but whimper at him, overstimulated from a combination of his thrusts and his words.

you feel a tight feeling build in your stomach, almost like a coil nearing its breaking point. you clench around him, legs beginning to shake.

“aah- hamzah! fuck-“ you practically scream, rolling your hips up into his one last time before you orgasm. he just stares at you, slowing the roll of his own hips, in awe.

you notice as his pace slows after you catch your breath, looking up at him almost disappointed.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, voice worn out.

“you finished, i don’t wanna-“ he begins to ramble, but you cut him off.

“keep going.” you say firmly.

“huh?”

“want you to cum too.” you say, voice still soft and tired. you roll your hips up into him, still sensitive. he nods, pushing back into you.

he continues to thrust into you rougher and rougher until his hips are slapping against yours with every thrust. every little noise you make turns him on more, until finally, he forces himself to pull out of you.

he strokes himself on top of you, a string of cum landing on your stomach. he’s panting as he finishes all over you, painting your stomach white. you smile at the scene, enjoying the was he’s made you his little art piece.

he collapses next to you, laying on his back, catching his breath.

“glad i waited.” you mumble. he turns over to you, looking into your eyes.

“waited for what?” he asks, tiredly tilting his head.

“like, to have sex. m’glad I waited until you.” you mumble, tiredness apparent in your voice. hamzah thinks his heart melts a little at your words.

he grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and wipes the cum off of you so that he can pull you into his arms, dragging the covers over your body.

“i’m glad i waited for you too.”

#hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah smut #hamzahsmut

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hyperfixatedbastard · 8 months ago

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one must grab the titty

Soft!Adam x AFAB!Reader

It's no surprise that Adam's big on physical touch, but you expected it to be - well, sexual. Turns out that this clingy, hypersexual douchebag actually likes innocent, nonsexual intimacy. Like holding your boobs just 'cause they're nice to hold.

Word Count: 926

WARNINGS: SFW (I think?), AFAB!Reader with gender neutral pronouns, mentions of sex, no sexual content, nonsexual intimacy

A/N: I kinda hate this but I'm tired of working on it, so here ya go! Apologies if you have no tits, but let's be honest, that wouldn't stop this bastard.

Dividers

Adam has some… odd habits, at least by Heavenly standards. Sometimes you wonder just how exactly he’s an angel, but you’ve learned to not question it. He may be a douchebag and an asshole, but he has his moments. He’s sweet with you, at least. You never expected him to be a doting, clingy boyfriend, but he certainly proved you wrong.

No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’ll have an arm around your waist, or one of his wings loosely wrapped around you. Adam is a possessive guy (after hearing about the whole Lucifer debacle, you can’t really blame him), and he makes it clear with the way he interacts with you in public. And in private, he’s arguably worse—you’re lucky to sit down without him draping an arm over your shoulders to pull you in close, or practically pulling you into his lap. He’d never admit it, but you think he needs the reassurance that you’re still there, that you haven’t left him.

You’re not so sure about that theory once the touches go past cuddling.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Adam," you begin in a suspicious tone. "What are you doing?"

The angel in question blinks back at you owlishly. His mask and robes have been traded out for some sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads ‘I Got ADHD’ with the subtitle ‘A Damn Hard Dick.’ The two of you are cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment, with some shitty action movie playing on the TV as you sit wrapped up in his arms and wings with your back to his chest (you didn’t think that action movies would be allowed in Heaven considering the murder and whatnot, but once again, you don’t question it).

"Hm?" he hums innocently. "I'm watching the fuckin' movie, babe."

You glance down to where his hand is shamelessly groping your boob over your shirt. You debate whether or not to even confront him about it, considering he isn't actually doing anything other than just holding your tit, but you ask anyways.

"Why is your hand on my boob, then?" you prompt, your eyes shifting between his face and where his hand is idly groping your chest.

Adam chuckles and breaks out into a smug grin. "What? Can't a guy hold his partner's tits?" He gently squeezes your boob for emphasis.

Your face heats up at that, and your eyes narrow in confusion. "Why do you want to?"

"Uh, because they're fucking great," he answers incredulously, like you're the weird one here. He then brings his free hand up to hold your other boob. He gives them both a gentle squeeze, but doesn't do anything more than that. The lack of a sexual innuendo, joke, or proposition doesn’t make sense to you—it feels out of character for Adam, even after learning about his love of cuddling.

You just look at him, confused. Sure, you've always known that he's a boob guy, but this doesn't strike you as Adam's usual horny antics. But if it’s not sexual (which you still find hard to believe), what the fuck is it?

He seems to realize that his original explanation isn’t good enough. "Look, hot stuff, boobs are just nice to fuckin' hold, y'know? All soft n' squishy n' shit."

You raise a brow at that. It’s a fair point, you suppose. "So, what, my tits are like stress balls for you?"

Adam laughs—not that loud, boisterous laugh he does when pranking some poor soul, but that more genuine, softer one few people ever got to hear. "Yeah, pretty fuckin' much, babe. They're comforting!"

You roll your eyes at him, albeit fondly, as a smile pulled at your lips. "Whatever works for you, I guess."

His smirk grows, and he squeezes your boobs a little firmer this time. "Oh, these beauties are fucking workin' for me, sweet cheeks."

You scoff, albeit lightheartedly, and swat at his shoulder. "Shut up and watch your damn movie."

Adam doesn’t respond, but he pulls you a little closer and gives your tits one last good squeeze before returning his attention to the TV—for the most part, at least. His hands don’t leave your chest, but they don’t really do much either. They’re just resting there, occasionally groping or giving a light squeeze. Damn, this really isn’t a sex thing for him, is it?

You’d already been shocked when you’d first realized how clingy Adam is. You were even more surprised to discover that he’s a fan of nonsexual intimacy in general, like cuddling and hugging without it leading to something more. And here he is, surprising you once again by doing something that should surely be sexual in his mind, yet treating it casually and barely even making sex jokes about it.

A few more minutes into the movie, you can’t hide your curiosity anymore. “This really isn’t a sexual thing for you?”

Adam’s eyebrows raise, and he looks puzzled at your question before breaking out into a smirk. “Why, do you want it to be?”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, I’m just… surprised, is all.”

“Hey! I can appreciate some nice boobs without it being sexual,” he protests, and he sounds at least partially serious.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” you assure him with a soft laugh. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Good, ‘cause I fuckin' like this,” Adam remarks, once again squeezing your boobs for emphasis. You just fondly roll your eyes at him and go back to watching the movie.

Having a clingy boyfriend is pretty nice, actually.

Taglist: @3sire-777

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x you #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel oneshots

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pixiecaps · 4 months ago

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Mousey: Listen, okay? Don’t tell him I said any of this shit, okay? I’m really proud of him. I’m extremely proud of Connor. When we did our interview, you guys won’t see this because of course it gets cut, you know, shit gets edited. And shit gets cut out but… I- I cried to him and I told him that- How appreciative I was of him because, you know, I would have never guessed that like when we met three years ago, almost four years ago, that we would be at this point. That we would be doing stuff like this together. And we would be, you know, raising awareness, changing people’s lives, helping people. It’s just- I’m just so grateful for his friendship. So grateful that he’s apart of my life because, you know, (Silence) I just am. I’m- I’m. I just am. He’s been there for me like no one else has been there for me and, um, it’s crazy for me to think that like we’re doing stuff like this and it’s like- I would have never thought that the day that we met and we just started talking-

You know, I remember when we first started talking I was like really.. scared to tell him that I was sick. And the only reason why like I told him was because I had to. Because he kept bringing up like going to hangout and like, you know, asking me to come like (to) Japan and like chill and like, you know, recommend places and stuff like that. And I just- I don’t know. Something in me told me to tell him. And I was really scared because I don’t like telling people because I feel like I’m just going to get treated differently or people are just going to get weirded out or grossed out or- And not want to talk to me. So, I was just like, you know what? I’m just going to tell him and if he stops talking to me after that then he stops talking to me after that! And you know, if we just- if we just like talk like “Hi Bye” friends then that’s fine with me. It’s- It’s fine, you know? But that was not what happened. I told him how shocked I was cause when I told him about it, it was the exact opposite of what I thought was going to happen. I- He.

I was just taken aback that he like genuinely showed concern. He wanted to know more about my condition, he wanted to know more about what was going on and he asked so many questions and he wasn’t like dismissive. Or he wasn’t like, “Oh well damn. That sucks bro.” Cause normally you would tell somebody and they’d be like, “Damn that’s crazy. That sucks. Sorry.” You know what I mean? Like usually people are just like, “Oh my god that’s terrible.” And then you move on. And then it’s just like, “Sorry about that. Sorry if that’s going on with you.” You know? But with him it was like, you know, he wanted to know everything. He wanted to learn more about everything that was going on and he was genuinely interested, genuinely concerned, genuinely just wanted to know more about me. And I was.. shocked. Shocked that that was happening. And um. You know. We’ve been besties ever since and it’s just.. crazy to think. (Sniffles)

He’s a good guy. Genuinely. Genuinely good guy. (Voice breaks and sniffles more) And uh. I just uh. I’m just very grateful to him that he, you know, he cares about all this stuff and not once did he ever like feel weirded out or disgusted, you know? Judgmental. So. (Sniffles) You know. It was- It was- It’s crazy. It was like one of the first moments of my life where I just felt like I could be myself and I didn’t have to pretend or hide. And… and it’s been like that ever since and it’s just really nice that he genuinely cares about this cause and he genuinely cares about helping other people like me. So I- I am just very thankful. I’m already crying (Laughs)

#ironmouse #cdawgva

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buckysdollbarnes · 3 months ago

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you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader series #marvel fanfiction #Bucky Barnes slow burn

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iwritefandomimagines · 4 months ago

Text

HONEST ANSWER — JESS MARIANO

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: you haven’t seen jess in a year, and when you turn up in philadelphia with a boyfriend in tow… he finally finds out why.

warnings: jealous!jess, angst n then some fluff, swearing, jess is a respectful king once he stops being sad/mad

author’s note: saw this gif and was inspired to write more jealous jess. whoops! (enjoy)

———

“That your boyfriend in there?”

Hearing Jess’ voice again almost entirely knocked the wind out of your sails, your eyes blown wide as you turned to face where he stood behind you.

He was watching you carefully, jaw clenched at the inevitability of the answer he didn’t want to hear.

Besides, the way you bit your lip had already practically answered him for you.

It was a telltale sign of worry that he’d always picked up on back in Stars Hollow. And even now that it had been over a year since you’d last seen him, he still knew.

He was your best friend, your confidante, the love of your life though you’d feared to admit it — and when you’d just about plucked up the courage to hint at your feelings before you left for college, he’d been so supportive of you moving away that you figured there was no need to bother telling him if he evidently didn’t feel the same.

Even worse, you’d convinced yourself in that week that maybe he did feel the same… Only to have those hopes utterly shattered by his nonchalance at you being on the other side of the country.

Now you were here, in Philly, right before his eyes — and suddenly the exact heartbreak you’d almost hoped to see in his eyes all that time ago had surfaced and knocked you for six.

It was you who’d chosen to limit your contact, cutting phone calls short and never divulging much information about your college life.

So much so that eventually he figured you’d moved on from your friendship and didn’t need him, when really it just hurt you too much.

“Oh, uh, kind of,” you gulped, given that the relationship was still relatively fresh and it didn’t taste right on your tongue to talk to Jess about it, “Well yeah he—he is.”

He shot you a tight-lipped smile as he nodded, one so forced that you weren’t sure he was even trying to feign happiness, “Nice.”

“Nice?” you furrowed your brows. He’d not even said hello.

“Yeah, nice,” he shrugged, kicking a stone at his feet and shoving his hands in his pockets, “And what brings you guys to Philly, huh? Big romantic getaway?”

The snarky tone in his voice felt like a claw to the heart — it was a tone never usually reserved for you.

Once, you’d have laughed at its sound, but now it just hurt.

“No, he’s—he writes. There’s a small publishing house he wants to talk to about publishing some, uh, stuff. Truncheon?” you didn’t know quite why you felt embarrassed to talk about it when you’d been so supportive before, “I came with him because I had nothing to do this week. What about, um, you?”

Why the fuck did this feel so painfully awkward?

“Truncheon, huh?” he narrowed his eyes, “Well you’re lookin’ right at his best contact.”

You didn’t know what to say for a moment, eyes still blown wide with the shock of even seeing him so abruptly.

“You, uh, w-work for them?”

Another tight-lipped smile and a nod was his only response.

“That’s—that’s amazing, Jess,” you grinned, a glimmer of genuine pride shining through as you thought about all that he might have achieved in your absence, “I’m proud.”

“Jeez, you don’t even know what I do, Y/N,” he scoffed, and the ache in your chest at his tone was impossible to ignore, “You would have if, y’know, you’d ever bothered to ask before you just showed up with your boyfriend.”

You looked down at your feet, taken aback.

“I’m sorry, Jess, it was just,” you paused, knowing now that the inevitable was coming and that you’d have to be honest, “too hard, when we were so far apart.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Too hard? Too hard to keep in contact with your best friend but clearly super fuckin’ easy to just cut him out of your life?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a physical pull towards him as you reached your hand out to his shoulder as if to bolster your claim that this wasn’t the case, “No, Jess, it wasn’t easy… I just thought it was for the best. It hurt, and I’m sorry I hurt you too by selfishly trying to protect my own feelings.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, like your words meant absolutely nothing to him, “Tell your boyfriend to look elsewhere for a publisher. Truncheon aren’t looking for anything new right now.”

“Convenient, isn’t it?”

“Yeah I guess it is,” his eyes were almost stony, and you felt your own begin to prick with tears as he shrugged yet again, “Sorry, old pal.”

You’d bickered with Jess plenty of times before, but never like this — he’d never looked at you like he didn’t want to see you until today.

“Jess I’m really sorry,” you couldn’t fight the tears now, your resolve to give back the attitude he was giving you now entirely dissipated, “I’ve missed you so much I—I made a mistake. Please don’t hate me.”

His eyes softened a little, though his brow remained furrowed, “I don’t—God, Y/N, I don’t hate you. I’m just pissed off, and I think I deserve to be. What made it so impossible to just fuckin’ talk to me instead of adding yourself to the long list of people who’ve fucked off out of my life with no explanation?”

That was the final dagger to the heart.

How could you have done exactly what everyone else in his life had and cut him off after all that time?

You loved him so much, so much, and were so afraid of your own feelings that you’d seemingly not even considered his.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

You were exhausted now, and knew your boyfriend would probably come out looking for you soon, so maybe it was time to finally tell the truth.

“Would be nice, yeah.”

“I cut you off because I was in— I really really liked you, Jess. Like, more than as my best friend or whatever,” even after all this time you’d clung on to how you seemed to have adopted his tendency to try and downplay things, “And you were so encouraging about me moving I figured you obviously didn’t care in the same way and I couldn’t stand the idea of pining while you were fine.”

For a minute he didn’t say a word, shaking his head as he chuckled under his breath at the sheer stupidity of what you were telling him.

“So not only did you cut me out of your life, but that meant I missed out on the grand old Y/N love confession?” he was teasing you, and though your heart continued racing at a million miles an hour, you felt the weight of his previously apparent anger dissipate.

“Who said anything about love, Mariano?”

“Oh it was implied,” he smirked, “Some of us are actual writers, y’know? We can read between the lines. Besides, you forget that I know you as well as I do. Like the back of my hand, in fact.”

You shook your head with a laugh, “You’re such a nightmare, you know that right?”

“Oh I pride myself on it, sweet cheeks.”

“Sweet cheeks? Jesus. Anyway, I shouldn’t have done things the way I did,” you briefly glanced behind you, again wondering where the hell your boyfriend was, “Should’ve known well enough it wouldn’t ruin our friendship and would just give you one more thing to take the piss out of me about, really.”

The look that flashed in his eyes at that made you gulp, his eyebrow raised as his smirk only intensified, “Take the piss, huh?”

“Oh no, how could I be so dumb? The great Jess Mariano would never mock me ever!” you gasped sarcastically, hand to your chest.

He rolled his eyes, “Is it really that inconceivable that I felt the same way? That maybe that’s why I tried so hard for so long before we stopped talking? Like you gotta be crazy not to have seen that — have you ever known me to make that much effort?”

You knew now that he was right — feeling all the more stupid for the time you’d gone without talking to him.

“And do you? Did you?” you corrected yourself with a cough, blushing and looking down like a schoolgirl asking out her crush.

He scoffed, taking a step closer to you, “You’re the fuckin’ nightmare actually, Y/N. Of course I did. Of course I do. Pined after you for months like a lovesick puppy and you still think I was fine with you just leaving? I just wanted you to go after what you wanted from your life, and hoped I’d still have a place in it.”

The vulnerability in his tone grew as he continued, and again you felt a pang to your heart.

“I figured you knew how I felt and it was just kinda like… an unspoken thing,” he shrugged, his head dipping, “Should’ve known better and said something, clearly.”

“Jess—,”

“Look, I’ve wasted too much time being pissed off at you already,” he was so near you now that you were sure you’d never seen his eyes so closely as they glimmered at you, “But I’m not gonna be a disrespectful ass and kiss your stupid face right now… even if I want to. Like really bad.”

You gulped, feeling overwhelmed again and blushing crimson as he stepped back away just a touch.

“Just answer me one question, yeah?”

You nodded, probably much too enthusiastically given the low chuckle he let out before his face returned to seriousness, “You happy with him? Was it, uh, worth moving on?”

“He’s… he’s nice, so yes and no.” was just about all you could muster, and it made you feel dirty that you couldn’t give the guy more credit — he’d been good to you and, though he’d never be Jess (because who else but the man himself could?), you had been happy enough with him until now.

“Yes and no?”

“Well I thought I was happy but now I—well he’s never made me feel the way I did the second I saw you and that stupid scowl on your face again,” you shook your head, drawing in a deep breath, “So yes I was happy with him, but no it wasn’t worth moving on. You’ll never be worth moving on from, Mariano.”

The smug smirk was back, and it took everything in you not to kiss it right off his lips as he practically puffed out his chest in victory.

“I’m not going to tell you to break up with him, but I want you to know I still feel the same about you as I did last year,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “So you can do with that information what you will.”

Almost as if on cue, your boyfriend finally made his way to your side just as Jess started to walk away.

“Who was that?”

“Oh, uh, someone from back home in Stars Hollow,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the man walking away to his car.

“Oh, sick,” he laughed, clearly unaware of the tension you were riddled with, “Crazy bumping into them here, then. C’mon it’s cold, let’s head back inside, yeah?”

“Actually—uh, can we—can we talk?”

———

ok so i don’t know if i like this at ALLLL but i finally finished it so please lmk what you think — i really hope you enjoyed. i have insane writer’s block and zero confidence in my writing atm so gonna drop this and run for the night 🫶 any and all feedback is soooo appreciated <3

i will come go back and edit it again at some point soon but please please let me know what you thought of it <3

also — here’s my masterlist if you’d like to read more!

#jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #gilmore girls imagines #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls

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kaisaerinlover · 23 days ago

Text

prize - sae itoshi

tw: kinda dark but not like my other stuff kinda dubious consent i guess

why are you even here? you have no idea, you don’t even remember how you got here, you don’t even know what’s going on, all you know is you’re some possession now, how could you know what’s going on anyway? no one filled you in, you just remember being led to the dorm room of someone, someone who you don’t even know, and left to sit on the bed. unfortunately for you that someone is sae itoshi. he won you, you think, you think that’s what’s happening. are you seriously being used as some motivational prize for a bunch of soccer players? this is seriously sick. you only know his name because there’s a jersey hung up on the closet handle that says it. you’ve been left alone in the room for what seems like an eternity, yearning for someone to come in and extinguish the loneliness, but the moment you see him enter, you instantly regret that wish.

sae walks in the room with someone behind him, a manager you think, and simply looks you up and down. his face is so empty, he’s unreadable. “is this her?” he looks at the older man behind him. “yes that’s her, she’s…” you zone out after that, they’re talking about you like you aren’t even there? like you’re some pet? you can’t even listen to their words anymore, you’re so horrified at the current predicament. you’re snapped out of it when the sound of the door closing echoes ever so slightly throughout the room. when you look up, you see the redhead towering over you, looking down at you. you feel even more self conscious than before and shift awkwardly.

“do you know why you’re here?” he bluntly asks, looking disinterested. you shake your head no, because you genuinely don’t, maybe your initial assumption was wrong and it’s just a big misunderstanding and maybe- “because you’re my prize now, understand” you wished too soon. what kind of misunderstanding would this have been anyway? stupid girl. you don’t do anything in response, you can’t even bring yourself to nod because you feel so tense. what does being a prize entail anyways? prizes are usually a fancy looking trophy sitting on a shelf, or a medal wrapped around the neck of some athlete, or maybe a money prize, maybe some stuffed animal, maybe an autograph. prizes are material possession usually, so why are you labelled as such a thing now? you were a normal person before this, so why? how can you even know what to expect when this is so… so… abnormal???

“what does- what- what’s a prize- what’s going to happen to me-“ you sputter over your words in anxiety. the prodigy in front of you simply stares at you and shrugs lightly. “anything i want” that doesn’t help soothe your nerves at all, actually it just made it worse. you’re so panicked you haven’t had any coherent thoughts since meeting the stranger, you didn’t even consider you were completely at his mercy. now you’re even more stressed. he notices it of course, how could he not? he finds it cute, like you’re some small animal freaking out over a predator looming over them, a cute bunny, or mouse. he doesn’t say that out loud though, he doesn’t so much as show it, fuck, he doesn’t say anything. his silence is so… eerie. he’s a unique guy, isn’t he?

what’s this guy’s deal anyway? he hasn’t shown a single emotion except indifference since walking through that door. he’s- suddenly a hand extends, touching your head and your face, the way you would touch some doll, or some sort of pet. it’s the first time he touched you. he’s examining you, you think, you can’t know for sure, usually you can tell people’s motives or even just a fraction of their thoughts from their facial expressions, this guy is just stuck on bored expression number 4 all the time clearly. you don’t protest though, you know better somehow, despite barely knowing him. “cute” he mumbles, having pulled his arm away from you and simply looking down at you now.

he’s weird, very weird. is probably what you would have observed about him in a normal setting. unfortunately you’re here as some sick prize for performing well in football matches. you had a life before this, don’t these people consider that?! what will your friends think, or family, or employer, or teachers, or anything? well, they never really cared that much did they, sweet girl? you’re just realising that now. you were never much of anything, nothing special, but nothing too weird worthy of getting picked on. did you even have friends? you never really talked to anyone. and now you’re paying the price for it, social connections are important, who’s going to notice you’re missing now? seriously, you went through life with the punishment of being a complete loner, and now you wound up here as well. does it get any easier ever? sae’s voice snaps you out of your slowly increasing nihilistic moment of realisation. “i had a long day today” he looks at you expectantly. you’re confused, does he want something? a massage? sexual gratification? are you supposed to know? you’re looking at him, head tilted to the side, hair sitting on your shoulders ever so cutely, god, he could ravage you here. you have those big innocent eyes he loves so much, you look so so clueless. very endearing. he locks his eyes on yours again as you answer him in an ever so small voice “o-okay-“ you manage to sputter out. seriously, what can you even say?

your dumbness is cute, to sae at least. he’s not even sure you know who he is, honestly. he hopes you do, but not knowing also comes with its share of benefits. he thought you would take the hint though, isn’t it obvious? can’t you just help him destress after a long day? unfortunately to sae, empathy is not his strong suit, actually it’s nothing to him. he’s devoid of it. so naturally he doesn’t understand that after you get swooped from your regular life and left in a dorm room belonging to some weird, yet albeit, handsome man you’re not really thinking things through critically. it was cute at first but he wants relief now. he guides you off of his bed and pushes you down gently onto your knees, and takes your spot on his bed. you go to protest but you’re silenced by his long finger pressing against your plump lips. wow, they feel really good pressed against his finger, his finger alone. how are they going to be on his cock? crazy good, probably. really fucking good. he’s excited now. he’s not the type to care for women, or anything really, but he’s interested in you for sure by now. you’re looking up at him, you know what he’s about to make you do, but you try and delude yourself. that works for the brief few seconds of him simply admiring you before he starts sliding down his shorts and boxers. he looks down at you with what anyone would say is a bored expression. “open” and you do. you do exactly what the prodigy says. you open your mouth ever so meekly. you don’t even know why you were so quick to oblige, but you tell yourself it’s fear, because why would you even want to consider the possibility of it being anything remotely positive in a situation like this.

he’s gentle at first, for the most part. he has a hand situated on your pretty little head but he’s not pushing you. just massaging your head. playing with your hair. like a pet. maybe like the way a child shows affection to their baby dolls. he breathes heavily as he’s slowly playing with your mouth using his cock. it’s scary, you never did this before ever, it’s the first time, you would rather not tell him that out of fear of sounding like you’re protesting. it’s easy at first, too easy, you ease up a little bit. what a mistake that was, sweet thing. he gets so relentless after a while, so fucking relentless. he grips your hair with such strength your eyes actually sting from it and your mouth is stuffed with his cock. he’s fucking your mouth so brutally, but when you look up at him with blurry, tear filled eyes, he looks so beautiful. maybe if you didn’t have his cock fucking your mouth right now you would even blush at the sight. sae itoshi is gorgeous. but do you know how annoying it is to find the owner of the prize you are attractive in such a moment? you feel a vague sense of self disgust wash over you. you’re pulled from those thoughts as he fucks your mouth harder than what you thought was even possible. the day you lost your innocence truly came sooner than you thought. sae is in ecstasy right now, wow, he doesn’t care for girls at all, he doesn’t ever grant himself sexual gratification including women most of the time, so the warmth of your mouth and throat are so welcoming to him. he likes you, he thinks. you look so cute on the floor, mouth all stuffed like a little mouse or hamster, greeding for treats. he almost laughs at that, he shouldn’t compare such a thing whilst he’s fucking your mouth like this. you’re like a pretty little flower, he can tell you’re innocent. he has a good sense when it comes to these things. you’re a cute lily, or something, he doesn’t know much about flowers, but what he knows about you is he wants to pick the petals off of you 1 by 1 and reap your innocence. god, you’re so fucking cute. taking him so well.

both of you are relieved when he finally cums, for different reasons of course. you’re so glad it’s finally over, your jaw aches in a way you’ve never felt it hurt before. that’s truly the sensation of losing your purity, or a small part of it. you’re sure sae will take more soon, and he’s sure too. sae is relieved he came too, but wow. you look so nice down there on your knees, panting, tears streaming down your face, hair messed up in a manner that he’s not sure if it’s actually cute, or if he just finds YOU cute in general, but he doesn’t care and doesn’t dwell on it. you have a mouth full of his cum. gross, it tastes of salt, and the texture is as slimy as sae’s personality. he’s gross and this is gross. you go to spit it out, but you’re stopped by his hand. he’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, panting too, out of breath as much as you are (stupid bastard, you think to yourself, you’re tired from the pleasure i gave you? please). you didn’t even notice he knelt down. his index finger pushes your chin up, you know what he wants. he’s waiting expectantly for you to give in and swallow. you’re not feisty, you’re not some charismatic, strongminded girl from a series or book. you oblige. and he looks at you, still expressionless, but his eyes are telling you he’s glad you obeyed so mindlessly. he stands up and looks down at you, “good girl” he says it so effortlessly. it sounds really nice actually. your cheeks heat up at the simple praise. ah. why do you feel this way for him?

all you did is overthink since you got here, not a single coherent thought was formed, and you just became acutely aware of the ache in your whole body. your knees hurt so much, your head is aching and your back feels stiff. on cue, the oldest itoshi extends a hand out to you. should you take it? you could be like the girls in the movies, the series, the books, all of those works of fiction you’ve read countless times, heard stories of so often, you could slap his hand away and show him you’re more than some prize, heck, you aren’t a prize, you’re an individual too. you have individuality don’t you? you’re strong too, and you don’t need him. you won’t be his mindless toy. is that why you accepted his help then? he helped you stand, you are naturally a little off balance, you kneeled for quite sometime, didn’t you little trophy? you’re like a bunny caught in the wind, a small mouse, a baby animal taking its first steps, a flower succumbing to the conditions of the fall season, harsher than what it was accustomed to in the summer. that’s how sae sees you. he doesn’t play for prizes, he doesn’t play for rewards, he’s not a greedy man. he’s not looking for anything like that. but you’re the best thing he’s gotten in a long while from playing soccer so often. what a great prize you were, he wasn’t playing to get you anyway, he didn’t care, all of the other guys went crazy over the thought of winning such a prize, having their own woman to fawn over, do whatever they wanted with and face little consequences, whilst avoiding the effort of finding one too, but he didn’t care at all. but somehow, he’s glad he’s the best. he’s glad he’s the best because it brought you to him. you’re his now. you haven’t quite fully accepted it yet, but you will. you’re only resisting because you don’t want anyone to think you’re weak. or desperate. or stupid. or anything negative. but no one will think that anyway, you’re a prize now, trophies don’t need to stress about such trivial matters. your world is sae now. you can be as mindless and carefree as you want, because you don’t have any other responsibilities any more other than being a subservient little princess for sae itoshi. he knows you’re probably having an internal conflict, but he has patience. he has patience that spans for miles and miles. he could wait a decade. he’s not an angry guy, he doesn’t care at all. he’s not an anything guy really. one thing he’s pretty sure about though is that he won’t need that patience, you’ll crack. and it won’t take long. he’s happy at that fact, but he won’t show you it.

he knows his thoughts were correct when you trusted him enough to sleep in his bed the first night. you must have been really tired, huh? tired angel. sweet girl. that’s what he’s thinking. he thinks you’re all sorts of things. all positive, but all so demeaning. you’re just a possession after all, he still won you, and you’re so easy. you took no effort at all. you’re just something to be doted on, and used, not someone with a mind of their own, you aren’t equal to him. you’re more akin to… to a doll, he supposes. it’s fitting for you. he pats your head as you sleep against his chest and strokes your hair a bit. god you’re cute. yeah, you’re really his doll. being the best has never felt as good.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock x y/n

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6okuto · 1 year ago

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LOVING YOU IS EASY

gn!reader | bokuto fluff ^___<

“we could go window shopping?” bokuto suddenly suggests from his spot beside you on the bench.

“no we could not.” you laugh in disbelief before looking back down at your phone.

through a series of miscommunication, you and your boyfriend have found yourselves at the mall to watch a movie with his team that isn't playing for another 3 hours. it's a weird amount of time where going home doesn't make sense, but you don't have other plans either.

“why not?”

“because it’s never just window shopping.”

kotaro tilts his head, genuinely confused. “huh? i don’t buy that much.”

“for you. i put something back and you’re suddenly behind me putting it in a cart i didn’t even see you grab,” you explain with a light flick to his forehead. “stop spending your money on me.”

kotaro pouts and shifts in his spot beside you to get even closer—he always gets more affectionate when he’s trying to convince you of something. you’ve grown accustomed to the way his arms wrap around your center, and his face finds place in the crook of your neck. his hair tickles your face and you lean away, only giving him the opportunity to nuzzle closer and kiss your jaw. “but i like spoiling you. you deserve it.”

“what happens when my closet gets too full from all the clothes you buy me? or there’s no more space on my poor bookshelf?”

“i’ll get you another bookshelf! you can have my closet.”

“yeah? where are your clothes gonna go then?”

“i’ll put them somewhere at the bottom.”

“liar.” you laugh breathily and pinch his cheek. “they’d get all wrinkled and you’d get pouty and ask where the steamer is.”

“then i’ll get a dresser.”

“then why couldn’t i get a dresser?”

“the closet’s more space,” he says as if it were obvious.

“kotaro,” you drag out his name. the way your boyfriend fawns over has always been a little hard to believe. it was easy for anyone to see that loving you came effortlessly to him, affection woven into every breath he took and gaze that landed in your vicinity. when you’d ask how and why, what it was about you, his brows would furrow and he’d purse his lips. “what do you mean? everything about you, i guess?”

and it's not like you didn’t have your own income to get him gifts either. but every time you do, your boyfriend seems to take it as a sign to get you double what you got him. it isn’t in a competitive way—he’s told you himself that he just gets so happy that he wants to make sure you’re even happier.

so you make yourself welcome his affection and every “i love you” he yells before having to part ways. you let every hug and kiss wrap around you like a blanket, let them seep into your bones and whisper soft words of affection that promised to love you the same to the ends of the earth, or until you’d believe each one as easily as they were spoken.

but you think guilt would always find its way, slipping through hidden cracks in the heart you’ve built, chipping away in search of its companion, hatred, slumbering somewhere inside.

kotaro looks up at you at the sound of his name, hair tickling you again, and eyes somewhere between pleading and determined. your noses are only a few inches apart, as if a closer proximity would make your words soak into him easier. “i’m serious, you don’t have to spend your money on me, ko.”

“and i’m serious when i say i want to.” he says, furrowing his brows and bringing his hands up to cup your face, too. you’re sure the both of you look silly, sitting on a bench, holding each other’s faces, but kotaro doesn’t hesitate or care about passersby.

you’re not sure he ever has when it came to loving you.

“i don’t want you to worry about stuff like that, y’know? i have more than enough money to spend to make you happy, so why wouldn’t i?”

he says your name, in a tone more serious than his usual one. “i love you. i love getting you things and seeing you happy. you always think i’m giving you too much, right? but i don’t think so. even if you don’t see it, you do a lot for me just by being you. this is me showing you i love you just as much, and that you can rely on me, too.”

you’re not surprised at how easily he speaks, yet your eyes still search his, looking for some kind of hesitation, a sign he’s lying that you know doesn’t exist. you huff. “if i’m super cheesy and say i don’t need your money to be happy, will you stop spending it?”

he smiles at you. “nope! ’cause i already know that.”

you sigh, lips twitching into a defeated smile. “don’t know why i tried.”

“so i can keep spoiling you? if we check out the new store that opened, i promise i won’t spend a lot this time.”

“what’s considered a lot?”

“dunno, maybe a few shirts?” he considers. you shoot him a look of disbelief. “...less than a few? is a few five? four? three? it’s three? by definition?”

“ko.”

“three. okay. the price of three shirts. really! seriously. there was just something i think you’d like—”

“ko.”

“baby, okay, what if—okay, something we’d like?” he starts to stand up, hands grabbing yours to pull you up with him.

you jokingly groan and pull back. “will we make it back in time for the movie?”

“of course! trust me,” he reassures you. you don’t trust him, of course. yet at the same time you jut out your lips, you let your fingers interlock with his so he can pull you, and kotaro shoots you a grin—the same one he always has around you, still coming as easily as spoiling and loving you seemed to.

seeing the same green divider in all my notifications has been driving me not up but Through a wall in a Very big truck going Very fast so i will be regularly using different colours now.

🏷 | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtc @dimslover @kuroaka @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist @libbyistired

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu fluff #x reader

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sandfordsmostwanted · 2 years ago

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No I don’t care about the new Velma series, but all these Scooby Doo posts have highlighted a deficiency in every Scooby Doo prequel idea. Yes, I’ve seen some amazing ideas for BFF Daphne and Shaggy content... ... but none for the untapped character goldmine of Freddie and Velma.

Like just picture it. The series is set in a American private school, where Velma is a POC scholarship kid, always looking to prove herself. She’s bullied relentlessly, but keeps her head down, because she’s getting into the Ivy League, damn it, and there’s no way these assholes are stopping her. She’s a whizz at anything to do with science and math and history and geography, but arts are a bit of a weakness, and she needs one more English credit to max out her resume. Her teacher offers her the opportunity to tutor another student to get the credit. The catch is it’s Fred Jones, the Dean’s son, and no-one can possibly find out. Velma’s initially pissed at having to spend so much time with this entitled brat. On the surface Fred Jones is everything you’d imagine him to be - a jock, a bro, loved by the ladies and part of the group that have always made Velma’s life hell. She dreads having to tutor him, until he turns up, and he’s genuinely appreciative and sweet. She doesn’t trust him; she’s been burned too many times before. But through the sessions they get to know each other better. They bond over their mutual love of engineering - Fred doesn’t have the technological vocabulary that Velma does, but he’s got an instinctive eye for when a mechanism would fail - and they both realise the other had more depths than they expected. Velma notices the bullies leave her alone now, and though she can’t thank Fred publicly, they share a few subtle smiles in the hallway. And then the plot of the series happens - a girl gets kidnapped from their school, and Velma’s on the case. She cancels her tutoring with Fred to sneak into the school to investigate. They run into hypercapable badass Daphne Blake and her emotional support Shaggy. Velma’s had a crush on Daphne for as long as she can remember, but her nerves make her even more snarky than usual, and the two spend most of their time bickering. Velma, Daphne and Shaggy also run into Fred in the school while they’re investigating; he left some sports stuff behind and came to retrieve it. Plot plot plot, meddling kids, mystery solved. Velma thinks everything’s going back to normal, but it doesn’t. Shaggy saved her a seat at lunch, and fills her tray with stuff he thinks she’ll enjoy (”And hey, you can sneak some of this in your pockets for when you’re at the library later!”) Daphne picks her first for her team in gym class. Fred tells his shitty mates to get fucked, and sits next to Velma in every class. And best of all, they start solving local mysteries together. As they become better friends, they learn more and more about each other. Fred tells Velma if she struggles with making eye contact with people to look at the bridge of their nose or over their shoulder, because that looks like you’re looking them in the eye without actually doing it. Velma tells Fred that “the writing swimming when you read” is called dyslexia, and types up their study notes in a easy to read font. Fred is the first friend Velma ever brings back to her tiny apartment than she shares with her parents, and he’s very appreciative of their home despite living in a straight up mansion himself. Velma learns that that mansion life isn’t all its cracked up to be. His parents work away a lot, and when they’re around, they’re shitty and waspy and make Fred feel small. Fred always texts Velma late at night telling her to stop studying and get some sleep, Velma always texts Fred to tell him to stop working out and get a snack. They’re fucking good for each other. It’s never romantic between them - never even close. Fred takes Velma’s coming out better than her parents did (”Why would I be upset that you like girls? Liking girls is great! I do it all the time!”) Velma tries her hardest not to be jealous when Fred and Daphne start dating - she never told him about her crush, and he’s not a mind reader. Who cares if she notices there’s chemistry between her and Daphne? She’s probably misreading the social cues, like usual. Besides, school’s nearly over now, and she’ll be off to college in a matter of weeks. Leaving it all behind her, just as she planned. Their final mystery is the biggest yet, and the only time the gang actually fear for their lives. The stress of the mystery, and the building resentment of Velma’s “I’m out of here” energy leads to a huge argument between Fred and Velma, and the gang splits four ways to try and solve this thing. Each of them face their own trial. Shaggy has to face his fear instead of running away. Daphne has to be herself without overcompensation with gadgets or gimmicks. She realises in this process that Velma is the one she’s always loved, and the two share a sincere kiss. Fred has to trust himself, and succeed by himself without the safety net of his family, his wealth or Velma. And Velma has to admit she needs her friends, and that she loves them deeply. The mystery is solved, and just like that, they’re all set to go their separate ways, this time for real. It’s the last day of finals. Velma hasn’t heard from Fred for almost a week now; her texts go unanswered. She knows he’s taking breaking up with Daphne harder than he’s letting on, though he’s happy Velma and Daphne are happy. She finishes her final paper and hands it in, thoughts of college in her mind as she stands on the school steps where it all began. A horn honks behind her. She turns. There’s a massive eyesore of a van parked outside. Velma didn’t even know you could get that many shades of neon green and blue, and the little orange flowers are wonky and she knows they’ve been painted by hand and with love. Daphne waves at her from the passenger’s seat, and Shaggy from the back. Fred is leaning against the Mystery Machine, twirling his keys in his hand. He’d traded the sleek, smart car his dad bought him and that he’s been driving all show for this new ride, and he asks if Velma feels like solving a mystery or two before heading off to college. Thus begins the adventures of Mystery Incorporated. (End credits song is “Life is a Highway” by Rascall Flatts because you know that’s white boy Freddie Jones’ favourite driving song)

#scooby doo #velma #velma dinkley #fred jones #freddie jones #daphne blake #shaggy rogers #norville rogers #scooby doo prequel #scooby doo meta #velma and daphne #hbo velma

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dairy-farmer · 2 months ago

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So fun fact: I sometimes loose my hearing after a good orgasam. Actually it’s kinda all the time. I don’t know if this is normal or if anyone else gets this. It’s just always happened to me. The best way I can describe the actual hearing loss is likehigh pitch ringing and everything sounds muffled and far away. Kinda like in movies when there has been an explosion and the main character can’t hear anything for a bit. Except for we it can be like 5-20 minutes usually it it has occasionally been longer. It slowly comes back by its self, or sometimes comes back suddenly like when your ears pop after a plane ride.

Anyway it’s never really gotten me into too much trouble but I like to imagine Tim who loves to finger himself in his private bathroom in his office stumbling into a WE meeting completely deaf.

He doesn’t even have to be sleeping with someone. In fact it’s kinda better if Tim is a chronic masterbater pervert that gets of 10 times per day. He gets really good at finishing quickly and quietly. He gets back from patrol 10 minutes before everyone else and rubs one out right there while straddling his bike, no time to get in the shower. He gets 20min of peace and quiet while on a stake out. He sits on a gargoyle the right way and the seem of his suit rubs just right. He once finished just as the bell rang while waiting for Damian outside school in the pick up area. He was in his car and it had tinted windows so what’s the harm. He has and does make everyone turn on the subtitles for him during movie nights or when watching a tv show with his brothers because he sometimes will get himself off under the blankets or just right there on the couch if they are sitting in front of him.

He’s not even into like risky stuff or exhibitionism, he genuinely doesn’t want to get caught he just loves orgasams. His dream life is to stay in bed all day masterbating but he is so busy and doesn’t even have time to sleep so he just gets of when he can….and often. It’s about compromise he will just up a few hours of sleep but he refuses to have less then 3 orgasms a day. Hearing lost be damned, he can read people lips and he’s smart enough to understand a situation even without one of his senses.

Does his family notice that sometimes Tim is completely deaf? Yes and no. His brother just think he’s an idiot and probably daydreaming. Bruce however does notice and keeps asking to check his hearing. Tim keeps telling him his hearing is fine and that no he can’t check it.

It comes to a head when after months of pestering him, and then giving him a full lecture that turns into a fight. Because Tim doesn’t hear him say something vitally important out in the field or during a fight or something.

Tim lets him do a hearing test and Bruce is very confused when Tim’s hearing is perfectly fine.

…Maybe Bruce digs deeper and spies on Tim because he can’t let it go. Maybe he finds out just why little Timmy is sometimes totally deaf 🥰☺️

i can't say i've ever heard of that before but it definitely sounds possible! ears are weird because mine 'crackle' when i yawn.

but tim going temporarily deaf after masturbating 👀👀👀 presents so much potential. him losing his hearing because he can't not touch himself because he just loves the feeling so much. the way his insides buzz and clench the way his whole body feels warm and lax. he finally unclenches his jaw and his headaches go away and in exchange he just can't hear for a few minutes- it always comes back to so it's not a big enough deal to bring up. plus it saves him some of the embarrassment because in his family literally nothing stays secret, any shift or change in his medical file will be public knowledge. tim's even pretty sure dick and bruce have their notifications turned on for any changes to his file.

of course it ends up backfiring eventually because tim had decided to take a small "break" and ended up missing a cue in a fight he was dragged into. of course bruce doesn't let it go, he brings up past instances as proof of tim's waning hearing and it's not TECHNICALLY fully true so of course tim argues back!

in the end tim is forced to take a hearing test and much to bruce's surprise he passes!!

and tim thinks that must be the end, bruce got his answers even if they weren't what he wanted.

...but tim does not consider just how INTENT bruce can be when he smells a mystery.

so bruce spies like he usually does, is surprised by just how much time time spends masturbating and the places he does it in (as well as his almost commendable efficiency?). and after hearing tim through a bug finish in his car and then exit to cross the street to enter a cofeeshop bruce...feels something when a driver loudly honks at tim but tim doesn't react at all.

he begins to suspect and then put it together until he gets his answer behind tim's mysterious deafness.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

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Request: Wayne & Steve bonding. Can be 5+1 with the party members seeing it & then the +1 can be Steve realizing that Wayne is his safe adult & that he is included by both Wayne & Eddie (his partner) as a Munson

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PLATONIC LOVE!!!! ALSO HAPPY 100TH WORK ON AO3 FOR ME!!!! I had started another request but then realized my 100th work needed to have Wayne. Like, it was a no brainer. I love Wayne Munson with my entire heart. He loves Steve with his entire heart. Here we are! - Mickala ❤️

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

one

It started out pretty awkward.

Eddie had suggested the fishing trip, said it would be great for them to bond and get to know each other.

“Steve’s not goin’ anywhere, and Wayne’s approval is more important to me than anything else, so you might as well find some common ground,” he said to them both over dinner.

So Steve agreed to this fishing trip, and he agreed to let Wayne pick the place and drive them there and provide all the necessary tools.

He didn’t know how to fish so it made sense that he didn’t make any of the decisions.

Of course, Wayne didn’t know he didn’t know how to fish. He’d maybe made it sound like he used to go when he was younger, before his dad stopped showing any interest in spending time with him.

But his dad wasn’t really ever around, and certainly didn’t do anything to bond with him, so here he was.

Trying to pretend he knew how a worm went on a hook.

Wayne hadn’t said much, though Eddie had already warned him that it didn’t mean he didn’t like him, he just didn’t usually say much unless he knew you well.

He was pretty focused on baiting his own hook, or that’s what Steve thought it was called, and Steve didn’t really think it would go well if he interrupted to ask stupid questions.

“You’ve never done this before, have ya?” Wayne suddenly asked, not looking up from his hook.

“Um. No sir?” Steve replied.

No point in lying when it was so obvious he had no clue what he was doing.

Wayne finally looked at him, his eyes squinted as he searched his face.

“You want some help with that?” he finally asked Steve.

“Please.”

Wayne didn’t take the hook and worm from him though. Instead, he gently scooted closer and started showing Steve how to do it himself.

“There ya go! Now, professionals use different bait and hooks and all kindsa stuff I don’t have the patience for. We just use worms cuz they’re cheap and work just fine. You ever cast your own line or you need me to show ya?”

“I can watch you and then try,” Steve replied.

This was going…well. Wayne seemed eager to help instead of annoyed like Steve thought he would be.

He watched Wayne cast his line out, reeling it in just a bit once the bobber hit the water.

“Why do you reel it in like that?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“Keeps the line tight so you can see any movement. If the bait ain’t on there good, a fish might be able to wiggle it off, but if you see the line moving, you might be able to still catch him,” Wayne said quietly. “Think you can do it?”

Steve didn’t think he could, but he wanted to impress Wayne.

And then he did it.

“I did it!” he said, maybe a bit too loud for the environment.

“You did! Proud of ya!” Wayne said back, big smile on his face.

He didn’t seem to care that Steve was so loud he probably scared all the damn fish away, or that it was such a simple task that Steve accomplished.

He was just proud.

And when Steve caught his first fish 20 minutes later, he could have sworn he saw Wayne wipe a tear from his eye.

—---

two

“Invite him over,” Wayne suggested.

“To your house?” Steve said as he stopped putting his shoes on.

“Yeah. We got plenty of snacks. Lucas seems like a nice kid. He puts up with Eddie and that Max girl. Must be an angel actually,” Wayne snorted.

Steve looked at him, and at the tv that was already tuned in to the channel the basketball game would be on.

“If you’re sure…” Steve said, removing his shoes again to go call Lucas.

“Tell him to bring his ball and we can practice after! Only if you promise to go easy on me, I’m an old man,” Wayne added as he sipped on his beer.

Steve was quick on the phone, smiling to himself when Lucas seemed so excited about getting to hang out with Steve and Wayne.

Lucas made it just as the game started, sweating from the bike ride over.

“Grab a pop from the fridge and take a seat, kiddo,” Wayne said from his armchair.

“Is Eddie here?” Lucas asked as he did what Wayne said and sat down on the couch next to Steve.

“Nope. Had physical therapy and then band practice. Won’t see that boy until near midnight, I’d say.”

Steve nodded in agreement.

Eddie always got distracted at band practice, especially if they started smoking. Wayne always told him to call if he needed a ride, but not if he needed bail.

The game was intense, and all of them ended up standing on their feet pacing for the last two minutes of it. It was so back and forth, so close, they were almost certain it would go to overtime.

It didn’t though, and Wayne hugged both Steve and Lucas excitedly.

“Alright, who wants to go shoot some hoops?”

Steve knew for a fact the Munsons didn’t have a basketball net. Eddie wasn’t a sports guy and Wayne didn’t have time until pretty recently to have any hobbies.

But Steve and Lucas followed him onto the back porch and Steve stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the small cement pad now had a basketball net.

“When did you get that?”

“Well, when Eddie mentioned you still liked to play for fun, I figured it’d be nice to have. Not a lot of space out here for a real game, but it’s somethin’.”

Wayne looked shy, almost nervous, which was something he never was.

“You got this for Steve?” Lucas asked him.

“Yeah. You’re welcome to come over and practice anytime, too,” he said to Lucas with a smile.

“Seriously? This is awesome!” Lucas took his ball and ran down the porch steps to start shooting at the net.

“You got this for me?” Steve asked Wayne, still slightly surprised by the gesture.

“Yeah, kid. Want you to feel like this is your home too, ya know?”

“Oh.”

Steve wasn’t gonna cry, he wasn’t.

He hugged Wayne quickly, then joined Lucas. Wayne sat on the porch and watched for a bit, cheering when Lucas managed to score on him three times in a row.

Surprisingly, Eddie came home in the midst of an intense one on one match.

He took one look at Steve and Lucas, and turned to Wayne.

“Since when do we support jockhood in this house?” he asked him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Since you fell in love with one,” Wayne smirked.

“I’m not- we haven’t- Wayne!” Eddie sputtered before going back inside.

Wayne shook his head, but continued watching Steve and Lucas competing against each other, hopefully for the first of many times.

—------

three

Max should go home. She couldn’t just hide at the Munson trailer every single time her mom had to work late.

She had to face her fears and just stay home alone.

But Eddie was here having a mini-session with Mike, Will, and Lucas, and she felt better being around all of them than being in her house.

Plus, Wayne had made her hot chocolate and let her taste test the cookies he made.

She wasn’t playing, but she watched the entire time, sipping on her hot chocolate and watching Wayne out of the corner of her eye.

He was in the kitchen baking something new, but had told her she couldn’t try this one yet.

It looked like a cake, but it had a lot of steps to it and she couldn’t be quite sure when he kept moving things from counter to counter and then counter to oven.

At exactly 7:00, Eddie clapped his hands, thanked everyone for coming, and told them to get out.

“How’s the cake comin’ old man? Steve’s gonna be here in 20 minutes!” Eddie said as he started frantically cleaning up.

Max watched as they both seemed to rush through their tasks, ignoring her entirely, maybe even forgetting she was still on the couch.

And then it hit her.

“Shit! It’s Steve’s birthday, isn’t it?” she asked.

Wayne and Eddie both stood in the doorway of the kitchen looking at her.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Eddie asked.

“Ed, I forgot the powdered sugar,” Wayne said suddenly.

“Fuck!” Eddie said, exasperated.

“Language!” Wayne huffed out, turning back to his cake. “I think my Ma used to just blend regular sugar to make it so she didn’t have to pay for it. Let me see how much sugar we got.”

“Max, let me walk you home,” Eddie said, forcing a smile.

But just as she was getting up to let him, not wanting to push him too much when he was so obviously stressed, the front door opened and Steve walked in.

“You will never believe what this woman did at closing time tonight. I thought Robin was going to have to go to jail. Oh. Hey Max.”

Steve paused as he took in the looks of panic on Max and Eddie’s face and the chaos happening in the kitchen.

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, suddenly worried.

“Everything’s great! Actually, can you walk Max home?”

“Is that Steve?” Wayne asked from the kitchen, peeking around the doorway. “Dammit, I need 10 minutes!”

Eddie shooed Steve back out the door and Max followed without being asked.

When the door shut behind them, Steve looked at Max with a confused look.

“Happy birthday, I guess?” she shrugged.

“Oh. Is that today?” he asked.

“Apparently. I don’t think the Munsons understand the idea behind not celebrating birthdays.”

Steve laughed, smiling fondly at the closed front door.

“Alright, well. Let’s get you home so they can embarrass me without an audience.”

They walked down the road to Max’s trailer in silence. Max didn’t mind it with Steve, it felt like they both needed it.

But when they arrived at her house, she turned to Steve and hugged him.

“All good, red?” he asked as he hugged her back.

“Yeah. Just glad we have them.”

“Who? The Munsons?”

“Yeah. They’re pretty great.”

Steve smiled down at her.

“Yeah, they’re alright.”

—----------

four

Nancy spent a lot of time at the library. Probably more than anyone else in Hawkins.

She’d seen it all.

The nerds using it to study, the old people reading the newspaper, the kids being brought by their moms for storytime.

She’d never once seen a Munson.

Until today.

Wayne Munson was standing in the aisle of books that held books about gardening.

He looked lost, and she wanted to help.

“Hey, Wayne right?” she whispered.

He jumped, but then relaxed when he saw it was just a young woman.

“Yes, and you are?”

“Nancy. You probably don’t remember, but I was with everyone when Eddie was brought into the hospital,” she said, hating to bring up bad memories, but needing him to know that she knew Eddie.

“Ah, yes. Mike’s sister?”

“That’s me.” She cleared her throat. “You look like you need some help. I’m basically a librarian for how often I’m here, so maybe I can help?”

“Yeah. I’m lookin’ for a book about trees that can grow here easily. All these seem to be about tropical plants.”

He was right. For some reason, most of the books available were about tropical plants or encyclopedias about flowers.

“There is one…hold on.” Nancy walked a few feet away and looked at the one book she knew would have the information he needed. “Here it is!” She handed it to him. “Any specific tree you’re looking for?”

“Well, I’m gonna plant a tulip tree in the backyard, but I need to know what it needs.”

Nancy smiled.

“You a fan of tulip trees?”

“Ah can’t say I care either way. But Steve likes ‘em and he’s been feelin’ a bit down lately, so figured it might make him smile.”

Nancy frowned.

“He’s been down?” she asked.

Admittedly, she hadn’t seen him much lately, but that was because he was busy working with Robin and spending his free time with Eddie or the kids.

“Well, it ain’t my business to say, but his parents came to town last week and he ain’t been the same since. He won’t talk about it, not even with Ed,” Wayne sounded sad, but also angry.

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I know they’re frustrating to say the least. But he’ll be alright. I’m glad he has you to cheer him up,” she smiled at him.

“Me too. You won’t tell him about this yet, right?”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

—-------------

five

Robin was hot.

“Steve, there is no way this pool takes this long to clean,” she said from her chair.

“Maybe it wouldn’t if I had help,” Steve said with a sigh.

“I think he’s expecting us to help him,” Eddie said from his chair next to her, not opening his eyes to actually look.

“It’s not as hot in the pool,” he tried to bribe them.

“As if we would get in that untreated dirty water!” Eddie exclaimed.

“We have all literally been covered in Upside Down dust and demo-creature blood.”

“Against our will!” Robin exclaimed.

“Alright, I’m calling Wayne,” Steve said as he got out of the pool.

Not even 20 minutes later, Steve was walking back outside, Wayne trailing behind him in a bathing suit.

“I’m scraping the bottom first so I can scoop any debris out before I treat it,” Steve explained to him. “I think that last storm we got just got a lot of heavier limbs in it so there’s more than I expected.”

“And these two are just watching?”

“We’re supervising. Here for emergencies and getting him drinks when needed,” Eddie said.

“Right. So I’ll take a cold beer,” Wayne said with a smirk.

Eddie moved his sunglasses off his face and glared at him.

“You just came from inside.”

“And now I’m hot. Get me a beer or go home.”

Robin watched the exchange like a tennis match, then turned to Steve who was getting back in the pool like he was used to this kind of thing happening all the time.

“I’m so glad he called you,” she said to Wayne as Eddie grumbled his way inside.

“Me too,” Wayne said, no hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Robin watched them work, taking in the way Wayne explained the best way to treat the pool (“shock it, but then focus on the filter itself, not just the actual pool”) and how long it should sit.

An hour later, they were finishing up the main part of the treatment, and Wayne knocked Steve’s shoulder.

“Great job, kid. Probably wanna let it sit overnight so no one’s skin is burnin’ though.”

“What?! We can’t even swim today?” Eddie shrieked.

“Go swim in the bathtub. Better yet, a puddle in the road,” Wayne yelled back at him. He turned back to Steve. “You comin’ for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, let me clean up first. Want me to bring anything?”

“Just yourself, you know that.”

Wayne turned to go, and grabbed Eddie’s ear.

“Ow!”

“You’re comin’ with me. You got some stuff to do around the trailer before I let you come over here and swim.”

“I’m a grown man!”

“And grown men clean up before their boyfriends come over. Let’s go.”

Wayne walked away, knowing Eddie would follow him.

Robin couldn’t help the loud laugh she let out as Eddie scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over his own feet when he stopped to kiss Steve quickly before leaving the back patio.

“They’re a blast,” Robin said when they were gone.

“They’re the best,” Steve said fondly.

—----------

plus one

It was too late for someone to be knocking on the door, but Wayne knew better than to ignore it.

Too many late night knocks had been because of emergencies.

“Go back to bed, Ed,” he said to Eddie when he saw him coming out of his bedroom, half asleep and half naked.

But he knew Eddie would be curious and wasn’t surprised when he followed him to the front door.

“Steve?”

He had an armful of Steve as soon as he said his name, wrapping his arms around him protectively.

It was damn near two in the morning, why the hell was he here?

“Are you hurt, son?”

He heard Steve let out a loud sob against his chest and he quickly pulled him inside all the way, closing the door so the neighbors wouldn’t hear and get nosy.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked from behind Wayne.

“Go get some water for him, Ed,” Wayne said over his shoulder. “Steve? What happened?”

“They kicked me out. They found out about Eddie and kicked me out,” Steve said between sobs and panting breaths.

“Alright. Let’s sit down for a minute,” Wayne tried to stay calm, but anger was coursing through his body.

Who could kick out their own son? Especially over something so small?

He shouldn’t be surprised that the Harringtons would, but it still felt like someone poured cold water over him.

“I don’t know what to do. I have nowhere to go,” Steve whimpered.

“Now that right there is nonsense, son. You got us right here, don’t ya? You think we’d let you be homeless when Ed’s got a perfectly good bed for you to sleep in? Hell, ya sleep in it most nights a week anyway.” Wayne sighed, running his hands up and down Steve’s back as they sat on the couch. “You belong here with us. It’s their loss and someday they’ll have to live with the regret of hurtin’ you. But you’re my kid, and you ain’t gonna be livin’ on the streets. Understand me?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

Eddie walked in silently with a glass of water, fear in his eyes.

Wayne gave him a look and hoped he was communicating that he shouldn’t ask right now.

“You wanna have some water for me? Maybe a nice hot shower and then bed?” Wayne asked.

Steve nodded.

“Look at me, Steve.” He waited for Steve to look at him. “You’re my son. I love you and I want you to be here. You deserve to be loved just as you are.”

Steve sniffled, trying to hold back another sob as he nodded.

Wayne watched him sip on the water for a few minutes, and watched as Eddie walked him to the bathroom to make sure he had everything he needed for a shower.

He never understood how parents could look at their children and feel anything but the purest form of love.

Steve may not be his biologically, but he was practically a Munson since the day he carried Eddie out of Hell.

If Wayne had to help him out his own version of Hell, then he’d do it with a smile on his face and praise on his tongue.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wayne munson #5+1 things #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #request #ficlet #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #supportive wayne munson

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therealcocoshady · 6 months ago

Text

Recovery - Chapter 37

Eminem x Female Reader Fanfiction

Synopsis : Em starts therapy. Reader is organizing Jamal and Talia's wedding. A track gets leaked., causing Jamal to be angry at Em.

MARSHALL’S POV

Marshall was rather nervous when he sat in the chair in his therapist’s office. In the past decade, he had made a point to avoid therapy as much as he could, only committing to the bare minimum. Technically, he was seeing a therapist but, from the very beginning of their session, he had made it clear that he did not really want to go over his whole life story, over-analyzing his relationship with his mother or whatever therapists were usually interested in. So, for more than fifteen years, the sessions focused solely on his addiction management and potential triggers. Anything that was not related, he deemed irrelevant and, at some point, his therapist gave up on trying to get him to talk about his childhood or going in depth on his feelings. And so far, it had worked out pretty well for him. He was sober for more than sixteen years now and, if it were not for fear of losing the woman he loved, he would gladly stick to the usual agenda. But it was Y/N, and the thought of losing her over something as stupid as his trauma was making him sick to his stomach, so when she asked if he would consider therapy, he reluctantly accepted. As painful as a two hour session talking about the neglect he experienced in his youth seemed, he knew It wouldn’t compare to the pain of having the woman he loved leaving him. And even if if didn’t come to that, he didn’t want to hurt her, in any way, shape of form. He had fucked up big time and he knew it.

When he called his therapist’s office to request an emergency session, he was greeted with urgency and the secretary immediately put him through with Dr Hanson, who immediately asked if there was a relapse. And why wouldn’t she ? When a patient’s been refractory for years, there can only be so many reasons why they’d be so eager to have a session. He said he hadn’t relapsed, just « relationship stuff » he needed to figure out and it was enough for the therapist to open her practice earlier on a Monday morning after Thanksgiving. Dr Hanson had been trying to get him to open up for years but he had always refused, considering his music to be his best form of therapy. When he walked in and sat in the chair, he was greeted with a smile.

Good morning Marshall, Dr Hanson said.

‘Morning, Doc. Thanks for the quick appointment, he replied with genuine gratefulness.

Well it’s not every day that one of your oldest patient decides to open up out of the blue, is it ? She grinned.

Well, it took fifteen years but you finally get what you wanted, he shrugged.

So, Marshall, what brings you in today ? She asked.

He took a second to respond. He knew what brought him in but filling her in with so many details about his personal life felt foreign. He had a great working relationship with Dr Hanson, but it had always been on a need to know basis. Now, though, he knew the whole thing would need dissecting. He hummed and chose his words carefully.

I, uh… Snapped at my partner, he explained. We managed to talk it out but she said something about unresolved trauma I shouldn’t take on her, so… Here I am. Trying to make things right. I don’t want it to happen again.

Dr Hanson stayed silent for a split second and looked at him from behind her glasses. She brought her hand to her mouth, noted something on her notepad and smiled.

Looks like Christmas came early, this year, she said with a smirk. Can you go over the events for me ?

______

TWO WEEKS LATER

Y/N’s POV

The weeks following Thanksgiving were nothing short of heavenly. You were feeling at home in the house, you adopted the cutest cat, Talia and Jamal’s wedding was coming together and Marshall was more attentive than ever. You knew he went to see his therapist a couple times a week, though you didn’t pry and ask for much details about their sessions. However, from what you gathered, it seemed to work well for him. In his conversations with you, he seemed more analytical about his own feelings, even talking to you about how he felt about certain things. The two of you had always had good talks, but he was opening up more than ever. And on top of that, he was extremely vocal about how much he appreciated you, lavishing you with praises, telling you how thankful he was whenever you did the smallest thing for him. You had no idea who his therapist was but, if you could, you’d send them gifts. Seeing your boyfriend at peace with his feelings was satisfying, and it didn’t hurt that he was consciously trying to make it up to you. In his own words, he wanted to be « the man you deserve ». Every night, when he was coming home, you were excited to see him and share your progress on the wedding. You knew he didn’t really like all that stuff, but he was supportive of your endeavors. He was even the one who came up with an idea for the venue. One night, he took you on a drive to a lovely place, near the area where you lived. He pointed to a gorgeous house. Well, actually, it was more of a manor. It had an English vibes, rustic yet elegant.

What do you think ? He asked.

That’s gorgeous ! You said. It fits right within the wedding theme ! It looks just like the one on the mood board Talia made the other week !

I know, he grinned. I was driving in the area with Paul for an appointment the other day and I saw it was for sale. I called the real estate agency and they might be able to convince the seller to lease it for the event, if Talia and Jamal like it.

They’re going to love it, you assured him. It’s exactly what they want for the ceremony. Cosy, small, intimate… Do you think we can plan a visit ?

Realtor’s inside, he said with a smile. That’s why I brought you here.

You’re the best !

I know you’ve been working your ass off for the wedding and struggled to find a venue, so I thought I’d help, he shrugged.

You placed a kiss on your cheek and exited the car. The place was stunning, big enough and ticked all the boxes. You were under the spell of the house, that resembled the one you always dreamed of living in when you were a little girl. It had a big, beautiful flower garden in the back, ivy was climbing around the big widows and there was a beautiful fireplace. Marshall could tell you liked the place a bit too much and teased you.

Don’t get too excited, it’s for Jamal and Talia’s wedding, not for us to move in, he chuckled.

I know, you said with a smile. I like your house just fine, you know ? I just really like the vibe of this one. Besides, I know you could never live here.

Why is that ? He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You like your own house too much, you pointed out. Plus, this one is not located in an area that’s secure enough.

It’s your house too, you know ? He said. You keep on saying it’s my house but… You live there too.

I know, you said. I’m starting to feel more and more at home. It just takes a minute.

You know, if there are any features you like in this house, we can also make some changes to our house. I want you to be happy, he commented.

No need, you assured him. As long as I have you, I’m good.

It was the truth. You were incredibly thankful for the house you lived in and you knew how attached Marshall was to this place. He’d been living there for so long, you didn’t want to intrude. Plus, as long as you had him, you knew you could feel at home everywhere, eventually. Besides, who would complain about living in a literal mansion ? No one. You did not give it a second thought but, the next day, Marshall surprised you by handing you the card of an interior designer.

What’s that ? You asked.

I’ve been thinking, he said. I saw how excited you were about the house we visited yesterday, how you kept saying you dreamt of living in that kind of place when you were younger… I want you to feel at home, here, I really do. And my therapist says I need to… How did she say it ? Make actual space for you. So, I was thinking that, if you want, you could redecorate a little ?

Are you sure ?

Babe, I’ve owned this place for almost two decades and a lot of the rooms could use a little update, he chuckled. I don’t really care about the whole home decor thing, honestly. I could go another twenty years without changing much. But this is your home and I want you to enjoy the space, not only feel content with it, you know what I’m saying ? If I recall, we agreed that you’d have your own room, like home office or whatever, when I asked you to move in. Why don’t you start here ?

Could I make it a reading room ? You asked with excitement. With big bookshelves ? And a big chair ?

Whatever you want, he said with a genuine smile. The interior designer will make your dreams happen.

I love you ! Thank you thank you thank you !

You hugged him tightly and he whispered sweet words in your ear, like how grateful he was for you and your presence in his life, and how he wanted nothing but to make you happy. You were over the moon, impressed by his generosity and commitment to you. You were on cloud nine, imagining your very own reading room in which you could simply curl up with a good book and a blanket while sipping tea, living your introvert life to the fullest.

In the following days, you took Talia to see the house Marshall had taken you to and she absolutely loved it. Thanks to your amazing boyfriend, they finally had a venue. The two of you also went dress shopping. Your best friend found the right dress very easily. To be fair, the two of you had spent enough time imagining the perfect wedding dress so she had a good idea of what she wanted. The whole thing was almost disappointing : the two of you had imagined that she would have to try on at least fifteen different dresses to find the right one, but it took only two. It was absolutely gorgeous and Talia looked regal in it. The dress was definitely over the top but it was more than fitting with her personality. The two of you had made a lengthy appointment with the store consultant and it seemed like your best friend had not had her fill of wedding dresses fittings, yet.

How about you try one, Y/N ? She suggested.

No way, you said. This is your day. You try another one.

Any other dress would look pale in comparison, she said. I found the one. I feel it in my bones. Just… Indulge me, will you ?

I’m not getting married, you reminded her.

All the more reason, she pleaded. If you don’t try one now, you’ll never see yourself in a wedding dress ! Please ?! It’s my big day, you said it. And as my best friend, I think you should oblige me…

You have a weird way of being a bridezilla, you commented. But sure, whatever…

You didn’t really see the point. To you, it was weird. A lot of brides would have found it disrespectful if their friend decided to randomly try on wedding dresses on the day of their fitting but Talia was pushing for you to do it. Eventually, you caved in and obliged her. She immediately called the sales assistant, to whom you had to describe your ideal dress. It occurred to you that it was a good thing you weren’t getting married, because you were incredibly specific. You wanted a dress that was simple, elegant and understated, but not plain. You didn’t want it to be revealing but you didn’t want to look like a nun either. You thought it would be impossible to find but the woman came with three dresses for you to try on. As soon as you tried the first one, you felt like it was a costume you put on. It felt too much and wholly unnatural, though the dress was gorgeous. The second dress was nice but not « you » at all. You were practically begging to stop but Talia was having too much fun, claiming this was the moment you were always supposed to share so you happily indulged her by trying on the last dress. And, much to your surprise, magic happened. It was the ultimate dress, the one that you would have chosen, if you had been meant to get married. You were feeling like a princess and Talia even teared up a little.

Why are you crying ? You asked.

You-you’re just so beautiful, she said. That’s your forever dress. Right here.

I’m not having a forever dress, remember ? You said with a small smile. Marshall…

…Is an idiot, that’s what he is, she said as she kept on crying. I can’t bear the idea of you doing all these nice things for my wedding and knowing I will never be your maid of honor and return the favor because Em is too stubborn to give you what you deserve !

I should be the one crying about it, not you, you pointed out with a chuckle. I’m fine, I swear. He is amazing and I have all that I want.

I’m pregnant and hormonal, that’s all, she said reassuringly. But you’re so beautiful. You should buy it !

Tay, this dress is way too expensive and… It’s not like I’m going to wear it around the house, right ? You giggled.

Ok, but at least let me take pictures ? Because I want to remember the day I finally got to try on wedding dresses with my best friend ! She begged.

Sure, you giggled.

You didn’t mind wearing the dress a little longer. It was kind of fun. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you to savor the moment, because it was, indeed, your only chance to wear a wedding dress. You were incredibly thankful to have such a thoughtful best friend to give you this experience.

Remind me to slap Em, she said.

Why ? You giggled.

Because he’s not only robbing you of your dream wedding, he is also robbing me of the greatest day as maid of honor !

I’m having just as much fun planning your wedding, you assured her.

Quit it, she almost groaned. It’s not a pageant speech, you don’t have to play the Disney princess. And he’s not here to hear you, we can bitch about him !

I’ll admit I would have loved getting married, you said. Not right now, it’s too early, but knowing it could happen…

You see, it’s good to hate a little, she grinned.

But, I don’t know, I guess he has his own trauma, you shrugged. Two failed marriages with the same person must have been tough. I understand not wanting a third one. God, his therapist must have fun…

You managed to send that man to therapy ? She asked with a raised eyebrow.

Yeah, we had a little argument, you said. No big deal. But it sparked a conversation about therapy and he agreed to give it a try.

Well, maybe he will work on his fear of commitment then, she pointed out.

I don’t think it’s about commitment, you said earnestly. I think he’s very committed to me. He says so himself.

I’ll circle back to what I said : Em is the most stupid man I have ever met. God, I always knew men were stupid but this one…

You giggled. Talia was your ultimate ride or die and you knew that if you told her more about the argument you had with him, she would have his head. But to you, it was in the past and Marshall had been so amazing, so attentive and romantic lately that you didn’t feel like bringing it up. After you were done trying on dresses, you joined the guys at the studio. It was your first time going back since you moved back to the US and you were really excited. You found the guys talking in the lobby, happy to see you.

Look who’s here, Porter said with a smile. Hi boss !

Are you really calling me boss ? You asked with a giggle.

Well, Marshall is our boss and you’re his boss, so technically…

She’s not my boss, Marshall chuckled.

Right, Royce chuckled. You can lie to yourself but not to us, man.

I like the sound of that, Talia grinned.

How was the wedding dress appointment ? Jamal asked. Did you find something ?

I did ! Your best friend said with excitement. Y/N found her dream dress too !

Talia, you scolded with a laugh.

What ?! Talia asked. It’s true. And you looked perfect in it ! Didn’t she, Em ?

Marshall simply sighed at her and rolled his eyes with a smile.

Don’t tell me you sent a pic ?! You asked her.

What ? She replied innocently. Merely showing that man what he’s missing…

You did look incredible, Marshall said as he kissed your temple.

Sorry about her, you said apologetically. She’s the one who convinced me…

Don’t you dare apologize, Talia said. Someone has to show him how stupid he’s being.

Talia, please don’t start, Marshall groaned.

Oh, I will start, she warned. I don’t understand how stubborn you’re being about this !

Jamal, please reason your wife to be, your boyfriend groaned.

Man, Y/N is your boss and Talia is mine, Jamal chuckled. I’m not dumb enough to argue…

I’m just saying Y/N’s finger could use a diamond on it, Talia argued with a smile. She’s worth it, isn’t she ?

If that’s about the diamonds, she’s got nine other fingers, Marshall said with a smirk. And I fully intend on putting a ring on each and every one of them. Now, I appreciate the pictures of my girl looking absolutely stunning in a white dress, but you should worry about your own wedding, Talia.

Men are dumb, Talia sighed.

What the hell did we do ? Porter asked. He’s being dumb, leave the rest of us alone !

Don’t start either, your boyfriend warned him.

You giggled and let your head roll on your boyfriend’s shoulder, enjoying his presence. You loved being home with him, but the studio had a vibe you particularly enjoyed, probably because it was where you met Marshall. You had fun for the rest of the afternoon, hanging out with everyone. Talia seemed a bit moody about Marshall not caving in on the topic of marriage and you were not so sure why. You assumed she was just moody in general, which you could probably blame on pregnancy. She had a knack for being dramatic and hormones probably didn’t help too much in that department. If memory served, you’d been an emotional mess in your first trimester so you weren’t going to judge… In the car ride home, Marshall brought it up.

So… Talia was a handful, he chuckled.

I’m sorry about her, you said. I think she’s stressed out about the wedding and a bit disappointed that she won’t be able to reciprocate the whole maid of honor thing. And, you know, hormones…

Right, he said. But… Are you alright ?

I am, you said with a genuine smile. I had fun today. Probably enjoyed trying on this dress more than I should have, I’ll admit.

Look… Maybe we need to talk about the whole marriage thing, he said nervously. I… The reason why I can’t get married is because-

Marshall, you don’t owe me any type of explanation, you said reassuringly. You’ve been married to Kim twice, you have your own trauma and I know it has nothing to do with me.

You do ? He asked.

Look… I see all the efforts you’ve made for me, you said. We got the cat I wanted. You’re letting me redecorate a room in your house. You started therapy. You’re even helping me with Talia and Jamal’s wedding. I know you love me.

I do, he said with a smile. I’m in love with you.

And don’t think I didn’t hear what you said about me having nine other fingers you could put a ring on, you grinned. I do enjoy a good piece of jewelry.

Noted, he chuckled. Thank you for understanding, baby.

He seemed relieved about the fact that you didn’t press him to talk about the topic. As far as you were concerned, you were trying not to think about it too much. And everything you said was true : you were truly grateful for his efforts during the past weeks and wanted to respect his choices as much as possible. The two of you enjoyed your evening, cuddling with your cat, who seemed to despise Marshall. The next morning, you were awaken by the doorbell. Someone was putting all their energy into ringing, way too early in the morning.

Mind getting the door while I’m getting dressed ? Marshall asked with a groan. I swear, if it’s the damn neighbor about her stupid bake sale again…

I’ll get it, you said with a yawn. She’s been annoying me too, you know ? And it’s not even 7AM… Who does that ?!

That woman is crazy, he sighed. Met her twenty years ago and she was already a nightmare. She was convinced I’d bring drugs and crime into her precious neighborhood. Even warned me that she’d call the cops if she saw prostitutes around…

You giggled and went to open the door, ready to tell Mrs Davis to leave you alone. But much to your surprise, you were greeted my Jamal’s face. He was not smiling as usual, immediately telling you that something was wrong.

What’s up, Jamal ? You asked. What are you doing here so early ? Its there anything wrong ? Is it about Talia ? The baby…?

Em here ? He asked dryly.

Yeah he’s getting dressed…, you replied. Oh, there he is.

What’s up, man ? Marshall asked as he came to greet Jamal.

YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD FUCKING EXPLANATION, your friend immediately yelled at him.

For what, man ?! Marshall asked confused. What the fuck are you going on about ?

For the fucking track that got leaked last night ! Jamal yelled. Are you fucking serious ?!

Wait…, Marshall began.

Before Marshall could finish his sentence, Jamal hit him in the face. Your friend had an impressive stature and was usually a big teddy bear but, when he was furious, he was rather scary. Next thing you knew, the both of them were fighting, though, to be fair, Marshall was not putting up much of a fight. Jamal was much taller, much bigger than him. You had no choice but to get in there and try and separate them.

Jamal, let go of him ! You pleaded.

I’M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER, Jamal screamed.

What the fuck, man ?! Marshall asked as he was panting.

Y/N, take your bags, Jamal directed.

What the hell ?! You asked. It’s not even 7AM, Jamal ! You don’t get to barge in her-

I’m not leaving you with that psycho, Jamal spat.

What the fuck ?! Marshall yelled. Babe, I have no idea what he’s talking about.

YOU FUCKING NAME DROPPED HER IN A TRACK, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, Jamal yelled. YOU FUCKING RAPPED ABOUT TORTURING HER !

You looked at Marshall with a confused face. His face was bruised and scraped, definitely not a pretty sight. What was most shocking, though, was the look of terror on his face.

Oh fuck, Marshall said under his breath.

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