#this was supposed to be my hot girl summer but the only thing hot is my fever it seems
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literally gonna kms i have covid bro i wanted to hang out w my friends this is the worst
#hey siri how to destroy covid#idk man i forgot to wear a mask on a flight the other day so that’s on me#but like i was tired it was an accident im sorry god#like i’m not the most regular masker bc i hate sterile blue and white with a burning passion and i have trouble breathing in masks#literally stopped wearing masks on the regular bc i ran out of black masks and my parents wouldn’t buy any more but#it was not a good time when i did cuz i already breathe super shallowly#i guess its less uncomfortable than getting covid. i guess. i fucking guess.#covid isn’t actually that bad 4 me im not immunocompromised and this is my first case to my knowledge but emotionally i feel SO BAD dude#if i spread this to anyone im ending it all#this was supposed to be my hot girl summer but the only thing hot is my fever it seems#jk i don’t have a fever#cass is yapping again#covid#i guess#self reporting rn but whatever. whatever
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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)
Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3
“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.
You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.
You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.
So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.
— I’ll find something to eat, alright?
He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.
— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.
— Ah…your father is at home?
You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.
— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.
— You didn’t tell him about me?
Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.
— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…
An apathetic dad, huh.
You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.
— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.
He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.
You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.
*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.
König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.
With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.
Scheisse
Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…
The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.
You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.
— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?
You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.
You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.
— Ja. You can have it.
He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.
— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.
You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.
Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.
— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.
You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.
He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.
— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.
— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.
You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.
— What do you mean by this, sir?
You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.
Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.
He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.
The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.
König is.
— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.
You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.
Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.
König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.
Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.
— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.
“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.
You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.
König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.
God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.
He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?
You look like a good candidate.
— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.
He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.
— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.
You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.
— You want to see the bedroom then?
Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.
— Sir, this is very…
He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.
— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.
You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.
Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.
— I don’t want to break his heart.
— He doesn’t have one.
You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…
God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.
Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.
You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.
— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.
“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.
You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”
König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.
— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.
He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.
He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.
He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.
— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.
— N…not a whore, please…
He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.
— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…
— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…
— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.
He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.
It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.
It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…
You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.
Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.
König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.
So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.
— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?
— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.
— I’ll tell him.
— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.
— I need to return to my dorm.
— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?
He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.
He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.
Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.
— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.
— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?
You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.
#cod#konig x reader#yandere konig#konig#cod x reader#call of duty#cod x you#yandere cod#konig mw2#reader insert#yandere x reader
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࿐ ࿔ hot, hot summer !
in which you got the offer of a lifetime—takes place in 2006-2009 era! @mrrpmiao miao, you’re so responsible for the brain worm you’ve instilled in my mind🙂↕️
a part of gojo's love entries
summer is as hot as you are pretty.
it’s an undisputed fact to satoru. after all, he chose you. so of course you were the best. he supposed even strangers here would eventually come to realize it too��� as it wasn’t the first time their kind had done so.
kamakura beach was packed in summer, and he stepped away a bit to get you shaved ice only to come back to this appalling sight.
“miss! ooh! you’re so gorgeous!”
this suspicious-looking middle-aged man—with goatee, long tied hair, wearing palm shirt and beach shorts—approached you so merrily as you were chilling under the parasol.
“ah thank you…?” you pasted a taut smile, totally clueless and spooked, hoping he would go on his way.
“i mean it! your body is so—wow!” the man gasped dramatically, appraising you from head to toe. “your bust—it’s perfect! you’d make a good cover girl, you know!”
you were wearing the bikini of the same brand inoue waka endorsed at satoru’s insistence, and true, it was indeed a sight for sore eyes.
his sore eyes, specifically. not others.
satoru scowled, and he marched towards where you were. he would do his job as always—chasing away no-good men from you.
“hey you,” he barked. “what business do you have with my girl here?”
the bearded man regarded him with surprise, before he assessed him from top to bottom. “oh! you’re mr. boyfriend? whoa, you don’t look bad yourself!”
“if you’re trying to bother my—”
“no, no! you’ve got the wrong idea!” the man defended, raising both hands in surrender. “you see, i’m about to offer the pretty lady a gig as a gravure model!”
wha? you gaped. satoru blinked.
“m-me?” you stammered, flabbergasted, pointing at yourself. “uh, are you sure?”
“yes! 100% sure!” the agent man replied with stars in his eyes. “miss, with your assets, you’ll outshine even inoue waka or kaoru sakurako themselves!”
“really?!” you almost laughed. it was a strange compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.
but next to you, satoru’s face darkened, his eyes obscured. his fists clenched around the paper bowl of shaved ice so hard it shook. the next thing you know—
“here, hold this.” he suddenly shoved the shaved ice to you, before he plucked his sandal off and—
“YOU!” satoru raised the flip-flop above his head, his eyes blazing with fury, ready to swing it at the man. “GET LOST YOU SLIMY BOZO!”
“—?! WAIT, YOUNG MAN!”
and then came the most disastrous scene before you: your boyfriend chased the agent with his sandal, throwing it at him that it bonked his head, then grabbed someone’s big-ass water gun without permission and continued the pursuit, determined to catch him.
. . .
“how could you?! why do you seem even remotely interested!?” satoru fierily questioned you after he was done cooking the gravure video agent, panting and sopping wet. in the end, the two of them got into a water gun fight that ended with him winning.
you turned to him, feigning an unimpressed expression. “he said i can outshine inoue waka. who wouldn’t want that chance?”
“you can’t!” he retorted almost immediately, aghast. “i mean, yeah you can! but no! no way! you can’t flaunt your body for everyone to see!”
“why?”
“you are mine!” he pouted hard, irked. “i don’t want to share you! you are for the consumption of my eyes only!”
his blatant response made you giddy, truthfully. and as if to stress his point, he suddenly pulled you to his chest from behind, wrapping both arms around you, making you squeal.
“satoru, you’re wet!”
“so? when i marry you someday, we’re going to share a lot of things together. wet is one of them.”
“does this mean you’d pick me over inoue waka?” you threw him a suggestive smile, looking up at him expectantly.
his face then turned pink, as he smooched you in the head. “you know the answer to that, dummy.”
who would have thought that he would really keep his promise and that you'd come to the same beach years later...?
#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk drabbles#satoru gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo satoru imagines#gojo satoru fluff#satoru gojo fluff#jjk gojo satoru#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jutusu kaisen x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x you
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Chapter 4- The Chase
Summary: You can only keep running from Frankie Morales for so long. At some point, he'll catch up to you, whether you like it, or not.
Word Count: 3.5K
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)
Warnings: Do I spy a hint of... ✨feelings✨??? Yearning, a hint of teenage violence (Santi deserves it, it's okay), the appearance of the Miller Brothers, Frankie basically looking like this 🥺 for the last half of this chapter, banter because I live for it
A/N: I'm convinced that teenage Frankie and the Frontier Boys are the best characters to write for, period 😭 I never thought I would live to see the day where my chapters are less than 5K (?!?) but I'm really trying to be better about posting on a schedule- If you would rather have them be longer and wait two weeks between chapters instead of once a week, let ya girl know 🤷🏼♀️ Thank you for all of your kind words about this story, your kind comments literally fuel me and make my heart explode, ily 🥹💛
All The Things We Never Said Masterlist
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Frankie, Fall of 2005, Age 16
For as much as he hates school, there will be two classes Frankie knows he’ll always pass with flying colors- Gym and Math.
When he and Santi went to pick up their 11th grade class schedules before the start of the school year, you would have thought they’d won the lottery when they looked down on the crinkled half sheets of paper to find they were both in the same 6th period gym class.
Five weeks into the start of Junior year, Frankie’s now convinced that Santi and his new friends, Will and Benny Miller, are in on some sort of scheme to make him fail the one class he’s guaranteed an “A” in.
���Jesus Christ, Frankie, for the love of God, will you please slow down?!”
Santi’s all but huffing at the pace Frankie had set for the four of them to run the two miles they’re supposed to finish by the end of class, only three of the eight laps they need to run around the track completed.
“We’re not even going that fast, Santi, you’re fine.”
Frankie can’t help but laugh at the way his friend is laboring behind him. Sure, Santi’s got football to thank for keeping him looking less like a gangly string bean than Frankie does, but even at 16, the boyish satisfaction of knowing he’ll always be faster than his friend is undeniable.
“Do you do like, cross country or somethin’, Frankie?”
“Yeah man, I thought Santi said you swam not ran.”
The Miller Brothers were a new addition to his and Santi’s long standing friendship duo. Will and Benny moved from North Carolina over the summer and had befriended Santi after a few weeks of preseason football camp that the high school held before the start of the school year. Of course, that meant Frankie became friends by proxy shortly after.
Frankie was fond enough of the two, but the group was still stuck in the awkward dating phase of friendship where everything was just enough of a pissing match to prove that they were worthy enough of each other’s company.
“Yeah, I’m on the swim team, I don’t do cross country or anything like that.” Frankie shrugs, rounding the curve of the track with ease as he leads the pack to their halfway point.
“Then how the hell did you get so fast?” Benny pants, the straw blonde hair matted to his forehead with sweat scrunching as he pinches his brows in a mixture of confusion and unadmitted pain.
“‘Cause he likes to go running with MacKenzie.”
Santi’s lips curl to a devious smile as he watches Frankie’s face grow red from his sing-songy taunting. At least with the Millers, Frankie could pretend to chalk the hot, pink sting in his cheeks to the mile he’s been running. Unfortunately, he can’t assume the same with Santi.
“Shut up, Santi.” Frankie grumbles, picking up his pace to the point he knows it’ll make Santi’s lungs strain just enough to keep him from rambling.
“Oh shit, like, MacKenzie Anderson, MacKenzie?” Will’s face lights up, his less than lengthy friendship making him blissfully unaware of the history between you and Frankie, “She’s hot.”
“Ew, n- no, she’s not. That’s weird.”
The other three are surprised Frankie’s pants have yet to set on fire after such a bold lie.
“They go run together every weekend.”
At this point, it’s pure mockery the way Santi is teasing him, pushing Frankie to his limits to see how much he can get away with before his friend breaks.
“So like, are you guys, dating or something?”
“What?! No! No- She’s like, my best friend. I just- She plays soccer, so I go run with her to help her train and stuff. It’s good cardio, anyways.”
Frankie doesn’t mean to snap at Benny for his question. It’s a secondary response to the way his chest is tightening and heart is racing as the eyes of all his friends stay peeled to him, like a guilty suspect in a courtroom everyone is waiting to catch in the midst of their lie.
“Running’s not the only kind of cardio he wishes he was doing with MacKenzie, huh Frankie?”
The boys are too busy snickering at each other to realize that Frankie’s completely stopped in his tracks ahead of them, turning around with arms outstretched to greet Santi with a brute shove to the ground as they collide.
“I said shut UP, Santi!”
Frankie doesn’t intend for it to draw as much attention as it does, how the way he’s practically screaming at his friend he’s pushed to the ground has garnered the attention of everyone else in his gym class.
“Jesus, Frankie, it was just a joke! Chill out!”
Will and Benny help Santi off the rubber of the track, leaving him and Frankie in a silent stare down of flared nostrils and gritted teeth, bodies boiling with teenage testosterone.
Despite his rage, Frankie has enough self control to keep from saying (or doing) anything else he’ll regret, forcing himself to take off running in a frustrated huff of silence, heart in his throat and fists clenched, leaving behind his group of friends.
“Shit. Is he always like that when you talk about her?” Will asks, still slightly stunned by the altercation he’s just witnessed, considering Frankie’s usual calm and quiet demeanor.
“Yup.” Santi replies, popping the “p” at the end of his answer, “Well, not always this bad, but still, ya know?”
“Why?” Benny chimes in, the three of them slowly beginning their trot back around the track, lengths behind their fuming friend.
“‘Cause they’re like, secretly in love with each other. They say they’re just friends, but they act like they’re fucking married.” Santi pretends to gag as he forces his eyes to roll as far back in his head as they possibly can. “He’s been extra pissy because yesterday he found out this guy, Nick Walsh, who’s some senior on the boy’s soccer team, tried to ask her to Homecoming.”
“Did she say yes?”
“No! That’s the thing! I don’t know why he’s got his fucking granny panties in a knot about it. Whatever, man. Not my problem.”
The Miller brothers exchange intrigued glances, wondering how much more they can pry out of Santi as they mope around the track, hoping they can at least make the second half of their two miles entertaining.
“If he’s mad about it, why didn’t he just ask her?” Will shrugs, offering up what seems like a reasonable solution to his new friend’s problem.
“Ask him, dude. I have no fucking clue. They’re going with the same group of friends, so they’re gonna spend the whole night together, anyways. Honestly, if you want my opinion, I think he knows he doesn’t have the balls to nut up and ask her himself ‘cause he’s worried she’s gonna say no.”
Despite the 23 other kids in the class who are also being forced to run circles around the track, there’s only one who makes the three of them freeze as he passes by, feeling the hole he’s burning through the back of their heads. Santi knows he’s too loudmouthed for his own good, and that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Frankie didn’t make out what he had to say as he snuck up behind him.
And he's right. Frankie hears every word.
If he wasn’t at school, he wouldn’t think twice about punching Santi so hard in the gut it would knock the wind right out of him. But right now, all he can do is keep running, faster and faster, one foot in front of the other.
Maybe if he runs fast enough, no one will be able to see the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, or the disappointment that’s drained every ounce of color he’s got left in his face.
Maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the cold, hard truth of the way Santi’s words ring in his ears and put bricks in his chest.
Maybe, just maybe, if he runs fast enough, somewhere along the worn high school track he’ll find the courage to prove himself wrong.
You, Present
You’re convinced he’s following you. He has to be.
All you wanted to do this morning was to go for a run to clear your head, to blow off some steam after the shit show that had been yesterday’s first interaction with Frankie in the past three years. You were confined to your room for the better half of the day, your dad keeping Frankie hostage in your home far too long for your liking.
Unfortunately, it’s hard to deny a dying man whatever he wants, even if it’s Frankie Morales’s unwelcome presence in your living room. It also meant having to listen to your dad ramble about Frankie for the next several hours after he’d left, politely nodding at all the compliments and praise your father had to give him while your blood boiled in silence.
Now, all you wanted to do was to run until your head was free of Frankie for just a little while.
It seemed like Frankie had other plans.
You gave him the benefit of the doubt the first quarter mile, hell, you even tried to just play it off as unlucky timing at the half mile point. But now, you’re a mile into your run, turning on to Fuller Street with Frankie still trotting behind you. It’s clearly not an accident he’s chosen the same path for his morning jog.
“There are other ways you can go run, you know.” You shout at Frankie without even turning your head over your shoulder, thinking that maybe he’s assumed you hadn’t noticed him and your not so subtle suggestion will get him to turn around.
“It’s a free country. I can run where I want.”
Part of you wishes you would have turned to look back at him so he could see the way your eyes met the back of your skull from rolling them so hard, but you keep your gaze glued to the pavement in front of you. You won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging his presence.
“Can you please just go run somewhere else? I’m just trying to enjoy my morning and you’re not helping, Frankie.”
“Not trying to bother you, just trying to run. I didn’t have anything to say until you started talking to me.”
You know if you turned around right now, he’d have that stupid little smug grin hiding in the corner of his cheeks. A battle of wits is his favorite game to play. He’s learned how to strategize, to stay calm, cool and collected in the midst of your chaos, waiting until you hit the breaking point of his crazy you can’t bear to tolerate anymore. Your jaw tenses with the long exhale you take as you prepare to go head to head.
“I wouldn’t have said anything if you hadn’t been following me the past mile.”
“How do you know I’m following you?”
“You’ve literally been running ten feet behind me for the past twelve minutes.”
“Who says I wasn’t planning on running this way to begin with but you just got a head start?”
“Jesus Christ, Frankie, please just go pick a different way to run.”
“Who put you in charge of the running police? Do I have to sign a permit before I go jog now?”
“Go. Run. Somewhere. Else.”
“No. You don’t get to tell me where to run. This is the way I wanna go, so I’m gonna keep going until-”
“No! I know you don’t want to go this way!” You’ve accepted defeat, swinging around to storm towards Frankie, stopping dead in his tracks as he realizes the ferocity you’re approaching him with, “I know for a fact you don’t wanna run this way. You know how I know? Because you hate running down Fuller Street. You would run five miles out of your way before you even considered running down this street on your own free will. There hasn’t been a single time we’ve ever run down this street where you haven’t complained the entire way because of how much you hate the hill at the end of the road before we turn onto Wilson way! That’s how I know, Frankie! So stop pretending like you just happened to choose the same way as me by accident, and just leave me alone! Ugh!”
You’re positive there’s a trail of steam streaming behind you with the way you’re absolutely fuming, turning back around to take off as fast as your body will let you. You can’t bring yourself to look anywhere but straight ahead, too afraid that if you turn around, those stupid, sad brown eyes will make you feel guilty enough to give him the last word he doesn’t deserve.
Your feet are flying so fast across the pavement, you’re convinced he’s given up, shocked into submission by your anger that he’ll at least let you finish the rest of your run in peace. Your eyes are still locked on the horizon ahead. It’s the arrogance of your self-reassurance that doesn’t even let you contemplate the thought that several yards behind you, Frankie lets out a quiet “fuck me” before letting his hands drop from their place on his hips to chase behind you at full speed.
“What the fuck are you doing!?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
It’s a stupid question. It’s obvious Frankie has said a prayer to hope his knees don’t give out on him as he runs as fast as possible to try and catch up to you. The rhythmic thump of his sneakers pounding against the concrete catches your attention enough to see how quickly he’s gaining on you. It only makes you run faster.
“Jesus- fuck this hill- MacKenzie, will you fucking slow down?”
You won’t admit you’re probably just as exhausted as Frankie from the way you’ve been sprinting up the steep incline at the end of the road, but his exasperated huffs are enough to keep you pushing through the pain, mental and physical.
“No. Run faster.”
You’re hopeful it’s early enough that no one is awake to see the comedic game of cat and mouse you and Frankie are playing in the middle of the road, chasing each other like you’re on the playground in a childish round of tag. You’d never admit to his face that you know he’s stronger, even faster than you, but the grip he settles around your arm as he finally catches up to you lets you know you’ve lost.
“Let go of me, Frankie!”
If the street wasn’t already awake from your wild game of chase, your scream certainly would have gotten their attention.
“Jesus Christ, MacKenzie, will you just let me talk to you for two fucking seconds?! Please, just- fuck- please just let me fucking talk to you, okay? Please.”
Even if you wanted to keep running, there was no use. Truth be told, it wasn’t the grasp he had around your arm that was the thing keeping you from sprinting off into the distance. What had you frozen in place was that pathetic pout you knew was splayed across his face, burning a hole in the back of your head. What’s worse, was that you could feel it burning a hole through your chest, too.
The all too familiar pain that came with holding onto the same, shriveled shred of hope that maybe this time, he’d prove you wrong. Maybe this time, he wouldn’t let you down.
“Fine.” You barely mutter the word loud enough to hear as you turn around to face him, eyes still looking everywhere but directly at him.
“I’m sorry, Kenz. I'm sorry, okay? I fucked up.”
Somehow, his second apology stings worse than the first. It still doesn’t mean you won’t deny how much it hurts.
“Yeah, no shit.”
You let your gaze lift just enough to see the way he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, chewing at it like he’s trying to digest his own thoughts before they come out of his mouth.
“What I said that night at Santi’s wedding, I just-” He pauses, knowing you can hear it clear as day in your head too.
“Fuck you, MacKenzie. Fuck you for ruining my life. It’ll be better off without you fucking in it.”
“I- I- Fuck. I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I regret ever saying it. I think all the time about how much I regret it. I just, I was in a bad place.”
You’re not sure what to say. Fuck, you’re not even sure what to feel. Part of you wants to scream at him, kick him in the crotch and berate him for how badly the past three years have hurt you. Part of you just wants to stand there and cry, to say nothing and let your tears flow and spill your emotions down your cheeks. Part of you wants to hug him, to believe him, to have him hold you so tightly against his chest that his apology seeps into your skin until you’ve forgiven him.
But none of those parts are strong enough to win out alone. Instead, they’ve formed together to create a strange sort of storm that brews in your belly, swirling it so violently, it makes you want to vomit.
“But you still said it, Frankie. You still said it. If my dad weren’t dying, would you even be here? Would you have ever apologized? Or are you just choosing to apologize now because it’s convenient and you feel like you have to?”
It’s the first time you can bring yourself to look him in the face. You can see how his brain is churning with the same type of vicious waves that are in the pit of your stomach, drowning out the brown of his eyes. You both are lost in the midst of the storm, but you’ve got a lifeboat. He’s sinking below the thrashing tides, looking for you to let him board your ship. You won’t let him on unless he fights his way through the current to get to you.
“I should have apologized a long time ago.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I don’t- I don’t know. I was scared you’d never forgive me.”
You swear you feel the grip he still has on your forearm tighten just for a moment. Now that he has you, he’s too scared to let you go.
“Just- Jesus- Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I have to forgive you now, Frankie.”
“Will you ever?”
“Ever, what?”
“Forgive me?”
Your brain wants to say no. God, with everything in you does it want to say no. But that same stupid pain in your chest that lives and dies by that stupid shred of hope you’ll always hold onto just won’t let you.
“I don’t know. I- I don’t know, Frankie.”
You can’t ignore the way he’s still holding your arm. The shred of hope doesn’t want him to let go, even when you scowl at the way his fingers wrap around your skin. You scowl because of how his touch burns your skin, the way it ignites a fire in your gut from how tenderly he touches you. It makes you scrunch your face in frustration and confusion, trying to block out all the times he’s touched you like this before, fingers grazing against your skin in a desperate plea for affection, not forgiveness. He’s holding onto your arm to see if you’ll let him in the lifeboat- if you’ll offer him a chance to save himself.
“I get it. I’m sorry, Kenz. I hope you at least know I mean it.”
“I do.”
You’re not sure what makes you want to offer him a last chance at survival. You’ve been separated by different sides of the same storm for so long- You can’t attest to the way he’s had to fight through it to stay alive, but if it’s anything like the side of the squall you’ve been stuck on, there’s a strange relief in finding in finding someone who knows the hell you’ve faced to keep from drowning in the undertow. You can’t seem to bear letting him drown right in front of you without even trying to help.
“I still hate you, ya know.” You sigh, a defiant cry to prove to him you’re not happy about the path you’ve chosen.
“Yeah, that’s fair. I deserve that.”
It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh in so long. Even though it’s a muffled huff, trying to hide behind the raise of his eyebrows and nod of his head at the ground, you know it’s there, in that same corner of his smirk he gets when he knows there’s no point in arguing with you- there’s no denying it’s there.
There’s no denying it makes you do the same.
“You gonna let me finish the rest of my run in peace, Morales?”
“Yeah, I guess. Only ‘cause I still hate this fucking hill.”
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When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au
Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…
Warnings & Notes | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies
Author's Notes | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!
WC | 10.3k
!! MINORS DNI !!
“The way you walked was thorny…”
August 1900
The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.
Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.
When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.
“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.
“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.
“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”
You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”
Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.
“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”
Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.
“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.
“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”
You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.
You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”
With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”
“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”
Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”
You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.
“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.
“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.
“And you have?”
The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”
You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.
“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.
He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”
“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.
“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.
All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.
But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.
The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.
That is, until you finally saw it.
Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.
The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.
But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.
You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.
You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.
Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.
“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”
Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.
Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.
Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.
“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.
“Me?”
“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.
Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.
“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.
Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.
“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.
The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.
Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.
“Eddie…?”
He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.
Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.
“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.
“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”
Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.
Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.
But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.
“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.
The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.
“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.
Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.
Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”
He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.
“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”
You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.
“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.
“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.
“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.
“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?
Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.
But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.
You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.
When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.
He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.
“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.
Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.
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September 1916
Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.
Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.
He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together.
The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.
Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.
They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.
When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.
That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.
And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.
Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.
As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.
The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.
The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.
Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.
With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.
The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.
With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.
So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.
The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.
So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.
Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.
When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.
Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”
Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.
“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.
Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.
Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.
Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.
“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.
“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”
Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”
Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”
“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”
Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”
That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”
Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.
Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”
Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn’t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.
“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”
Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.
“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.
“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.
“And Munson?”
That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”
Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”
Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”
Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”
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Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.
Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.
Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.
As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.
The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.
The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--
The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.
Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.
Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.
You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.
But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.
Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.
As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.
His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.
Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.
Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.
“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.
“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.
“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.
There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.
But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.
Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…
“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.
Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.
“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”
Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”
You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”
Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”
You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”
Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.
“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.
“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.
He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”
You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”
“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”
Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.
And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.
Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”
As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.
You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.
Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”
You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”
Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”
You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”
Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.
He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.
It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?
He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.
Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.
Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.
Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.
You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”
Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”
You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.
Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”
It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.
“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.
“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.
You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.
.
.
[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]
addt. AN | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥
taglist | @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson @duncanhillscoffeecups
@eddiernunson @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur @lavendermunson @littlexdeaths
@marlena-marlena @mmmunson @skrzydlak @tenthmoon
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson#stranger things#em#when the wolfsbane blooms
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carribean summer heat — m., wanda
wanda maximoff x female!reader
summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.
warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.
word count: 4, 300
author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕。)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽\*)。o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o
18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.
masterlist | navigation
the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.
three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest.
not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind.
“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.
“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night.
you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes.
she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view.
wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day.
“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss.
wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more.
the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“
wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.
this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin.
you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see.
“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)
“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea.
you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”
she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it.
you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard.
wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves.
sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat.
wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions.
when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth.
more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island.
“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”
or maybe she does.
nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”
wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”
that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”
you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”
you do as told.
somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess.
hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger.
you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move.
you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit.
“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope.
“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage.
“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“
wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,
“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“
screaming and thrashing on top of her.
you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom
wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together.
“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.
she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”
“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”
“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone.
you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside.
a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here.
you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves.
wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.
kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!
“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”
you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”
“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”
this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock.
“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”
“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside.
she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth.
“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”
wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”
you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk.
“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”
a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit.
“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”
“please what, princess?”
“plea-pl-“
she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize.
you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”
wanda whimpers.
“that’s my good girl.”
she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”
your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust.
you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”
she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”
“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again.
“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“
“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”
wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool.
wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back.
her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe.
and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up.
“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”
a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock.
you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue.
“so hard, so ha-“
“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick.
“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh.
“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”
how you managed to let that out you don’t know.
wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”
you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more.
“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.
“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?”
repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—
a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors.
“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“
wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering.
wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds.
“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”
you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that.
“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?
“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you.
you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste.
“i’m so full mommy!”
“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”
you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”
“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”
“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”
she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x reader#marvel smut#wlw smut
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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CAUGHT IN BETWEEN kim chaewon & huh yunjin
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🧋★ ͘ ⴰ 10 minutes of chaewon and yunjin agreeing with each other once in a blue moon 978k views
➩ CLIP #1 PLAYING… 📼
“yn unnie I love watching my demon, im so proud o f you.” yn reads before letting out a squeal and turning to chaewon and yunjin, “they don’t like the show.” she points at them accusingly.
both chaewon and yunjin jump up in defence shouting in over each other as yn glares at them.
“we like the show.” yunjin says explaining to the fans but yn looks away dramatically.
“we just don’t think dohee and guwon should be together.” chaewon adds, “and some scenes are unnecessary.” she says a little more quietly to herself that fans couldn’t hear but yunjin could and nodded rapidly in agreement.”
“attack them.” yn demands the comments, the fans immediately listen to the girl, attacking the two other members.
➩ CLIP #2 PLAYING… 📼
“pink looks nice on you yn,” the interviewer said to the girl, this whole interview it was like she was only person he could focus every time he was talking to another member he would find a way to drift the conversation back to yn.
“oh, thank you, it always looks good on me.” yn smiles, “I like to think pink is my colour.” she responds as he nods in response telling her that it very much is.
chaewon looked at yunjin who looked back at her with the same expression on her face,as he continued the conversation with yn like the other girls weren’t there
“I finally watched the glory, you playing young yeonjin really freaked me out, you were so good.” he says as yn smiles at the compliment, “you should definitely give me acting lessons, im think im gonna get into acting.”
“oh then you probably need it.” yn responds and he lets out a laugh like she said the most funniest in the world.
the camera pans to yunjin and chaewon who both have faces scrunched up at the man.
➩ CLIP #3 PLAYING… 📼
“red isn’t my colour.” yn mumbles to herself in disgust adjusting her pink sunglasses, but everyone could pick up on it as the girls stood in grass under the summer heat.
“every colour is your colour.” yunjin responds putting her arm around the restless girl as the host announces the next game, chaewon side eyes them clearing her throat.
“it’s hot in both ways, im sticky, im in this ugly red, i don’t like running-” the girls rant gets cut off when her name is shouted asking her to come in the middle.
yn turns to chaewon with pout but the leader just laughs as taps the girls cheek as yn groans and walks into the middle coming face to face with yeonjun.
“you two will be doing a staring contest.” the host starts, “so yn you’re gonna have to take off those nice looking sunglasses.”
“staring is a sport?” the girl asks sassily as people laugh at her obvious dislike for this hybe caterers thing it was amusing to all of the groups.
“in this it is.”
yn groans and turns to look at members who laugh at the girls distress especially eunchae and sakura.
she brings the glasses to rest on the top of her head and stands closer to the txt member fixing her gaze on him.
he steps closer to her as well, a little too close for two certain girls comfort.
“im not liking this.” yunjin whispers to the leader who nods in agreement.
“are staring contests supposed to this close?” chaewon says out loud causing people to laugh be she was being dead serious.
★my new years gift‼️
#cib!yn#lesserafim x reader#chaewon x reader#yunjin x reader#kim chaewon x reader#huh yunjin x reader#chaewon#yunjin#kim chaewon#huh yunjin#lesserafim fluff#girl group imagines
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lay all your love on me - op81 (C1)
synopsis: in which oscar piastri and a university student begging for her euro summer vacation collide in a steamy, abba-inspired romance
prose (6.0K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩ profile | masterlist | series index ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆
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01: The Thermodynamics of My Hot Mess
I wasn't jealous before we met. Now every woman I see is a potential threat. The once timid, tame, collegiate girl I was before I met you has turned me possessive, it isn't nice.
And it’s all your fault, Oscar Piastri. You’ve taken the calm, rational part of me and set it on fire, leaving nothing but the green-eyed monster in its place. Oscar Piastri, you have turned me into a jealous mess, filled with envy and desperation I never thought possible. It’s like you’ve invaded every corner of my mind, making me obsess over the thought of you, the idea that someone else might take you away from me.
Even in my wildest, most fantasmic dreams, I would never have predicted that a spontaneous trip to Santorini, Greece, would spark the greatest lustful romance of my life. It was supposed to be a simple escape, a break from the pressures of college life. But the moment I laid eyes on you, everything changed. The calm, composed person I used to be unraveled with every stolen glance, every accidental touch, every moment we spent together under the Mediterranean sun.
But here I am, in a whirlwind romance that’s as exhilarating as terrifying, driven by emotions I didn’t even know I had. And the craziest part? I wouldn’t trade it for anything. This chaotic, intense passion has awakened something in me that I can’t ignore, something that makes me feel more alive than I ever have before.
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Three weeks ago, I was drooling on page one hundred thirty-eight of my physics textbook on thermodynamics, barely awake and running on fumes. I was practically strung out on Monster Energy Drinks and those overpriced, sugary lattes from the campus vending machine—the only thing keeping me from completely passing out on the spot. The dense equations and dry theories blurred together on the page, making it impossible to focus. My brain begged for a break, but I kept pushing, hoping the caffeine would magically make the material stick.
News flash, it didn't.
So, when Mama casually mentioned that we’d be vacationing in Santorini for summer break, it was like a lifeline had been thrown my way. Suddenly, the fog of exhaustion lifted, and a thrill of excitement surged through me. It was as if a dormant part of me, buried beneath layers of stress and routine, had been awakened, eager for the unexpected adventure that awaited.
The idea of trading my study desk for the stunning views of Santorini seemed almost surreal. My thoughts raced as I imagined wandering through the picturesque streets, soaking in the sun, and immersing myself in a world far removed from the rigors of academic life. It was an escape I hadn't known I needed, a break from the monotony of textbooks and equations.
I pictured myself strolling along the charming alleys lined with whitewashed buildings and vibrant bougainvillea, the scent of the Mediterranean Sea mingling with the aroma of fresh local cuisine. The thought of exploring ancient ruins and savoring sunsets that painted the sky in hues of orange and pink felt like stepping into a dream.
And not to mention, a part of me was inkling for a dream-like, rom-com-esque summer romance. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery could bring that fantasy to life.
As I swiped through images of ancient ruins, bustling cityscapes, and pristine beaches, I couldn't help but imagine myself in those exotic locales, experiencing the same thrilling adventures and romantic escapades. It was hard not to get swept up in the fantasy, picturing myself in those picture-perfect settings, with someone special by my side. It could quite literally be anyone, at this point. My horrific failed romancing attempts as well as my "not quite mediocre", yet "not quite stellar" looks were keeping me away from all the hotties.
The contrast between the vibrant, sun-soaked images on my screen and the monotony of my daily grind was stark. Quite embarrassing, frankly.
It fueled my desire for something more; something that broke away from the predictability of my studies and everyday responsibilities. Each scroll made the dream of a spontaneous adventure feel more urgent, intensifying my longing for a chance to immerse myself in the extraordinary.
Girls that I had grown up with were posing like models. Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan. And I wanted to be just like them.
Teeny tiny bikinis tied by a loose string, new ear and a belly piercing, flip-flops, and red tan lines. Margaritas, mojitos with lime, white wine. Loud club music, the nightlife of a girl in a foreign country, and dark blue eyeshadow and glitter. Flocking around older guys with them, locking lips with handsome strangers in bars, and flaunting all their escapades (or namely, their sexcapades) It was all so racy, daring, and outgoing. All of these things were unlike me, but I was a girl who dreamed of having fun. So you never know, I could suddenly change overnight.
The thought of stepping into that world, even just for a summer, was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a side of life I had only seen through screens, and part of me wondered if I was capable of embracing it. What would it feel like to let go of all my inhibitions, to live without worrying about consequences? To be that carefree girl who dances until dawn, flirts shamelessly, and collects stories too wild to share with anyone but your closest friends?
I couldn’t help but wonder if that girl was buried somewhere inside me, waiting for the right moment—or the right place—to emerge. Maybe Santorini would be the setting for my own little transformation, a place where I could shed my quiet, reserved self and become someone who seizes the moment without hesitation. After all, isn’t that what summer is for?
And when Mama told me about our trip to Santorini, that possibility suddenly seemed within reach. The idea of a vacation to such a dreamlike destination felt like the perfect catalyst for the change I’d been secretly craving. But more than that, it was a surge of joy and gratitude that hit me, knowing how hard she worked to make this happen. Growing up, it was just the two of us—Mama working tirelessly to provide for me and make every day special despite our modest means. She had always done her best to ensure that I had the opportunities I needed, even if it meant making sacrifices. The idea of a vacation, something so seemingly extravagant, was a rare treat, and I was thrilled beyond words.
To say the least, the envy was palpable, a green-eyed monster gnawing at me, craving the excitement and connection that seemed to radiate from every carefully curated Pinterest-worthy post.
Yeah, you can say that that excitement might not have lasted that long.
"Wait, wait, wait, repeat that please?" I questioned, exasperated by both the shitty wifi in my dorm room as well as my mother's purposeful exclusion of information. I sat criss-crossed in my twin-xl dorm room bed, surrounded by the comforting clutter of my college life. My phone rested precariously on the edge of my left knee (balancing carefully as I too, was practicing balancing my temper), its screen flickering with a weak signal as I struggled to catch every word Mama was saying. To my left, a wall was covered in an eclectic array of Polaroids and dimmed fairy lights, creating a soft, warm glow against the stark white of the dormitory walls. The space felt cozy but cramped, with textbooks and scattered notes littering the desk beneath the small window, which offered a view of the bustling campus below.
"Well I thought it would be a wonderful surprise for you," Mama said, elated over the fact that this bit of information was quite important. She wore a gigantic stretching grin on her face, a strict contrast to the curvature of my dimpled frown.
"By purposely excluding that we would be sharing a house with another family?" I incredulously asked, my left eyebrow arching up, my mouth turning into an even more prominent downward frown. Fuck, the shitty dorm wifi is acting up again. Now on Facetime, I was stuck like that. Great. I was eternally engraved into my phone as an unhappy bitch.
"You can make wonderful friends! I heard that they are your age," Mama wiggled her eyebrows. Figures. Of course, she would turn an opportunity that seemed to actively pray on my downfall into a splendid opportunity for me to, *shudders*, socialize.
"I don't need new friends, and there are four of them! That's a lot of people," I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the hair and finger-combing the stray bits of hair out of my face. Socializing was a lot for me sometimes. The thought of mingling with a whole new group felt like a daunting task, especially when my comfort zone was so tightly packed within the walls of my current routine. Each new interaction felt like a potential minefield of awkward conversations and missteps, a far cry from the cozy familiarity of my small circle. (Okay, a circle may be an exaggeration. Maybe a direct line would be a better description to describe the relationships around me: small, minimal, clean)
"Four kids your age, and two parents. This is the perfect mixing pot for you to make friends," Mama pointedly replied.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't need friends," I lied.
"That's a lie," Mama accused. Well, not accused. She was right, but I wouldn't give that to her. I was innately stubborn. Wonder where I got that from…
"Of course not! I have a great social life, thank you very much," I lied, again. Blinking slowly, I tried to not let my eyes expose me.
"You haven't brought a boyfriend home ever. And you have one friend total." Mama snapped back.
"Well, Clementine is a very amazing and loyal best friend," I narrowed my eyes.
"Amen to that one," I could hear Clementine's voice echo from her bunk bed next to me. She was mindlessly scrolling through her phone under her light-blue comforter, yet this nosy bitch was still listening to our conversation.
"Mind your business Missus Nosy," I sassed at Clementine.
"Whatever, your business is mine. You forget we are literally ten feet away from each other." She groaned as she flipped to face me from under the comfort of her blankets. Mama laughed and I grimaced again.
"Seriously, you should branch out. As a young lady, you must learn to explore your choices-" Mama continued, and I could feel a heartfelt lecture incoming.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it I know." I rolled my eyes and laughed.
"So, what exactly are we supposed to do with this family?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.
"You’ll figure it out," Mama said with a reassuring tone. "It's an opportunity to meet new people and have some fun. Plus, they might have interesting stories to share."
"Right, because nothing says 'fun' like having to navigate the quirks of a new family while on vacation," I said, sarcastically. "I suppose I could use a few new stories to tell."
"That's the spirit! And who knows, maybe you’ll end up having a great time. Sometimes the best adventures come from the unexpected," Mama said optimistically.
"I guess we’ll see. Just don’t be surprised if I spend most of my time avoiding their overzealous attempts at bonding," I replied, half-joking.
"Fair enough," Mama laughed. "Just promise me you’ll at least give it a chance. And who knows, you might even surprise yourself."
"Yeah, yeah. I promise," I said with a resigned sigh. "I'll give it a chance, even if it means putting up with a bunch of new faces."
"That’s all I ask," Mama said, her voice softening. "I’m looking forward to this trip, and I hope you will be too."
"Me too, I guess," I said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Just don’t expect me to become best friends with everyone right away."
"Deal," Mama said with a smile. "And remember, it’s supposed to be an adventure."
"Adventure. Got it," I said, rolling my eyes again but smiling this time. "Let’s hope it’s more exciting than a group project."
"Exactly! Now, get ready for a summer you won’t forget," Mama said, her tone upbeat.
"Yeah, yeah," I replied, "I’ll do my best."
As the call ended, I shook my head, trying to shake off the unease. Interrupting me from my daydreaming, Clementine cleared her throat.
"Yeah yeah yeah, I'll do my best." She mocked me in a high-pitched voice.
"Girl shut up," I groaned, throwing one of my various squishmallows at her head.
"Branch out my ass, you need to get cronked." Clementine gestured enthusiastically. Yes, she was the most extroverted person that I knew, and I loved it about her. We were just two opposite ends of a stick, and I did have a lot to learn about her charisma as well.
"What you just described is quite literally the evil alter-ego version of me, you know that right?" I deadpanned. Throwing back the squishmallow at me, she continued.
"Oh, come on! Loosen up and have some fun," Clementine replied with a flourish. "You’re too stiff, girl. You need to embrace the chaos and just go with it. And you know that you really want to have fun." She wiggled her eyebrows.
"Okay yes fine, you got me." I rolled my eyes again.
"It's the summer somewhere new, be happy! You can be anyone that you want for a bit." She said.
"Yeah, sure. Maybe if the wifi wasn’t being a pain, I’d have a better attitude," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Blame it on the wifi all you want," Clementine said, laughing. "But seriously, you’re going to have a blast. Just let yourself get loose. Besides, how often do you get to have spontaneous adventures like this?"
"True," I admitted, "but it’s a lot easier for you to say. You thrive on chaos. Eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
"Okay, make me sound like some ravenous gossip party monster, Mrs. Malnourished-From-Any-Entertainment," Clementine rolled her eyes.
"Hey!!" I sputtered, trying to feign madness. I failed, as I immediately burst out laughing.
"And I swear you’re going to learn to love all the chaos too!" Clementine said enthusiastically. "It’s all about stepping out of your comfort zone. You’ve got to live a little!"
I sighed, shaking my head but smiling. "Alright, Miss Extrovert, I’ll try. Just don’t expect me to start dancing on tables or anything."
"Hey, you never know!" Clementine teased. "You might surprise yourself. Besides, it’s all about making memories, right?"
"Make memories, youthful nature, spring in my step, all right I get it man!" I yell, burrowing my face in my pillow, also conveniently getting a mouthful of hair. Yum.
"And don't forget it's actually time for you to get laid," Clementine said in a sing-songy type of voice.
"Clementine!" I exclaimed. She really had no filter, this girl…
"What? I'm just saying," Clementine shrugged, her grin widening. "A little romance never hurt anyone, right?"
"Yeah, but could you not be so… blunt about it?" I replied, trying to regain my composure. "I mean, it's one thing to tease me about dancing on tables, but this is pushing it."
Clementine laughed, unabashedly. "Oh, come on. You're going to a beautiful place with a bunch of people your age. It’s practically a recipe for adventure. And who knows? Maybe this will be the summer you meet someone special."
"Or maybe it’ll be the summer I learn to tolerate sharing a house with strangers," I said, rolling my eyes. "But thanks for the… encouragement."
"Hey, I’m just trying to help you make the most of it," Clementine said, her tone softening. "Sometimes a little push is all you need to open up and see things differently."
I sighed, shaking my head but smiling despite myself. "Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll keep an open mind. But no promises on the whole ‘getting laid’ part."
"And plus, I have absolutely no skills in approaching any guy ever. You know this," I cried in despair. Clementine laughed, recalling all the times when my horrible romancing skills failed me. Note, there are way too many to mention, so why do I even bother to find a boyfriend in the first place…
"Oh, I remember the summer fair incident," Clementine said, her laughter bubbling up. "You were trying to strike up a conversation with that guy at the cotton candy stand, and you got so flustered you ended up spilling your drink all over him."
"Please don't remind me of that, oh no," I groaned.
"And then, in an attempt to salvage the situation, you accidentally knocked over the cotton candy machine. The whole thing turned into a sticky, sugary disaster. You actually looked beet red it was so funny," Clementine continued laughing.
"I still cringe thinking about that," I groaned, hiding my face. "I was so embarrassed I avoided that fair for months."
"And let’s not forget that one party during Midsummer's last year," Clementine said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Oh let's not bring that one up from the archives-" I started to say.
"Girl you need to stop pretending that you can actually dance," Clementine giggled.
"Hey! I actually didn't know that he was a professional dancer, okay? Showing me up that badly was so embarrassing, I did want to die so bad at that moment," I recalled.
"I was trying to save your horrid fate," Clementine continued.
"You can't just gesture to me at a party and try to whisper yell, it's so loud. That would've never worked," I argued.
"Well from the sidelines it was actually pretty funny seeing you trip and then knock over those plastic cups," Clementine continued.
"Yeah? It wasn't funny when I landed in that bowl of punch face-first though," I whined.
"Yeah! Of course, it wasn't because my car smelled like the rancid mix of alcohol and punch for weeks," Clementine complained.
"That's my revenge for you. You should've yanked me out of the dance circle the minute I stepped foot in there. Why I did it, I have no idea to this day," I lamented.
"Ugh, meanie," Clementine laughed at me.
"That was such a mess, though" I admitted, cringing. "I had to help clean up while everyone tried not to laugh at me."
"But hey," Clementine said, her tone softening. "All those awkward moments make for great stories, and they don’t define who you are. Sometimes, it’s those hilarious failures that end up being the most memorable."
"Fine, Mom," I droned on. "You have a point."
Clementine’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and amusement. "Exactly. And besides, who knows? Maybe this summer will be the time you finally get it right. You’re going to be in a new place with new people. It’s a fresh start."
"I suppose," I said, still feeling a bit skeptical but warming up to the idea. "I guess there's something to be said for making a fool of yourself in a new environment. It might not be so bad if everyone’s in the same boat."
Okay, I lied again. It was that bad.
(Guys I promise that I'm not a serial liar, I just exaggerate. A bit.)
The overwhelming heat of Greece, and pretty much the heat of the Mediterranean hit me like a truck immediately when I landed. It was dry heat, no humidity no nothing. Just good ole heavy heat. Sweating through the airport terminal, then customs, to the shuttle, my bra was pretty much damp by the time I had stepped onto the cobbled ground in front of our air b&b.
Beaded sweat was clouding my vision, completely ruining the pretty vision I had when I put gel on my forehead to curl my baby hairs. I was seeing stars (mostly perspiration). It was hot. I was getting a hot flash/nearly dying of heatstroke.
The dreamy images of Santorini I had envisioned from my cool, comfortable dorm room felt like a distant fantasy now. The picturesque streets, which I had imagined as quaint and inviting, seemed more like a maze of sun-baked stone. My excitement was quickly replaced by a wave of discomfort and disorientation.
“Welcome to paradise,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, feeling like I was melting into the pavement. I glanced over at my mom, who was also looking a little wilted but trying to maintain her usual upbeat demeanor.
“This is just the beginning,” she said, her voice cheerful but slightly strained. “It’ll get better once we get settled in.”
I hoped she was right. For now, though, all I could think about was finding a cool, shaded spot and trying to regain some semblance of composure. The fantasy of a perfect summer seemed to be melting away as quickly as the ice in my now lukewarm drink.
I fumbled with the keys to the front door, my fingers slick with sweat. The lock was stubborn, refusing to cooperate as I struggled to get inside. My mom was at my side, trying to help but also looking equally overheated.
“Maybe I should have warned you about the heat,” she said, her voice strained but still optimistic. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”
“I think ‘a bit’ is an understatement,” I managed to reply, finally pushing the door open and stepping into the cooler interior. The contrast was immediate, but the relief was short-lived as I realized the air conditioning wasn’t working properly.
“This is not how I pictured it,” I admitted, feeling my earlier excitement wane. The romanticized version of this trip was crumbling under the harsh reality of the Mediterranean heat and my physical discomfort.
My mom looked around, her face showing a mixture of apology and determination. “We’ll get it sorted,” she said. “Let’s just unpack and try to cool off. Maybe a cold shower will help.”
I nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. I just hope the heat doesn’t turn this whole trip into a sweaty ordeal.” To foreshadow, it pretty much was like that the entire trip.
As soon as I stepped inside, the first thing that hit me was the chaotic array of shoes scattered haphazardly across the floor. There were sneakers, sandals, and flip-flops in a disordered spread as if a small army had shed their footwear in a hurry. The once inviting entrance now resembled a makeshift shoe rack, cluttered with mismatched pairs and abandoned shoes.
“Mama, it looks like we’re not the first ones here,” I said, my voice tinged with annoyance as I kicked aside a stray sandal. “It’s a mess.” I could feel my frustration mounting as I took in the scene. The once appealing idea of arriving at a neatly prepared vacation home now seemed overshadowed by the disorder and lack of preparation.
God, I hoped that whoever was here didn't make the whole place look like the dorm room of a stinky, smelly, teenage boy.
Mama quickly scanned the surrounding areas. “Oh, I didn’t realize. They must have arrived before us. They’re probably out exploring the city.”
“That’s just great,” I said, feeling a mix of irritation and resignation. “They’re already out having fun while we’re stuck schlepping our luggage.”
With a sigh, I grabbed two huge pieces of luggage and began dragging them up a narrow flight of stairs. Each step felt like a small victory, but the sweat pouring down my back made every movement feel like a monumental effort. I didn’t even know my butt could sweat that much. It was as if my entire body was engaged in a desperate battle against the oppressive heat. My clothes clung to me in a way that made me feel like a walking puddle.
Every few steps, I had to stop and catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead and cursing under my breath. The heat inside the house, combined with the physical exertion, had me feeling utterly drenched. My damp hair stuck to my neck, and I could smell the distinct, unpleasant odor of sweat mingling with the heat.
“Can you believe this?” I called down to my mom, trying to keep my frustration in check while I heaved one suitcase up another step. “I’m already drenched, and we haven’t even started unpacking. I feel like I’m swimming in my sweat!”
“I’m sure it’ll be worth it once we get settled,” she said from below, her voice slightly muffled by the distance. “Just hang in there. Take that cold shower, aye? It’ll make you feel better.”
Her optimism was appreciated, but it did little to ease the burning frustration I felt. I finally managed to get both suitcases into our room and collapsed onto the bed, feeling utterly defeated. My legs felt like jelly, and I flopped down with a dramatic groan. The mattress, thankfully cooler than the air, felt like the only respite I’d had all day.
“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, my voice flat with exhaustion. “I need to cool off before I melt into a puddle. This heat is seriously getting to me.”
Grabbing all my toiletries in one hand (which would be moderately regrettable in approximately a minute), my phone and a towel haphazardly slung over my shoulder, I sped-walked to the nearest bathroom. My appearance was nothing short of disastrous: a loose beige bra that clung awkwardly to my sweat-drenched skin, and tightly fitted black spandex shorts that felt like they were melting into my sweaty legs. But, by golly, I was determined to take a shower. I assured myself that no one was there but Mama and me.
That is what I thought.
Clearly, that thought changed when I threw open the bathroom door to be met with a wall of steam and the startling sight of a pasty, pale chest belonging to a random white guy. In a comedy of errors, we collided headfirst into each other. He let out a yelp of surprise as I stumbled backward, dropping my toiletries and towel in the process.
“AHHH!” We both screamed in unison, our voices mingling in a perfect pitch of panic and disbelief. My phone slipped from my grasp and clattered to the floor, the emergency contact screen flashing in alarm and my phone's flashlight being turned on as it bounced. The towel, now airborne, landed atop the guy’s head like a makeshift hat, which only made the situation more absurd. My toiletries, scattered like fallen soldiers, rolled across the tile in every direction.
In the frenzy, the guy’s shampoo bottle, which had been precariously perched on the edge of the sink, took a dive and exploded into a foamy mess, splattering us both with a thick layer of bubbles. I slipped on the slick tile, my foot skidding out from under me and sending me crashing into a pile of wet towels.
In the chaos, I tried to grab onto the nearest thing for support, which ended up being his bicep. My fingers closed around the surprisingly smooth and firm muscle, and I couldn't help but notice how it felt like a warm, solid rock under my touch. The unexpected contact sent a flush of heat to my cheeks, and I found myself blushing furiously as I tried to steady myself.
Never mind the sudden fucking romance, I was flailing and falling, and it was embarrassing as hell.
As I yanked on his arm, he lost his balance and we both went tumbling to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs, shampoo, and toilet paper. The sheer force of our combined weight caused the guy to slam into the opposite wall, sending a shower of misplaced toiletries and a small avalanche of cleaning supplies cascading down on us. We landed in an awkward, sprawled mess, my leg draped over his and his arm pinned beneath my back, all while the air was filled with the scent of minty shampoo.
"What the actual fuck," The weird white guy said. I was surprised to hear an Australian accent escape his mouth, quite different than the accents I heard every day.
"Who the fuck are you?" I exclaimed in disbelief, trying to stand up, but wincing because my head and bum hurt very much.
He groaned, trying to sit up and shift me off his chest. "I'm Oscar. From Australia."
"Oscar who?" I asked, still struggling to comprehend the situation while attempting to fix my disheveled hair.
“Oscar from Australia,” he deadpanned, his frustration evident. His wet hair, still dripping from his recent shower, clung to his forehead, adding to his slightly disheveled look. Despite his frown, which was more a mix of irritation and bemusement, there was something oddly cute about him. His features were sharp but softened by his annoyed expression, and his damp hair only added to his rugged charm. The heat of the bathroom made his skin glisten slightly, and the combination of his tousled hair and pouty frown gave him a kind of adorably exasperated vibe. "You know, as in the guy whose bicep you just clung to like a life raft in a storm."
"Well, excuse me, Oscar from Australia," I retorted, finally managing to get to my feet but still wobbly. "I didn’t exactly plan on meeting you in such a—uh—personal way."
Oscar smirked, flicking some shampoo suds off his hand. "Yeah, well, this wasn’t how I planned to greet my new neighbors either. I was expecting someone who could walk without tripping over thin air, but hey, I guess we can’t all be that lucky."
I crossed my arms, glaring at him. "Great. So not only am I dealing with a mess of shampoo and toiletries, but now I have to navigate an awkward introduction with some guy who thinks he’s important enough to be 'Oscar from Australia.'" I honestly did not give a fuck if he was called "Oscar from Bumfuck Nowhere" or "Oscar the Prince of Bahrain", he needed to chill the fuck out.
Oscar raised an eyebrow, still struggling to keep a straight face. "Well, you know, ‘Oscar from Australia’ doesn’t have a very high bar for first impressions apparently. But hey, at least you’ll remember me, right?”
I rolled my eyes, snatching my towel off his head. "Yeah, I’ll definitely remember you as the guy who managed to turn my bathroom break into an episode of slapstick comedy."
Wiping a loose tear that streamed down my face due to shampoo getting in my eyes, I continued. "I just wanted a goddamn shower after that long plane ride and the bloody heat from outside man. What the hell…" I drifted off.
Oscar’s face twitched between amusement and exasperation. Honestly, now that I am thinking about it, his countenance was definitely leaning more toward exasperation and frustration. "I’m sorry my ‘Australian charm’ is such a disaster for you. But you know, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting tackled by a very disheveled girl either."
I huffed, my arms crossed defiantly over my chest, and my posture was a rigid display of frustration. My shoulders were hunched slightly, and I tilted my head to one side, making it clear I was not in the mood for further nonsense. My face was a portrait of annoyance—my brows were furrowed deeply, and my lips were pressed into a thin line. A flush of irritation spread across my cheeks, and my eyes, which had been rimmed with the remnants of shampoo, glared at Oscar with unfiltered exasperation. Every muscle in my expression seemed to scream, "Seriously?" as I struggled to keep my composure amidst the chaotic aftermath of our unintended collision.
"Oh, so now I’m ‘disheveled’? You might have noticed I was in the middle of trying to clean myself up when you decided to become a human wrecking ball."
Oscar chuckled despite himself. "Look, I didn’t mean to turn your bath into a soap opera. It was an accident—just like your epic phone drop and shampoo explosion." The audacity of this guy to even put my "epic phone drop" in air quotes. What a comic. Haha, totally funny.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get tackled by a random guy in the shower. Maybe you could’ve picked a less dramatic way to introduce yourself."
This "Oscar from Australia" guy was really starting to annoy me.
To be fair, I may have been escalating the whole thing because I truly do feel like a different person the moment heat washes over me. And this whole situation—sweaty, disheveled, and now dealing with a ridiculously charming yet infuriating Australian—was the cherry on top of my chaotic day.
Oscar shook his head, a smirk still tugging at his lips. "Well, if you ever need a more dramatic first impression, you know where to find me." With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the steamy mess of the bathroom.
The jokes on him, first impressions are first and quite permanent. They don't change.
As I stood in the shower, still reeling from our chaotic confrontation, I finally managed to get my shower running. The cool water cascading down my back felt like a small slice of relief after the sweltering heat and tension of the past few minutes. I glanced at my reflection in the misty mirror, trying to scrub away the remnants of shampoo and irritation. My hair, now a tangled mess of suds and frustration, clung to my face as I attempted to regain some semblance of dignity.
It struck me suddenly—amidst the chaos and embarrassment—that something had shifted within me. I had been more assertive and bold than I ever remembered being, and this unexpected encounter had stirred confidence in me I hadn't recognized before. I didn’t just let the situation unfold; I stood my ground, even if it meant facing down a charming yet infuriating Australian.
Blushing slightly, I scolded myself silently. Really? Hurling myself at a guy I just met the moment I get to Santorini? It was like I’d thrown my usual reserved self out the window along with my dignity.
This wasn't Love Island. And he certainly wasn't the steamy-hot Australian guy from Casa who would be able to woo my heart in mere milliseconds.
Sweet lord, Clementine told me to reset myself this vacation. I had singlehandedly managed to reset my personality in three minutes.
As I rinsed the last of the foam from my hair, a sudden pang of regret hit me. I had never actually told Oscar my name. How had I managed to skip such a basic part of an introduction amid our chaotic collision? The thought gnawed at me, adding another layer to my mortification.
To him, I was probably that weird, really sweaty, and kind of stinky vacation girl with a pissy attitude. Now I am not saying that that isn't a spot-on accurate description of me, but it kind of hurts that I didn't behave better.
A lack of decorum on both of our parts, I'll conclude.
I couldn’t help but replay the moment when I’d bumped into him—his rock-solid chest meeting mine with surprising warmth. My eyes had instinctively trailed down from his broad shoulders to the defined abs that quite literally were making eye contact with me. The firm, unexpected contact of his body against mine had sent a jolt through me, making me acutely aware of how close we’d been.
Even now, the memory of that fleeting contact made me blush deeper, and my face felt like it was on fire. The way his chest had felt—solid and warm—seemed to linger, leaving an imprint on my senses. I recalled how his abs had pressed against me, their tautness undeniable from even where I was standing. It was almost embarrassing how my eyes had involuntarily traced those contours, as if they were a new and intriguing landscape I had never seen before.
Ugh, what the fuck. I desperately needed a Facetime to debrief all of this confusing absurdity with dearest Clementine.
─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────
taglist! @mingyusbigrighttoe @theblueblub @demandealalune @linnygirl09
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#oscar piastri#op81#op81 x reader#op81 imagine#op81 fic#op81 fluff#oscar#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#abbaf1#f1abba#f1abbaimagine#f14fun#f14funabbaseries#f14funabba#!uni-student x op81#fanfic
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Cool for the Summer 2
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Note: Humping it up on hump day.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
You taste the cocktail and make a face. As sweet as it is, the alcohol is stringent in your throat. You set the glass down as Bucky’s fingers tap on his pint. You glance up, surprised to find him watching you.
"Don't like it?" He asks.
"Mm, no, I mean yes. No." You stutter out. "It's good, I just... don't drink much."
"She's a good girl." Your mom teases. "I always had to push her out the door. Oh, don't even ask about prom." She grabs his forearm and cackles. "You would think buying a dress would be fun. Nope. I think she'd have rather gone to the dentist."
Your cheeks turn hot. Four years past and you still cringe at the fitting room torture. You look down and fiddle with the cutlery wrapped in a red napkin. You really wish she wouldn't treat you like a child. You suppose at times you might act like one.
"Those things can be tough. I barely remember mine. Only went so my buddy didn't feel like such a loser," Bucky shrugs. "But look at how far you've come. I'm sure high school is like a blip on the radar. Now the real fun begins, huh?"
You know he's trying to help and you appreciate. But it only makes your chest tighten. The dread throbs in your temples. Life, it's all ahead of you but you have no idea where to start.
"Yeah, I... I barely remember." You talk to the table.
"She's a smart one," your mom praises. "I really lucked out. No teenage angst, no rebellion."
You chew your lip and pick at the trim of the table. You sound lame. You are and you never minded the safety of that trait. Still, you'd like to be known as more than a boring little bookworm.
"Okay, here we are." The server rescues you from further humiliation. "Chicken caesar."
She puts your salad in front of you, "cheese steak sammy and macaroni salad." She lays a plate in front of Bucky, "and the sizzling fajitas."
Another server appears with a wooden plank, set with a cast iron pan atop it and fixings; tortillas, salsa, guac. It smells delicious but you know it's too early for all that. You'd be even sleepier and you still have to get unpacked.
"Enjoy," the waitress smiles and struts away.
You unwrap your cutlery and use the knife and fork to shred the lettuce. You should've known better than to order salad. It's always so awkward to eat with others around to see.
"Mm, pretty good," Bucky says. "Lauren, how's that extravaganza? Really went all out."
"Wasn't expecting all this." Your mother scoops grilled peppers into a tortilla, daintily with her fork as her nails shine in the light. You remember when you asked to get a manicure and she said they were impractical...
She's changed but you don’t feel all that different than when you left for college. Maybe you should have tried harder. Well, it's not like your life is over. Far from.
"How about you?" Bucky prompts and once more you meet his gaze with a startled blink. You nod and swallow.
"Good. Just boring old salad." You say.
"Always chicken caesar," your mother chirps. "Creature of habit. Don't worry. You'll hardly be surprised. By tonight, she'll have one of her books and you won't hear another peep."
You bite down on your tongue. You're not sure anymore if she's bragging or she's chiding you. Her life is so exciting now. Her hair is highlighted, her nails are filled, and her makeup... she's actually wearing makeup.
"Didn't think you could work with those." You say as she catches her nail on her napkin.
"Oh, yeah, I'm not in the ward anymore. Sweetie, didn't I tell you? I do clinicals now. I just show the new ones what to do. Not much hands-on stuff."
"Uh, I remember. Sorry."
"Too sharp," Bucky chuckles. "Can't even hold her hand without getting clawed."
She jabs him with her shaped tip and he grunts. They laugh together and you look around. You're the sore thumb sticking out. Ever the third wheel. Even when you had 'friends', you sat on the sidelines, confused by their inside jokes.
"It's very good. Thank you." You sit forward and focus on the salad. The sooner this is over, the sooner you can do exactly what your mom expects. Hide with a book. Alone.
🩵
Home is always a comforting sight but not as much as you expect. A flicker of guilt sparks in your chest. Bucky just bought you lunch, you shouldn’t be so negative. Still, you just want to unwind after a long day of traveling.
As much as you want him to just go, you would never say as much. Your mom seems happy with him. She even seems healthier. It’s nice to see her taking care of herself, she’s done enough of that for others for too long.
You get out of the car but Bucky’s too fast. He has you bag in his hand before you can react to the trunk opening. He smiles and insists, “I got it. You lead the way.”
“Mm, I could nap about now,” your mother calls over the car roof.
You agree internally. The whole train ride, you looked forward to burying yourself in blankets and leaving the world behind. It would be rude to do so with company around, even if they aren’t yours.
You follow your mom to the front door and she unlocks it with a yawn. You enter and slip your shoes off on the mat. Things are different. Not too different, you can’t quite place everything. Yet you notice that the coat rack has been replaced with mounted hooks across the wall and the rug at the bottom of the stairs is new.
“Oh!” Your mom spins, surprising you before you can sneak past her. “I forgot about your surprise!”
You look at her then over your shoulder at Bucky as he plunks down your bag. You wait for him to respond. He just offers a small curve of his lips. You turn back.
“You,” your mom taps your nose. “Come on. Ah,” she waves around you at Bucky, “bring her bag with you.”
Your mom grabs your arm and ushers you upstairs. You can’t resist, too swept up in fatigue and confusion. He follows behind you. What’s happening?
“Okay. I hope you like it,” she goes to your door and your stomach flips. Oh no, what did they do? She swings the door open and backs up, waving inside, “tada!”
You hesitate but make yourself step into the doorway. You glance around and your mouth slowly falls open. You blink at the room. Wow.
It’s not awful, just another change you’re not ready for. Instead of your old rectangle bookcases, new circle ones have been built into the walls; white instead of brown. Your bed is the same but the wood is newly re-stained and the bedding is shade of pink you wouldn’t necessarily choose. A heart shaped rug is spread across the floor and your previous desk has been replaced with one that folds into the wall.
There is an entirely new piece that stands out. A vanity in the corner. The mirror is the same shape as the carpet and the stool has a fluffy seat.
“Oh, wow...” you utter as you step further inside.
“Bucky is so handy! I always wanted to do this but I didn’t know where to start. Oh, just wait until you see his place,” she rambles as she trails you. “He built the whole thing himself.”
“I had help,” he tuts and sets your bag down. “Tried not to do too much but just added a fresh coat to everything.”
You’re silent.
“Sweetie?” Your mom touches your arm.
“I’m... surprised. That’s all.”
“She’s speechless, Bucky!” She squeals and claps her hands. “I knew she’d love it.”
“Heh, yeah. Well, I hope it isn’t too much.” He rubs his neck as he looks around. “You can let me know. I can change whatever you need.”
“No, no, it’s really nice. Like really. I...” you wring a finger in your other hand. “Thank you.”
“Lauren,” he sidles past you and nudges your mother gently. “Why don’t we let her get settled in? I’m sure she’s beat from the road.”
“Right, right,” she beams around the room before she faces him. “Of course.” She glances over at you, “sweetie, let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“Mom, I’m fine.” You show your teeth sheepishly and hover around the wall.
Bucky leaves first, your mom following as she cranes to stare at the room. She leaves you with an excited wiggle and you go to close the door behind her. Once it’s shut, you sigh. You weren’t ready for any of this. Somehow coming home has proven even more disjointing than going away to college.
You plod to the bed and flop onto it. You roll onto your back and let your eyes rove. It is so cute. You would have killed for a room like this in high school, even on campus. Yet it does seem a lot. You’re sure once you get a job, your mom doesn’t expect you to stay too long.
Maybe this is a good thing. A little less pressure on you to get out but not exactly. With Bucky hanging around, you can’t help but be in the way. You’re not the only one who needs to adjust to your return.
You can worry about it all later. For now, you need to close your eyes and stop thinking.
🩵
The afternoon wears on as you dawdle away on your phone. You can barely keep your eyes open as the screen glares back at you. It’s almost six when you make yourself stop the addictive word game.
You lay listless, trying to urge yourself to get up and do something. You lose the battles as your eyes close and you drift off without realising it. In your subconscious, you’re just as you are in reality. Just lying there, motionless and mindless.
You wake slowly as pressure squeezes in your pelvis. Your bladder forces you to action. Even with the painful weight throbbing inside, you move without urgency. You sit up slowly, dizzy from the unexpected doze. You stand and shuffle to the door.
You leave it open as you go into the hall and let your feet guide you. Habit takes down to the bathroom door and you reach for the handle. It turns from the other side and you recoil in surprise. Bucky stops short as he emerges and apologises.
You stammer as you gape back at him. Somehow after the whirlwind morning, you forgot all that change. In your grogginess, you didn’t see the new walls or the white bookcases or think.
“S...Sorry...” you murmur.
You’re consumed in radiating heat as you stare at the stubble along his neck. Any lower and he might be embarrassed. He is shirtless after all. You’ve never been the best at looking people in the face but you have no choice. You examine his silver-streaked hair, slightly tussled, and his grizzly beard with its dusting of white along his chin.
You step back as he raises a palm and dips his head. “No problem. Gotta get used to each other, I guess. Bad timing, is all.”
“Right,” you agree dully.
He looks back at you and his forehead creases. “You okay?”
You wince. “Yeah, why?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just... you look... a little out of it.”
“I fell asleep,” you run your fingers along your throat nervously. The motion catches his eyes. Their startling blue hue gleam in the light.
“Right. I figured you needed it. Long ride...home.” His gaze flicks up to meet yours. “Sorry you’re stuck here with us boring old people. You probably miss it already.”
You shrug, “not really.”
“Not really? What about your friends?” He rests his hand on the door frame and leans.
“Didn’t... just study buddies. Classmates.” You look away and shift as your bladder aches.
He clears his throat and stands straight. He steps out of the frame and you jump at his sudden movement. He touches your hip to keep from colliding with you and sidles by.
“I’ll just get out of your way, baby girl,” He squeezes, his hand lingering for a moment. “Welcome home.”
He lets go and turns, strutting down the hall as you stand frozen. You hurry forward and shut yourself in the bathroom as you scramble with the sudden agonizing pang. You don’t have time to think, you have to go!
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#au#winter soldier#captain america#mcu#marvel#avengers#cool for the summer
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casual , part 8
“ so now when we kiss ”
series m. list previous chapter
( socialmedia!au )
yourusername
liked by _quinnhughes, luca.fantilli, and 123,748 others
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→ vivianliu i custom made it 🤭
mackie.samo this is so #cottagecore and #aesthetic
→ yourusername who the hell is teaching you this
→ mackie.samo my sisters 😕😕
→ lhughes_06 stop using hashtags good fucking lord
→ markestapa that intervention wasn’t for nothing mack 😒
trevorzegras brent faiyaz our lord and savior
→ yourusername 🛐
rutgermcgroarty HEY why didn’t you post our photos 😞
→ yourusername tis for another time my dear boy
→ rutgermcgroarty shakespeare lookin ass
→ yourusername 🖕
→ adamfantilli guys remember when we were nice to each other
→ yourusername no
→ rutgermcgroarty no
username99 CLOUDED
luca.fantilli is he gonna ask you out or what
→ yourusername luca 😭😭
→ luca.fantilli what?? i’m jus being curious 😔
username35 HELLO????? the fit ate down
vivianliu fuck her on the floor like i don’t give a fuck bout it 🎶🎶🎶🎶
→ yourusername your judgement get clouded when you clouted
→ vivianliu your judgement is clouded as hell
→ yourusername HOW???
→ vivianliu you know 😐😐
→ edwards.73 stop hating lil bro
→ vivianliu i hope you drown
username76 that second pic got me kicking my feet n shit
username21 skincare routine when???
username3 how are you not a model
adamfantilli let me tie your shoes bc i don’t want you falling for anyone else
→ yourusername no
→ adamfantilli did your license get suspended for driving all those guys crazy?
→ yourusername adam babe we talked about this
→ adamfantilli do you play soccer? bc you look like a keeper
_alexturcotte i got you new sneakers 🥰
→ yourusername REALLY??
→ _alexturcotte i figured you’d need them after running through my mind all day
→ yourusername oh god please don’t make this into a habit
→ colecaufield stop harassing her with pickup lines turcs
username69 we all know ethan’s going feral over this one
→ username14 fr i can sense it from here
username5 the hughes genes are godly asf
next chapter notes ) this is my way of coping through the pain of being a stars fan anyways should ethan n rosie finally get together 🫢
tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat
#ethan edwards#ethan edwards x y/n#ethan edwards x reader#ethan edwards fanfic#ethan edwards fic#quinn hughes#jack hughes#cole caufield#alex turcotte#trevor zegras#luke hughes#dylan duke#mark estapa#mackie samoskevich#rutger mcgroarty#adam fantilli#luca fantilli
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He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥
18+mdni series master list
The night before Aries season…|
You paced back and forth in the hospital room, trying to walk through the discomfort of early labor. Your mom and dad had traveled to see you and be with you during the birth of your son. Your dad, being the man that he was, couldn't stand seeing his baby girl in pain and went to harass the nurses to do something about it (despite your mom saying it was all in God's hands).
You sit down on the bed and groan in frustration. You start crazy laughing. It was only five hours in, and Omari was taking his sweet time. “He's such a drama queen.” You huff, “Of course, his little ass is doing things on his terms, like I'm not sitting here hungry for more than ice.”
Your mom just laughs and shakes her head, “It's the only time he's ever gonna be able to tell you to wait, and you gotta.”
“But if I let him call the shots now, he'll expect to keep calling the shots.” You grumble and rub your back.
“Sweetie?”
“Yeah mom?” You look at her, and your breath hitches at another contraction.
“How are you feeling? I know the last few months you and Ricky haven't been the best.” She says.
She's not really asking how you are right now physically, she's got four kids, she knows. You roll your eyes and look up at the ceiling in thought, “Dad is just being Dad, I don't even care for real.”
“You know he just didn't want this for you, neither of us did.”
“Yeah, but my baby is almost here, and Dad, I suppose, is deciding to pay my rent for the year instead of apologizing to me for what he said.” Your voice wavers slightly at the memory of what was supposed to be the happiest moment of your pregnancy. Telling your parents they were going to be grandparents.
“He's here now, and he wants to make it up to you. Ya know he never stopped, during that six month stretch, never did he stopped asking about you and the baby.” She moves to sit next to you and holds your hand. “Pray on it and forgive him.”
Your eyes close, and you chuckle sadly, “Prayer doesn't fix other people's shitty actions.”
Your mom opens her mouth and closes it multiple times. She's trying to say something, anything profound to smooth over an already tense relationship. Rehabilitate, like most mothers do when their family has been smashed on the rocks.
You hope that Omari doesn't ever have to pray for the strength to forgive you. You'd rather eat hot nails than ever guilt trip him for your actions. You think briefly that having your father here instead of his father may be his villain origin story. So maybe it's already in motion. Who knows?
Another contraction takes hold of you, and you pray for a healthy baby that will never need to be told to pray.
Chapter 4: The thing about video calls…is that you can hang up. 📱
It's been two weeks of Johnny inserting himself into Omari's life and, by extension, your life, too. On days that you don't work from home, he's at your apartment and helping you by getting Omari ready. You can always hear him speaking that strange language to him, and when you asked Johnny what it was, he told you with a sly smile.
“Gaelic chuilein.” He then went back to softly speaking to Omari as if you're not even there.
And you thought Aaliyah spoiled Omari? (Despite her telling you to send him to glory in the beginning, she comes over, and when she does, her first greeting is “Where's Big Mari? Aunty has a gift for him.” And then she produces another pair of baby Jordans that he will grow out of.) Johnny goes absolutely wild with daddy duties. The man doesn't even like the idea of his mini me being even slightly uncomfortable or upset. He bought a towel warmer just so Omari wouldn't have to leave a warm bath and use a cold towel. He didn't like that Omari's nursery had street facing windows (and the only reason his nursery faced the street is because you and him would people watch on Sunday morning) and while he fussed and complained, he got privacy film so his baby and his woman could see out but people couldn't see in.
He applied that film to all of the windows.
And then he bought you a ring camera doorbell for his peace of mind.
You've heard him on the phone with his mom or one of his three sisters. All of them sounded cheerful about Omari, asking to see his chubby little face and cooing about his features and how he looks like some man named Johnathan (who you correctly assume is his father). His mother, a sweet woman with bright blue eyes and a warm smile, speaks to you each and every time she's on the phone. She'd asked about your diet, admonished you about not eating enough, and then promptly began scolding Johnny about the importance of making sure you ate enough. She explained that a breastfeeding mother needed to eat hearty and healthy and that she was sending him a list of foods for him to get and cook. The whole time, Johnny sat there nodding his head, cheeks flushed pink, and a little bit embarrassed.
You give him credit though, you thought he'd give you bland British Food, but he was making family recipes, and they were surprisingly good.
That's when he asked if he should know your parents. Which led to you calling them up on Skype one Saturday afternoon and your mom answering with a smile.
“Sweetie!” She smiles, “And how are you doing? Are you still having trouble with your depression?” She's asking before you can even shake your head no and switch the subject. “And did you speak with your therapist and psych about getting on new meds?”
Johnny is in the kitchen, Omari strapped to his chest (once again, that baby doesn't sit on his own ass…ever) and he's looking at you with concern. His blue eyes are unreadable, but you spy the clench in his jaw as he quietly listens along. He's warming up a bottle on the stove since Omari is more demanding for being fed more often, and your nipples are too sore to handle his little gummy gnawing. It's clear from the looks he keeps giving you that a conversation will be had.
“Nah, mom. I haven't seen them in the past three weeks since work picked up and stuff.” You lean back on the sofa and situate the laptop on the coffee table.
Your mom frowns and opens her mouth, but then she stops when she hears Omari start crying offscreen. “Where's the baby? Is Autumn with you? Tell that boy that he needs to call more.”
“No, Autumn isn't here…” You take a deep breath, “Omari's father John is here.”
She stares for a moment, “now don't you going pullin' my leg.”
“No really, he is. It's a long and interesting story, but we, and really I mean Aaliyah, found him by accident, and he wants in.” You try to sum it all up neatly, and the way you purse your lips, clearly say you won't be explaining much more.
“Ricky!” Your mom gets up and calls for your father, “Richard Knights!” She's walking offscreen, and you can hear the familiar squeak of the screen door and the distant sound of the lawnmower.
Johnny comes over and sits down. He's got Omari eating. He's a bit tense, and you understand him, meeting Davina over FaceTime was stressful. The woman wasn't the same as happy and go-lucky as Johnny or his other two sisters Fiona and Blair. You chalk it up to her being the eldest daughter as she acts similarly to Aaliyah.
“How does mah hair look?” His free hand messes with the front of his hair. The bottle is leaning against his chest.
“Johnny, you're holding your son, and you are about to meet my father and mother, and you wanna worry about hair?” You smack his hand away and fix it right for him. He leans into your touch and smiles at you. That smile makes your stomach flip, and he knows that it does because the smile becomes a bit devilish.
“Chuilein,” He whispers, his eyes are half lidded, “You smell nice.”
“I smell like milk.” You playfully push him away.
“You smell like a mother, and I'm trying to hold myself back from making Irish twins with you.”
“John really?” You shriek. At this time, both of your parent's are sitting down, and you're praying they didn't hear him. (The angry look on your father's face says otherwise.)
“What did you call me in here for Portia?” Your father says.
“She saying that this is Omari's father.” Portia smiles, “Hi darling, I'm Portia, and this is my husband Richard, but we call him Ricky.”
“You can call me Colonel.” Your father flat out denies Johnny of any familiarity. You can only groan and roll your eyes heavenward.
“Daddy, please don't be difficult.” The sigh you let out can be no less dramatic if you try.
“Nice to meet you, sir, Sergeant John MacTavish.” Johnny sits up straighter, and you are reminded that he is indeed an army soldier. He fell into the roll so easily.
“Hn.” Ricky grunts and nods his head once, “a sergeant? Can't say I'm displeased. Better than what I initially thought only by a margin.” His arms are folded across his chest. He watches from beneath his heavy brows, and his eyes squint just slightly. “Can you say what branch, or are there a bunch of NDAs involved?”
“Daddy would you-”
“A bunch of NDAs, but I do serve in S.A.S. sir.” He answers coolly. Omari starts to whine and cry slightly, and Johnny is immediately tuning into what he wants. He whispers softly to him and asks if he's tired of eating and wants to burp. Your mom is smiling and looks moved. Your father not so much.
“Hm.” Ricky nods his head again, “At least my daughter got pregnant by a decent man. Can't wait to see and learn if you're respectable and responsible.”
“Ricky, be nice.” Portia frowns, “He's here now, and it's a prayer answered that she won't be on her own and Omari will have his father.”
“He's black ops. I know their kind.” He doesn't budge, and he looks down at your mom with a knowing look.
“Anyway-” Portia rolls her eyes, “John, are you planning to come to the States for Omari's baptism?” She smiles at him, “Unless you and my daughter have decided to not get him baptized.”
“ah'm actually a Catholic ma'am.” He sits Omari up after burping him so he can see the screen.
“There's Mimi's little fat man!” Portia squealed, “and you're Catholic? I'm not all that familiar with the Catholic faith, but I suppose a baptism is a baptism for you all, too? Does it matter the denomination?”
“Mom, I still haven't decided if I want to get Omari baptized.” You try gently reminding her. You've all had this conversation multiple times, and you really don't wanna go all the way back home for a baptism.
“You know your GiGi already started picking out fabric for his suit.” Portia sighs.
“She's sewing it? Good lord.” Ricky huffs, “That sewing machine is gonna catch on fire. It's so old.”
“Point is, Sweetie, that we gotta schedule the baptism soon. Don't want that baby coming up on six months without it.” She says.
“We aren' doin’ a baptism.” Johnny says before you even open your mouth, he's still smiling down at Omari and tickling his little toes.
“Huh?” You and your mother speak at the same time.
“Yea, me an’ mah chuilein are more focused on get'n tha family thing right.” He looks up. His eyes are bright, but his smile is more like a tight grimace. Then, without prompting, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “‘Sides” He continues, “wouldnae be right to baptize him if his his mum an’ da are livin’ in sin aye?”
“Wait, he's living with you?” Your Dad growls.
You quickly go right into damage control, “No he ain't. It's an expression.”
“Aaww” your mother is crying now, “he's a God-fearing man, I was so worried she'd end up with a heathen.”
“Portia please…” Ricky sighs, “not every man who has religion is God-fearing…” he's trying to console her cries and praises of ‘Won't he do it.”
Johnny is watching the two of them with a raised brow and a crooked grin. He looks at you and nudges your side. “The're quite tha characters.” He whispers to you. He's leaning close to you, the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear. “An’ donnae think we aren' gonna talk ‘bout yur depression an’ mental health.”
You meet his serious gaze, and those blue eyes aren't as playful and sweet. Instead, they are worried and his lips in a firm line. The moment is tense, and you feel sorta like you're in trouble, but that can't be right. It can't be right because you're a grown woman and who the fuck is he? So before you can even stop yourself the words come out of your mouth.
“John,” you say, the corner of your lip raised a bit, “last time I checked, I'm grown.”
He doesn't say anything, and his grimace only tightens. He won't be backing down on this one. His best mates all have abysmal mental health, and while he's semi adjusted, he too suffers, and he knows it's no joke. Your mom breaks the tension with a wail, and you just now realize the woman has started speaking in tongues.
“Mom, what?” You say watching the woman cry and sob. Some of the words are ‘Thank you Jesus.’
Your father is rubbing her back, “we will talk later, Baby girl…seems your mom has decided to work herself into a frenzy.” He looks at Johnny and hums. “Give him my number, I'd like to chat with him one on one.” And before you can rebuff anything, the screen goes blank.
“Does she do that often?” Johnny asks, clearly confused.
“She's probably in the middle of a spiritual psychosis episode.” You say with a sigh, “also please don't call my father Colonel. He's retired. And on a second note, when you inevitably meet my eldest brother Junior, don't call him anything but Junior.”
“Yur family sounds fun.” He laughed.
“They are…but we all love each other. Also, did you mean what you said about the baptism thing?” You ask.
“Aye, ah did.” He looks back at Omari, who at this point has decided to chew on his shirt and doze. “Alla tha stuff can be handle’ later. Mah own mum an’ sisters ‘ave been hintin’ at a catholic baptism an’ already itchin’ about first communion.”
You watch as he rocks and soothes the baby to sleep. He's really different from what you remembered. He didn't seem like the party boy that drank shots off of you and had dipped his tongue into your navel while you laid on the bar top. He didn't seem like the good fuck that spit in your mouth and made you call him daddy (and boy was that a self fulfilling prophecy). Johnny didn't even seem like some army dude, though he was somewhat paranoid about the windows and the front door and balcony door, even though your place was on the second floor. Right now, he painted the pretty picture as a guy who just wanted to take care of his son, affectionately whispering to him in his mother tongue the tune of some lullaby.
Your phone is out, and you've already snapped a photo.
“Don't post it to your insta.” He says just as you opened the app.
“Why not?” You ask.
“Because…” there is hesitation in him as he looks at you, “yur da mentioned he knows mah type.”
You scoff, “He knows the military, I guess.”
“He specifically ask'd ‘f ah was an NDA soldier or a regular one.”
“Okay and? So you can't talk about your work? How's that a big deal?”
“Chuilein…we gotta talk ‘bout mah job, an’ safety, ‘an we gotta talk ‘bout how I wan’ tae keep ya both safe an’ move ya both somewhere safe.” He is tense now and watching your face for every bit of reaction. Slowly, you understand what he's referring to. Your own father was that type of secretive, never spoke about work unless it was just your mom. It only became worse after he made Colonel. It really didn't relax until he retired, and everyone changed their last names to Knights.
You groan and place your head into your hands. Not only did you fuck a army boy, you fucked a spec ops army boy.
“You have gots to be fucking with me.” You whine.
Because, of course, your baby daddy is a shady war criminal, NDA soldier.
A/N: Plot in this story? Say it ain't so. Lol, IDK how the plot showed up, but it's still comedy and a hint of drama. There won't be any kidnappings or his job coming back to physically harm the reader and Omari. Thank you all for following.
Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen
#black!reader#johnny mactavish#johnny soap mctavish x reader#call of duty fanfic#johnny soap mactavish#johnny soap mctavish x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x y/n#johnny mactavish x black!reader
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what’s it like to be around science experiment!reverse reader when something really sweet surprises them? please a tiny fluff for our hearts?
Jason wound his way through the woods, following one of the interminable trails he knows that you take to get to your clearing. Why you're back there today, Jason isn't sure.
He only knows that you are.
He woke up in your bed by himself and you left him a note telling him that that's where you'd gone. Which was progress he supposed. It meant that you weren't just disappearing.
How did you do this? Were you like a homing pigeon? Did you have landmarks you followed? Or had you just cut your way through in a haze so many times that you just did it the way dancers went on pointe? Muscle memory.
When he got there, thankfully, you weren't in mid-explosion. He didn't think he could handle that. But there was a definite... Buzz in the air. It reminded him of white noise. It felt like a miasma of... neutrality. Like walking through a mall on a Saturday. Things-feelings that just... were.
Odd but not unpleasant. Taking up all the empty space in the air but not suffocating him.
And he stopped in the gap you used as a door and waited for a second, waiting for you to finish what looked like replacing a hammock that a storm had ruined and slipped in. "Hey, baby girl," he said, "you good?"
"Yeah," you yawn, "Just needed to move." You take a deep breath and go to pull yourself back into line. Into control and wince. It's nice to let it out and just stop holding on to it all.
Jason moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tenderly. "You don't have to do that, you know?" He kissed the side of your head, "I wanna bounce my head off the nearest wall when Bruce talks too long. I can only imagine what it feels like when it's like that from EVERYONE all around you all the time."
"I don't read minds," you remind him.
"Still," he snorted. "It's the closest I can get." He kissed the side of your head again and rubbed your arms. "I don't want you to feel like you have to hide how you're feeling from me. Not like you do everyone else."
"It's just... a lot sometimes."
"I know," he admitted. "But- We- I especially get worried that it's getting to be too much for you to handle alone."
"I get really lonely," you murmur.
Jason nodded. He could understand that too and it made him kiss your temple. "I brought a picnic," he tried, face heating. "It's mostly brownies. And some green apples and nutella. And I brought a book to read I thought if you wanted we could-"
And when soft lips collide with his as you wrap your arms around his neck, it feels like taking a bite of a hot chocolate chip cookie on a cold winter day and the first like of a snow cone on the hottest day of summer. A quiet, simple joy. Laid over the feelings he knew you felt for him. The ones that popped like firecrackers in his chest. And he smiled against your lips. It was a good thing you replaced the hammock- a snack and a nap in the sunshine would be nice.
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18+ / MDNI cock warming; f!reader (wc 992) with PATRICK ZWEIG
There was a story about the tortoise and the hare, and Patrick Zweig was the hare.
Slow and steady wasn't exactly his style.
He was quick and impulsive. Careless and arrogant. Annoyingly—or admirably?—persistent like the suffocating heat on a hot summer day. If you spared one glance at Patrick, you'd think he was nothing but smug. And he was well aware of all of this, too. He just never cared much about what other people thought of him, to begin with.
But Patrick loved a challenge, and he sure liked taking his sweet time with you. Or, more accurately, he enjoyed making you squirm.
He'd have his cock stuffed inside your cunt, and tease you with lingering touches and chaste kisses until you caved in and begged him to fuck you. With Patrick, it was all fire and the wrong kind of love. But sometimes, when he felt a little nicer, he just wanted to be close to you, to become one with you, heartbeats linked and breathing the same breath.
And with how poorly he had been doing in his last few matches, he needed that semblance of human connection he had lost years ago.
The night was young, but Patrick was eager to have you. His hungry kisses left your lips raw, and his mouth traveled south and started to nip at your jaw, his nose digging into your cheek. Everything he did was to distract you. Distract you from the burning sensation you felt as his cock stretched you out.
"There you go, atta girl."
Patrick kept a firm grip on your hips, his thumbs caressing the skin there to soothe your nerves. You always got so flustered whenever you tried to take him. And that was because you felt all of him. The tuft of hair on his pubic bone, the veins on his cock. You'd whine, tell him that it was too much, that he was too big, as if your pussy wasn't made for him.
He liked it, though.
Because in the end, you looked so pretty, sitting on his fat cock.
You heard him groan, low and guttural, and his large hands snaked up to your ribs, stopping just beneath your breasts. His touch was electrifying—everything about him was—and it sent a slight buzz through your body. And the sight of him alone wasn't helping. Patrick's wild hair and deep green eyes and that fucking smirk he never went without. But as much as you wanted to move, you couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. Not yet.
"Fuck, look at you." Patrick slid a hand further up to cup your breast, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding heart. "I could stare at you for hours."
You raised a brow. "I hope that's not the only thing you'll be doing."
"No, no," he said softly, his gaze darting over your face while he let his other hand wander, fingers tracing up your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. "But it's tempting."
Patrick watched you roll your eyes, and he chuckled, grasping your hips once again and squeezing. He wished he could just keep his cock inside you all night, your cunt keeping it warm and wet and snug. But you were always too fussy to stay still for long. He supposed that was his fault—he did like spoiling you, after all.
"I have an idea."
Ideas and Patrick Zweig didn't mix well. You learned that early on when you first met him. And as you looked into his eyes, seeing the playful mischief within, you knew you were in for a treat whether you liked it or not.
He took your silence as an invitation to continue, so he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear and voice velvety, "We should do this in front of a mirror next time."
Or maybe ideas and Patrick Zweig did mix well.
Your mind started to reel, imagination running wild. But Patrick painted the picture for you like it was something he had been thinking about for a while.
"You'd have no choice but to look at yourself—to look at just how fucking pretty you are when you're like this," Patrick whispered, his voice beginning to get lost in the heat and longing. "I'd keep your legs spread nice and wide so that you can see how my dick looks stuffed inside your sweet pussy." You squirmed, but his grip tightened around your hips. A silent warning to stay still. "Maybe you'd finally understand why I do this to you every time."
He pulled away from your ear, a hand leaving your hip to caress your cheek, his touch soft despite his calloused palm. All you could do was stare at him with a tight chest. "I care about you, you know," he laughed as if to hide the sincerity behind his words. "I'm not just trying to get a quick fuck. I wanna take my time, stay close to you longer."
For once, his name tasted sweet on your tongue. "Patrick."
It was a prayer disguised as a whisper, a plea for his words to be true. And he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he uttered your name back. If this was the wrong kind of love, why did it feel so right? Why did he feel so right?
You tried to swallow down your pride. "Please."
"Please, what?" Patrick asked, but he knew what you wanted. He was connected to you. Your thoughts were his, too. "C'mon, use your words, baby."
But you couldn't bring yourself to say more, to accept defeat. You pulled your lips taut.
"No? Nothing?" He tilted his head, and his signature smirk was back. "Well, let me know when you figure it out."
And while Patrick was much like the hare, he knew he needed to take it slow and steady when it came to you. You would surrender to him sooner or later. You always did.
author's note: i have very mixed feelings abt this 😄 ANYWHO i will gladly give patrick everything he needs which is a shower and a bed
UNEDITED — 05.14.2024
#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig smut#challengers#challengers smut#josh o'connor#✶ — sunnie writes challengers!#✶ — patrick zweig
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i think he knows - [l.laurence]
wordcount: 1.3K
requested: no (but i am working on all my requests)
warnings: maybeee a wonka reference (my bad)
I lay side by side with Jo March, our hands intertwined, staring up at the clouds.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jo laughs. “That is definitely not a giraffe. It looks like a flamingo.”
I wrinkle my nose. “No way. It looks closer to a melted chocolate bar than a flamingo.”
She nudges me and laughs again. “Whatever.”
I sigh and close my eyes, my spare fingers playing with the blades of grass we’re lying on.
“This is the life,” Jo says quietly, as if she can read my thoughts.
“Mhm…” I reply, feeling sleepy and sun sick. We’ve been out all morning in the hot summer sun, and the effects are finally catching up on me.
“You know what would make today better, though?”
“What?” I’m barely paying attention now, my sleepiness wanting to take over.
“If Laurie was here.” Jo says it like it’s poetry.
I’m immediately awake. I sit up. “What did you say?”
Jo looks amused. “I said…that today would have been better if Laurie was here with us.”
I try to downplay my reaction with a shrug. “Yeah, that would have been nice I suppose.”
“Oh, y/n,” Jo teases. “Don’t try to pretend you aren’t head over heels in love with him.”
I look at her sharply. “Jo, don’t talk about such things.”
“It's true, though,” Jo insists. “Isn’t it?”
I look away. Of course it was true. Laurie Laurence was the one person I could never imagine not having in my life. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs. He was my sunlight, my happiness, my joy and my energy and my smile. He was my everything.
“Maybe it’s true,” I whisper. “But it’s not important. I will never matter to him the way that he matters to me.”
Jo is quiet for a while, her eyes narrowed as she stares into the deep blue nothingness of the sky.
I lay beside her, in comfortable silence, as my thoughts drift, as always, back to that boy with the laughing green eyes, unruly but beautiful dark hair, and that smile that fills me with everything I need.
I first met Laurie through the others. I’m lifelong friends with all the Marches, and being an only child, my days tend to be lonely. Marmee has me over as much as humanly possible. Sleepovers, performances, club meetings and dinners, walks and piano lessons, days at the beach, sketching in the garden, dances and dumb adventures. I do it all with those four girls.
Then one day, a boy joined in on our fun.
At first, it was nerve-wracking, doing all our usual antics in the presence of a boy. But I soon learned that Laurie was anything but judgemental, and better than that–he was amazing fun.
We became best friends.
Now, everything I did was with Laurie, or nearly everything. I’d spend every second with him if I could.
It’s like there’s magic in his smile.
“Laurie!” I shove open his front door, yelling up the stairs.
His curly head pops over the stairs, grinning down at me. “Hey, you.”
I squint up at him. “What are you doing? I thought we were going out today. You promised we’d go ice skating.” I wave my skates at him to prove my point.
Laurie winces. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know I did, but–” He makes a face. “I’ve got a cold and Grandfather forbade me to leave my room.” His features turn mischievous. “In fact, I’m risking his wrath just being out here in the hall.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to come up there and entertain you then.”
“You’ll get sick!” Laurie shakes his head at me.
“Too late,” I say, as I drop my skates and coat at the door, and dash up the stairs.
Laurie watches as I hop, skip, and jump at the top stair, as I do every time (because he did it first, and I like to do everything he does). He stares at me with a small smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask, coming to a stop only a metre away from him. “It’s fun doing that at the top of the stairs. Like a little celebratory moment for conquering the staircase once again.”
Laurie laughs under his breath as he shakes his head slightly. “It’s nothing, my dear y/n. Hop at your heart's content.”
I shrug and head into his room, a lage, ornate chamber full of antique paintings and old books and clothes strewn all over the floor.
“Oh, my,” I say disapprovingly. “Laurie, you really need to tidy this place up a little if you want to get any better, you know.”
“I know,” Laurie sighs, falling sideways onto an armchair. “But I just don’t have your work ethic, y/n. I love being lazy and useless and spending my time doing silly, worthless things.”
I click my tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurie. I know you. You have it inside you to do great things with your life. You just have to want it enough, and to work hard for it. You can do it. I believe in you.”
I wander around the room busily, picking up dirty laundry and discarded books, and straightening the bedsheets. I can feel Laurie’s eyes on me, but it’s not an awkward feeling. If anything, it’s comforting. Being around him, everything is easier, safer. My words come out of my mouth easily. I don’t worry about saying the wrong thing or coming across as too blunt or anything like that. They can come right from my heart, because I know him better than anyone, and I see what Laurie is capable of.
“And you know, you can always–”
“Y/n.” Laurie gets to his feet.
My voice dies, and I frown at him uncertainly and I drop a small stack of books onto his desk.. “Yeah?”
“You know how the other day, um, you and Jo were hanging out in the gardens, watching the clouds?”
My eyes narrow a little, but I nod slowly. “Yes…? How did you know about that?”
Laurie doesn’t meet my eyes, rolling his tongue around in his mouth nervously. “I might’ve been spying on you?”
My hands are instantly on my hips as I give him a look. “Laurie Laurence.”
“I’m sorry!” he says immediately, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I just… well, I heard what you were talking about.”
I try to think back. What would Jo and I have been talking about that was so important he’s bringing it back up now? I didn’t think we were discussing anything that exciting, except…
Oh.
My face goes slack, and my mouth drops slightly open. “You-you mean–”
Laurie nods and gets to his feet. “So it’s true?”
I want to lie, to shake my head and laugh it away, but my reaction has already made it obvious. I slowly nod my head yes, once, then twice.
Relief floods into Laurie’s features. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“What?” I ask, but my question is lost when Laurie attacks me with a hug.
“I love you, y/n,” he says softly into my hair. “I’ve loved you ever since Jo first introduced me to you that day in the attic. You might’ve been shy and wearing that silly costume; a battered overcoat and tattered suitcase, but I’d never seen a prettier girl. You help me be a better person, you’re always so encouraging and kind and hard-workig, and I just… I really love you.”
He pulls away, holding my shoulders and gazing at me.
I’m in disbelief, staring up into his eyes, my mouth still open.
He laughs, ducking his head a little. “You don’t have to say anything, y/n. You said enough the other day.” He pauses, licks his lips a little. “Y/n, can I kiss you?”
I can’t help but to smile. “Of course you can.”
His mouth meets mine, and it’s better than anything else in the world.
#timothée chalamet#laurie laurence x reader#laurie laurence#little women#fanfic#timothee chalamet imagines#timothee chalamet x reader#laurie laurence fanfic
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Pedro Pascal
Updated 12/4/24
One shots:
Worth The Risk: You have to try and stay quiet for Joel even when your life is on the line
Supposed To Be Like This : The only rule was to never catch any feelings for one another, but both of you break that rule
Blissful Therapy Session : This is a session with your therapist that you will never forget
The Best Lesson : Javier Pena is your teacher and you quickly become his favorite student
Let’s Go For A Ride : Javier loves the way you look in your dress, and his car is the perfect place to show you just how much
Fighting Fire With Fire : Wanting to give them a taste of their own medicine you have the bright idea to ignore Javier and Steve all day, but it ends with you getting punished
Stairway To Heaven : There’s a reason stairs are better for you, and Javier proves exactly why
Having Dessert First : Ellie comes knocking on the door, but Joel currently has you on top of a desk, and he doesn’t plan on stopping
Magic Cock Ride : Stumbling across an abandoned car you and Joel decide to have a little fun in it
Wrapped Around My Throat : Joel wants to try some new things in the bedroom with you, and he unlocks the wild animal tearing at the cage
Better Things To Do : Joel was supposed to go hunting with Tommy that day, but he found something much better to do instead
It’s About Time : With a little push from Ellie in the hot summer day, Joel finally decides to go after what he wants
Working Me Over : All work and no play makes Joel a very dull boy, and does he really want to play with you in his office
Things We’ve Missed : There’s a lot of things you and Joel miss the taste of, and something Joel misses the taste of is between your legs
Proving Them Wrong : Javier is told something that really upsets him, and so he decides to prove this person wrong by using their desk with you on top of it
At His Mercy : Joel decides to teach you a hard lesson when he overhears a conversation between you and his brother
Favorite Movie : Joel Millers away and you find your favorite movie to watch
Glad I Came : Reluctantly you decide to go to this party you are invited to where you meet the infamous Joel Miller, and the two of you hit things off really well, and he ends up taking you back to his place
Dirty Little Secret : Joel Miller owns his own company and is your boss and you’re his personal assistant. He’s the most incredibly handsome man you’ve ever met but unfortunately he’s married. Then one night he unexpectedly comes knocking on your door
Play Time For Us : Joel wants to spice things up and try something new with you in the bedroom, and the two of you have an opportunity to play around
Ridin Dirty : Joel had decided to take you for the ride of your life, but the only thing is the two of you don’t even leave the parking lot
Tied Up At The Moment : Joel has got you all tied up at the moment, and he’s got you right where he wants you
If The Closets Bumpin : Joel thought it would be a good idea to sneak you off into a closet at some boutique
Guard My Body : Joel is hired by your father to be your personal body guard, and he plans on doing more than just guarding your body
Hungry Hungry Joel : Joel is incredibly hungry and the only thing he wants to devour is you, and you look absolutely delicious
Do Not Disturb : Joel can’t keep his hands off of you even in a dressing room, and doesn’t like to be disturbed
Good And Bad : You just want to be a good girl for Joel, but you can’t help but wanting to be bad at the same time
Caught And Taught : Joel catches you touching yourself while watching porn, and he decides that he’ll play along too
Peaches And Cream : Joel loves the taste of you, and you love being his favorite dessert
Wanna Feel The Heat : your fathers always told you if you play with fire you’ll get burned, and with Joel you didn’t listen
Worth A Thousand Words : you want to see what Joel’s point of view looks like, and he takes some pictures for you
Running With The Devil : you never thought you’d ever spend a night with the king of hell himself
Hold Me Down : Joel has got you in his favorite place, cuffed to his bed
Light My Skin On Fire : you absolutely loved when Joel would put his hands on you
In The Middle : Javier decides to let Steve join in
All Fogged Up : Joel hates being the jealous type, but he sure does love the fun part that comes after it
What We Both Wanted : Joel has had his eyes on you long before he even filed for divorce from his wife, and when the opportunity comes he isn’t holding back anymore
Got A Dirty Mouth : Joel has been testing out the sturdiness of his desk with you laid across it
Lust In The Night : You pay for an escort by the name of Joel for the night, and it was definitely worth every cent
Minor Interruptions : Joel always tries to make time for his favorite girl, even if he is running his own mafia
Bathroom Break Blowout : Joel Miller can’t keep his hands off you for another minute, even at his own sons birthday party
Slow Burning Desire : Marcus Acacius is known for his quick brutality on the battlefield, but when it comes to making love with you he’s the complete opposite
Series:
Deep Water : Drowning your sorrows in another bar since the mysterious murder of your family, your luck seems to run out that night when you witness a horrific murder done by the most ruthless mob in the city known as The Frontiers
The Escort : Pedro Pascal is one of the worlds most famous actors, and he’s going on tour to promote his new movie, but he’s got a bit of a bad boy reputation, and to make sure he stays out of trouble that’s when you are hired
His Behind The Camera : It’s a life that you never thought you’d have, but you’re desperate and you need the money. That’s how you get into the adult film industry, and your first movie is with the devastatingly handsome Joel Miller
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal imagines#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal masterlist#pedro pascal series
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CHRISTMAS SPECIAL
(HEADCANONS)
Warning!! : Might be inaccurate? (personality-wise)
CHARACTERS: Leo Valdez, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson, Piper McLean (in order)
These may not be exactly accurate as they are technically supposed to just be headcanons.. :') I still did try my best to keep it close to their character as much as possible!!
Leo Valdez would be the type of guy to make snow angels with you. It's a fun gesture but it often times ends in a snowball fight. Landing one last hit of snowball at his face before he tackles you to the ground—pecking kisses at your lips, temple, cheek, everywhere he could. You both giggled it out as he proudly exclaimed that he won that snowball fight. He was so wrong, but you'd take his kisses as a reward for it.
Leo Valdez would be the type of guy to envelop your hands in his, nestling them between his palms, only for him to then blow on it after he traps your hands in between his, pulling your hands closer to his face, pressing one soft kiss on your finger and blows on it cheekily. “It's my way to keep you warm!” he states with a grin on his face.
Will Solace would be the type of guy to remind you to bring a jacket whenever it's cold outside, knowing just how much you'd complain about the weather whenever you forget to bring one.
Will Solace would be the type of guy to carry an extra jacket from his closet just in case you somehow forgot yours. “I told you,” he says while chuckling at your flushed state, but he's already draping his jacket on your figure, his scent and warmth lingering around it and that was just what made the gesture more sweeter.
Annabeth Chase would be the type of girl to hold your hand while she's reading some books. It's cold outside, she doesn't feel like doing much. She's too focused on the book, but she occasionally squeezes your hand, letting you know she's still there with you as she quietly takes in the warmth of your hands, quirking up a small smile while she browses through the words of the book.
Annabeth Chase would be the type of girl to grab some hot chocolate, always remembering to grab two: one for you, one for her. It's a simple gesture, but it slowly became a routine for her. “Here, take it easy. Just... relax,” she reminds you while she sipped on her hot chocolate, knowing the exact feeling of being stressed out on things, “I'm here.”
Percy Jackson would be the type of guy to just cuddle the night away. It was cold and boring, what else could you both do other than cuddle? He embraced you, inhaling your scent and savoring your warmth. Maybe it wasn't as boring as he thought it would be.
Percy Jackson would be the type of guy to twirl you in his arms, dancing with you by the ocean while you're wearing his jacket as the cold breeze and scent of the ocean became as one, a feeling of comfort nestled onto the both of you under the stars. Kissing your temple as he held you close, “You look so pretty in my jacket,” he murmurs on your lips before leaving a peck.
Piper McLean would be the type of girl to throw a snowball at you only for it to end up with the two of you making a small snowman, decorating it to both your likings. Grabbing some buttons for its eyes, a summer hat to keep it "warm", and adding some twig branches you both found lying on the ground, sticking it at its side. You both shared proud looks of your creation as you both dusted off the snows that were staining your hands.
Piper McLean would be the type of girl to style your hair, decorating it with some candy cane hair clips that were shaped like a heart. Though they don't really celebrate mortal holidays, this was still a special occasion you both did with one another. “Do you like it? I think you look absolutely adorable,” she says with a proud smile, holding your face as she guides your head to face the mirror.
#leo valdez#leo valdez x reader#pjo#all the ladies luv leo#pjo x reader#annabeth chase#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#annabeth chase x reader#will solace#will solace x reader#piper mclean#piper mclean x reader#percy jackon and the olympians
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