#tugging on shirt collar looking around nervously

[izel-reblogs]

@styrofoamdoor @ellamenop

A bunch of butchers

[munson-blurbs]

Summary: A missing key and a terrible storm leaves you and Eddie stranded in the back of his van. What ever shall you do to pass the time?

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, friends-to-lovers, kinda sub!Eddie but he's mostly just a simp.

A/N: This will be my last 1k+ fic for a while, as I'll be focusing on writing blurbs for Corroded Coffin Fest throughout July. Why not go out with a (literal) bang?

--

“What do you mean, you forgot your key?”

Your eyes widen as Eddie flicks through the keyring. He shakes his head in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“I was switching keychains…I thought I put them all back…” He huffs out an irritated laugh. “Must’ve left the house key on the table.”

A warm breeze siphons through the humidity, gray clouds rolling in. August in Hawkins is unbearable as it is, and the sticky heat before a storm is downright brutal. 

Eddie jiggles the doorknob once more, to no avail. “Jesus H. Christ.” He rakes a hand through his curls, frizzy and knotted from the hot weather. “Back to your place?”

Before you can agree, lightning flashes and is swiftly accompanied by booming thunder. Your heart leaps into your throat and you jump. 

“Scared the shit outta me, too.” Eddie laughs nervously. A fat raindrop falls from the sky and plops on his nose, rolling off of the side. Another lands on his cheek, then one lands on yours, until rain pours in a steady sheet. 

Eddie grabs your hand, tugging you off of the trailer’s front steps and pulling you back to his van. He flings open the back doors, always kept unlocked unless he’s hauling concert equipment. 

“Get in,” he orders, and you follow his instructions without a second though. Rainwater pools in the grass, dirt turning into mud beneath your sneakered feet. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as you climb up. “We’ll wait in here until the rain dies down.”

You ignore the lingering flames that his touch leaves behind and the way he’s now sitting right next to you. “It’s like a monsoon out there.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm raging outside. Raindrops sound like drum beats against the van’s exterior, a song you’ve heard many times before. 

A chill sweeps over you, reminding you of the wet cotton of your t-shirt clinging to your torso. Your miniskirt hasn't fared much better, the light-washed denim now dark. 

“Do you have a blanket back here?”

Eddie shakes his head. “That’s, like, the one thing I don’t have.” He gestures to the cluttered space. 

You offer a half-smile. “S’okay.” Your palms glide up and down your goosebump-covered arms. 

He notices this, frowning. “Here,” he says. “My hands are bigger than yours.” He clumsily positions himself behind you, knees knocking against your sides. His grasp is strong but gentle, hands warming you up from the outside in. 

“Thanks.” He’s close—so close—yet it feels like he’s never been farther away. Without thinking, you scoot back until your ass brushes against his fly. 

“Sh-Shit.” Eddie inhales sharply. “That’s, um, dangerous territory.”

You raise your brows, though he can’t see them. “And rubbing my arms isn’t?”

Eddie peers around, chin resting on your shoulder. He looks up and says, “it doesn’t turn you on though.”

“Says who?”

He breathes out a laugh, stopping immediately when he realizes that you’re not joking. His voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “This…this turns you on?” 

You nod, suddenly shy at the admission. 

“How about this?” Eddie’s lips press against the back of your neck. One calloused hand reaches for the collar of your shirt, tugging it down to expose your shoulder. He kisses that, too, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin. 

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.” His other hand snakes around your throat, holding it firmly but being careful not to squeeze. “We shouldn’t do this. S’gonna ruin our friendship.”

Gently, you turn to face him, legs straddling his waist. “I’m fine with ruining it if you are.” The words are murmured, muffled by the proximity of your lips and his. 

Eddie swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with trepidation. “Just want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

He grabs your ass and pulls you closer until you can feel his erection straining against his jeans. You roll your hips, eliciting a moan from him. 

“You—I gotta—” He unbuckles his belt, tossing it amongst the van’s clutter. “I’m so hard it hurts.”

You reach for his pants button, but he shakes his head. “I’ll bust if you touch me,” he sheepishly explains. 

He takes off his own pants, which is much more of a chore than usual because of the rain-soaked fabric. He doesn’t bother to remove his Hellfire shirt, but you hardly notice. His tented boxers hold your focus, and despite his warning, you strip them away. You need to see what’s beneath them. 

The sight before you is nothing less than glorious. 

His cock is hard, curved slightly left, the pinkish-purple tip already leaking pre-cum. Your thumb traces the vein that runs along the shaft, and he shivers at your touch. When he looks at you with wide, wet eyes, you nearly melt on the spot.

“Is…Is this what you want?” Eddie’s voice is so soft you can barely hear it above the pouring rain. “Because…I want this so bad. So fucking bad.” Pleading, desperate, bordering on pathetic. Everything he showed outwardly, you felt on the inside.

You lean in, capturing his lips and pouring all of your desire into one searing kiss. “Don’t just want it. Need it. Need you,” you reassure him, feeling his length twitch against you. Taking it in your hand, you move your panties out of the way and rub the head against your clit. Every nudge sends a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. “Mmmph, please, please.”

Eddie wraps his hand around yours, guiding his cock into you. “There you go,” he whispers, hissing as you sink down. He fills you completely, bringing a pinch of pain as you adjust to him. “You okay?”

“Mhm. M-More than okay.” You grip his shoulders, curling your fingers into the shirt’s cotton fabric.  Moving your hips, you work him deeper until he’s bottomed out, sheathed within you down to the curls at his base. 

Everything is Eddie, and it feels so good. 

“Can’t believe I’m inside you.” He tries to kiss you, the action hindered by a small laugh. “I’m actually—we’re actually doing this. Fuck, you feel so good!” The last sentence is a growl, raw and primal. 

You hold on to him, knees scraping against the van’s worn carpet as your movements find their rhythm. There’s no more time for self-control. Only Eddie, his hips bucking to meet your core. 

“Might…might not last long,” he admits, swiping at a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. “You’re even better than my fantasies. Never knew you’d feel this f-fucking warm. Tight. Like you’re m-made for me.”

“Maybe I am.” You swoop down to suck on his neck. “Maybe I am made for you, and I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back and exposing more of his neck, which you dutifully continue marking. His thoughts are clouded by lust; neither of you speak for a while, the only noises are moans and the van squeaking on its axles. 

“It’s always you.”

Your eyes meet his. “What?”

“In my fantasies. It’s always you. Every time I jerk off, I imagine your hands, your mouth, your perfect pussy—”

“Eddie.” His name is barely a breath. You clench around him just as he kisses you, and his teeth sink into your lower lip. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it produces a twinge of pain that has you skyrocketing towards climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He grabs your hips harshly, keeping you flush against him. The denim waistband of your skirt digs into your skin but you don’t care. Nothing matters, only Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…

“I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming.” He thrusts upwards in short, punctuated strokes, heaving as he spills into you. 

The two of you stay like that for a few moments, catching your breath and processing what just happened. You confessed that Eddie’s touch turned you on, you rode him in the back of his van, and then he confessed that he thinks about you when he touches himself. 

Oh, and he gave you an earth-shattering orgasm. 

As if reading your mind, Eddie says softly, “you came…right? Because if you didn’t, I can—”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but giggle, silencing him with a kiss. “I definitely came.”

His chest sags with relief. “Good. Me, too. I mean, obviously. It’s right…” He withdraws, cock softening, his cum trickling down your thigh. “Holy fucking shit.” 

There’s no masking his grin, visible through the t-shirt’s thin fabric as he pulls it over his head. With a careful touch, he wipes away his mess. 

“I think I owe you a new shirt.”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, tossing the shirt aside. “I have a million of these. Not the first time one’s been, uh, stained.”

Eddie’s cheeks turn crimson at his admission. He averts his gaze from you, bringing his attention to the foggy window. The condensation squeaks under his forefinger as he draws a smiley face through it. 

“What do you wanna do till my uncle gets home?”

You, you think, but the last thing you need is for Wayne to find the van a-rockin’. “Maybe I could hear more about those fantasies of yours? And I could tell you some of mine?”

Eddie looks back at you, his spent cock still managing a small twitch. “Mmm.” His lips find your throat, sending vibrations through you when he speaks. One hand snakes between your bodies, his middle finger landing on your clit. He makes small, deliberate circles as he murmurs.

“Ladies first.”

--

[lipglossanon]

Pound Puppy

Leon S. Kennedy x puppy!reader

A little more savory tier commission from anon 💜

word count: 2340

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, hybrid au, hybrid reader, bestie Claire making an appearance, praise kink, oral (m receiving), shower sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, piss kink, marking

proofread

Leon walks by the same alley on his way home. Unfortunately for him, the parking for his neighborhood is a complete crap shoot, so he always ends up parking at the end of the street to walk to his house. It’s a pain in his ass, but until work cuts down on his hours, he’s stuck with it.

He doesn’t see you every time he passes the alleyway, but, now and again, he’ll catch sight of you hunkered down, tinkering with something in your hands. You're a hybrid, practically a pup from what he can tell. You don’t seem to have a collar or an owner. Dirt smudges your face and hands, and your clothes look worn and ratty. Leon feels a bit bad leaving you out there, but you always run off when you notice him at the lip of the alley. 

He mentions all of this offhandedly on the phone one afternoon with Claire, who throws a complete fit. She takes the time to drive over that weekend and spends hours coaxing you out of that dingy and dirty alleyway. Your hesitant, which Leon can understand; he and Claire are total strangers. 

Claire brings you into his house, and to his surprise, with the intention to keep you at his place. 

“She’d probably be more comfortable with you,” he hisses to the red-haired woman once you’re out of earshot. “And besides, you’re the one who talked her out of that place.”

“Yes, I did, Leon,” Claire rolls her eyes at him. “But this neighborhood is familiar to her. I’m not going to force her to leave the only place she can kind of call home. Suck it up.”

Leon throws his hands up and leaves Claire to help get you settled after giving you a bath and clean clothes. Before leaving, Leon’s supposed friend gives him a quick rundown of the information she was able to glean. 

She ticks off each point by throwing up a finger. “She’s in her 20s. She’s afraid of water. She has no family. And her last owner dumped her as soon as she quit being a cutesy puppy.”

He frowns at that last bit, but Claire pushes on giving him your name and how long you’ve been a stray. 

“So, just be nice and keep a routine until she adapts. Call me if you need me!”

And with that, Leon watches her leave out of his front door and climb onto her Harley Davidson. After slipping on her helmet, Claire gives him a little wave while he sees her off from his front porch. He tosses up a lazy two-finger salute, and she revs her bike, then peels off down his street. 

Sighing, he walks back into his house. Looking up, Leon sees you hovering in the living room, biting your nails nervously. You fidget in place, toes curled into the rug while you tug on an old shirt of his, the hem fraying. 

Leon gestures to the couch. “You’re welcome to watch the TV. Uh, the cable should be set up.”

You cock your head, soft ears flopping with the movement. “I can sit on the couch? At my old place, I wasn’t allowed on the furniture.”

Leon’s lips twitch, but he keeps his face neutral. “Yeah, I don’t mind what you do as long as you don’t make a mess of the place. Just be courteous and clean up after yourself.”

Nodding, your tail wags slowly. “Okay, thanks, Mister.”

“Leon,” he scratches a hand through his hair, a sigh leaving him. “Just call me Leon.”

You nod, a small smile crossing your face. “Alright. Thanks, Leon.”

He keeps you at arms length, but you’re slowly starting to grow on him. Being greeted at the door when he gets home is nice. He’s forgotten what it’s like to have someone around—another presence taking up space in his home. It’s not stifling like he thought it would be; you’re sweet, and Leon’s realizing he needs sweetness in his life.

From that weird afternoon of you moving in all the way until now, Leon has lived with you for a couple of months. He’s noticed you’re more cuddly and have even taken to sneaking into his room to sleep with him. You’ve wormed your way into his life, and he’s all the happier for it.

He bathes you every night, helping you stay calm and cool while he washes your ears and tail. At first, it was all very clinical and quick, but now he lets you relax and take your time. It’s helped tremendously with your fear of the water. However, it’s also led to a dilemma. 

There’s no denying; you’re a very pretty pup. Leon tries his best, but he can’t help but sneak glances at your naked tits and cute pussy. He’s able to keep it under wraps, wearing jeans to help hide any stiffness he may develop. His plan works for a while—until he ends up staying late one night. 

You greet him at the door like usual, tail wagging and ears perked up. He kicks off his shoes and ruffles your ears. 

“Bath time?” You smile, tugging on his sleeve.

Leon glances at his watch. “Shit. Yeah, sorry work ran long, sweetheart. We’ll get you your bath so you can go to bed.”

You clasp your hands around his bicep, nuzzling into his arm while he guides you over to the bathroom. Once inside, you stay glued to him, watching with wide eyes as the tub fills up with water. As soon as it’s ready, Leon turns to let you undress and climb over the lip. He takes off his suit jacket and hangs it over the towel hook on the door.

He moves back over to you naked and wet in the tub. Too little, too late. Leon remembers that he’s just wearing slacks and not his usual jeans. Cock thickening, he quickly kneels on the mat next to the tub, keeping his waist out of your line of sight. You smile at him, titling your head so he can help scrub your ears.

Leon listens as you tell him about your day, asking questions about his—your voice soothing and soft. You dip your head back to rinse off the soap, and as you raise back up, he watches the suds trickle down your neck across the swell of your breasts. Shaking your head, you sling water from your hair and ears, giggling when Leon calls out a lighthearted hey.

Reaching in, he splashes you, making you giggle harder, splashing him back. You smack the water harder than intended, and a deluge covers Leon, soaking his shirt and pants. 

“Oh no! I’m sorry,” you raise up onto your knees, peering over the side of the tub to see how much of a mess you made. 

“It’s okay,” Leon blinks water from his eyes, then freezes in place when he feels a warm hand pet across his bulge. 

Wiping a hand across his face, his blue eyes warily take in your expression, but what he finds is nothing but interest. You rub his cock through his slacks, and he throbs, making you giggle—tail wagging happily. 

“I just thought my nose was getting mixed up,” you murmur, eyes dropping down to his bulge. “You always smelled turned on.”

He groans when you squeeze him gently. 

Biting your lip, you whisper, “It always got me really wet.”

“What a naughty little puppy,” he murmurs, reaching forward to grope your wet tits. Whining, you arch your back, pressing your breasts more firmly into his palms. 

He massages the soft peaks, fingers digging into your breasts and squeezing. Dragging his fingertips around your areola, he pinches your nipples until you whimper, thighs rubbing together underneath the water. Letting go of your tits, he leans forward to pull the stopper on the bath. 

Pouting, you gaze at him as he stands up. “Is it time to get out?”

“No, we’re gonna take a shower together, sweetheart,” he murmurs, flicking on the water before undressing and stepping into the tub. 

The cool spray hits his back, making him shiver. His hard cock bobs in front of your face, and you lean forward to lick across the tip. Groaning, Leon’s hips buck forward, cockhead grazing your cheek and smearing precum across your skin. 

“Pup—“

His sentence cuts off with a moan when you open your mouth and begin lathing your tongue across his dick. 

“Taste so good,” you pant, tail a blur behind you, ears relaxed against your head. “Can I lick you whenever I want?”

“Fuck,” Leon rubs your soft ears. “Yeah, pup, you can lick my cock as much as you want.”

Humming, you let your tongue lap at his tip before nosing your way down to his balls. He tips his head back, water wetting his hair as your hot little mouth sucks and kisses his squishy sac. You smear your own spit across your face, tongue bathing his balls in your drool. 

“Come on, sweetheart, suck my dick,” Leon coos, grabbing the back of your head to guide your mouth back up to his leaking cock.

“Mmm hmm,” you sigh, eyes half lidded, while Leon feeds his cock past your lips. 

“God, such a good girl,” he groans, and you whine around his thick length. “Yeah, you are. Such a good puppy for me.”

He rocks his hips against your face, forcing his tip to kiss the back of your throat. Spit bubbles and spills from around your lips as he keeps his cock in your mouth. Every time you swallow around him, his dick twitches and throbs on your tongue, precum leaking down your throat. 

Leon grunts and presses closer, pushing his dick a little deeper; it makes you gag hard, and he pulls out—thick, slimy spit hanging from his cock in strings. His abs and hips flex, arousal burning hot in his blood. 

“Look at you, so gorgeous,” he praises, and your eyes flutter. “My good puppy.”

Moaning, you sink your mouth back down on his cock, choking when you press too far but not stopping in the slightest. He pulls his dick from your swollen lips, then bends forward to slip his hands underneath your armpits to pull you up on your feet.

“Let me feel this sexy pussy,” he rumbles, lips brushing across your fuzzy ear. 

Whining, you cant your hips toward him. “Please, Leon. Play with my pussy.”

Both of you let out sounds of pleasure when his fingers part your slick folds, digits pressing teasingly at your hole.

“Such a wet puppy pussy,” he coos, dropping a kiss at the corner of your lips. “Does she need a cock stuffing her cute hole?”

“Please, oh please,” you mewl, tail bumping against the tiled wall. “Wanna feel full.”

He hikes one of your legs around his hip before gripping his cock and notching it at your clenching heat. Pressing the tip inside, he uses both hands to grab the fat of your ass to pull you onto his cock as he sinks deeper into your cunt. 

“So tight, fuck,” he groans, pelvis flush against your own. “God, gonna make me nut so fast, sweetheart.”

“Leon,” you moan loudly, nails clawing up his back and making his cock pulse inside your snug pussy. 

Leon blames his recent celibacy for his quick trigger response to having your soft wet pussy clamping down on his dick. You don’t seem to be much better off, pussy walls rippling and squeezing around his cock while you moan and pant against his chest. He moves a hand between your bodies, fingers circling your swollen clit. 

“So slippery and soft, baby,” he growls. “Cum for me so I can cream your sweet little pussy.”

“I’m so close,” you drool, hips humping your cunt down onto his cock. “G’nna cum, Leon. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Good girl. I want you to cum. Want you to squeeze my cock with that fat puppy pussy,” he groans, fingers strumming across your clit faster and faster. 

You sink your sharp teeth into his shoulder and scream, body twitching and shuddering as your orgasm hits you hard and fast. Leon can’t stop himself, fucking you through your aftershocks to chase his own climax. He buries his cock to the hilt in your hole, spilling hot and thick inside your cunt. You moan, pussy milking him for every drop of cum in his balls. 

After you both catch your breath, Leon slides his cock from your tight hole with a sigh. He then helps ease your leg back onto the ground. Rubbing your arms, he leans forward and kisses your forehead, making you preen. Letting another few seconds pass in comfortable silence, Leon drops his arms to his side. 

“Gotta piss,” he mutters, moving to get out. 

Your fingers latch onto his arm, big eyes pleading up at him. 

“Mark me up,” you nuzzle against his neck. “Mark your territory.”

Leons half-hard cock twitches in interest but stays soft. “Baby…”

“Please,” you bat your eyes, and he’s quickly nodding in agreement. 

There’s no sense denying it to himself— he thinks it’s hot as hell you want him to piss on you. Too bad his refractory period isn’t immediate. He grips his cock, and you kneel down in front of him. A few drops of urine leak from his tip. You whine, and Leon relaxes into it, hot piss steadily streaming onto your neck and tits. His eyes watch it coat your skin, a possessive satisfaction settling in his chest. 

Shifting his feet, he uses his grip to aim his cock at your face, piss hitting your lips and chin. You drop your mouth open with a moan. 

“Fuck, such a good fucking puppy for me,” he grunts, directing the stream of urine onto your tongue. 

You keep your mouth open, swallowing Leon’s piss until it slows down to a trickle before tapering off completely. Humming, you look up at his with glassy eyes. 

“Thank you, Leon.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bear's Halloween

Wonze x Child!Reader

Summary: The third of my Halloween-centric fics

"I don't know," Lucy says as she adjusts the collar of her shirt," It's kind of itchy."

Keira rolls her eyes. "You chose it," She says," It's too late now."

"I can go up and change."

"And ruin this for Bear?"

In sync, they both turn to look at you.

You're sitting on the sofa, helping Narla wear the blonde wig Lucy had bought a few years ago for a laugh. It's that stupid wig that had sparked this whole mess.

Halloween was coming up and, while you didn't like it in action, you liked the holiday in theory.

You liked the idea of dressing up and getting sweeties but you didn't like having to go out in the dark with all the scary people trying to scare you.

So, this was the compromise.

You refused to go out trick or treating with Bebita so you'd do some trick or treating by yourself at training.

Hence the costume.

Narla was Goldilocks which made you, Mummy and Mum the three bears.

Mum was Daddy bear. Mummy was Mummy bear and you got to be Baby bear.

Lucy sighs, pulling on the collar of her bear onesie. She swore it didn't feel this itchy when she first bought it.

"Come on, bear!" She hollers," Let's get into the car!"

You shuffle forward, Koda bear in your hand and Narla padding after you. You let Lucy lift you easily and put on your seatbelt, kicking your little legs absentmindedly.

"Are you excited, bear?" She asks and you nod.

"We're getting sweeties!"

You don't get sweeties a lot because Keira says they'll rot your teeth and no one wants that.

But this is Halloween and you're allowed to have sweeties if you dress up so that's what you're doing.

Lucy flips up the hood of your bear onesie up so everyone can see the bear face on it before she lets you and Narla out of the car.

Your pumpkin Halloween bucket hangs in your hand as Keira takes the other, leading you inside.

You can spot a group of the girls hanging around just inside the doors and you shuffle your feet, nibbling at your cheek nervously.

"Do you remember what to say?" Keira prompts and you nod, still shuffling anxiously.

You catch her sleeve. "You stay with me?"

"Okay, bear, I'll stay."

Keira's hand gently rests on your back, spurring you forward as you come to a stop in front of Irene, Marta and Caro.

"Go on, bear," Keira whispers," You've got this."

You clear your throat and lift up your bucket up for them all to see.

"Trick-treat...Please!"

A little huff of laughter ripples around the group as they drop a few pieces of candy into your bucket.

"Thank you!" You say, bobbing your head a bit too much because the bear face completely covers your eyes and Lucy has to tug it back so you can see again.

The girls smile down at you and you suddenly go shy, shuffling back into the safety of Keira.

"She's adorable," Irene says," I like your costume, bear."

"'m Baby Bear," You mumble from where you've pressed your face against Keira's legs.

"Well, you're a very good Baby Bear."

"Thank you," You reply, shuffling all the way back to Lucy, who was waiting to take you into the locker room.

She pushes you in first and you suck in a very big, deep breath for a moment before you open your mouth.

"Trick-treat!"

You hold up your bucket and the girls come forward one by one to drop some sweets into it.

Mapi and Ingrid send Bebita along to give you their portion and she compliments your costume before running back to Ingrid to finish whatever breakfast has been packed for her.

Barcelona Halloween is fun, you decide.

The team fill up your bucket, your onesie is nice and warm and comfortable enough to nap in without having to get one of your special blankets and Narla seems to really like her Goldilocks wig.

You sit on the picnic blanket as the others train and Bebita goes around with her snapping jaws trying to bite people.

You stay with your bucket and your Koda bear though, pouring out your sweets and sorting them into little piles.

A shadow falls over you and you look up.

"What are you doing, huh? You know you're not meant to be having sweeties yet. They're for after dinner," Lucy says, hand lightly pushing back the hair that's fallen over your eyes.

"Not for me," You say, sticking your tongue out in concentration," For the team!"

"The team?"

You nod. "Because they did a nice thing for me for Halloween. Now I do a nice thing for them."

Lucy smiles. "That's nice. You're sweet, bear."

"You'll help hand them out?"

"If you want."

"I do." You stand up, reaching for Lucy's hand. "We're going to do a nice thing for everyone."

[suksatoru]

birthday baby; t. todoroki

touya is visiting home after his family decides to celebrate his twenty fifth birthday together at the todoroki household. maybe years ago, he would've debated on even making an appearance at all. but now he has you, his favorite girl right by his side to make the entire ordeal bearable and so much better.

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FUCKING HUSBAND!! i love youuu touya. somewhere in another universe i am actively baking a cake and waiting for u to come home. touya has tattoos instead of scars + he's rocking the black hair because he's an icon. reader and touya have an established relationship. and he mayyyy be a dad. heh. enjoy loves!

word count: 3k

"touya,"

touya mutters something under his breath, tugging at the black collared shirt around his neck in irritation. his brows are furrowed, dark hair flopping over his forehead as he pushes the bangs back with a huff. he turns to you, praying you don't catch the nervousness in his expression.

"i'm fine, baby." he mutters, pushing a single finger into the collar of his shirt and loosening the constricting fabric. his eyes are a blur as his gaze snaps towards yours in an instant—and he holds up his hand, splaying all five fingers out before curling his knuckles into a fist.

"never mind. why don't we just stay in the car? we can get some takeout for us, no need to go inside." he deflates, slumping in his seat a bit as you smile softly at him. touya's nervous. you can tell by the way he taps his index finger against his knee, craning his neck to look out the car window and towards the sacred todoroki household looming outside.

you reach forward and tuck a fallen lock of hair behind his ear, before your hand falls onto his shoulder blades to massage the tensed muscles gently. you nudge his chin towards yours, and he begrudgingly meets your gaze. there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes—something out of the ordinary simmering under his usual cool and collected facade. he covers the hand of yours cradling his cheek with his own, pressing his lips together into a firm line.

"you know, your mom told me she was making your favorite for dinner. plus, we drove—how many hours, two for this? i'm surprised she was so good the whole drive." you smile, glancing into the backseat at the small bundle of white hair that was visible from your spot. a pair of adorably dinosaur socked feet kick back and forth expectedly. your baby babbles quietly to herself in her car seat, blissfully unaware of her surroundings as she drools into her fist.

touya takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as his eyes stay glued onto her. he unbuckles his seat belt slowly, turning to you with a frown.

"one of you will stay with me the whole time, yeah? i'll be fine then..." he trails off, frowning as he places his palm flat against the back of his neck in thought. you nod reassuringly, your soft promises and support prompting him to get out of the car. he groans as the sun hits his face, a grin finding its way to his lips when he hears you laugh at him.

"come on, princess." touya mutters, offering the baby in front of him a slanted smirk when she squeals with excitement—recognizing her father's face after such a long drive as he takes her out of the car. she reaches out, immediately fisting touya's shirt and snuggling into him as he lets out a huff.

"yeah, yeah. you better be on your best behavior, you got that? i don't wanna see you chewing on a damn thing that isn't edible. or else there will be consequences."

your baby babbles nonsense in response, squinting her eyes with childish excitement and not understanding a single word that comes out of touya's mouth as you all begin the short walk from the driveway to the front door.

touya shifts her so he can cradle her entire form in one arm. he uses his free hand to reach out for you, quickly grabbing your hand with a silent sigh as you intertwine your fingers. you turn towards him, and after placing a kiss onto your baby's cheek—you peer up at him with a grin. he tries to smile back—but it feels more like a grimace.

"ready?"

he nods, taking a deep breath as his grip on the baby in his arms tightens just the slightest bit. he can hear the wave of voices on the other side of the door—natsuo, fuyumi, shoto, mom—he hadn't seen them in months.

these family gatherings always made touya nervous. he's painfully aware he's the black sheep in his family—with his raven hair and inked skin, one that crawled around and over his limbs, coating the majority of his body in beautifully intricate designs. he did anything but fit in. he was also the only one who'd moved out—albeit when he was sixteen—but even though he and his family reconciled, he hadn't taken the step to move back in.

and he wouldn't. he had his own family to look after now.

he glances down at his hand, admiring the name y/n sketched in cursive on his ring finger. he can hear the footsteps approach the doorway now, and he makes a silent reminder to get your daughters name tattooed onto his pinky at some point. you'd like that—it'd be cute.

"touya nii! y/n chan! mom, they're here!"

the next hour is a flurry of hugs and loads of chatter. touya feels dizzy after greeting everyone, getting far too many kisses pressed onto his face than he'd like. it was only his siblings and mother home, no other party goers. but he was still overwhelmed. he stalks over to the living room, cradling your baby to his chest and settling onto the couches in the living room with an exhausted sigh.

"we gotta ditch 'em all, princess. look at mama—she's already getting comfy." touya grumbles to your baby, watching you and fuyumi make your way to the living room where touya was hiding relaxing with your baby.

"touya nii—y/n tells me d/n is learning how to walk!" fuyumi beams, tickling the baby's cheek as she coos quietly. touya shrugs, keeping a hand on her small back to help her sit upright. your baby would be turning two soon—time was flying by fast.

"yeah, i guess." he mumbles, frowning as he moves to peer down at the little girl in his arms. she peers back, round eyes watching him before she eventually crawls out of his lap and into fuyumi's. touya slumps into the cushions of the couch, eying you from where you sat across the couch and were too absorbed in a conversation to notice his stare

you're speaking with natsuo—eyes bright and animated as you talk, probably about something stupid touya did since his brother was laughing so damn loud—but he can't stop his lips from twitching upwards at the sight.

"nii-san,"

shoto poked touya's side as he settled into the open spot beside him. touya stiffens and with a loud sigh, he turns away from you and natsuo to meet his little brother's gaze. touya eyes shoto wearily for a few moments, before shoto takes the hint and starts talking

"i just wanted say that i'm really glad you came. and—thank you for bringing d/n. she looks a lot like y/n chan now."

touya is silent for a moment. he's staring into shoto's soul—and the younger boy tries not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. something shifts in his demeanor, and with a groan—touya wraps an arm around shoto's shoulder and pulls him into his side, offering the boy a deathly tight hug as he ruffles his hair. shoto's smile is wobbly and the hug was unexpected, but he leans into touya's warmth anyways.

"don't thank me like i'm some sort of a guest here. remember, my bedroom is still right down the hall, you brat. now—tell me what flavor cake mom made for me."

shoto spends the majority of the evening right beside touya. he asks questions every now and then about d/n, watching her chew on all sorts of things that clearly weren't food. babies are interesting, is what he'd said as he watched touya chase your baby—but she's a fast crawler, maneuvering under tables and giggling evilly as she carries the tv remote around the house with her mouth.

"she's teething," you say with a soft laugh as you hear touya yell "put that down!" from somewhere across the house. shoto nods quietly as the two of you watch touya make a fool of himself and get outrun—or out crawled—by a two year old.

"y/n," shoto finally speaks up quietly as you hum in acknowledgment. he turns to you, his voice almost nervous as he speaks quietly

"i have a gift for touya nii, but i don't think he's going to like it."

you frown at shoto's words, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as you usher him closer. he moves quickly, grateful for your comfort.

"why would you say that shoto? what did you get him? whatever it is—if it's from you, i'm sure he'll like it." you say, squeezing his shoulder as shoto glances at you wearily

"i don't know. i think...i made a mistake. i should've gotten him a better gift. it's really bad." he confesses, a rare show of light blush coating his cheeks as you smile

"do you want to—"

"it's gift time!"

rei enters the room with a warm smile as she carries her own wrapped presents for touya and sets them down on the living room table. natsuo and fuyumi quickly rush out to go grab their gifts, and probably to call touya back to the living room, while shoto frowns.

"it's all right, shoto. trust me, you're a thoughtful boy and i'm sure you're not giving your present the credit it deserves! touya doesn't care for expensive things, if that's what you're worried about." you say with a gentle smile that manages to soothe a few of his nerves. eventually everyone is back in the living room—d/n in your lap now as touya sits on the ground, a party hat on his head and a paper party blower hanging from his lips.

rei spoiled him with gifts that would always remind touya of his family. knitted blankets, because he falls asleep anywhere. matching gloves for all three of you to wear, because she doesn't want her babies to catch a cold, and a thin gold bracelet with the name todoroki engraved into the back. there's seven hearts engraved on the other side—each one representing one of the people sitting around touya and, of course, himself.

natsuo's gifts included a new pocket knife for touya, dark and gleaming, a new motorcycle helmet, and some new picks for touya's guitar. the guitar picks seemed to be his favorite—they fit between touya's fingers nicely, and he grinned sharply at his newest friends. fuyumi had her kindergarten students make birthday cards for touya—and he spent a while cackling at their terrible writing and absurd drawings. she got him a pair of sunglasses she'd seen him eying on his phone the last time he'd visited, and a mug with the cheesy slogan "best dad ever!" printed on it.

your gift for touya was a handmade picture book. one with polaroids dating back to when you'd first started dating—pictures he'd thought you must have thrown away.

touya was nothing but a heartthrob in high school—all the pictures from his early years consisted of his smudged eyeshadow and silver piercings. your face was sprinkled into some of the pictures, too. but any picture you were in meant touya wasn't looking at the camera as it flashed, because he was looking at you.

the last pages consisted of more recent photos that included his siblings and your daughter. every single page had hand written notes and doodles from you, and touya struggles to not let the waterworks start as he traces the outline of your face on the page.

"you're such a loser for keeping all of these pictures of me, baby." he croaks, laughing as he closes the book—reaching over to place a gentle kiss onto your lips before he dips down and places another onto the little baby in your arms.

shoto watches touya nervously, fingers tightening over his present as he sighs quietly. he only had one gift—and he'd spent so much time on it that he hadn't even thought about getting touya anything else. he was too busy trying to make touya's gift perfect...which hadn't exactly worked, either.

"you," touya suddenly announces, pointing an accusing finger in shoto's direction with a predatory grin on his face that had poor shoto wincing as he swayed in his spot. he was the last person in the room to give touya his gift.

"happy birthday, touya nii," shoto rushes out in a quick breath, practically shoving the gift into touya's hands like it was too hot for him to hold as touya moves back in surprise, brows furrowing in confusion as everyone around him leans forward—curious to see the gift shoto had given.

silence. shoto swears he can hear his own blinking as even the baby looks at the gift curiously, wondering what it was.

it's a clay sculpture. it looks like two people. one with an explosion of black hair and another with half red—half white hair. they're holding hands, cheesy grins painted poorly onto both of them.

the black haired figure, touya, has ginormous eyes—big bright and blue and a little terrifying. and his head was shaped oddly—not as oddly as shoto's head, though. which seemed more like a square than a circle. touya swallows down his laughter, turning over the sculpture in his hand and glancing at the bottom of it where shoto's wobbly signature is.

clearly, art was not shoto's strong suit.

"wow..."

shoto's face is pink with embarrassment, and no one says a thing as touya silently stares at his gift—taking in every detail.

"i thought y/n was the real loser, but you must have really wanted first place with this, sho."

and for a second, shoto thinks touya doesn't like his gift. but he cradles it carefully as he reaches out and punches shoto's shoulder, offering him a cackle as he ruffles his hair—normally, shoto would smack touya's hand and duck away, but he grins widely—pleasantly surprised that touya liked his gift as he allows him to mess up his neatly kept hair.

"thanks, sho. i like it. a lot." he says a fraction softer, and shoto quickly nods his head. everyone passes around shoto's sculpture, giggling and praising shoto for trying his best. shoto's smiling regardless, because touya had liked his gift—that was all that mattered to him.

and then it's cake time; touya is seated on the ground and everyone huddles around him as natsuo brings the cake from the kitchen. touya's eyes and d/n's glimmer with glee at the sight of it—there was delicate wisps of frosting all over, velvety cream coating the layers as touya lights the candle with a simple snap, a string of fire connecting his finger to the candle as the blue flame twinkles to life.

you straighten the birthday hat on touya's head as everyone begins singing happy birthday, and his cheeks are beginning to ache from smiling too much. he blows out the candle—watching the fire fade to smoke before a flash goes off. he blinks quickly with surprise, rolling his eyes with a smile when he realizes you'd taken a polaroid picture of him.

"handsome," you murmur as you press a kiss onto his cheek. he tugs you forward and feeds everyone around him a bite. he yelps when d/n bites down fast and hard—she probably would've taken his fingers off if she actually had any teeth. she sends touya a gummy smile, opening her mouth for another bite of the sugary sweet cake as touya complies with a laugh.

after cake is dinner, and after dinner is movie night. after that, touya decides he wants to stay the night.

he had old pajamas in his room for you and him to wear, and rei had plenty of d/n's things stocked up. it's nearing midnight when you finally get your baby to sleep, and she lays on the middle of touya's old bed and snores softly, drool dribbling down her chin as she kicks her feet periodically—far enough into dreamland where you can leave the room and seek out touya.

he sits outside on the front steps of the house, the knitted blanket his mother gave him draped loosely over his shoulders as he stares up at the stars. his face is devoid of any emotion, at quiet and serene peace as he listens to the sound of the distant river flowing and animals in the nearby forest.

he smiles when he hears the door open, already knowing it was you on the other side. he stretches out an arm wordlessly, holding out the blanket with it and ushering you into the spot next to him as he cocked his head.

you plant yourself right beside him, and he wraps the blanket around both of you before resting his cheek on top of your head. he watches a rabbit paw its way through the grass quietly, settling down on a green patch in the front lawn before slowly drifting off to sleep.

"did you have a good day?" you question, and touya hums in reply. his arms tighten around you before he presses a kiss onto the crown of your head, admiring the way your face fits against the curve of his shoulder so perfectly.

"yeah," he says softly. he's silent for another moment, bouncing his knee in thought before speaking up again in a clearer voice.

"the best. d/n likes it here...we should come more often. if you want—that is." he quickly adds as you lift your head from his shoulder, a look of surprise on your face at touya's words.

touya's relationship with his family hadn't been the best. before you, he'd dissapear for months and pop in every now and then just to let them know he was alive. trying to keep in touch with him was impossible—touya was always busy wandering to pay much attention to how badly his siblings and mother wanted him around.

but, after he "accidentally" got you pregnant, there was only so much more time he had left to avoid his family. in a way, you were the invisible string that tethered him back to his roots. grounding him and finally allowing him to feel at home again

"i love you." he says softly, smiling when he feels your hands reach forward to hold his.

"i love you too. happy birthday, touya."

a/n; happy birthday touya!! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- btw he proposes to reader like 3 months after this and your baby is the flower girl at the wedding. imagine her wobbling down the aisle and everything in a cute lil dress heh. anywho!! dad touya is everything to me <3

[petertingle-yipyip]

ALWAYS BEEN YOU - KAZ BREKKER

//follow-up to this (for context, really) but can be standalone// also @darker0moon221b asked for this//

Pairing: kaz brekker x reader

Word Count: 3,146

Summary: On the heels of a rough night and unbelievable confessions, Y/N still has to make sure Kaz is alright. What comes after is… shocking.

“I loved you first.”

“What?” Your head snapped up and your hands around the kit tightened till your knuckles were white. “You don’t mean that.” You laughed nervously.

Kaz didn’t waiver in his eye contact, dark eyes boring into yours. You shifted slightly under his gaze but he didn’t speak. Even when you rose to your feet, he didn’t look away, didn’t say a word. He just watched you intently, like if he looked away you would vanish.

Those four seemingly simple words bounced around your skull. You tried to imagine what his expression was when he said them, but you couldn’t. There was no way for you to know what he was thinking. That cursed unreadable expression crossed his features and you would’ve given anything for any of his other looks. That near smile that only you seemed to get or even his widely recognized scheming face.

“I loved you first.”

You had imagined it, right? He gave you nothing to think otherwise. Yes, that’s all it was. A tired brain mixing with a yearning heart to play on your own foolish infatuation. Kaz Brekker was many horrible things and few wonderful. But he was not someone who confessed love. Maybe he didn’t know love. Maybe he didn’t want to. Either way, it wasn’t about you. That much you could convince yourself.

“Okay.” You said finally. You had no idea how much time had passed while your thoughts ran rampant. “Well, make sure you eat and drink something to help with the blood loss. I’d say something with some sugar. Oh! Nina was by earlier, brought some new pie. You might like it.”

“Y/N?” He tried but you pretended not to hear him.

“I’ll come check on it in the morning, if that’s alright. Make sure no infection has set in and you still have your wits.”

“That’s all?”

“Is there anything else?” You cringed slightly at the desperation in your voice.

“You tell me.”

You swallowed the thoughts that threatened to embarrass you further and simply nodded, lips pressed tightly to a line. You moved to grab your fallen book but once your eyes went down, Kaz seemed to know your intention. Of course he did. You immediately stopped when you saw his movements, the stretch of his long yet muscle bound bare limbs.

You also realized he was still shirtless.

You turned on your heel instead and briskly walked out the room. You made sure the door was firmly shut behind you and then you practically ran to your own room. You all but slammed the door and dropped your kit to your desk. You yanked off the remaining glove and pushed your hands into your hair. You let out an uneven breath and tried once more to piece together the night.

You were reading in Kaz’s office. He came in, covered in blood. You cleaned him up and he smiled at you. He said he loved you.

You laughed slightly and then put a hand to your mouth.

“Oh Saints, I’ve gone mad.” You said to yourself. You shook your head and decided to sleep it off.

But your dreams were simply replays of that damn smile.

The next morning, you dragged your feet to get ready. You brushed your hair and teeth, then washed your face leisurely. You knew Kaz was likely already waiting for your promised arrival and he’d have some comment locked and loaded, just itching for an opportunity, but that only made you want to avoid it more. But the deal was the deal.

You tucked a pair of gloves into your pocket and cut a new bandage wrap from your fabric pile before you headed to see him. You greeted the few Dregs that were up at the early hour before you hesitated outside his office.

You tugged on the collar of your shirt, just so you didn’t pat your pocket, and shifted on your feet. You hated the fact that you were dreading something you were good at, simply because you had gotten something you had only dreamed of. And for what? Because you couldn’t believe it? Because you decided to want something so simple from the one person it always seemed so improbable from?

Then again, improbability wasn’t impossibility.

“Why are we staring?” Jesper whispered loudly and you jumped. “It’s just a door.”

“Ha ha.” You said sarcastically and jammed your elbow into his ribs. “And it’s not that I’m staring. I’m stalling, it’s different.”

“Okay… Why are you stalling? Meeting with the boss you don’t wanna deal with?”

“Of a sort.” You nodded. “Do you think…”

“Wylan would say no but I beg to differ.” He shrugged and glanced over with a wide grin. “What’s on your mind?”

You nodded towards Kaz’s door.

“What’d he do this time?” Jesper sighed and his smile fell.

“When he’s come back after having the ever-loving shit kicked out of him, have you ever heard him say anything strange?” You tried to keep it vague. Telling Jesper was just as bad as screaming it across the Barrel. You loved your friend but he was a gossip.

He gasped dramatically, thus confirming your hesitation. “Is there news?”

“Maybe… I’m hopeful, don’t get me wrong, but I also can’t convince myself it happened.”

“Well, what was it?”

“So you can tell all of Ketterdam and get us both in trouble?” You laughed. “No way.”

“Oh, come on!” He tried.

You shook your head with a smile and knocked on the office door. After a second, you could hear the tapping of his cane coming closer. You looked back at Jesper, who was still staring with wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. The door cracked open so you shot your friend a wink and ducked inside.

“You took your time.” Kaz complained once you shut the door.

“Good morning to you too.” You rolled your eyes, both glad and disappointed to be back to your usual banter. You turned and found him sitting in your chair, cane resting against the arm while he rubbed out his bad leg. “How do you feel?”

He shrugged. You could’ve been mistaken, but he seemed more irritated than usual.

You made a face to yourself and crossed the room. You stopped a few inches from him, not even letting your shoes touch, and leaned in quietly. His eyes went wide for a moment and it almost seemed like he had a forward lean of his own. Your eyes were on the cut of his forehead, checking the length of it once then twice then a third time just for the hell of it.

But even with your focus on the injury, you could see the movement of his own eyes. Darting between yours, following the shape of your jaw, your lips, trailing down your neck.

“That one looks good.” You leaned away and nodded. “You didn't feel any sort of dizziness or sickness after I left?”

He seemed to lose himself in his thoughts before he answered you. You knelt in front of him, nudging his knees apart. The jostle seemed to bring him back to the moment, which caused a new flash of surprise. You wondered for a second if it meant something in your favor or if he was feeling some sort of after effect from the fight.

“Kaz?” You tried waving a hand in front of his face. “Is something wrong?”

He reached out and took your hand in his. You said nothing, but your expression betrayed you. Kaz let out a small chuckle and let himself smile again, smaller than the one that threw you last night but still genuine. Your eyes were wide and soft in awe at the simple contact but coming on the heels of the confessions last night, it had to have some weight.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He said quietly. “Truthfully, Y/N, I worried I had misunderstood you.”

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

You winced. “In painful detail, yes.”

He chuckled again and you lost the fight to hide a smile. “I thought about it all night.”

“Really?”

“I wondered if I had misheard you, if I had misread your cues.”

“Hang on.” You cut in, snapping into focus as if you had been hit with cold water. “Cues? I wasn’t giving cues.”

“Really?” He challenged lightly. “Should I list them?”

“Please do, but while you try and embarrass me, unbutton your shirt so I can check your side.”

“Those wide eyes that always find me in a room.” He pointed to your eyes before taking off his gloves to work the buttons. “You ask something specific of me then change it to mean everyone. The way you curl up in this chair and face my desk, pretending to read but you’re looking over your book towards me. Hell, even the way you say my name.”

“That’s… a good list.” You said carefully, admittedly embarrassed. You dropped your eyes and pulled the gloves from your pocket. 

“Do you want to know what really convinced me?”

“Not particularly but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.” You confessed with a sigh. Once your gloves were fitted to your hands, you leaned an elbow on his knee and looked back at him.

He leaned in as if to tell you a secret, though it was likely just to free some space while he wriggled out of his shirt sleeves. You wanted to lean in and meet him, finally kiss him, but you knew better. Instead, you forced your eyes to stay on his side. You tried not to let your gaze wander across his muscle-bound, scar-riddled torso.

Focus, Y/N.

You shifted to sit up on your knees and reached in. Your rubber covered fingers met his skin carefully and you gently prodded and pulled on the injury.

“Nothing to say anymore?” You asked lightly, hoping to break the now thick tension.

You dared a glance at his face and his eyes were closed, head leaning against the back of the chair. Your movements froze as you simply looked at him. He almost looked content, so much softer when his eyes were closed. It was small moments like that that made you forget he was the Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands Brekker. He was someone to be feared. Men with any sense wouldn’t dare to cross him. Women with any sense swooned and batted their lashes for his attention. Kids with any sense feared their closets because the monsters come from there.

But to you, especially in those fleeting vulnerable instances, he was just Kaz. And that was always enough for you.

You shook the thought and went back to your examination. You ran your fingers over the length of the wound and frowned when you realized one of the stitches were looser than it should’ve been.

“Were you messing with these last night?” You accused quickly.

“What?” He finally spoke. “No.”

“Dammit.” You cursed and pulled your hands away. You dropped to sit on your heels and blew a sigh while you threw the gloves on the floor in annoyance. “It’s not as tight as I’d like it to be. Must’ve been the gloves.”

“Do you need to fix it?”

You looked over at the discarded gloves and frowned. “More practice is what I need.” You muttered before looking back at Kaz. “It should be okay. It’s clean so as long as you keep it covered, it won’t bleed through your clothes or anything… But it’ll scar for sure now.”

He shrugged. “What’s one more?”

“You never told me what tipped you off.” You said, looping back to the prior conversation.

You knew you should’ve left, let the unspoken thing between you two stay unspoken, but you also knew you needed closure. You needed to know with certainty if your pining was obvious. If you needed to pack up and run from your embarrassment. Maybe Inej would let you join her crew next time she came to port.

He held his hand out to you and you went for it, then hesitated. You kept your hand just out of his reach before closing your fingers to create just a bit more space. The idea of putting your hand in his - his bare hand - was something you had only dreamed about. You heard him make a noise of impatience at your hesitation and he leaned forward again to take your hand in his.

“You’re always careful of my space.” He began carefully. It was a list he knew, something he had drafted and gone over a million times in the past few weeks. Or maybe it was months. It could’ve been years for all Kaz could tell. Everything with you seemed to come together in the best and worst ways. “You’re careful of contact.”

“Because I know you don’t like it.” You shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone seem to avoid you for one reason or another?”

“Well, yes, but you do it to be considerate not because you’re afraid.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Kaz took a deep breath and his eyes finally met yours. You could see the war raging behind his eyes. The contact of your hand in his must’ve been driving him insane. You could see his chest rising and falling with deep breaths, like he had to consciously force the air in and out of his lungs. His jaw was tense. Hell, his whole body was wound tight as elastic, ready to snap. To shove you away, to scream at you, to start a fight neither of you would hold back in. But he didn’t. He willed himself to maintain the contact, even when you gave the slightest tug to free your hand.

“No.” He finally spoke. “Never you.”

“What are…” You tried, but the question wouldn’t form. What was he thinking? Why wasn’t he letting go? Why was he tormenting himself just to hold your hand?

“When I felt your gloves last night, it all made sense.” He explained and the grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly. “I knew I hadn’t been crazy.”

“I might be.” You said mindlessly and he chuckled.

“We both might be.” He agreed. “But still… You didn’t have to use gloves, but you did, because you wanted to be able to help me. Right?”

“Someone has to.” You tried to sound casual.

“They don’t.” He corrected. “But you want to.”

“Because I care about you, Kaz. You’ve been my friend for years. I’d hate to lose you.”

“Do you love me, Y/N? Truly.”

You swallowed hard, licking your lips to stall. Your free hand twitched and knowing your pockets were empty, you tugged on your shirt to adjust the fabric. Suddenly, the room felt very warm.

“I…” You began slowly. “You’re still holding my hand.”

“Yes.”

“Without your gloves.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “Yes.”

“And that doesn’t make you want to run?”

“It does.” He answered tightly. “But I don’t want to run from you.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You put your other hand on his knee. “Let go, Kaz.”

“No.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because how can I be with the woman I love if I cannot bring myself to touch her?” He answered quickly and your eyes went wide. “If I cannot hold her hand or touch her face, her lips… If I cannot bring myself to hold her, what kind of love is that?”

“If she truly loves you, she’ll bear it.” You offered. 

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” His expression shifted slightly to relief. “Yes, you, Y/N. It’s always been you.”

“So I didn’t imagine it last night? You said you loved me first.”

“Truthfully, I was worried I had imagined it all. But I couldn’t stop thinking about those damned gloves and how I wanted to feel your touch without them… Just be honest with me, Y/N. Do you want this?”

“Of course I do.” You said without thinking. “But I can’t ask you to torture yourself just to be with me.”

“You’re always so gentle.” He spoke softly, admiringly even, and it made you blush. “You don’t have to be so with me. I can take it.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” You managed to wiggle your hand free and you watched his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh of relief. “I do love you, Kaz, in a way that scares me. But I won’t be the reason you force yourself to do something you can’t.”

You stood and reached for the book you left the night before.

“No one forces me, Y/N.” He stood in front of, one small step to block your reach. “I want to do this for you.”

“Don’t make me move you.”

“You wouldn’t push a cripple without his cane, would you?” He feigned innocence.

“I’m serious, Brekker. Let me get my book so I can go and you can think this through.”

“I’ve spent weeks thinking it through.” He shook his head. “I want to try. For you, yes, but also myself… I want to hold you and kiss you and touch you for myself.”

“If I give in and if I’m with you.” You said firmly, pointing your finger near his face. “We need to be very open about limits. I won’t push and I expect you to stop when you need to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted sarcastically and you had to refrain from kicking him in the shin. “Anything else?”

“You need to give me your word, Kaz.”

“Don’t trust me?” He raised a brow.

“I trust you with my life you buffoon.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “But I need to know you’ll commit yourself to what I’m asking.”

“Y/N, darling. I give you my word, on any and all Saints you want to invoke, that I will take that time I need so long as you’ll let me.”

“Good.” You nodded. You thought if there was anything else you could or should have him agree to. Your mind was blank so you shoved your hands into your pockets. “I suppose that means we’re together now.”

He grinned and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Finally.” He said and you could tell he was truly happy. “Can I kiss you?”He took a step closer.

You freed a hand and gingerly brushed your fingers along his temple, sneaking into his hair for a second. He gasped but you noticed he didn’t flinch. Feather-light, your touch went along the angle of his jaw and danced down his neck, curved with his shoulder, and skimmed his arm until you reached his hand. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you felt his other hand under your chin, tilting your head back.

“If you’re sure you can bear it.” You said quietly.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Car Wash

Summary: Derek drives Spencer through a carwash fundraiser.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: flirty fluff

Warnings/Includes: sorority, swimsuits, washing cars in swimsuits, suggestive content (16+)

Word count: 1.1k

a/n: i think Spencer would feel so uncomfortable seeing a bunch of people in swimsuits washing his car lolol

main masterlist

The rhythmic thud of the highway under the tires accompanied the quiet hum of the car's engine as Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid made their way back from a particularly intense death row interview. The two FBI agents, having spent the past few hours delving into the mind of a convicted criminal, were both relieved to be heading home, though their minds lingered on the case's haunting details.

"Man, that was intense," Derek finally broke the silence, his hands firmly on the steering wheel as he navigated through the bustling city traffic. "I'm glad that's over."

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "Yeah, I don't think I'll ever get used to that kind of interview."

Derek chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You'd think after all these years we'd have a thicker skin. But nope."

As they turned a corner, Derek noticed a sign up ahead, its bright colors catching his attention. "Hey, check that out," he said, nodding toward the sign.

“Oh, looks like we stumbled upon a fundraiser,” Derek remarked with a grin. “You’re in luck, genius. Maybe a little car wash will wash away some of that prison grime from our heads.”

Spencer’s eyes widened as they neared the scene. The sorority members were decked out in swimsuits and tank tops, holding colorful sponges and buckets of soapy water. They moved gracefully between the cars, laughing and chatting with the drivers, their enthusiasm infectious.

As Derek drove them into line, Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze darting from one vibrant swimsuit to the next. The vibrant scene seemed to overwhelm him. His fingers tapped nervously on his knee, and Derek couldn’t help but chuckle at his friend's obvious discomfort.

“Relax, pretty boy. It’s just a bunch of college kids raising money for a good cause. Nothing to be nervous about,” Derek teased, patting Spencer on the shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Spencer mumbled, trying to focus on anything but the exuberant display of youthful energy around them. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling out of place.

A cheerful, beautiful young woman approached the car, her hair and body glistening with droplets of water, and a welcoming smile on her face.

You leaned over, hands on the window frame, and peered inside. “Hey there! Thanks for stopping by! This is for the academic sorority – we’re fundraising for educational resources. Would you like a wash?”

Derek nodded, his smile brightening. “Absolutely. Do you have a special academic rate for FBI agents?”

You laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “Sorry, no special rates, but we promise the best car wash you’ll ever experience. Just pull forward, and we’ll take care of you.”

Spencer gave a nervous smile, unsure of where to look. The energy of the place was intoxicating, yet he felt like an outsider, his usual calm replaced with a peculiar kind of tension.

As Derek pulled the car into the washing zone, the girls and nonbinary members surrounded them, sponges in hand, and began their sudsy assault. The group worked with practiced efficiency, their movements fluid and rhythmic, creating an almost choreographed display of teamwork.

“Reid, you’re missing the show,” Derek said, nudging him playfully. “Lighten up a little. It’s just soap and water.”

Spencer tried to maintain his composure, but it was nearly impossible with the enticing spectacle unfolding outside the window. “I know, I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched through the window as a particularly enthusiastic member wielded a hose, sending a cascade of water over the windshield. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

Derek chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You mean the half-naked people covered in soapy water rubbing their bodies on the car?”

“Yeah,” Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes flicking to the scene outside once again. “That.”

His gaze unintentionally kept finding you, drawn in by the way your swimsuit fit you so perfectly, and the way the bubbles seemed to cling to your skin, accentuating your every curve. The sun was relentless in its teasing, casting golden rays that danced across your shimmering body, emphasizing the soap suds glistening against your skin. Spencer's cheeks flushed with warmth, a result of both the sun and his own embarrassment.

You noticed Spencer’s stare, your lips curving into a playful smirk as you met his gaze. With a teasing wink, you took the sponge in your hand, wringing out the water so it cascaded down your chest, sending rivulets of soapy water running down your body in a mesmerizing display.

Spencer felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a position that would hide the obvious problem in his slacks. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re that uncomfortable, pretty boy?” Derek teased, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Shut up, Morgan,” Spencer mumbled, his face burning as he tried to look anywhere but in your direction.

Derek laughed heartily, shaking his head. “I think she’s got her eye on you, man.”

As the car wash ended, and Spencer’s discomfort reached its peak, Derek rolled down the window to pay. But instead of approaching Derek’s side, you walked confidently to Spencer’s window, tapping on the glass.

Spencer rolled down the window, eyeing you with curiosity and suspicion. “Um, hi,” he stammered.

“Hey,” you greeted him, your smile dazzling. “Do you have a pen?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Spencer fumbled in his satchel, retrieving a pen and handing it to you. His fingers brushed against your wet skin, and he felt a shiver run up his spine.

You took the pen, holding out your hand expectantly. Spencer hesitated for a moment before realizing what you wanted. He extended his arm, raising an eyebrow in surprise as you began writing your number on his forearm with a playful grin.

“The wash is on the house,” you said, smirking at him. “You can take me to dinner instead.” With a blown kiss and a confident stride, you walked away, leaving Spencer utterly speechless.

Spencer sat there, mouth slightly agape, as he watched you disappear into the crowd of volunteers. He glanced down at the number on his arm, then back at Derek, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Did that just happen?” Spencer asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

“Yeah, Reid,” Derek laughed, giving him a pat on the back. “That just happened.”

As Derek drove away from the car wash, Spencer couldn't help but stare at the numbers on his forearm, a giddy smile spreading across his face. This unexpected turn of events had certainly added a twist to their day, and as he contemplated the prospect of taking you to dinner, he couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest.

It was going to be an interesting evening, to say the least.

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tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm

[bearforcecaptions]

Ethan and Jake sat on the couch, controllers in hand, completely engrossed in their game. It was a typical Saturday night for the two best friends, an evening dedicated to gaming marathons, junk food, and mocking each other’s gameplay.

"Dude, you’re trash," Ethan said, leaning forward as his character narrowly avoided defeat.

Jake laughed, slapping his thigh. "Says the guy who hasn’t beaten me once tonight. You might as well hand me your controller and go cry in the corner."

The room was as chaotic as ever: a pile of laundry in the corner, empty soda cans and snack wrappers scattered on the coffee table, and mismatched furniture that screamed "broke guys in their twenties." The flickering glow of the TV lit up their faces as they played, completely unaware of the subtle, creeping changes happening around them.

It started in the air—a subtle shift in pressure, like a storm was rolling in. The faint scent of musk and cologne seemed to settle over the room. Ethan wrinkled his nose and glanced around. "Do you smell that?"

Jake sniffed the air and shrugged. "You mean your loser stink? Yeah, man. Maybe try showering sometime."

Ethan rolled his eyes, but the faint smell didn’t dissipate. If anything, it grew stronger, richer, as if it were coming from somewhere nearby. He fidgeted on the couch, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It felt tighter than usual, like it was clinging to him in the heat that had suddenly filled the room.

Jake stretched out beside him, one socked foot propped up on the coffee table. His shorts seemed to ride a little lower on his hips than usual, but he didn’t notice. He was too focused on the game, though his fingers twitched on the controller, and a faint itch started spreading along his arm. He scratched it absently, but it persisted.

"Ugh, this stupid tattoo feels itchy—" Jake started, then froze.

Ethan glanced at him. "What tattoo?"

Jake blinked and looked down at his arm. There, on his left bicep, a vivid, detailed lion had appeared, its mane swirling with geometric patterns that stretched down to his forearm. He rubbed at it, confused. "I—I don’t remember… getting this," he muttered, his voice quieter, deeper than usual.

"Uh, yeah, obviously. You’ve never gotten a tattoo," Ethan said, laughing nervously. But as the words left his mouth, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. He stared at Jake’s arm again, and the sight of the ink didn’t seem so strange anymore. A memory—faint and blurred—tugged at his thoughts. Hadn’t Jake always had that tattoo? He shook his head, trying to focus.

Jake frowned, his hand moving to the chain around his neck. He didn’t remember putting on a necklace tonight, but there it was—a silver chain that felt cool against his skin. He tugged at it absently, his thumb brushing his chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The heat in the room intensified. Ethan’s shirt clung to him uncomfortably, the fabric tightening across his shoulders. He reached up to adjust it, but as his hand brushed his chest, the shirt simply… dissolved, leaving him shirtless. His jaw dropped, and he stared down at his chest.

"What the hell?" he muttered. His torso was broader than he remembered, his pecs slightly defined, as if he’d been hitting the gym regularly. He traced a hand over the faint dusting of hair that had appeared on his chest, his breath quickening.

Jake glanced over at him and smirked. "Nice look," he said, his tone teasing but slightly off. His voice had grown richer, smoother, and the playful jab felt… different. Intimate.

Ethan felt a warmth rise in his cheeks, and he turned his attention back to the screen. "Shut up, man. Focus on the game." But his hands felt clumsy on the controller now, his thoughts muddled.

Jake stretched again, his socked foot brushing against Ethan’s leg. Ethan wrinkled his nose. "Dude, your socks reek," he said, leaning away.

Jake just laughed, a low, rumbling chuckle that made Ethan’s stomach flutter in a way that was entirely unfamiliar. "You love it," Jake teased, his words dripping with confidence.

Ethan opened his mouth to retort, but the words got caught in his throat. Did he? His thoughts twisted uncomfortably, memories flickering at the edges of his mind. He could almost picture himself grabbing Jake’s ankle, playfully pulling him closer, their laughter filling the room. No, that didn’t make sense. Why would he do that?

"Dude, stop spacing out," Jake said, nudging him with his elbow. "I swear, sometimes you’re so damn scatterbrained, Lucas."

Ethan blinked. "Lucas? What the hell? You just called me Lucas."

Jake furrowed his brow. "No, I didn’t. I called you Ethan. Don’t be weird."

"You literally just said—" Ethan started, but the name stuck in his head. Lucas. It sounded… right, somehow. Familiar.

He shook his head, trying to focus, but the game no longer seemed important. His eyes kept drifting to Jake—to the way his tattoos flexed with every movement, the way his chain caught the light, the casual confidence in the way he sprawled across the couch. Ethan’s mouth felt dry.

Ethan’s gaze flickered to Jake—and his lips twitched into a smirk. "You’re acting weird, Adrian. Everything okay?"

Jake froze. "What did you just call me?"

"Uh, Adrian?" Ethan said, as though the name were obvious. He frowned. "Wait, that’s not your name… is it?"

Ethan—Lucas?—stared at him. "No, it’s not. I’m—" His voice faltered. Wasn’t it? The name felt so natural, so… right.

The tension between them grew heavier. Lucas’ eyes traced the lines of Jake’s—no, Adrian’s—tattoos, the way the ink seemed to suit him perfectly. Adrian’s smirk deepened as he caught Lucas staring.

"You’re such a mess tonight," Adrian teased, his voice low and rough. He leaned closer, his hand resting on Lucas’ knee.

Lucas’ breath hitched, his heart pounding. He couldn’t remember why this felt so wrong. Or why it felt so right.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in. Their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling in the charged air. Adrian’s hand slid higher up Lucas’ thigh, and Lucas shuddered at the contact.

"Adrian…" Lucas whispered, his voice trembling.

Adrain didn’t respond with words. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against Lucas’. The kiss was intense, desperate, as if it were the only thing keeping them grounded. Lucas’ hands roamed over Adrian’s chest, tracing the tattoos he couldn’t stop staring at.

Their breaths came faster, heavier, as the kiss deepened. The room around them seemed to fade, the reality of their new lives settling in completely.

For Lucas and Adrian, this was where they belonged—wrapped in each other’s arms, their bodies pressed together, the heat between them undeniable. Nothing else mattered.

[maddie0101]

Jealousy and Baby’s backseat

Summary: y/n has had enough of Dean flirting with other women. (Even though he is only her best friend)..so she takes matters into her own hands and makes a decision that will ultimately alter her and Dean’s relationship forever.

Warnings: smut (mdni), jealous!dean, jealous!reader, p in v, dirty talk, v fingering, semi-public sex, angry!dean, fluff, slight choking, sex in the back of baby (hehe), only my 4th time writing smut so I’m sorry if it’s bad. Also, not proof read so lmk if you see something wacky :b (Also my first ever dean fic! yay! Hopefully many more to come)

Word count: 3.6k

You were so done.

Being hopelessly in love with Dean and having to watch him flirt with other women everyday was starting to become exhausting. So as you sat there in one of the bar’s booths with Sam, you had come to the conclusion that you were done.

“Y/n?” Sam called out your name, snapping you out of your anger filled daydream. “You okay?”

“Yeah, uh I just gotta take care of something..” You quickly got up from the booth and spotted the guy from earlier that had been flirting with you. At first you gave him hardly any attention because all your attention was solely set on Dean but as the bright idea popped into your head, you decided it was his lucky day.

Dean’s pov

The chick in-front of Dean was starting to bore him if he was being honest. She was hot, don’t get him wrong but she wasn’t the woman that plagued Dean’s mind 24/7. If he was being honest with himself, Dean wanted y/n more than anything in the world but the fear of rejection and their relationship shifting into anything else but romantic stopped him in his tracks. In his mind, y/n deserved so much better than him. Who would want to deal with all the baggage he came with?

“So do you wanna get out of here?” The blonde woman in-front of Dean purred, raising her hand up to tug on the collar of his flannel.

Dean nervously laughed, before his eyes drifted back over to the booth y/n and Sam were sitting at, noticing y/n pushing herself up from the booth. Y/n’s determined and angry orbs locked onto Dean’s for a split second before she confidently strode over to some guy at the bar. Noticing it was the guy that had been flirting with y/n earlier on in the night, Dean’s curiosity turned into something else as he watched his best friend stomp up to the man.

His brows furrowed as he watched y/n tap on the man’s shoulder, but as the guy quickly spun around not able to even get a single word out of his mouth, y/n yanked the guy by the shirt and smashed her lips onto his.

Complete shock and anger quickly surged through Dean’s frame. A pit of poison bubbled in the eldest Winchester’s stomach as he watched the scene before him. He was truly at loss for words. Y/n hardly ever took anyone home, more or less made out with a stranger in a bar.

Y/n’s pov

He tasted like cigarettes and cheap tequila. Two things y/n hated.

But hey, at least he was a good kisser. You sighed into the kiss as the guy whose name you forgot deepened the kiss and tugged you a little closer to him. He wasn’t Dean but he would do the trick for the night.

After a second or two ‘Levi’? you think his name is pauses, causing the two of you to break apart. “See you finally came around..” Levi shot you a smirk, making your stomach twist for some odd reason. “Wanna get out of here?” He asked, causing a you to give him a small nod.

Levi was the one to make the move next, grabbing you by the back of your neck and smashing his lips onto yours.

Before the kiss could get too heated again, a large hand roughly yanked you away, causing you to let out a surprised yelp in response.

“It’s time to go.” Dean’s tone sent shivers down your spine. He looked absolutely livid.

Cocking your head to the side you ripped your arm out of his grasp and shot Dean a smirk. “No it okay…” you played innocent. “Me and…Levi here are about to leave. Don’t count on me come back to the motel till tomorrow.” You shot Dean a wink before ‘Levi’ broke the thick tension.

“It’s actually Liam…” The guy corrected, making your mouth form into a O before you turned back to look at Dean. “Liam and I are leaving..see you later Dean!” You snickered as you grabbed Liam by the bicep and led him out of the bar, leaving a very angry Dean behind.

Truthfully, you didn’t know why Dean was so pissed. He had that woman he was talking to the whole night, so what crawled up his ass? He obviously was going to be taking her home and wouldn’t show up until the next morning. Talking to Sam about if she was good in bed or not in the Impala always pissed you off. It was like he was trying to get a rise out of you. Every time he would go on about his sexcapades you’d always quickly reach for your bag and pop your earbuds in, blasting music to drown out the information Dean was spilling.

It hurt more than anything to watch Dean come back to the motel the next morning looking all disheveled. He’d always have hickeys littering his neck and maybe a few lipstick stains here and there. You wanted nothing more than to be the cause of those marks on his skin but he would only ever see you as his best friend…

Which now leads to why you were on the outside of the bar, caged in between Liam’s arms, pinned against the brick wall of the bar, making out with a guy you barely knew. Just as the kiss started heating up again, Liam yelped as someone grabbed the back of his jacket and threw him onto the hard ground a few feet away.

Shock initially spread across your face as you ripped your gaze away from Liam to the culprit, a very angry looking Dean. The sight before you sent a chill down your spine as you noted the vein that always popped out of Dean’s forehead prominent, indicating he was absolutely livid. Large calloused hands were in fists by his sides and the look on Dean’s face caused y/n to shift a little under his gaze.

“What the hell Dean?” Y/n angrily shouted at her best friend. “What is your fucking problem?” Y/n stepped forward and shoved Dean’s chest but it was like pushing a brick wall, he didn’t move an inch.

Dean stayed dead silent before gripping y/n’s upper arm tightly and dragging her with him. Y/n’s feet tried to gain traction to stop Dean from dragging her away from her fun for the night but to no avail. Finally reaching the impala parked on the opposite side of the parking lot, y/n groaned as she knew Dean was taking her back to the motel and ruining her fun.

Letting go of her arm to open the passenger side door for her, Dean ushered her in but y/n stood off to the side with her arms crossed over her chest, angry.

“Get in.” Dean nodded towards the impala, still fuming.

“No.” Y/n keep her chin up

“Y/n get in the damn car before I lose my shit.” Dean grit his teeth, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Where’s Sammy?”

“He got another ride home.” Dean answered flatly, “now get in.”

Dumbfounded, y/n’s jaw fell open. “You have got to be kidding me!” The girl’s hand flew up, “Sam even gets to have fun tonight but I don’t? Seriously, Dean?”

“We’ll talk about this later y/n.” Dean pressed his lips together, nodding towards the car again. “Get in.”

Realizing you weren’t going to win this one, you let out an exasperated sigh before sliding past Dean and plopping down into the passenger seat. Dean closed the door behind you and once again pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. After calming himself down a bit, Dean finally rounded baby and hopped into the driver’s seat, ignoring y/n’s piercing gaze burning a hole through his head.

Pulling out of the parking lot with his grip on the steering wheel tight, Dean sighed before finally glancing over to y/n.

“I am your best friend, Dean. Not your freaking little sister. I am so tired of you and Sam being able to go home with whoever you want, whenever you want. I have needs too you know? What… you get to get your dick wet every freaking week but I can’t get some dick once in a freaking blue moon?!” Y/n’s face turned red as she ranted, “It’s exhausting honestly. You’re such a—“Y/n quickly stopped mid sentence as Dean roughly pulled baby over to the side of the road, making the tires squeal from the sudden motion.

Y/n quietly gasped as Dean quickly got out of the car and walked around to her side. Noting the lack of any structures or anything around them y/n’s heart skipped a beat as she realized they were in the middle of no where.

Yanking the door to her side open, Dean nodded for y/n to get out of the car. “Out.”

“Wha..Dean were in the middle of no where!” Y/n tried as she pushed herself out of the vehicle only to be pinned to the side of the impala as soon as she stepped out.

“De-“

“You really think I think of you as my little sister?” Dean’s tone dropped, causing y/n to swallow a thick lump in her throat as dark green eyes stared back at her with something she couldn’t quite grasp. Her heart sunk a little at Dean’s words, y/n’s mind reeled as she thought he meant he didn’t care about her as much as she thought he did. What else could he be saying? He couldn’t think of her like she thought of him, right?

“I guess I—no?” Y/n had absolutely no clue what to say, completely lost.

“Do you wanna know why I’m always with someone?” Dean’s questions, his eyebrow raising. “Hmm?”

Y/n takes in a shaky breath as she glances up from Dean’s eyes to his pink lips held between his teeth, not realizing Dean had caught her staring. Leaning in a little closer and making y/n’s gaze snap back up to his dark gaze, Dean whispers “it’s cause I’m trying to get you out of my head. You’re every thought that goes through my mind, y/n. I can’t even wake up without you being the first thought in my head and the last when I fall asleep. But I know you’re off limits..” y/n watches as Dean’s gaze falls to her lips, noticing the way his once green eyes are almost black.

Swallowing another lump in her throat as her own eyes softened at Dean looking at her in a way she’d never seen before and only imagined in her dreams, y/n’s voice came out shaky. “Why am I off limits?”

Dean sighed before licking his bottom lip, “because you’re my best friend and you deserve better than me.” His voice softened as he spoke the last few words.

“Dean….” Y/n softly shook her head, “what are you talking about? I don’t deserve you? Are you even listening to yourself? You are the most kind hearted, brave, funny, charming, and most lovable person I know.” Y/n’a gaze reconnected with Dean’s soft but dark gaze, just now realizing exactly what that look meant. “It’s why I fell in love with you.” Y/n whispered, praying she hadn’t just ruined everything between them.

Dean froze at y/n’s words, never in his life had he expected to hear that come out of her mouth. “You love me?” Dean’s voice sounded scratchy and low, causing panic to rise through y/n’s chest.

Knowing this could either be the end of their relationship or beginning of something new and beautiful y/n lifted her head. “I love you, Dean. Look I get if you don’t feel the sam-“ y/n’s suddenly interrupted by Dean’s lips on hers.

Completely caught off guard, y/n’s frozen for a second before she melts into the kiss. Electricity shoots through their bodies as the kiss starts out slow and sensual. Dean’s hands find their way to the base of y/n’s throat to pull her closer, earning a soft moan to escape from her lips. A groan of satisfaction vibrates Dean’s chest at the noise he caused her to make. Breaking away from the kiss Dean cups both sides of y/n’s face and smiles softly before whispering “I love you too.”

Upon hearing Dean’s confession, y/n’s heart swells as a fire starts in her chest, lighting something deep within her she never knew existed. Before either one of them could say another word, y/n quickly sprang forward and closed the small gap between the two, smashing her lips roughly onto Dean’s. The girl’s arms snaked up his chest to wrap around his neck, ultimately pulling him closer towards her as Dean tightly grasped y/n’s hips bringing her closer towards him so he could slide his knee in between her legs.

Y/n’s fingers thread through Dean’s short hair as heat pools within her core. Each kiss shared between the two becomes more and more desperate and hungry as their lips smack together. Dean’s tongue darts out and slides along y/n’s bottom lip asking for entry, granting him access y/n sighs as Dean finds his way through her mouth. Another moan escapes from y/n’s mouth as Dean puts more pressure on her core with his knee, letting her rock her hips on him.

Knowing this is going exactly where he is thinking Dean quickly breaks away from y/n’s lips, not missing the way she almost pouted and whined at the loss. Yanking the back passenger side door open, Dean grabs y/n by her waist and pulls her to the back of the impala. Watching as she crawls backwards to lay down Dean quickly sheds his tshirt and jacket before closing the door behind him.

Immediately dipping to plant sloppy kisses to y/n’s neck Dean groans as y/n palms the bulge in his jeans. “God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’ve only dreamed about the sounds you can make and the way you taste.”

Y/n sighed into the kiss as Dean reconnected his lips onto hers. “Dean I need you.” Y/n whines, between breaths.

“Sorry sweetheart but we’re takin this time slow.” Dean managed to get out in between kisses, bringing his hand down to the hem of y/n’s shirt and pulling it over her head. “I want to kiss every inch of your body, taste how sweet you are, and then watch you come again on my dick.”

As soon as Dean’s eyes met the sight of her breasts plump and deliciously pushed up by the way her bra was holding her, Dean could only imagine how perfect they looked without the bra and urgently needed to get his hands on them.

Just the way Dean was talking dirty to her sent butterflies tickling the insides of y/n’s stomach. She knew Dean was a flirt and figured he’d be sexy in bed but never thought he had such a dirty mouth. But two can play that game and y/n could make him beg for her instead.

“Maybe you should use that dirty little mouth of yours to-“ Dean quickly stopped y/n with his lips, taking the time she’s distracted to reach one hand behind her back and unclasp her bra in one swift motion. Shock quickly flashed through y/n’s eyes before Dean ripped the bra off. As if his eyes couldn’t possibly darken, Dean’s emerald green eyes shifted to black. His pupils completely overwhelming the color y/n so dearly loves.

Dean instantly groans at the sight of y/n’s breasts, immediately connecting his lips to a nipple as his large hands start to knead through the plush and soft skin. “Oh sweetheart….” Dean pauses between licking and sucking, “I really didn’t think you’d be even more beautiful than you already are. God you are so gorgeous. S’all mine.”

“All yours, D.” Y/n moaned as Dean had somehow slipped a hand into her jeans and started rubbing circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Usually she wasn’t this sensitive or turned on. Absolutely nobody had the same effect of her as Dean. Y/n has to bite down on her lip to hold back the moans of pleasure but Dean notices. “Don’t hold back baby, I wanna hear you.”

Pulling her panties to the side, Dean slips a digit into her slick and wet core, eliciting a loud moan to escape from y/n’s throat. Truly, she had no idea she could even make such pornographic noises before this. Rocking her hips down on his hand as Dean kisses his way back up to her lips, y/n whines as he slowly slips another finger into her core, loving nothing more than the feeling of Dean’s fingers hitting her G-spot.

Grinning at the sounds she is making and almost coming apart from underneath him, Dean’s raspy voice speaks up again. “Come for me on my fingers and then I want you to come around my cock.” He quickly reconnects their lips just as y/n feels that burning sensation growing inside her core, focusing on the way his fingers glide in and out of her pussy so roughly.

“De-aan.” Is all y/n manages to get out before completely coming undone underneath the man she loves. Y/n’s stomach coils as her stomach tightens, moaning Dean’s name over and over as he rides her through her high.

“God you’re even more beautiful coming around my fingers baby.” Dean whispers in her ear as she slowly comes down from her high.

Slowly as y/n came back to the present, she quickly fiddles with Dean’s belt attempting to take it off. “Hurry up Dean I need you now.” Y/n says, causing Dean to laugh a bit as he helps her get his jeans off. Leaving him in just his boxers, y/n slowly slips her hand into the tight fabric and grabs him, slowly and softly stoking him. “I want you to come inside me D, I don’t want you to hold back. I’m on the pill so we’re okay.”

Dean only nods before ripping his boxers off, letting his dick spring free. Y/n’s eyes widen at the size of him, wanting nothing more than him inside her watering mouth. Slowly leaning down to tease him, y/n licks a stripe up his shaft all while keeping her eyes locked on his.

“Oh yeah. I’m marrying you.” Dean cocks his head to the side before pushing y/n back to lay down and ripping her jeans and panties off so she is completely bare along with him. “You’re all mine baby.” Dean lines himself up with y/n’s entrance before slowly pushing himself inside. “God you’re so wet and s’tight for me.” Dean groans as he bottoms out, finally connecting his gaze to y/n who is biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Y/n’s eyes quickly roll into the back of her head as Dean pulls out and slams back into her again, eliciting a loud moan. “Yes!” Y/n moans, “more Dean, give it to me.”

Dean quickly sets the pace and slams in and out of y/n whist she screams his name. Dean curses in between thrusts and groans each time y/n’s hips roll up to meet his. “I’m not going to last much longer.” Dean admits

“Me either.” Y/n manages to get out between moans, “come with me.”

A growl rumbles through Dean’s chest, loving the way her mouth is so dirty for only him, “Such a good girl, y/n. Now come all my cock while I fill you up.”

Just as Dean’s words filled y/n’s ear a loud moan ripped through the impala as y/n came hard, repeating his name over and over again like a prayer. The feeling of her pulsing around him sends Dean to fall out of rhythm as he sloppily snaps his hips against hers. His face buries into her neck as he feels himself unravel inside of her, the feeling of warm liquid filling her insides as the two turn into a moaning mess, painting her inner walls white.

Sweat rolls down both of the hunter’s foreheads as they lay there for a second, catching their breath.

“Holy shit.” Y/n laid beneath a panting Dean, still attempting to catch his breath.

“Didn’t take you for the dirty type..” Dean finally admits, absolutely loving it. “But I love you and that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Y/n laughed a bit before connecting her gaze to Dean’s. “Trust me that was very mild of me. Just wait. I didnt want to scare you.”

“I’m here for it sweetheart. Don’t worry. Next time don’t hold anything back.”

“Oh I won’t.” Y/n softly smiled before cupping the sides of Dean’s face to bring him into a loving kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” Dean whispers, a grin plastered over his face before he looks down between the both of them. “Wanna go another round?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Hell yeah I do. Get over here Winchester.” Y/n giggles as Dean leans down to smash his lips onto hers, still not over the feeling. Truthfully, he doesn’t think he will ever get used to the feeling of her soft and plump lips on his but at least she’s his now.

Author’s note: hi guys! I really hope you enjoyed his little fic I wrote! I do apologize if the smut isn’t up to par but I’m slowly learning how to write it. I hope if you did like the fic you’ll send some love my way. I should be writing more Dean fics here in the future but for now I hope this fic is decent!

(I wrote this within 5 hrs and have not read back over it bc I’ve been too excited to post) I will maybe later, don’t know..🤷🏽‍♀️

xx maddie

[dawneternal]

And Yesterday You Were Here With Me

you were bigger than the whole sky / you were more than just a short time

✦ Azriel x Reader. Platonic Cassian x Reader, Nesta being a good friend.

✦ this one is a bit vulnerable to share. It's definitely something I wrote to process some of my own grief. (Hopefully it's not disrespectful to post this the day after mother's day) Take care of yourself and don't read if it will trigger you 💛

✦ Warnings: miscarriage, description of miscarriage/blood, grief and loss

✦ Read on AO3

You sit frozen, staring down at the crimson marbling the water in the toilet, struggling to breathe properly.

It was only last night that you had put the pieces together. Your late cycle, nausea, and fatigue. The strange gut feeling that something was off, but not in a bad way. In a new way - a different way. You immediately planned to try and see a healer here in the Day Court while on your mission with Cassian. That way you could return to Night and tell Azriel right away. You could barely sleep, excitement and nervousness filling every inch of your being as you tried to think up a clever or funny way to tell your mate.

And now all of those hopes and plans had crumbled, slipping through your fingers before you could catch them. Now, sitting on the toilet and feeling the cramps crashing through your body, you understood how quickly your heart had filled with love for this little possibility.

Before the full impact of it had even hit you, before you had even left the bathroom, you found yourself wishing you could skip ahead a month or a year. Because once the grief began, you knew it was going to be almost unbearable.

•✦•✦•✦•

You padded toward the door to the room next to yours, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you knocked. The door swung open wide and Cassian appeared. His smile quickly turned to confusion as he registered your bare legs, oversized t-shirt just barely covering your underwear. You had meant to put your shorts back on but they were forgotten on the bathroom floor in your flurry of emotion.

Cassian grasped your arm and pulled you into his room, looking both ways down the hall before he closed it behind him.

"What are you doing?" He asked in bewilderment, whirling around to look at you.

"We have to go right now. I need Azriel." You cursed your wavering voice. You were trying desperately to hold it together. Not to send anything down the bond and worry Azriel.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Cassian's face softened, confusion turning to concern as he inspected you for injury, eyes skimming over your trembling form, the hem of your shirt bunched in your fists.

"I-" You knew he was going to ask but the question broke you anyways. You slid to the floor, lip quivering. The thick carpet was rough against your bare legs.

A sob wracked your body as the grief began, dark churning waves swallowing you whole. There was no stopping it, no turning back. Almost immediately, you felt a questioning tug on the golden thread in your chest.

Cassian crouched beside you, elbows resting on his knees. He didn't speak for a moment, trying to decipher the scene, grimacing at the sorrowful cry you let out.

"Your cycle?" He asked, his voice gravelly. You could tell from the worry in his tone that he already knew the answer but you shook your head anyways. He could smell it. The blood and the loss.

"How long have you...." His voice drifts off, like the rest of the question would only break you further. It probably would.

"Last night," You manage between gasps, tears wetting your face and neck, leaving dark spots on your collar.

"Are you in any pain?" He asks, and you nod again, clutching your lower stomach in answer.

Cassian stands and disappears. You can hear sounds of rummaging, zipping and scraping as you bury your face in your hands. Azriel's questioning pulls are growing closer together and more frantic.

Cassian returns with his pack slung over his shoulder, a pair of his sweatpants in hand. He grabs your shoulders gently and pulls you up. Then he holds out the sweatpants for you to step into, letting you brace yourself on his shoulders. He scoops you up without a word and you let your head fall against his shoulder, tears never ceasing.

•✦•✦•✦•

The House of Wind comes into view and Cassian can make out Azriel, pacing back and forth on the balcony. As soon as you are close enough, his shadows dart toward you in the sky, circling to check for injuries. You're not sure what they'll tell him.

Cassian lands smoothly and you are instantly handed to Azriel, his familiar warmth pulling a fresh wave of tears down your face. His anxious face is looking down at you and can't stand the tenderness, letting your eyes close. He's whispering with Cassian and you can't hear what they're saying inside your bubble of grief. But you feel a wave of sorrow through the bond and you silently thank Cassian for saying the words you couldn't conjure.

Azriel is taking you inside, holding you tightly against him, and you can hear the sound of beating wings as Cassian takes off again.

You hear the thud of Az's boots on the floor, then you're shifting in his arms as he sits cross legged on the couch and pulls you into his lap. You pull your knees to your chest and he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm sorry," you croak, voice hoarse from crying.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," His deep voice rumbles in his chest and the vibrations are comforting. His fingers are running through your hair, soft kisses pressed to your forehead. His other hand rubs your back in soothing circles.

Cassian returns soon with Madja, carrying her bag of supplies. You are looking deliberately anywhere but at their faces, not able to bear any sadness or compassion you might find. Such shame has enveloped you, but you're not even sure what for. You don't have the words for it.

She lets you stay in Azriel's arms as she examines you. Her hands glow with a golden aura as she moves them up and down, then centers them over your lower abdomen. You feel a strange tingling as her magic pulses through you, returning back to her with information about your condition. The room is silent as she works, watching and waiting.

When Madja is done, she runs a tender hand across your forehead, brushing your hair back from your face.

"You were right, dear," She says, her voice is kind but with no pity like you feared, "A miscarriage. An early one, likely about six to eight weeks. They're sadly very common in early pregnancy."

Azriel's hands tighten around you, your gaze too focused on the healer to see the tremble of his bottom lip. But Cassian sees it, and it splits his heart in two. Madja places a few vials on the coffee table and continues,

"Take one of these a day and they'll help with the pain and ward off infection. You'll want to keep in mind that your emotions may be a little high as your hormones even back out. And plan for your next cycle to be extra heavy. I'd like to see you around that time to make sure all is well."

You nod, biting your bottom lip to keep the crying from starting again. You want to ask her about the overwhelming sorrow you feel, if that's normal or not. But she presses a hand to your cheek and gives you a sad smile and you understand that she knows what you're feeling.

"I'm sorry for your loss, my dear," she says, then turns to Azriel and presses her hand to his face in turn, "I know that you don't need my warning, because you're a good man and you'll support her. But don't for a moment let her believe that this was her fault. There was nothing anyone could have done, and now she needs to rest and heal. And you take care of yourself, as well."

You look up at Azriel's face and watch him give a grave nod. He looks down at you, a few tears falling down his face, and you wipe them away as your own begin again.

•✦•✦•✦•

The next few days are spent in your shared room, curled up in the bed. Mourning, crying, sometimes smiling and laughing over daydreams of what could have been. Your beautiful possibility.

Your fear of Azriel's reaction entirely melts away. He grieves with you, tenderly reassures you that you've done nothing wrong. That when the time comes again you'll make a wonderful mother and he'll welcome the new life with you. He begins the habit of calling your lost one your little star. It somehow soothes and sharpens the pain at the same time.

You did not know it was possible to miss something you'd only had for such a short time. To feel such an unbearable amount of love for something you had not even held in your arms. And you knew the love would not go away even though your little star was no longer with you. All of that love would stay in your heart until your last day on earth, and beyond that it would burn in the sky as a glittering star when you were finally reunited with your baby. Someday, you would grow around the grief and your body would learn to hold it with less pain, but until then your very bones would ache with the loss.

•✦•✦•✦•

When you're ready, a handful of your friends gather with you to say goodbye. Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta follow you to the Sidra under the full moon. They were the only ones who knew, yet. In time you'd tell all of them, but it was all too fragile still. You couldn't even think the words without a lump forming in your throat. Rhys knew and had sent his condolences, and you suspected his absence was out of respect to your privacy.

Nesta and Feyre had helped you begin to return to normal, coming over in the morning to braid your hair and make sure you had breakfast. Even though Azriel had never left your side. Slowly, the shock faded away into the dull ache of mourning, the numbness in your body giving way to the aftermath of its loss.

Today, Nesta held your coat out for you and tucked your scarf around your neck. When you slip your hands into your pockets, you find something waiting for you. You pull it out, holding it flat in your palm to examine.

A bracelet. Strands of light pink, light blue, and gold woven together. A tiny golden star charm dangled from it. You look at Nesta with a wobbly chin, eyes glistening, and she smiles, giving your arm a squeeze.

Now, you kneel at the edge of the Sidra, near the mouth of the river pouring into the sea. The moonlight dances on the gently flowing water, stars glimmering as far as the eye could see.

You murmur your prayer and place your lantern in the water, watching the current carry it away to the sea. Azriel sits beside you and pulls you tight against his side, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. His tears are cold against your skin. You watch the little light drift away toward the horizon, staying until the cold of the ground seeps through your shoes and the lantern has long since disappeared.

Mother hold you, little star. May she greet you with all the love and tenderness I cannot give you, and may she keep you close until I leave this earth and come to meet you. As long as I am breathing, you will not leave my heart for a moment.

[mncxbe]

Sfw 8 + NSFW 12 + 17 with Denji

My babygirl deserves some love <3

the way i ate this up😳 the brainrot is brainrotting. collegeAU with Denji cuz I like to believe he'd be as much of a loser then♡ gaah i love him so much. also y/n is rich rich👀 for extra silly and damn this turned out way longer than i anticipated.

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

12– catching them stealing your panties

17– they worship your body

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: alcohol cunsumption (reader is tipsy), cunnilingus, Denji being a perv, implied virginity loss, subby Denji

For your 19th birthday you decided to host the greatest party of the year and everyone in your grade was invited.

The penthouse your parents allowed you to live in during college was nicely decorated– black and white balloons and drizzle, flashy lights and speakers that started blaring loud music as soon as the sun set. Everyone was having a blast, downing glasses of neon colored punch and cheap beer, dancing and chatting in groups. Well, everyone except you. You were painfully bored.

When you threw the party of the year you didn't expect everyone to forget the purpose of the whole fucking event– celebrating your birthday.

You've been sitting all by yourself on the couch for the past half hour, sipping on a plastic cup of cocktail. Your gaze mused on the livingroom of your apartment, trying to find someone interesting to talk to. The only people who approached you were some guys from Arts who tried to chat you up, but they rambled on about some uninteresting exhibitions and you soon got bored and shunned them.

As you got up to refill your glass, you noticed someone slipping inside your bedroom. The fuck.. you thought, pushing past drunk people on your way towards your room. You swung the door open and saw a blond guy about your age standing in front of your dresser. When he heard you barge in he immediately slammed the drawer shut, his head snapping in your direction.

It was Denji. Just Denji.

Though you briefly interacted with the Denji, you knew him from highschool. He was the guy who used to let other students use him as a chair during breaks for some spare change. You remembered working on some group projects with him back then but you seldom saw him around campus now. He mostly kept to himself, so you were surprised too see him at your party in the first place— not to mention you certainly didn't expect to catch him going through your lingerie drawer. Still, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing...

"Well, well what do we have here?" you chuckled, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed.

"Y/N hi" he said nervously, tugging at the collar of his shirt "I was just um... looking for a place to change. Someone spilled some punch on my clothes"

You noticed the stain on his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind you. "And you thought you'd find a clean tshirt somewhere next to my panties?"

A blush crept on his face as he looked down at his shoes. "No, I mean I was just looking..." he fumbled "It's not like I was snooping around on purpose, i'm not that kind of guy" His voice was weak, half hearted as he looked around the room. At anything but you.

Swaying your hips, you closed the distance between you "So you're not some perv who's trying to steal my panties?" you asked and he shook his head. "N-no I'd never–"

"The show me your pockets"

Denji's face grew livid when he heard your command and you knew you had him. He was caught red handed and there wasn't much he could do about it. If he admitted maybe you'd at least allow him to stay at the party for a bit longer The boy couldn't bear to look you in the eyes as he reached a hand to the back pocket of his jeans and procured a pair of your lacy panties.

"Here, take them, but just know it's not what you think." It was cute that he still tried to find excuses for his actions and you blamed the alcohol for the heat pooling in your lower abdomen. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, you gazed up at him with droopy eyes.

All the while, Denji was getting more and more nervous. His palms were sweaty, heart hammering in his chest as he peered at you. God, you were so damn beautiful– Though he didn't admit it, Denji had a crush on you from the first moment he saw you. You were the pretties girl in school, which meant you were way out of his league. A goddess like you would never spare a moment of her time on someone like him, right? Well, his conviction was starting to crumble now that he saw the way you eyed him down with that taunting glint in your eyes.

"Ya know, Denji, I don't recall you giving me a gift or wishing me happy birthday. It's awfully rude of you." you slurred, tapping the floor with the tip of your heels.

His sorry excuses were half drowned by the blaring music in the other room. Your head was starting to get foggy from the alcohol, limbs growing heavier, as if an invisible weight was pulling you down against mattress. "Jee... quit the whining" you giggled, waving a dismissive hand in his direction "I'm not mad at you. However, I do think you need to make up for it."

"Y/N, I told you I'm in a tight spot with money this month, but I'll buy you something nice once I get my paycheck."

"I'm not talking about that" you deadpanned, a sly smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your gaze drifted down towards his belt and then back up to his face, taking in his frame. You couldn't deny he wasn't bad looking. Out of all the guys at the party, he seemed the best option for a casual hookup– not to mention he was already interested in you, so why not give it a try? With a motion of your finger, you beckoned him closer, pointing at the floor "Get on your knees."

Denji swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered the courage to step away from your dresser. With hesitant steps he covered the distance between the two of you and kneeled before you, his hands folded in his lap. His fists clenched and unclenched as he anxiously waited for your instructions.

To be frank, you never expected him to obey so you were quite taken aback by his attitude.

"You still let people order you around, Denji? How cute" you cooed, hooking your right leg over his shoulder and pulling him closer to the edge of the bed.

The blond tried his best not to peek under your skirt, his face turning red from embarrassment. He's never been so close to a girl before, let alone someone as beautiful as you and he was nervous. As if reading his mind you let out a low chuckle, hiking up your skirt.

"Come on, Denji, take off my panties. If you make me feel good I'll let you keep them."

By this point Denji was too far gone. Your silken voice put him under a spell and he eagerly pulled down your lingerie. A small moan slipped past his lips when he saw the string of arousal connecting your pussy to the silky fabric, his features melting into a pleading expression. He looked so needy, gazing at your bare cunt with those puppy eyes, his hands shaking lightly as he fully removed your panties and let them fall in his lap.

"There you go, Denji. Get a good look of it." you encouraged, running your fingers through his tangled hair to ease him into the new situation. You could tell it was his first time seeing a woman naked and didn't want to scare him off. So you took things slowly, waiting for him to get comfortable. Little did you know there was no need for that.

Denji was basically drooling over your pussy. He rested his head against your thigh, leaning into your touch as he spread your puffy folds with his thumb. His breath stuck in his throat when he noticed just how wet you were and it was all because of him. With shaky fingers, he collected the slick from your hole and spread it nicely along your clit, making you flinch.

"There?" he asked in a barely audible voice but you heard him nevertheless. "Y-yea, right there."

He slowly drew circles on your bud, making you writhe on the mattress and you spread your legs wider, shamelessly grinding on his hand. Sloppy movements over your clit had increased in intensity and you could feel the knot in your abdomen tighten with each swipe of his digits.

"Go on, baby, give it a taste" you said in a hushed voice and he immediately obliged. Hooking your other leg over his shoulder, Denji's hands gently massaged your thighs. He kissed his way up to your core, wet lips tracing the inside of your thighs, teeth nipping at your skin but not enough to leave marks.

He licked a stripe of your cunt from your hole to your clit, relishing the taste of your arousal. You were basically melting on his tongue and he was adamant to please you. As the grip on your thighs tightened, Denji collected some spit in his mouth and let the blob slide down your slit. He started eating you out slow, savouring the heat on his tongue but he soon increased the pace. It was clear that he had little idea of what he was doing– he was sloppy, messy, a mixture of slick and spit coating his chin as he lapped at your juices and you swore you got ten times wetter just by hearing him moan into your cunt.

His tongue flicked your clit so eagerly, lips wrapping around your bud, giving it an experimental suck. Your hips jolted up in pleasure but Denji quickly pulled you back on his face.

"Is it good?" he mumbled, pussy drunk eyes briefly meeting your as you nodded.

"Y-yea. You're so good Denji, gonna make me cum soon."

He mewled at your praise, his ministrations growing in intensity as heat pooled in your core. You were so close, choked moans spilling from your lips as your vision blurred. Denji made you feel so good you were starting to regret not paying more attention to him all those years back. He ate you out like it was his lifeline, hugging your thighs closer to his face to keep you from squirming too much. When you came you came hard, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face to ride out your high.

"Denji fuck—" you whined, arching your back off the mattress and he gently massaged the fat of your thighs and hips, his hands seeking your body you.

"I got you, just cum for me ok? Please feel good" he said softly, kissing your pussy and the inner side of your thighs before working his way up to your belly. He didn't dare go past the line of your dress, though all he wanted was to keep touching and kissing, to soak you up in all the love and affection he harbored for you during all these years.

When you looked down at him with those droopy, drunk-dazed eyes his heart sank, a soft smile etching onto his features.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice as you pushed yourself up to sitting and held his face in your hands, leaning towards him. Denji's eyes rolled back into his skull as you kissed him, his lashes fluttering shut. You could taste yourself on his tongue along with the sweet punch he drank earlier that night. The kiss was heated and you pulled him on top of you, tugging at the wristband on his jeans.

"H-hey wait a minute I've never done this before" he tensed up but you shushed him with another needy kiss.

"Shit, I don't care if you're a virgin Denji I just need you so bad right now. Please" you huffed out and he felt his dick getting impossibly harder. He could almost cum in his pants at the sight of your pleading expression.

"Okay..." he whispered, hesitantly unbuckling his belt and you could tell he was nervous again. With sloppy movements he managed to allign himself to your entrance, shuffling around to make sure everything was alright, but just as he was about to push himself inside he perked up, patting your thigh. "Oh, Y/N I almost forgot."

"What?" you whined, grinding your needy pussy on his length. Why can't he just fuck you already?

The blond looked down at you with a lovesick smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration "I think I still haven't wished you happy birthday"

[lis-likes-fics]

Strung Up

Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 32.8k words Warnings: NSFW, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat (violence), graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of death, murder, blood, gore, anxiety, panic attack, implications of stalking, frequent swearing, drug use, alcohol use, manipulation, degradation (not always in the sexy way), dubious consent, light praise kink, fingering, groping, oral sex, multiple orgasms, spanking, titty fucking, masturbation, vaguely masochistic tendencies… A/N: IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Not all of the warnings are listed above, but the full list of warnings is provided here. The only reason they're not all here is to avoid spoilers throughout the story, but none of the warnings unlisted here should be trigger warnings. If you're still unsure, please feel free to check the list. But if you want to go into this blind, go right ahead! A/N II: Okay so...I did finish the last two scenes at 3 o'clock in the morning last night, but hey! We finished! This is the last upload for my Kinktober 2024 event. I'm glad I was able to finish just in time, and I hope you all enjoy this just as much as I did (even though I almost gave up five different times but that's not important.) Thank you so much and Happy Halloween! A/N III: The story is too long so Tumblr won't let me post this. Because of this, I will ahve to split it into two parts (which is annoying bc it will really damage notes and stuff and it's harder to manage >:( )

"Sonova bitch!”

You resist the urge to kick your tire. It's midnight, you're practically in the middle of the woods, and you're alone. Your car broke down along the way home, and now you're worried you'll have to walk for God-only-knows how long just to get help.

You look around, trying to figure out what to do without a car or any telephone nearby. You curse under your breath, bracing your hands on the side of the car as you lean against it.

You hear tires in the distance, and perk your head up at the chance of some luck coming your way.

But the only thing coming your way is a large, almost creaky van. Upon seeing you, it begins to slow down to a creeping pace, and you wonder if you should just make a break for it.

Just your luck, too. You're stuff on the side of the road in the middle of the night with no way to communicate with a single living soul, and now there's a creepy van inching toward you like you're about to meet your end.

Your back is stiff, and your nerves are frayed. “Just a van driving toward you,”you mutter to yourself. “Nothing scary about that at all.”

As the blinding lights shine across you, you raise a hand and squint your eyes against the strain. It pulls into the side of the road, parking behind you as the lights continue to blare.

“Hey,” a guy says as he swings the door open and steps out. You give a wary smile at first, waving timidly back at him. “Something wrong?”

It's hard to see him. All you see is the outline of his figure against the lights. He's taller than you, with big bushy hair and wide shoulders. You try not to shrink away from this dark, shadowy thing of a man.

You bump the toe of your shoe against the tire, crossing your arms as your hand pulls nervously at the collar of your work shirt. “Stupid engine died on me.”

He gestures to the car, his voice is actually kind of nice, and a bit familiar… “A beauty like this?” He pats the back of it, wild hair shifting as he looks down at it. “That's surprising.”

You shrug. “Yeah, everyone thinks it's such a great car. It's actually a piece of shit.” You chuckle lightly, and he joins you. “Do you think you could help?”

He steps to the side, and some light finally shines on one side of his face. You start to piece together his features, squinting your eyes and realizing why his voice is so familiar. You're put at some ease now that you recognize him. Your shoulders fall, and the features of your face calm.

“Wait, you're that Eddie guy. At my school?”

He looks up at you, a smile tugging at his lips as he nods. “That's me. The Eddie guy.” He holds out his ringed-up hand. “Eddie Munson.”

You take it, the cold of his rings a slight surprise against the warmth of your palm. “I'm–”

“I'm well aware, sweetheart.”

You purse your lips, chuckling lightly at the way he says it. It's not mean in any way, but there's an undertone that you find slightly unsettling.

He squints the corners of his dark eyes, making a cringing face as he nods slowly. “Sorry, that sounds bad. Uhh–”

“No, all good,” you say quickly. You shuffle on your feet, chuckling lightly to try and ease the tension between you. “You're not gonna, like, kill me and stuff my corpse in the back of your van, right?”

He smiles, laughing as he shakes his head. “No, all good.” He raises his fingers in the air, one hand over his heart as he bows a little. “Scout's honor.”

You nod. “Cool.” You glance back at your car and pat the hood. “You think you could help me out, Eddie Munson? Maybe a hot wire?”

He cringes slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. His muscle tee rides up a little from the movement, revealing a slip of his tummy shone gently in his headlights. “Unfortunately, my old girl can't handle a hot wire. I love her, but she's a bit of a piece of shit, too.”

You hum, your shoulders falling slightly. “Oh, that sucks.”

“But…” He steps over to your open door, leaning inside to pop the hood before he walks past you to look at the engine. “I'll tell you what, I can tow it and get it fixed for you.” He seems pleased with this answer. He smiles like a dork. “I help out at an auto shop, they know me. And,” he rubs his hand over the side of the car, admiring the make, “I think they'd be thrilled to work on a nice thing like this.”

Sparks of hope shoot like fireworks in your eyes when you look at him. “”Really?” Then you backpedal as you second guess yourself. “I wouldn’t wanna bother.”

“Psh, no bother, at all.” He says it so casually, like the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. The amount of work, money, time—it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him. “I’ll hook her up and take you home.”

You clasp your hands together, a wide smile falling on your face. “Thank you so much.” You start walking toward his van with him, watching as he opens your door for you like a true gentleman. “I’m so glad you’re not some sort of creep.”

As you sit down, his smile widens with his joke. “You never know.” He winks at you, and it makes you laugh. If he were some middle-aged man, you’d truly be worried. But he’s really just some really nice (and kind of hot) weirdo who goes to your school. He’s not threatening, at all.

Once Eddie’s got your car properly fastened to the back of his van, he’s driving down the lightened road with the radio gently underscoring the otherwise silent air. He taps the wheel gently, glancing over at you every now and then when you’re looking out of the window at your side.

“So,” he mutters, “why are you out here so late?”

You chuckle lightly, scratching your neck absent-mindedly. “Leaving work.” You purse your lips. “My hours are kinda ridiculous.”

His brows raise. “Damn. Sounds like you need a new job.”

You shrug a shoulder lazily. “Eh. Pays well, good boss, one shitty coworker.” You look at him and smile. “It’s nothing.”

“At least it’s not a shitty boss.”

You nod eagerly, laughing lightly in agreement. “Got that right. I got lucky.”

His eyes keep switching between you and the road. He leans his elbow on his arm rest, still steering with one hand on the wheel. “So where do you work?” he wonders curiously.

“Retail.” There’s a crack on the passenger’s side mirror, and you briefly wonder how it got there. “This semi-expensive place, like twenty minutes from my house.”

He tilts his head to the side with a hum, as if the distance is another reason to quit. “Good pay.”

Another involuntary chuckle rises from your chest. “Good pay,” you echo. “What about you?” You turn to him, your head tilted. Then your eyes close and you purse your lips, raising a hand to brush down your face. “You totally said you help out at an auto shop, didn’t you?”

He laughs heartily. “I did, but I actually work at Radio Shack.” You nod like working at Radio Shack is this super interesting thing. “Pays kinda meh, shitty boss, couple good coworkers but the others kinda hate me.”

You lean back against the seat, sighing like it's happening to you. “That sucks. I'm sorry.”

Eddie shrugs. “S’fine, I'm used to it.” He grins a little. “That's what happens when you listen to this.”

He turns the station, turning it up a little as the rambunctious sounds of metal music almost blast through the speakers.

You've never been a fan of metal, but the popular rhetoric of it being music from the devil was annoying. Music is music.

“And when you play RPGs.” He turns the music back down.

You smirk, raising a brow at him. “So you're a nerd?”

An almost startled laugh rises from his throat, it almost sounds like a snort. “Maybe a little,” he says. His smile is so big, you wonder if his cheeks hurt. Then you wonder if he's this nice to everyone.

“That’s okay. I like a good nerd.”

He glances over his shoulder teasingly. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod, chuckling to yourself with a gentle giddy. “Mhm.”

The rest of the ride is as calm and as pleasant. Eddie's good company, and you find yourself genuinely hoping that you continue to be friends after this.

Soon enough, he's pulling into your posh neighborhood. The street lamps have been on for a long time, illuminating your relatively expensive house and the large tree in front of it in a gentle golden light. The porch lights are on, so your parents must be (obviously) asleep.

Eddie jogs across the front of his van to open the door for you. “Tada!” he exclaims quietly as he gestures dramatically toward your home. As you step out, still looking at your house with a furrowed brow, your skin prickles and the back of your neck goes cold as you begin to realize something.

“I…never gave you my address.”

You turn to look at Eddie, who's smiling really widely. His dark fringe kisses his lashes, his lips are pulled taut by the stretch of his smile, which is lingering strangely on his face. A tiny huff of breath passes from his mouth.

There's a strange silence as he stares at you, looking like someone's pressed pause on him. It's just short enough that it's easy to miss.

“I've been to one of your parties before.”

Oh.

“You have?” You think quickly, trying to remember seeing his face and falling short. “I've never seen you at one.”

“Yeah…” he says. “Not really my crowd.” Eddie closes your door after you've grabbed your things. “A friend invited me, but I left quick.” He shrugs a shoulder, “Besides, atmosphere wasn't super welcoming.”

Right. He's a social outcast.

“Oh,” you mumble. It doesn't sit well with you. You wished you would have noticed him. At least then you could have tried to make it better for him. He's a really sweet guy…

“Who’s your friend? I think I heard Steve Harrington mention you before,” you wonder. Steve is a friend of yours, and he’s been to nearly all of your parties.

“Yeah, he invited me.” He shrugs. “But I went with Jonathan Byers.” You know the name, another social outcast. He and his brother are very kindly looked upon, especially after the incident where his little brother was lost in the woods. That’s the only time you ever spoke to him, to offer your sympathies. If you’re thinking correctly, he’s a pothead now.

You give him a smile. “Well, I'd like to formally invite you to my next one—whenever that is, then I can properly welcome you and your friend.”

He laughs lightly, doing a grand flourish with his hand as he bows to you. “Well, thank you very much.”

You gesture toward the back of his van. “And my car?”

He nods dutifully. “I'll get that fixed up for you in no time.” Then he thinks for a moment. “Well, a little bit of time, but not too long.”

“Oh.” You nod, smiling still. You glance off down the street like you're looking for something. “I’ll just have to figure out a ride to school then… My boyfriend kind of lives out of the way and both my parents work.”

You miss the way his shoulders sink, his smile easing just a bit. He brings a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Well…” he speaks slowly, slower than he means to. “I can come pick you up.”

You clasp your hand again in a slightly pleading manner, but there's so much kindness in your eyes. “You're already helping out so much.”

A small sense of pride swells in his chest. “It's not a problem, really. I'm happy to.”

You set a hand on his shoulder, and you feel it tense a little through the thickness of his leather jacket. “I'd really appreciate it.” It's sincere, and you hope he knows. “Thank you.”

He puts his hand over yours. “No problem.” Then he clears his throat and lets go of your hand so you can have it back.

You start walking backwards. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

He raises an open palm, doesn't wave it or anything. “Night…”

You turn around and head inside. He watches you put the key in your door and walk inside.

Eddie stands there still, sighing gently as he wonders what he's going to do with himself. You're just so sweet and so pretty. You're perfect.

You're everything he was hoping for.

~

You've been trying to speak to him for the past ten minutes.

The lunch table isn't as full today. A couple buddies from the team are gone, their girlfriends included—which also means Brynn isn't here to resort to either.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as Jake's lips suck on your neck still. He hasn't moved from this spot unless it's to go to the other side of your neck in ten minutes. His hands are all over your waist, and when he nips at you, you huff.

“Hey, can you chill?”

He hums, not letting up as he continues to suck on you like a goddamn vampire. “What's wrong, baby?” he mumbles against your neck.

You push him off of you so that he'll look at your face. His lips are a little swollen from the attention, and his eyes are hooded like you've just been going down on him or something.

“I'm trying to talk to you, and you’re trying to fuck me in the middle of the cafeteria.

“I'm sorry,” he says, kissing your lips gently. He sighs lightly and smiles. “What were you saying?”

So he wasn't paying attention? You thought as much.

You turn to him. “I was saying that I might get fired.”

He furrows his brows. “Why?”

You brush a hand down your face to calm yourself before you yell at him for being so inattentive. You lick your lips, centering yourself with a sigh as you pull a sarcastic grin over your face.

“Because Cassidy found us making out in the storage closet during my lunch break—which you suggested after I said it was a bad idea.” There's a small grin on his face, and you have a feeling he isn't listening again.

He shrugs, “Cassidy’s a bitch who's been trying to get you fired for months. She's not doing it now.”

Your stress is getting to you now. You reach out to grab his face in the hopes that it'll make him pay a little more attention. “Except this time, she's got me for indecency in the workplace. Which could be filed under sexual harassment. That can get me fired.”

He furrows his brows a little in confusion. He grabs your wrists and pulls them off his face, down to his lap. “I think you're being ridiculous,” he shrugs a shoulder like what he's said isn't a ridiculous statement. “Aren't you training to be like…a crew lead or something?”

His hands fall to your waist, and you ignore him as he leans in again to keep sucking on your neck. He tilts your head up, holding your chin still as he has at it.

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Which is why I'm stressed out. She's going to tell my boss, and she's going to fire me.”

He pulls away from your neck. You watch his face twist in more confusion. He stares at you for a second, then glances away, and then looks back at you. “Why would you get fired?”

You stare at him with an astonished glare in your eyes. “You don't…” you huff unbelievingly and swat his hands away from you, “...fucking listen.”

You stand up and start gathering your things, wiping absent-mindedly at your neck as you throw your bag over your shoulder. He watches you, ever-confused as you storm away from him. “Where are you going?”

When you plop down next to Eddie, he seems unsurprised. He looks over at you and smiles. The rest of his table isn't fazed by your entrance—you come over a lot and you're nice, so they don't care.

“Hey! How's it goin’?” Eddie's happy to see you, and it's already making you feel better. He notices the way your face is screwed up, and he's come to know the look well by now. His face falls a little, concern lining his forehead as it does. “What's wrong?”

His warm hand comes to rest at your face, rubbing lightly between your shoulder blades. It's a soothing thing that actually helps to calm you down a bit. “Jake's pissing me off.”

“How?” He sounds almost as exasperated as you.

You sigh gently, getting ready to recount the story for a listening ear. “A couple days ago, I was on my lunch break at work and he convinced me to…” it's a little awkward telling Eddie about your semi-sexual habits, but you know he won't judge you, “...to make out with him in the storage closet, and my goddamn coworker saw us and is going to tattle.” You drop your face into your hands. “I could get fired for this.”

Eddie thinks for a moment. “This is…Cassidy, right? Cassidy Franklin?”

“Yeah.” You sit up again, probably looking as hopeless as you feel.

He brings his foot up to prop against his chair, tilting his head to one side to let his hair fall off his shoulder. “Isn't she that same girl who started the rumor about Betty Carter and Richard Vance making porn tapes for money?” He raises a brow, “And that one about Steve being in a relationship with Jonathan?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“Huh?” Jonathan asks, looking up from his food at the mention of his name. Eddie waves him off, rolling his eyes before he looks back over to you. He smiles, opening his hands. “She's a rumormonger. No one's gonna believe her. Especially not your manager. Your manager loves you and everyone hates Cassidy Franklin.”

You think about that, and it's making you feel better. You nod again. “You might be right.”

He wraps a hand around his knee, smiling to himself like he's so pleased to hear that he's right. “Besides, it'll probably end up coming back to her anyway.” He tilts his head, leaning in fondly as he flutters his lashes at you. ”People like that don't always get away with being assholes.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, nodding. “Okay. You're right, yeah. She's a bitch.”

“Who’s a bitch?” Robin’s head pops up. She looks between the two of you, curiosity all over her face.

You shrug. “My coworker.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and nodding. “Yeah, my coworker’s a bitch, too.”

You chuckle lightly, glancing at Eddie. “Don’t you work with Steve?” You’ve checked out movies at Family Video from them before. They seemed to mostly be getting along.

“Yeah, why?” She smirks slyly, returning to her conversation with Argyle. You don’t know what they’re talking about, but you’re not sure it’s going to make a lot of sense with the way his eyes look right now.

Eddie’s smiling when you look back at him. “Anyway, don't sweat it. Everything's gonna be fine…’kay?” He holds out his pinky, squeezing with a funny kind of harshness when you wrap yours around it.

You nod. “Okay.” You sigh, and this time it actually feels like you're letting go of the stress. Eddie always knows how to make you feel better. “Thanks. My boyfriend's an idiot, and it feels like you're the only person who listens to me sometimes.”

He furrows his brow curiously, turning toward his bag of pretzels sitting almost forgotten on the table. He pulls a couple from the bag, picking them individually from his palm. “What about your friend? What's her name—Brooklyn?”

“Brittany.” Your smile sours. “And, yeah, Brynn spends a lot more time with her boyfriend now than she does with me, so I might have to remind her that I exist first.”

He scoffs, shaking his hand as he looks down at his pretzels. “Shitty friend,” he mumbles under his breath. He seems genuinely and deeply upset. His brow furrows maybe a little more than it should.

You look over his expression, briefly wondering why he cares so much. “Just a bit,” you mutter absent-mindedly. You look at the time. Lunch is almost over. “Anyway, thanks, Eddie.”

He seems to snap out of it then, a large grin returning to his face. “No problem.”

You set a hand on his arm, smiling hopefully. “Hey, are you free tonight?” Something glints in his eyes. “Jake's hanging out with his boys and, like I said, Brynn's with her boy. I wanted to watch that new movie.”

It's a horror movie, Annihilator. You know Eddie likes horror movies, and you don't want to watch it alone. Or, rather, you'd prefer to watch it with him.

Eddie does this weird thing sometimes where he pauses. It's like his brain suddenly freezes and he just stops moving. He stares at you. His smile intact and his face just as Eddie-ish as usual, but just a little…off.

It only ever lasts a moment though.

“Raincheck?” he asks regrettably. “I'm hanging with my uncle tonight. We've been planning it for a while now.”

“Oh, sure,” you chirp. You know how much his uncle means to him. They don't usually get time together since he always works so late. “No problem. Tomorrow night?”

He smiles that proud grin again. He does it a lot. You think it's sweet.

“Absolutely.”

“See you then.” You steal a pretzel as you move to stand.

He waves you off with wiggling fingers and a cheeky grin. “See you.” He winks on your way out.

~

Dragging yourself out of the bed the next morning was hard. You don’t know why. You just woke up and felt like maybe tonight was the type of day not to go to school.

And, technically, you could if you wanted to. Both your parents are gone on a business trip—they left before you even woke up that morning. They won’t be back for at least a week. You could ditch and the worst that would happen is a phone call that you could delete if it was really necessary enough to do so in the first place.

But anyway, you don’t. You drag yourself out of bed, get ready for school, and head downstairs for breakfast. You're stirring sugar into your tea when you turn on the TV, switching through the channels to find the cartoons.

Something catches your eyes when a news channel flashes on the screen. You flip back to it quickly, and you stop mid-stir at what you find.

“–about a gruesome murder is tearing through Hawkins like a wildfire.” You drop the spoon in your mug, turning the volume up loud. “The life of a student at Hawkins High School, known as the basketball captain Jason Carver, was taken last night by a suspect police have yet to identify. Hawkins PD is still–”

You rush to the phone, dialing Brynn’s number faster than you ever have before. It rings only a couple times before the dial tone ends. You give her no time to speak.

“Are you watching the news right now?”

“Yeah. Jason fucking Carver? Who the fuck would do this?” She sounds distraught, as distraught as you feel.

You swallow thickly, pacing as much as you can with the short cord keeping you tethered to the phone. You start to worry. What if this isn’t a one time thing? What if people are actually in danger—your boyfriend, your friends. “Don’t ask me.” You start to feel sick.

“This is insane.” She sighs heavily through the line.

“You’re telling me.”

“How’s your car?” she asks, your words running a mile a minute. “Do I need to take you to school?”

It takes you a moment to respond. Your eyes had gotten stuck to the screen. There are police lights and caution tape and people everywhere. It feels so unreal. “Uh—It’s fine.” You clear your throat, wiping a hand over your face. “Especially after Eddie worked on it.”

You can almost hear the scowl in her voice. “You still hang out with him?”

Here we go. “You don’t hang out with me.”

“He’s probably the one who killed Jason.”

Her comment is a slap in the face. You can’t describe the anger and disgust that rises in your throat at what she’d just said. It’s corrosive, and you wish you could show her how upset it actually makes you, but you can’t. So instead, you say, “Why the fuck would you say that?”

Your tone makes her back off. Not by a lot, but enough for her to second guess. “He’s like…a satanist or something.”

“Or something.” You shake your head. “He’s just a nerd, and he’s kind.” You mean it in a nice way. “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

She scoffs. “Whatever.” She takes a moment, calms down, and then says with more sincerity than annoyance. “Don’t get fucking killed.”

“You, too.”

“I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye.” You hang up. You stare at the screen again, staring for a while as you try to process this. You knew Jason. He was your friend—or, he was relatively your friend. You were dating one of the members on his team, so you’ve known him for a while. Now that he’s gone… It’s just such a bizarre concept to digest.

You don’t know what you’re supposed to do. You dial Jake’s house phone, waiting and waiting for it to pick up, only for it to flatline. With a huff, you try again. When it still doesn’t go through, you start to go for a third time when you catch the time. You’re gonna be late. You’ll see him there anyway.

You try to ignore the gnawing feeling that you might not.

~

You lean against your locker next to Eddie, holding onto your bag as your hands worry away at the strap. “I just can’t believe this happened.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” Eddie says. He shrugs a shoulder, “I mean, this place has been kinda cursed for a while but something like this?”

You shake your head, imagining the scenes you’ve been told by the amount of people you’ve walked past or talked to since you left the house. “It was so brutal. They said he was gutted and then hung from a fucking tree.” Your gut twists with the image. “I keep looking over my shoulder like this killer’s gonna be there.”

Eddie's hand comes to cup your elbow. He rubs it soothingly with a reassuring glint in his eyes. “Hey, don’t worry about that kinda stuff. Everything’s gonna be fine, okay?” His thumb strokes the meat of your arm. He offers you a smile.

You nod. “I hope so.” You glance behind Eddie, catching sight of Chrissy. It’s a wonder she even showed up today. She’s walking through the halls with her eyes down at the floor, moving so sluggishly that you wonder briefly if she’s really just some zombie roaming the halls. You speak quietly. “I can’t imagine how Chrissy must be feeling. She’s such a sweet person, she doesn’t deserve this kinda thing.”

Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she continues walking down the hall. He swallows thickly. “Yeah…”

His brows suddenly furrow. A crease wedges itself between them as he sees something, and he lets out a sigh as he glances away, straightening his posture as he goes. His thumb rubs your elbow one more time before letting you go. “Hey, I’ll see you later, okay?” You nod. “Stay safe.” He says it with an intensity that honestly warms your heart.

“You, too.” He gives you a quick smile and then leaves. You turn around to watch him go just as you see Jake walking toward you. That makes sense. The two eye each other as they pass, and Jake looks at you like he’s annoyed by something.

The sight of him had initially brought you some relief. You were worried that something happened to him when he didn’t answer the phone this morning. The more you look at him though, the more that feeling sours and becomes something more exasperated than anything else.

You turn around with a sigh, leaning against the locker again on your other elbow. He comes up to you, a partial scowl set upon his face. “Was that Eddie Munson?”

You hate the way he says his name. It pisses you off every time you hear it. “Yeah.”

“Why are you hanging out with him?” He looks genuinely pissed out. You roll your eyes, ready to leave this conversation because it’s such a petty thing to be arguing about right now. Someone just fucking died—one of Jake’s closest friends just fucking died—and he’s upset that you’re hanging out with some guy who plays DND? You were worried he was dead, and this is how he greets you.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that question?” You seethe the question, trying not to bring any attention to yourself as you lean in to talk to him, your own scowl set to combat his own. He huffs and shakes his head, but decides it’s probably just best to drop it.

“You didn’t call me this morning.” Your quiet anger is biting at your fingertips. You try to remind him of the situation because it doesn’t seem to be registering for him. “A student at Hawkins High was killed, and you didn’t call me this morning.”

Jake sighs, running a hand down his face as he thinks about it. You finally start to see the grief threatening to peek through as he looks away from you. “I was on the team with Jason. My parents were bitching about being safe.” His voice is quieter now, not as firm.

You start to feel bad now. You’ve been bitching about him lately about his bad behavior. You’re doing it right now, when what he really needs is your support. You sigh, looking down at your feet as you offer a truce in the way of cradling his arm in your palm. He looks at you, his eyes softening with your own. You just look at him for a moment and take a breath.

“I just don’t understand.” Your voice would be a whisper if there weren’t so many people crowding the halls. You have no doubt that every single one of them is talking about Jason Carver, former captain of the basketball team. “It’s all so surreal. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life.”

He lifts his hand to your cheek, offering his comfort. “Hey,” he says gently, “everything’s gonna be fine. I’ll make sure you’re good. You can stay at my place until this all clears up.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re even with him. But then he does stuff like this, and you start to feel a little better about the struggle. “We can also have Brynn and Andrew over to make it fun. How does that sound?”

Better than you thought it would. You haven’t been around them in a while. You feel like maybe you shouldn’t delay that any longer.

“Yeah.” You nod, hyping yourself up a bit as you offer a little smile. “Yeah, that’ll be nice. Thanks.”

His smile widens a bit. He leans in. “Anything for my girl.” He kisses you. It’s a gentle kiss, and it makes you feel better because it feels like he means it. His thumb strokes your cheek, and you can’t help but to smile against his lips.

~

You take a nap as soon as you get home. The whole day has been so exhausting, weighed down by all the grief and confusion. There’s a team meeting after school, so you have to wait for that to finish before Jake comes to get you.

When you wake up, it’s almost eight o’clock. It’s weird. The meeting should’ve been over by now.

It’s too quiet. The silence is making your skin crawl, and you reach for the remote in a desperate need to fix it. When it’s on, you immediately regret making that so.

“A second murder shakes the grounds of Hawkins as another student by the name of Cassidy Franklin is killed only an hour ago at–”

Your shock is interrupted by a tiny clattering sound. You nearly jump out of your skin as your gaze is immediately drawn upstairs. You feel yourself begin to shake, and you don’t think you can move after you’ve turned off the TV just as quickly as you turned it on.

Everything is so still now. Even the air refuses to move as you wait for anything—another sound, more silence. Anything.

You will yourself to move as you go to the kitchen, pulling the biggest knife from its sheath and ignoring the way it trembles with your fear. The tension is the air so palpable, you genuinely believe you could cut it with the knife you have clenched in your tight fists.

You feel dumb walking upstairs, toward the noise you just heard. You feel like you might die if you go any further, but you also feel like if the killer is actually in your house, then you’ll probably die if you stay downstairs, too.

You turn every knob like it’s searing hot. Every time a door opens, you feel like your heart has jumped out of your throat and then forced its way back down once you’ve confirmed there’s no one there (or rather, once you don’t see anyone because you refuse to investigate any further).

When you reach your bedroom, you think you might die. Maybe not from the killer, but from the heart attack you feel creeping up your chest.

On your bed is a single letter and a strange doll thing. You don’t feel like your heart is beating when you walk into the room. You almost slip multiple times over your own feet just trying to get to your bed. When you’re standing there, you’re frightened by something moving beside you, and you genuinely do jump this time.

Your window is open. The curtains swayed gently with a light gust of wind coming through.

Yes. You think you might die.

You swallow thickly, trying to keep your tears choked down as you pick up the doll. It looks handmade. The arms are thin and pillowy, so are the legs. Neither of them have hands or feet, and it has a stitch mouth and buttons for eyes. In a weird, abstract way, you think it sort of looks like you. The skin tone is the same and the buttons match your eye color, at least.

It falls from your hands more than you set it down. They’re shaking so badly, you don’t think you’d have been capable of putting it down yourself.

When you look at the letter, the paper also looks like it’s been folded and glued by hand. Your name is written across the front in handwriting you’ve never seen before. You force yourself to open it to see what’s inside.

When you pull out the note, you cover your mouth as you throw it back down, stumbling away. Tears spring to your eyes, despite your best effort to keep them away. There’s a smudge of blood on the paper. It doesn’t look old.

You squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath like it’ll wake you up from some terrible dream. But when you open your eyes again and find yourself in the same room, you try not to choke on your tears.

As your entire body trembles, you find your way back to the bed. You pick up the note and do your best to keep your hands still (miserably) so you can read it.

I’ll pull all the loose strings for you, my little puppet. And once they’re all gone, we will be together.

A startled cry rips its way from your throat. You collapse to the floor as your chest heaves uncontrollably. This is too much stress. You can’t take all of this.

You don’t know how long you spend on the floor like this—sobbing and losing a lot of water—but once you’ve wracked up the strength, you crumple the letter into a ball and grab the doll by its torso, squeezing with all the fear and anger in your chest. You open your closet door, throwing them both at the wall with all your strength and forcing the door shut.

You calm your breath enough to stop your tears and wipe at your face, rushing down the stairs with the bag you’d already packed. You’re out of the door in barely any time, getting in the car as quickly as possible and you tear a path straight to Jake’s house.

Once you’re there, you don’t see his father’s car, so you assume he’s working overtime at the department to catch this killer. The way your fists pound on the front door is insistent. You almost sock Jake right in the face as soon as it’s open.

“Fuck,” he says quickly, his words rushing from his mouth. “I’m so sorry, babe. I lost track of time and–”

You don’t listen to him. You throw your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. He smells vaguely of your perfume. You try not to cry again. It’s not too hard, seeing as you already cried a ton of tears earlier onto your bedroom floor.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You sound pathetic, but you don’t care enough to try to fix it.

“Yeah. Come on.” He opens the door wider, pulling his arm tightly around you as he tucks the both of you into the house. He closes the door behind you, still holding onto you as you pull him tight. He eases your face back into his chest. “What’s got you so freaked out?”

You don’t know what to tell him. You tell him the truth, he might believe you, he might not. If he does, he might decide to go on a killing spree to deal with whoever he thinks could have done it (you have a suspicious feeling that Eddie will be at the top of the list, simply because he doesn’t like him). There are just too many variables, and you’re too tired and too scared to deal with any of them.

“I…” you sigh shakily, “I’m just surprised by…Cassidy’s death.” Cassidy’s fucking dead. You almost forgot about that with all the insanity swarming through your head.

As his hand strokes down the back of your head, you feel his chest rumble against your cheek as he speaks. “You worked with her, didn’t you?” He sounds genuinely curious. He really wasn’t listening…

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head. “That’s crazy.” He sets his chin on top of your head and keeps rubbing your back.

“Jake.” You pull away from him just enough to look at his face. His hands cradle your elbows as your own clutch desperately at his sides. You need to know. “Do you love me?”

He stares at you and nods, bringing a hand to your cheek. His thumb strokes it, just like before. His hand is hot. “Yeah.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, searching his eyes for something to hold onto it. “Would you…” You try to steady your breath, swallowing thickly. “Would you let anything bad happen to me?”

You don’t expect him to say yes, but you need to hear it all the same. “‘Course not,” he says. “You’re my girl.”

You lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He cranes his neck down to meet you, and his hands fall down to your waist. You bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders, trying to bring him down further. You need to forget about all of this. Just for a moment. You want to forget.

“Make me feel better,” you mutter against his lips.

He smiles a little, bringing his hands down further to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his wait. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

~

“Welcome, students.”

The gym is packed full of students. All the students and faculty are sitting in the bleachers or standing around the gym floor, watching the principal and the police officers giving an announcement front and center. You sit so close to Jake that your hips are practically glued together. Brynn’s on your other side with Andrew next to her. You keep wanting to glance over your shoulder where Eddie is sitting with his group, but you decide it’s probably best not to for the sake of not dealing with your friends and boyfriend’s bad attitudes.

“I know we are all aware of the recent losses in our community. Many of us are grieving the beloved memory of these fallen students. In an effort to avoid losing any more of them, our chief of police is going to set a few rules in place to keep our community safe from this unidentified individual.”

Principal Higgins steps back to offer Chief Hopper the floor. He steps forward, already looking tired as he directs his attention to the giant crowd staring at him.

He doesn’t bother with pleasantries. He gets straight to business. “From now on and until the killer is found, a town-wide curfew will be implemented.” People start murmuring in protest. “No one is to be out of their homes past nine o’clock. All doors will be locked and-”

Everyone is talking now. There are murmurs and shouts and boo’s and all kinds of protest as they respond frustratedly to these new rules. You personally don’t oppose them too much…

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jake groans.

“This fucking sucks!” “What the hell, man?” “Seriously?” “We didn’t do anything!”

Chief Hopper isn’t having it. He cares little for the commotion, and it’s really just pissing him off.

“Hey!”

Everyone is immediately silenced. His voice is even harder now as he yells over the silence. He makes sure to enunciate every word. “All doors and windows will be locked. You are advised to come to school and then go straight home to reduce the risk of being hurt. Police will be patrolling the streets to ensure these rules are being followed. We advise you to stay in groups and be vigilant of your surroundings. Anyone caught breaking curfew will be brought in for questioning, which could lead to a possible arrest.” There’s more silence. No one wants to interrupt him again. “Am I understood?”

Everyone murmurs their reluctant agreement.

“Thank you.”

He stands back again. Principal Higgins steps forward. “Thank you, Chief Hopper.” He clasps his hands together. “Now let us all close our eyes and bow our heads for…”

You’ve tuned him out by now. You don’t have the strength to listen to him right now. You keep replaying that note in your head over and over again.

Once they’re all gone, we will be together…

“They’re calling him Ghostface,” Jake mumbles, keeping his voice low to avoid being called out. “‘Cause of the mask they found at Cassidy’s crime scene.”

You try not to flinch. “Why are we calling him anything but a murderer?”

He shrugs. “I mean, there are a lot of murderers.”

You glance at him, but you ultimately keep your gaze fixated on your hands as you rub at your palms. “I don’t think we should be villainizing him. I mean, people actually like villains.” I’ll pull all the loose strings for you, my little puppet…

He sighs lightly. “I think it’s a pretty sick name.”

“Jake.”

“Just saying.”

There’s a weird feeling burning into your back, like someone’s watching you. It spreads like a wave, and you fight the urge to shudder as you glance behind you to see what it is.

You see Eddie, and your worries are set aside. He offers a tiny grin and a thumbs up. He wants to know if you’re okay. You return the smile as best you can and give him your own thumb. You turn back around, feeling a little better about everything.

As soon as the assembly is dismissed, everyone is making their way back to class or wherever they intend to go. Jake kisses your temple and runs off with his buddies. Brynn and Andrew go with him.

Walking by yourself, you rub a hand over your arm to self-soothe. You’re at school. Nothing is going to happen while you’re at school. You go to your locker just to be there. You don’t want to go to class yet, and you don’t want to stand in the middle of the gym or the hall like some loser.

You’re there for barely a minute before someone’s standing next to you. You flinch when you realize it, quickly calming when you recognize Eddie and his sweet face. He gives you an apologetic look. “You okay? Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You nod, grabbing his arm and sighing with a small smile. “All good.” You grab your stuff and start down the hall with him at your side. You assume he’s walking you to class because his is at the other side of the school.

“How are you…?”

Both of you pause at the sound of Eddie’s name, pausing by the hall as you hear the familiar voices of some of Jake’s team members.

“Your girlfriend hangs out with that Munson guy?”

“I keep telling her.” Jake seems as displeased as Tommy H.

“Your girl’s a fucking freak for that, man.” That’s Andrew, Brynn’s boyfriend. You’ve learned to tune him out at this point.

“Hey, cut it out, Andy.” Chance is probably the most sane of the group, but he’s still an asshole. “That’s his fucking girlfriend.”

“Keep talking shit about her, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Tommy’s voice is obnoxious. “Shouldn’t say that, or they’ll arrest you.” A round of laughter sparks among them. Jake’s is the loudest.

“Maybe they should.”

“They should just arrest Munson,” Chance deadpans. Your grasp tightens around a textbook. You’re getting sick of hearing it. “We all know it’s him.”

“Since your girl’s suckin’ face with him, maybe she’s in on it, too… But that’d make her a slut.”

Everyone laughs, even as you hear the scuffle of shoes and ruffle of clothes as some weird play fight breaks out between them. You assume it’s between Jake and Tommy.

Eddie’s hand gently grabs your arm, crowding your space to put a barrier between you and them. His gaze is schooled on your face. He seems really upset, but he hides it well so he can comfort you. You scoff, shaking your head as you stare blankly at the floor, your face set in passionate displeasure.

“I fucking hate jocks.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” he mutters, stroking your arm. Goosebumps erupt over your skin, your entire arm gets covered in them. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

You nod, looking up at him and letting the concern in his eyes ease you. “Yeah.” You readjust your grip on your book, turning the other to walk to his class instead. He lets you, because he knows you’re trying to self-soothe and he doesn’t want to interrupt that. “I’m more upset about everyone always assuming it’s you. Like they know you or something.” You mumble the last part more to yourself, but he hears it loud and clear. It’s heartwarming, your support of him.

“That’s sweet,” he says, “but I don’t really care that much.” Like he’s said before, he’s used to it. You still don’t like it, and he loves that about you. “I don’t know too many girls who take kindly to being called a slut.” He stops you so that he can properly look at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod, giving him your best smile in an attempt to convince him. He’s so sweet. You don’t want him to worry. “I’m good,” you shrug nonchalantly. “His friends are just assholes. It’s whatever.”

He doesn’t fully believe you, but he doesn’t want to press and stress you out. So he just nods and says, “Hey, you can sit with me during lunch so you don’t have to sit with them.”

You smile, and this time he believes it. “That sounds great.”

~

You’ve rustled through your bag maybe seven times now, and you still can’t find it. The amount of distress it’s causing you is a little unnerving. One thing. You just want one thing to be simple.

“Shit.” Eddie looks over at you, watches you put your head against the lunch table with a force that concerns him. He reaches a hand out and rubs circles along your back unprompted. “I left my notebook for my next class in my car.”

He raises a brow. “Are they really important?”

You turn your head to look at him. “If I miss any of these notes, I’m not passing this test.” And your teacher is a true asshole who refuses to delay the test even a single day to give you all a break.

Eddie’s already moving to stand, offering his hand to you. “I’ll go with you. You know, to keep you safe.”

You glance over at the table where Jake sits. He keeps looking over at you. When you slip your hand into Eddie’s, you know he’s pissed. You don’t mind it too much. “Thanks, Eddie.” He gives you one of those big smiles.

You walk with Eddie out of the cafeteria. There’s a cop posted at the door who checks the both of you out before letting you leave. The sun is really bright, despite the depression inside. It’s actually a bit glaring as you shield your vision from it. Eddie’s not having much luck with it either.

Eddie walks closely by you, and you appreciate the sentiment. You don’t feel as unsafe as you should—maybe it’s because it’s daytime and there are people around you. Nothing is going to happen in broad daylight.

You should really learn not to think things like that, though.

Eddie practically jumps in front of you as the loud screeching of tires alarms everyone around you. You startle, immediately looking towards the car that’s speeding through the parking lot. It’s loud and explosive. It hurts your ears, and you look away because you don’t know if you can take all this shock. You’re going to have a heart attack in your teens.

You cover your ears when it just barely crashes against the back of a car, bouncing off of it just to catapult into a giant pole.

The front is entirely caved in. There’s steam billowing from the hood as the back tires roll. One of the doors has flung open, and you stare in shock at what’s just happened. It takes you a moment to process Eddie’s protective arm over your front. You set a hand on his shoulder, and he immediately turns to examine you. “Are you okay?” he asks quickly, frantic as he looks over every part of you like you were the thing the car hit.

You start to nod when a blood curdling scream fills the air. Your head shoots to the scene of the crash, and you’re running toward it before you can even register Eddie’s protests. He chases after you.

You don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t this.

It’s gruesome and graphic. Your hands fly to your mouth as you fight the urge to scream at the sight of two bloodied bodies lying cold in the back seat. They’ve been completely mutilated with the amount of times they’ve been stabbed all over. If you hadn’t known them so well, you probably wouldn’t have been able to make them out with all the blood and tears spread over their faces.

Telling flesh from organs (or even clothes) proved difficult. It was a mess of fabric and tissue. Some places were so abused that you could see bone sticking out of wounds, surrounded by flesh and meat. Your gut churned and churned. You wanted to look away, you’re almost begging to look away but you can’t.

That’s two jocks now, four dead bodies. First Jason, then Cassidy…and now Tommy H and Carol Perkins.

Their wide eyes are unblinking…

You can hear your breath in your ears. Everything else is so loud and muffled—the screams, the shouts, the chatter—but the heavy gasps of your lungs is a pound in your head that you can’t tune out. Everything seems to slow as you stare at the two, their bodies unmoving and broken by glinting blades. All you do is stare.

You don’t realize Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist until he turns your head from the scene. You try to look back, but he’s shielding your gaze with his hand so that you can only look at him. “Hey, hey, hey.” His voice, though thick with breath and something you can’t place with the way your brain rushes, is grounding. “You’re okay. Let’s go. Come on.”

You just follow him because he’s the only steady thing you can focus on. He crowds you with his body, and you let him before it gives you something to focus on. The sight of them is still in your head, stuck to your brain like a dart in a dartboard. You don’t understand. You want to understand.

You don’t notice more people bursting through the doors. You don’t notice the cops following after with their guns drawn as they scream at everyone to get out of the way. You don’t notice more screams filling the air and police sirens from the cars already in the parking lot. You focus on Eddie’s warm palm against your palm as the other holds your hand tight.

You don’t know how much time has passed before you come to. Eddie’s rubbing your back and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Everything seems calm enough to feel real. You lift your head heavily and look at him. His gaze is distant, and you take it as shock.

You tuck your arm under his to wrap it around his back. He looks down at you, blinking a couple times before continuing to just sit next to you. Everything is fine.

It takes longer than it should for you to remember Jake. When you think you can stand, you place a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and tell him insistently, “I…I’m going to find Jake. He’s probably freaking out, and…just please be safe. Please don’t get hurt. Be safe, please.”

Eddie nods, squeezing your hand gently before letting you go. “You, too. I’ll see you later, right?”

It takes a moment to process. “Yes. Yeah, I’ll try to call you.” He nods, squeezes your hand again, and then lets you go. As you turn away toward the thick crowd, you see Jonathan Byers joining Eddie. Argyle and Robin find them a moment later. At least he’s got company.

Everyone is in the cafeteria now. There’s police at every door keeping anyone from leaving. It’s very crowded, and for a moment, you think you can’t breathe, but you need to find your boyfriend.

It takes you a long time to find him. When you do, it looks like he's just now being told what's happened by his teammates. Brynn is at his side with Andrew holding her hands, speaking slowly. You finally get to them and drop to your knees to look up at him. He sits down heavily, dropping his face in his hands. He looks really tired.

“Jake?” you whisper, brushing his hair back from his face and gently holding his face to lift it up. He sees you, and his eyes dart between your own. His expression is so far away, and you begin to worry yourself sick. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as you wait for anyone to tell you anything about what’s going on.

They send you home in groups, canceling school for the rest of the week while they’re at it. You worry about Jake driving, but he’s assured you that you’re okay enough and traffic is slow already. He drives in front of you, and you busy yourself with reading and rereading his plate numbers a million times just to try to avoid thinking about the corpses in Tommy H’s car.

You go to your house first. You hate the thought of walking in there right now, but you need clothes and things if you’re staying at Jake’s house for the next couple of days. You reach through the window of his truck on the way in, sliding a hand down his face. “You okay?”

He nods. He looks like he’s coming back to himself, but he’s still (obviously) deeply upset. “I’m good.”

You kiss his forehead before you’re headed inside with hesitant steps. Once the door is unlocked and open, you move quickly in an effort to grab all the things you need. As you’re passing the kitchen, you notice something sitting on the table. There wasn’t anything there when you were last here.

You swallow thickly, closing your eyes and slowly turning on your heel. When you open your eyes again to see, you swallow the insistent lump in your throat and set your bag on the counter. You walk slowly into the kitchen, and your hands begin to tremble all over again.

The note is the same handmade paper as before. This time, the smudge is on the outside over your name. Your heart is pounding so fast, you can’t even fathom focusing on it right now. You reach a hand out to grab it.

You hear Jake’s shoes as he steps through the front door. You swipe up the note and hide it behind your back as his gaze finds you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone sort of lazy.

You shake your head. “Nothing. I’m just gonna get my stuff.” You start walking toward the stairs.

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” you sound more desperate than you mean to. But he wouldn’t understand. “No, it’s fine. Please don’t.”

He stares at you for a moment before deciding it’s not that big a deal. He steps back, nodding to himself. “Okay.” He turns on his heel and walks back to his truck to wait for you.

You rush upstairs, shoving open your bedroom door and locking it behind you. You almost yelp when you turn and see a black rose sitting on your bed. You slap a hand over your mouth and close your eyes to center yourself, breathing like that will make the rose disappear—and the letter, too, for that matter.

You lean against the door, your breath shaky as you look at the envelope. You tear it open slower than you had the first, pulling out the letter inside like it will explode if you’re not careful enough.

When all our enemies are dead and buried, we will be the ones laughing together. Soon, my perfect little puppet.

Your breath shudders as memories of just earlier that day pulse in your ears, Tommy and the team laughing at you for “being a slut”. Without wasting a second, Tommy haunts you with the sight of his open eyes, wide and bloodshot—as if he’d just seen a ghost.

This letter goes with the last one. You throw it into the closet and turn to your dresser for some clothes to stuff in a bag. But the top drawer is already open. A pair of underwear is missing. The only reason you know that is because it's the only red pair you have, and it’s not glaring you down.

You shake your head, grabbing the first sets of clothes you see and stuffing them in the bag. You lock all your windows, you lock your bedroom door behind you, you run down the stairs and ignore the fact that you could trip and fall at any moment (effectively breaking your neck and ridding you of the exhaustion of the mess that is your life right now).

You keep (re-locking) every lockable door and window in your house before you finally reach the front door. Once you’re sure it’s locked tight, you rush to Jake’s car with your bag thrown over your shoulder. You toss it in the back, and Jake pulls away as soon as your seatbelt is on. You’re glad he doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, because you know you’re not subtle.

~

The night is a little better once you get to Jake’s place (at least, it is for him once he's had a few beers). Brynn is over—Andrew had to stay home, his parents were too worried to let him leave the house.

But you've got the house all to yourselves. Jake's father is working all night at the precinct. There's no way he's coming home with a killer on the loose—a killer who's already claimed two jocks so far. He's not very keen on a third, especially with such a personal risk.

There's a movie on, and it's a nice distraction for them. Your mind is a little too preoccupied with the events of today (the events of the past few days).

As you glance over at Jake, you set a hand on his knee. There was a flash of something sad in his eyes for a moment. His mood, although it has improved, is still a little sour. It isn't so low that he looks like he isn't there—no, the beer has helped with that—but there's a faintness there that concerns you.

“You okay?” It's a dumb question, but it's the only one you've got. Brynn looks over.

Jake glances at you, nodding. “Yeah,” he says. “Just can't believe he got Tommy.” He shakes his head. “It's not fucking cool, he was a good dude.”

You can admit that you never really liked him. But that wasn't a reason for him to die.

He stands, swirling his empty beer can in his hand and going to grab another. You're still sipping—you never really liked the taste of beer, and Brynn seems to be almost through with hers.

He rustles through the fridge and cracks open another can. “I don't even know why anyone would do this.” He takes a generous swig, running a hand through his hair and shutting the fridge door.

“A fucking psycho, that's who,” Brynn mutters. She drapes a hand over her face. “Who knows what else he'll do?”

Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I try not to think about it.”

You swallow thickly, looking down at your hands as you twirl your thumbs around the other. Brynn glances at you when you say nothing. You're doing that thing where the crease between your brows folds and unfolds. Something’s off.

“What's wrong?” she mutters. Jake looks at you.

You don't know how to tell them. You don't even know if they'll understand. Besides, with everything going on, your problems aren't nearly as important.

You go to dismiss it, but as you glance up and see them both watching you, you realize that you cannot sit here and pretend that nothing is bothering you this time. You look away, trying to find the words and feeling like you’re grasping at straws in a simple attempt at voicing your concerns.

“I…” You take a steadying breath, remembering the notes written to you on letters stained with blood. Fear circles your throat and makes it difficult to speak. You look up at Jake and Brynn. What if saying something about this meant they would both die? What if this thing, this sick, twisted thing going on between you and the killer means that everyone you love will end up dead?

Once again, you go to deny them the truth, the ugly truth of your peril…but you’ve already made that impossible. You swallow thickly, clearing your throat and hoping it will give you some courage.

“I’ve been getting these…these letters.” You clasp your hands together in an effort to stop their trembling. Your voice is soft, so soft that you don’t think they can hear you. “I think it’s from…him.”

Jake’s hand flexes, and you think for a moment that he’ll spill beer all over the place from crushing the can in his fist. “Who?” You think it’s possession over protection.

“The killer,” you say. Then your voice gets weaker. “Ghostface.”

Brynn makes a face. One that tells you that she doesn’t quite believe you. “Why would you be getting letters from this psycho?”

They’re not understanding. They don’t hear the fear in your voice.

“I don’t know. They’re these twisted love letters. I swear to God, there was blood on one of them.” You bring your knees up to your chest, trying to find warmth where fear has made your blood cold. You don’t look at them as you shake your head. It’s an absurd thing to say, but all of what’s happening is absurd. “I think this guy is killing for me.”

Brynn shakes her head, finding logic where you’re too emotional to look. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jake agrees, coming back to the living room to lean on the couch beside you. “It’s probably just some fuckin’ creep playing with you.” He drinks from his can.

As reasonable as they sound—at least, it’s more reasonable than the theory you have—you can’t believe it. Too much has happened, and this is all too fucked up to try to rationalize. You shake your head, turning your body to face him.

“You don’t understand. He got into my house.” Jake’s eyes aren’t clear, and he looks generally unfazed. You reach a hand out to grasp his own, squeezing it to try to get him to listen to you. “He was there today.”

He tilts his head down. The way he looks at you is nothing if not condescending, but you try not to see it that way. “Maybe you left your door unlocked.” You think, as the son of a police officer, he should be more upset about something breaking into your house. Hell, as your boyfriend, he should be more upset about a guy breaking into your house. “Ie,” he continues, “someone’s playing a trick on you.”

You tilt your head, your anxious frustration turning to something more angry. “I always lock the door. Especially when my parents aren’t home—especially when there’s a psycho killer on the loose.” He shakes his head. You take his face in your hands, making him look at you again. “Jake, Cassidy tried to get me fired. I heard Tommy talking about me today.”

“And Jason?” he nearly snaps. He steps away from you completely. “How’s he connected, huh?”

You swallow. He’s the only one who sticks out. Jason was never unkind to you—though you know he can be unkind. He was, to those that counted to him, as gentlemanly as a jock can get.

You look down. “I…” You clear your throat lightly. “I don’t know, but I know something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, four people are dead.” He almost slams his beer on the counter. His voice cracks slightly, and he runs a hand through his messy hair. He speaks quietly, though not lacking the hurt in his voice. “That’s what’s wrong.”

You know he, Jason, and Tommy were friends, you know how much they mean to him. But—damn it—you should mean just as much! He’s supposed to have your back through this, just like you’ve had his. You’ve tried to be good to him this whole time, and then when you try to tell him how afraid you are, he throws it in your face.

It’s getting to be too much. You have grown used to the flimsy support of those close to you. You parents are almost always gone, your boyfriend has his team, your best friend has her boyfriend. Things used to be so good, and they’ve just been getting so stressful. You never ask for anything from any of them, and the one time you do, you’ve served with a steaming bowl of hot shit. It’s too much.

“I feel like I’m going crazy here, and neither of you are listening to me.” You run your hands down your face, covering your eyes and trying to steady your breath, trying to ease the heat in your chest from all the anger gathering there. “I feel like-like I’m being watched all the time.”

Brynn speaks up. “You’re just paranoid.”

“He was in my house!

You couldn’t stop it once it was out. Your shout was louder than you’d anticipated, and you feel like it’s the first time your words have ever been forced straight from your chest. There’s so much there that you feel like you have to catch your breath as the silence sits thick in the space between the three of you.

You look at Brynn. She stares down at her lap, timidly picking her nails. You look at Jake. He’s got his face in his hand as he leans against the counter.

They don’t believe you.

You can’t make them.

You stand up quickly, pushing yourself off the couch so hard that you almost fall forward. “I don’t need this.” You shove past Jake on your way to the hall, “You guys are supposed to have my fucking back.” Brynn turns to Jake, her eyes unblinking. You climb the stairs and barge into his room, grabbing your bags and repacking the things you’ve set out.

Jake has followed you up the stairs. “Come on, babe. Don’t act like this.”

It makes you seethe. “I’m going home.”

“How? You live too far, and you don’t have a ride.” You glare at him. That’s his concern. “Besides, you shouldn’t be out by yourself.” He adds it on like an afterthought.

You shake your head, closing your eyes and taking a steadying breath. “Then I’ll call someone to get me.” You slam your bag shut, forcing the zipper closed with far too much strength. “I just can’t fucking look at you right now.”

Jake grabs you, stopping you from what you’re doing to make you look at him. “Hey, babe, look, I’m sorry. Okay?” He makes you face him, his hands on your elbows as he cages you in. You turn your face away. “I’m being a huge dick… I believe you, okay?”

You huff, glancing at him out of the corner of your eyes. You take in the sight of him, trying to determine if he’s lying to you. He seems upset, genuinely. It’s foolish hope, but it’s hope, and that’s all you really want right now. “Do you?” It’s more accusing than it is anything else.

His voice is low, and he cradles your face in his hand. You let yourself, reluctantly, lean into his palm. “If that’s what you want.” You don’t like his response, but you push it away. He’s never had a way with words. “I’m sorry.” He pulls you close, bringing his other hand to wrap around your waist. “Let me make it up to you.”

You sigh, allowing yourself for just a moment to think maybe…maybe he means it. His thumb brushes over your cheek, the corner of his lips curves up. He leans in.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

You shove him hard. You clench your fists at your side and feel yourself reaching a level of anger that is generally foreign to you. You're used to pushing it away.

Jake's shock quickly turns to annoyance, which forms a deep frustration as he huffs. “I'm so fucking sorry,” he mocks. He crowds your space, his face merely inches from his own as he speaks in a low voice that feels like he's shouting. “Two of my friends are dead, and you're making it all about you.”

You want to feel bad, but you can't. You're tired of feeling bad, you're tired of letting yourself be overlooked. What kills you is that he can't even realize that you're not okay—that you're hardly ever okay.

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” You stare in shock and partially in pain, though you try to keep that hidden. It claws at your throat, and you feel like you can't speak; you push through it, despite the burning coals stuck in your throat. “I'm genuinely terrified that someone is trying to hurt me, and you're acting like this?”

He looks like he's about to rip his hair out—which is the point you're reaching as well. “Nobody is trying to hurt you! You're fucking delusional. Jesus Christ, why do you have to be such a whiny little bitch?”

A mix of emotions run through you, but all you do is stand there. You stand and you stare at him, eyes wide and welling, lips parted as your brows dip low.

It's one thing to have a stray thought that your boyfriend finds you annoying—even, perhaps, that he hates you. It's another thing entirely to have those theories confirmed, and in such a way! You look at the features of his face, all the rage and frustration peeling back into fatigue and a hint of regret. You stare even longer, longer than you were meant to, just wanting to see more regret than what he's giving.

You want him to fall to his knees and cry, to beg your forgiveness. But you know he would never beg. You know he would never fall. He never did. It was always you.

After all this time, you were always the one falling.

Ideally, you know you both need to take a step back, get some space. You need to clear your head and think about this so you can come back and figure this out. Especially with everything going on, feelings running high. You should be rational.

But you can't. 

The only thing you want to do right now is slam the door in his face, leave him standing there looking stupid. Because if you come back, if you make up and go back to normal…

You don't know how much more you can take.

Jake takes a step forward. “Babe–”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“Babe, I'm sorry. I'm just–”

You hit his hand away when he reaches for you. “Don't fucking touch me.” You stare at him for a second longer, shaking your head before turning sharply to grab your bags. You make for the door.

“Babe–”

“Rot in Hell.”

You slam the door in his face, rushing down the stairs as quickly as you can. Brynn spots you, walking up to you quickly as she looks down at your bags. “Where are you going?”

“Fuck off.”

“You don't have your car–!” You slam the front door shut. You make sure Jake can hear it from upstairs.

No one follows you. You trek down the sidewalk, your feet heavy and your grip on your bags tight. Your heart is beating so hard, it comes with the sound of thunder in your ears. You know you're about to cry, you can feel it in the heaviness of your chest, the tightness in your throat, the hoarseness of every breath you take. You think briefly that you may die.

But the longer you walk, the longer you realize that you are outside. It's past curfew, late at night. You are alone.

And there's a killer on the loose.

It's the most inconvenient time for tears to fall. You can't see well, and you're breathing so heavily that you can't hear what's going on around you.

The streets are bare. There's no one around. The sky is drenched in darkness. Everyone is inside hiding from the killer, where they should be.

Where do you go?

You have no car. You live too far to walk. You refuse to go back and ask for a ride. You refuse to go back.

You swallow thickly, picking up the pace as you rush to the nearest payphone. There's one close by, you’ve passed by it a million times.

Once you're inside, you close the door quickly. But as soon as your hand is reaching for loose quarters in your bag, you realize they're shaking. You watch them, like leaves rattling in the window. As you bring them slowly to your face, you can't help it when your knees buckle.

You let yourself be carried to the ground, unable to hold it together long enough to find safety. It's all coming down so quickly, and you don't have the sense to allot time to cry after you've found it.

You'd hoped you were wrong, that your friends actually loved you. What a fool you were to believe such a thing. You'd grown so used to such a skewed perception of love that you don't think you'd be able to distinguish that from your twisted need to please every goddamn person you meet.

You like to believe that, at one point, it was real. It had to have been, right? It's been almost a year since you and Jake met. And Brynn has been your best friend since the beginning of high school. But that kind of distrust, those kinds of insults don't come from a place of love.

No, you don't think Jake ever truly loved you. It was simple attraction—attraction that wore off, that he probably got sick of but felt too obligated to preserve because you need someone. And there was a time for you and Brynn, but it has since passed.

You held on too tight.

It's nighttime and the sun has long since set. By the time you clear your face, you feel stupid for crying before finding safety. There are more important things than this.

You take a steadying breath. You need to be rational again.

You stuff a quarter in the slot and clear your throat as you bring the phone to your ear. It rings a few times, and you're scared he won't pick up.

“Hello?”

You recognize the voice, but it's not the one you're looking for. “Hey…” You clear your throat again. “I'm looking for Eddie? I'm one of his friends, we've actually met before.”

Eddie's Uncle Wayne pauses to think. You can imagine him scratching his head and rubbing his neck. He says your name in his low, gravelly voice.

You nod as if he can see you. “Yes, that's me.”

“Ah. Well,” he clears his own throat, “Eddie's at one of his friend's houses right now. That Harrington boy, should be. Staying in groups and all that.”

“Okay.” You hadn't anticipated that. You chew on your lip thoughtfully, trying to decide your best course of action. You know Steve, so maybe you'll be welcome. “Do you think you could give me his number?”

He makes this grunting sound, which is just the sound of him thinking. “Let's see,” he mumbles. “Should be in here somewhere.”

You've only interacted with Wayne a few times. He's very mellow, but he's kind and welcoming. And Eddie adores him.

“Harrington residence. What's up?”

“Hey. Steve? Is Eddie there?”

He says your name, double checking. It's been a little while since you've spoken, with him graduating and all.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, he's here.”

You let out a quiet breath of relief. “Could I speak to him?”

“Yeah, hang on.”

There's a shift. Then you hear Steve shout his name.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He already sounds concerned. “What's the matter?”

You rub your face. “Got into it with…” you take a deep breath and hope you don't sound as dreadful as you felt, “with Jake and Brynn. I don't wanna be home by myself. I know it’s past curfew but…” You glance around you in the dark. “Do you think you could come get me?”

There's a pause, and you wonder if you've said something wrong. Eddie is all enthusiasm. He's loud and excited, and he's quick to respond because he's happy to respond.

The silence makes you nervous.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah!” he recovers. ��Yeah, of course. Where are you right now?”

You're glad he doesn't ask how you are. “I'm on Jake's street still.”

You hear a jingle. “Stay there. I'll be there in a few minutes.” You're surprised he doesn't ask why you're outside so late, but you're grateful nonetheless.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you smile.

You can hear his own smile through the phone. He's sticky with affection, and it makes you feel safe. “No worries, sweetheart.”

Continued....

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @queermaxwooo @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog @thegr8estpuff @lover-of-books-and-tea @xxhanililoxx @quickslvxrr Eddie the Banished taglist: @iiiiluvhobie @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @queermaxwooo @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom @hiscrimsonangel

[meownotgood]

the neon pink rabbit dildo was aki's idea.

technically, you were the first one to mention using toys in the bedroom. you've been dating for quite a while now, and although everything with aki is always fantastic, you've been wondering if maybe the two of you should try to make things more... interesting. aki is polite. tightly-laced. pretty vanilla, to put it bluntly. you honestly weren't sure what sort of things he'd be into, if anything at all.

your coworkers had plenty of office gossip about the new fancy adult store they're opening down the block — it has two floors, they're having specials on all their products for couples. you figured it was worth mentioning to aki, just for the hell of it. you tell him as you're both relaxing in the living room after work, like you normally do.

everyone at your job has been complaining about the new surge of traffic to the nearest parking garage. it must be because of the new giant sex shop. ha ha, very funny. aki gives you an all-too serious once-over, before he gently asks, "did you want to check it out?"

you fumbled through your next words, and swiftly explained to your boyfriend that yes, sure, you wouldn't mind checking it out with him. it'd be exciting, really. honestly, you're all for experimenting, but you're unsure, you aren't very knowledgeable. the problem with the whole thing is that you don't know exactly what you'd like to try. it's a bit stressful to imagine getting lost in a huge adult store, with no idea what to purchase.

"I could try to pick something out. maybe that'd be less stressful." aki suggests, his slightly flushed face betraying his level tone. he crosses his legs and leans back into the couch. "only if you're interested, though."

you confirmed you were very, very interested.

part of you assumed aki might back out. he's been busy with work lately, so you had plenty of time to mull it over before your next date — but you honestly had no idea what sort of toy he might pick out. you know he'd put thought into it. he would choose something for a specific reason, or purposefully pick a toy he assumed you would like. perhaps he'd imagine how he might use it on you. would it be something small? large? super adventurous or overly simple?

still, despite all your thinking, when the day actually comes, aki manages to surprise you.

he comes over to your place shortly after you text him an invite. sure. I just got done with work. I'll be over soon, aki replies. he sends another string of texts shortly afterwards, while you're busy tripping over your pant leg, trying to quickly change into your lingerie. I missed you. I'm bringing a surprise.

maybe it was that text, or maybe it was because you haven't seen him in close to a week and you're practically dying to feel his touch, but once he arrives, the two of you barely last a few innocent minutes together before you're stumbling into your bedroom.

aki allows you to pull him forward and on top of you by his tie when you flop back onto your bed. your hands run through his soft hair to tug it free of its hairtie. you kiss his lips and brush your tongue against his with fervor, and you don't protest when he shifts to trail tingling, affectionate kisses down your neck.

you curl into his touches — his mouth on your collar, his palm gliding over your lower back — and you make quick work of a good third of his work uniform: his tie, his jacket, the first few buttons on his dress shirt. aki is much more efficient. he discards your clothes with careful movements, between soft kisses. he sighs when he pulls back, nervously running a hand through his hair, his eyes heavy at the sight of your pretty body held tight by the thin, perfectly fitting lingerie.

"you look beautiful," he hums, completely earnest. you shudder, your arms held around his neck and shoulders. your thighs spread wider for him as his warm palm brushes in between them.

you'd almost forgotten about the surprise, until aki reminds you of it.

he pulls himself off of you for a moment to reach into his bag. the dildo is moderately sized, a handful of inches in length at most, but it doesn't seem cheap. it's made from bright pink silicone, long and thick with two different sections. the smaller portion is adorned with two small knobs, shaped like rabbit ears.

it's meant for double stimulation, aki explains awkwardly, between a handful of uhms and stutters. you could certainly gather as much from the shape.

he places a hand on your waist ever-so gently, and when he asks, are you okay with this? you're swift to answer with a nod of your head. you're more than okay with it. what you couldn't figure out is how it might feel — until aki finally opts to show you.

he has you sprawled out beneath him, completely pliant. your arms are above your head, hands clenching tight as he glides his palm from your waist to your thigh with reassurance. he squeezes, and he fiddles with the toy for a moment, gauging the various controls. as he leans in closer, he presses a kiss to your cheek, he breathes a low instruction to relax. then, he flips the toy to press just the small, vibrating, rabbit-eared attachment to your still-clothed clit.

you can feel the faint vibrations, even through your lingerie. the toy must be on the lowest setting; it's more of a tease than anything else. still, your eyes flutter. you let go of a satisfied sound, and eagerly grind your hips up to meet the toy.

aki sighs. "you want more?" he murmurs, already sitting up and hooking his thumb around the string of your underwear. "can I take this off?"

you nod hastily, and lift your hips to allow him to pull the garment down your legs and all the way off.

aki's jaw clenches. sweat is forming at his brow and his palms, as you coo his name and spread your legs wider for him. you're so wet — he can tell without touching, but he's entirely sure once he guides the thick head of the toy over your cunt, and sees your arousal glistening on the silicone. he gives you another soft squeeze, another gentle touch on your side, a final, are you sure?

when you whimper and plead, please, aki, I want to feel it, he hardly hesitates to give you exactly what you've been hoping for.

the dildo is just the perfect size. it slides into you effortlessly, filling you perfectly and snugly. the length of it is curved slightly, and you can feel that curve as he slowly eases it in — nudging your walls, the thick tip deliciously meeting your sweet spot.

"there, that's it," aki praises. once the toy is all the way inside you, he lets go of a sigh that sounds thoroughly satisfied. "god. you take it so well."

your spine tingles at the sound of his smooth voice. he adjusts the toy slightly, and as the flexible rabbit-eared piece presses against your clit, vibrations a little stronger than before, your whole body tremors.

aki fucks you on the toy with slow, shallow thrusts, enough to keep the vibrations on your clit. and it's intense, it's so much; the toy fucks you so well and hits your sweet spot with its perfect curve on every thrust in. the vibrations are low and constant, thrumming against your sensitive, puffy clit.

wet noises fill the room as you dirty the toy's pretty pink shaft. aki keeps his pace slow, deliberate, never pressing it in too hard or too fast. all you can do is quiver and whine, your voice already becoming strained and loud.

he clicks a button on the dildo, and it begins to vibrate with strong pulses.

you're so beautiful; pleading his name, keeping your heavy, warm gaze locked on his despite the way your eyelids flutter. aki swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen as he watches the way you take all he has to give you. you have no idea what this is doing to him, how his heart is pounding and his mind is racing and oh, you were made to take this toy. you're all his, he has complete control over every facet of your pleasure. and god, does he want to make you cum for him.

aki increases the strength of the vibrations. "you're irresistible," he murmurs, and you don't fail to catch the small break at the end of his voice. he's falling apart too, just from this. "say my name again, please. want to make you cum for me, beautiful."

he trails soft kisses down your jaw while the dildo pleasures your cunt and your clit — and when you cum, you cum quickly and hard.

you tremor, you hold onto him tight, you soak the toy as your legs shake and your voice gives out. aki slows while you struggle to regain your breath, a hand slowly caressing your side, guiding you to breathe again. his heart feels like it might hammer out of his own chest.

"f-fuck..." aki swears, his breath shaky, his brows pinched. "you've never- that was-" he sighs. you're so lovely, so pretty. he's definitely going to lose his mind if he hasn't lost it already. why didn't he think of something like this sooner? "god... can you take one more for me?"

for @violet-turning-violet

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

The Jersey 👕⚽️

Ona Batlle x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

Because of Ona constant travels -due to football matches- you were used to being long distance for weeks at a time. During these weeks of absence, you had for habit to wear Ona jersey to sleep. During a late night face time, Ona realised that instead of her jersey, you were wearing a Real Madrid one.

It had been weeks since you last saw Ona in person, the constant travelling for matches keeping her away. You had grown used to the long-distance routine—late-night texts, early-morning calls, and, of course, FaceTime sessions whenever you could catch her in between her busy schedule. But one thing that had become a habit during these stretches apart was wearing her jersey to bed. It made you feel close to her, even when she was halfway across the world.

Tonight, though, you decided to switch things up, feeling a little mischievous. Instead of her usual red jersey, you pulled on a Real Madrid one. You knew it would get a reaction out of her, and it was all in good fun.

When the FaceTime call connected, you were greeted by the sight of Ona sitting in her hotel room, looking tired but smiling. Her hair was still a little damp from her post-match shower, and her eyes lit up when she saw you.

“Hola, cariño,” she said softly, her voice warm despite the distance.

“Hey, babe,” you replied, settling back against your pillows. Everything felt normal, the conversation flowing easily as you caught up about her game and the latest news from home.

But then her eyes narrowed a bit as she looked closer at you. Her gaze drifted from your face to the shirt you were wearing, and her expression quickly shifted. She blinked, then leaned in closer to the screen, her brows furrowing.

“Are you…seriously wearing a Real Madrid jersey?” she asked, her voice calm but with an edge of disbelief.

You couldn’t help but smirk, leaning back on the bed, enjoying how riled up she was getting. “What? I thought I’d change things up tonight,” you teased, tugging at the fabric.

Ona's expression shifted from surprise to something more serious. “Cariño, if you don’t take that off, I swear I won’t talk to you for the rest of the night.”

You blinked, unsure if she was joking or not, but the look on her face told you she wasn’t messing around. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” she said, crossing her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of all the teams you could pick, them ?”

The amusement you had felt earlier quickly melted into something closer to mild panic. Ona was the playful type, but football rivalries? Those were sacred, and clearly, this crossed a line you hadn’t fully anticipated.

“I was just messing with you,” you said quickly, tugging at the collar of the jersey as if that might soften her glare. “I didn’t think you’d take it this seriously!”

Ona didn’t budge, her face still set in that stern expression, though there was a glint of something playful in her eyes—like she knew she was overreacting but wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily. “You know I love you,” she began, her tone softening just a little, “but this? This is betrayal.”

“Betrayal?” you echoed, half-laughing, but the guilt was starting to creep in. “Okay, okay, I’ll take it off. Just don’t stop talking to me.”

She leaned closer to the screen, arching an eyebrow. “I mean it, cariño. Off. Now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh nervously as you reached for the hem of the jersey, pulling it over your head. “Happy now?” you asked, tossing it off to the side.

The second the jersey was out of view, Ona’s face softened, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Much better,” she said, visibly relaxing. “Now you look like my partner again.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “I can’t believe you were really about to give me the silent treatment over a football jersey.”

“Football’s serious business,” she said with a playful shrug. “And I’d much rather see you in red.”

“Well, lesson learned,” you said, holding your hands up in defeat. “No more Real Madrid jerseys. Only Barca colors from now on.”

Ona nodded, her expression smug. “Good. Because next time I see you in one of those…” she trailed off, the threat clear, but the playful glint in her eyes told you she was back to her usual self.

“Noted,” you replied, leaning into the camera. “Now, can we go back to talking? I missed you, you know.”

Ona smiled softly, her serious act officially dropped. “I missed you too, cariño. But seriously—never again.”

You grinned, nodding. “Never again. Promise.”

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (13)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, abandonment issues, crazy reader, fluff, "moving in together the crazy way"

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every breath you take (12)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Bucky stares at you as if you lost your mind. He swallows audibly, all the while keeping an eye on your surroundings.

“You want me to do what?” He questions, still confused about your reaction. “Doll, you can’t be serious.”

You pucker your lips and huff. “That’s what secret admirers do, right? I read all about it online. You watch a pretty dame, fall in love, and steal her away.” You insist. “So, I’m waiting, Sir. I got all I’ll need.”

“Y/N—I,” Bucky watches you watching him. You huff, and pout. “What about your apartment and your job?”

“My job is a dead end,” you sniffle. “All the hard work to get a promotion and that newbie got it. I’m always on time, friendly and reliable. I did all the hard work for the new assignment, only for her to pretend she did most of the work. Not only that, but I showed him proof, that in fact, I did all the work, but he didn’t care. Because she’s sucking his dick.”

“Language, doll,” Bucky tuts. He’s still a gentleman from the forties. “What about your life? Your family and friends?”

“I got no family left.” You shrug. “And, I don’t have many friends. If they are even friends.” You lick your lips while giving Bucky heart eyes.

“What about your job? Maybe you can still make a career,” he offers, suddenly unsure if taking you away from your life is the right thing to do. Your reaction scared him to the bones. He should be happy, but somehow, your behavior has him on his toes.

“Burned bridges,” you say, and step closer to Bucky. “Why don’t you bring me home, my secret admirer.” You coo the words while pushing your duffle bags into his hands. “I have nothing left in this world but you.” You dreamily stare into his eyes, sighing softly. “I only want you, Bucky.”

Bucky looks in all directions. He drops his eyes to your suitcase and hums. Suddenly, his features darken, and his metal hand wraps around your wrist.

“Remember,” he whispers lowly, “you asked to be mine.”

You giggle when you end up in his arms, his metal arm wrapped tightly around your middle. “Where to, Mr. Barnes? This lady is ready to get kidnapped.”

“You’re going to be only mine, doll,” Bucky whispers in your ear. “No one will ever take you away from me, Y/N. There is no escaping me.”

You giggle and run around the house; Alpine tugged under your arm. The white fur ball purrs low in his throat as you explore your new home.

Bucky huffs. He can’t believe he didn’t even have to use the pills to knock you out and kidnap you. Crossing his arms over his chest, he thinks about his next steps.

“She’s crazy,” he laughs. Of course, he falls in love with a crazy woman. As if life didn’t fuck him over enough. He lost his arm, his life, his freedom, and his best friend. Bucky is a man out of time looking for meaning in life, only to find a crazy little bug he wanted to collect. “What did I get myself into?”

“Bucky, this house is awesome,” you squeal and run toward him, Alpine still in your arms. “Where’s the bedroom? I want to try the mattress.” You suddenly stop in front of him, giving him a seductive smile. “Maybe you want to try it with me?”

“What? I…” Bucky starts to sweat. He’s nervously tugging at the collar of his black shirt. “We should get you settled in first.”

Bucky quirks a brow when you run off to find the bedroom. He dips his head to look at the small black bag he was hiding in the trunk of his car. Maybe he could still use the drug to help you calm down – or to get a few moments of peace and quiet.

“AWESOME!” You yell from inside the bedroom. Luckily, Bucky found a house far away from others. It’s nestled in the woods, and not easy to find. “YES! It’s memory foam.”

He releases a deep sigh. “She’s crazy,” he nods to himself and decides to unpack his bags and check on the groceries he brought here some days ago.

“Bucky, can I keep this?” You run back inside the living room, wearing a pair of pink, fuzzy socks and one of his old shirts.

“Uh—that’s dirty, and smells,” he says, and points at the dirty shirt you snatched from the laundry basket.

“I know,” you purr, and slowly stalk toward him. “I like that it smells like you.” You stop in front of Bucky to run your right hand over his chest. “Don’t you want me to smell like you?” You sigh, feeling his firm chest under your touch. “I dreamed of smelling like you.”

Bucky makes an odd noise. He cannot deny that he dreamed of marking you as his girl for months. Smelling himself on you is one of his secret kinks. But right now, he’s too confused, and maybe even a little scared that you lost your mind. He cannot take advantage of you. Maybe this is a good moment to call his therapist.

“Thank you for buying all the things I like,” you softly say. “Oh no,” your voice cracks. “I forgot my orchids.”

Your lips wobble and you start to sniffle. You didn’t think this through. All you grabbed were your plushies, toiletries, and a few clothes. And important memorabilia.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Bucky cups your face with both hands. “How about you get settled in and relax? Give me your keys and make a list. I’ll get everything you’ll need tonight.”

“You will?” You sniffle. “Really?”

Bucky presses a soft kiss on your forehead. You sigh and melt against him. Soon after the intimate moment, Bucky will leave the house. He doesn’t tell you that you won’t be able to leave the house…

Part 14

Tags in reblog.

[reveryfics]

It's A Date

Pairings: Steven Grant x FtM reader

Summary: Steven has had his eye on a fellow coworker at the museum for awhile, only now finding the courage to actually talk to him

A/n: I feel like Steven would be the confused but supportive type that gets incredibly nervous around his partner.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Steven took a shaky step forward, his eyes darting everywhere except the one person he desperately wanted to look at. His heart pounded against his chest, a frantic drumbeat echoing in his ears. His hands were clammy, his palms slick with nervous sweat. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, the sudden intensity of his emotions almost overwhelming.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, the sound a tiny, strangled squeak. Finally, he closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out to tap the shorter male's shoulder. The man turned around, his head cocked to the side as he regarded Steven with a curious gaze.

"Can I help you?" he questioned, his voice a soft, gentle baritone that sent shivers down Steven's spine.

Steven opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He could only manage another strangled squeak, this one even more pathetic than the first.

"Pathetic," a low, gravelly voice sneered from behind him. Steven flinched, catching a fleeting glimpse of Konshu lurking in the corner of his eye.

"Sorry, I uh… I was wondering if you'd… uh… like to…" Steven stammered, his mind a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. He desperately searched for the right words, his face flushing crimson. "Would you… would you like to get dinner with me?"

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the

inevitable rejection. He'd made a complete fool of himself.

"I'd love that, Steven," the man replied, his voice surprisingly calm. He tugged nervously at the collar of his crisp white shirt, a small, shy smile playing on his lips. "It's a date."

Steven's eyes flew open, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest. "Great, I'll uh… see you then."

They exchanged information, the air between them crackling with a nervous energy. As they returned to their work, the anticipation of their upcoming date lingered, a pleasant weight in their chests.

Later that night, Steven stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, wrestling with his unruly curls. He tugged at his suit jacket, undoing the top button, feeling slightly suffocated by the formality of it all. He paced his apartment, a whirlwind of nerves. Finally, he grabbed his blazer and a box of chocolates he'd picked up on his way home – a last-minute, somewhat desperate gesture.

He stood outside the restaurant, his eyes scanning the crowd. Then he saw him. His date was waiting by the entrance, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the bustling city. Steven's breath hitched in his throat. He admired the way the suit accentuated his date's curves, the way his hair framed his face, the confident way he carried himself.

Steven was aware that his date was transgender, though he didn't fully understand the complexities of his identity. It didn't matter to him. He was drawn to this man – his laughter, his passion for his work at the museum, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was utterly smitten.

His date spotted him and waved, beckoning him over. "Come on," he said, "Let's get a table before the place gets too crowded."

"I uh… I got these for you," he stammered, handing him a small bouquet of roses. "I wasn't sure what your favorite flower was, so I hope these are okay."

Steven's smile widened. "They're beautiful, thank you." Steven then presented him with the box of chocolates. "I remember you saying you liked caramel, so I thought I'd get you these."

They found a table, the initial conversation a bit stilted as they both struggled to find their footing. Eventually, they settled into a comfortable silence, the low hum of the restaurant providing a soothing backdrop.

"I can't remember the last time I've been on a date," his date admitted, swirling the wine in his glass. "Most people… well, most people can't seem to get past…" He gestured vaguely towards himself.

Steven couldn't understand why anyone would have a problem with him. He'd known this man for months, and he admired him deeply. "I've never actually been on a date either," Steven confessed, taking a large gulp of his wine. "I'm glad it's with you."

Steven looked at him, his eyes sparkling. "God, you're handsome."

He felt a blush creep up his neck. "I could say the same thing about you."

The rest of the evening flew by. They laughed, they talked, they shared stories. As Steven walked him home, surprised to discover that they lived in the same apartment building, his date turned to him.

"We should do this again," he suggested.

"It's a date," Steven replied, a smile playing on his lips.

As he walked back to his own apartment, Steven felt a sense of euphoria he hadn't experienced in years. This was just the beginning, he realized, the beginning of something wonderful.