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smuthospital · 6 months

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🎃⭐️Texas Chainsaw Massacre x reader⭐️🎃

Art by: Minilev

Premise: You go hiking with a friend and this bitch has the audacity to leave you alone. You end up hitchhiking with some hippies, but their van gets a flat! Oh no! Good thing there's a farmhouse nearby. Maybe they can help

Note: I had this in the drafts for awhile. I decided to whip it out for halloween. Enjoy. Say one thing bad thats not constructive criticism and its a block. Tired of these fucking kids smh. Also, imagine everyone with a soulthern accent

-Dr. Smut

Minors DNI

Warning: Non-Con, side charicter death, mentions of gore, kidnapping, fem reader

"So uh..thanks for picking me up." You say with a nervous smile. You refrain from coughing as the strong smell of marijuana floods your nose. Right now, you're in a classic 70s Volkswagen van, hitchhiking through Texas. Your friend convinced you to go backpacking with her, but a quarterway through, she ditched you to continue the trip with her new boyfriend. Some junky she met at a gas station. You can't exactly turn tail and go home because she took the car, and stranded you in the middle of nowhere so, you had no choice, but to catch a ride with some hippies.

"No prob, sweet cheeks. Anything for a pretty lil' lady like yourself." The driver looks back at you for a moment and winks. You think he may like you. You cringe slightly. "Eddy has a crush on you! Ain't that right, Ed?" A girl next to you wearing a tie-dye crop top pokes Edds back a couple of times. "Well, who wouldn't?" He chuckles. You play with your fingers nervously. You've been driving along a dusty, desolate path through some empty part of Texas for a while now. You've always been perturbed by the idea of Texas. Americans and with their guns and hot temper and all. It seems you may have watched too many scary movies. You haven't seen a soul for miles, let alone a house, just tall grass and more tall grass.

The car suddenly jolts and you're all jostled around. The girl sitting next to you clings to you as the driver slams the brakes. You gasp for air, your heart pounding a mile a minute. "Huh!? W-what the!?" Edd shouts before hopping out to investigate. You cautiously slip out the back and join him. Edd lifts a spiked wire. It's still stuck in the now flat tire. "Some asshole must'a dropped it here while delivering somethin'," he says as he drops it back on the ground. It popped the back tires. You pull out your phone. No service. Of course.

"Do you have any spares?" You ask, hoping to get out of this creepy place. "Unfortunately these are the spares, sweet cheeks." He sighs. "Weren't you supposed to buy more, Ed?" Ann shouts from the window. "This is no time to argue! We have to get help!… Look, There's a farmhouse right there. Let's hope someone's home." He says, walking towards it.

You hesitantly follow them to the creepy house. "I'm gonna check the farm, you two knock on the door." Edd doesn't give anyone time to respond before he walks off. You walk up to the front door and Ann knocks. You feel like you're being watched. You shift from foot to foot nervously. A few minutes pass and no word. Not even a sound. "What the? Where's Edd? If no one was home, he should be back by now!" Ann looks around. You begin feeling incredibly anxious. "Let's go find that idiot," she says and walks off quickly, you follow behind her. You can't leave her to do it by herself so you agree. You walk over to the farm and see…the gate open.

"H..hello?" You call. "E-Edd?"…No response. The two of you cautiously walk into the house. It smells like wood and iron. You see a red smudge on the wall…weird. This is getting scary. "Ann…I think we sh-" You're cut off by a blood-curdling scream from Ann. You quickly go over to the open doorway she's looking at to see a horrific sight. Edd has been cut to pieces. You hold back bile in your throat and grab Ann. "Let's go!" You shout. She snaps out of her trance and follows you to the entryway, only for the two of you to halt in your tracks.

Standing there is a giant, his hulking frame filling the doorway. He's the scariest thing you've ever seen in your life. A mask covers half his face, and in his arms is a chainsaw. You make eye contact with the beast and scream. Ann yanks you deeper into the house, hoping to find an exit. The man follows you, hot on your trail. You see a back door and try to open it, but it's locked. Cassie then barely avoids losing her arm as she dodges the giant.

He hasn't tried to attack you yet. You grab a chair and smash it through a window. You pick up a plant and throw it at the man, who cornered Ann. He's completely unphased, but pauses and looks at you as if to warn you. You toss his warning to the wind and jump on his back. "Ann, go!" You scream. Ann runs towards the window but stops when another man shorter than the man you're currently on top of, smashes a hammer onto her head.

You hear a crack and she falls to the floor, limp. "Ann!" You cry. Your body was then slammed to the floor by the hulking, chainsaw-wielding psychopath. You whimper and crawl backwards. You hit a wall and he lifts his chainsaw towards you. You're thankful It's turned off. You close your eyes and wait for death. You feel the blade lightly touch your collarbone…and then gently move down between your breasts and to the junction between your spread legs…he rubs your thigh with the chainsaw lightly, as if thinking. You look up at him in confusion. He tosses the saw to the side and grabs your face in his large hand. He tilts your head from side to side, examining you.

"Think she's pretty, Tommy?" The man who just attacked Ann asked.

'Tommy', the giant holding your face grunts and nods. You're horrified. Does this monster think you're pretty? "Yeah, I agree, Tommy. Good thing you didn't turn her into dinner… though, I don't think you were gonna. You had your eye on her since their car landed in our road trap." He laughed. Trap!? This was all a setup!? Did he say dinner!? Your head is spinning.

Tommy looped his bur waist arm around your waist and hoisted you up, placing you on his shoulder like you weighed a small sack of potatoes. "H-hey! What are you doing? Put me down!" You shout, pounding your hands on his back, but it doesn't even look like he knows you're hitting him. You hear footsteps and look up to see an old woman looking over at you. “P-please help me” you whimper. She smiles down at you sweetly.

"Well, I do say, you sure found yourself a sweet little thing. Ain't that right, Thomas.” The hulking figure above you grunts in agreement. You cry as you realize she has no intention of helping you in the least. “She has a pretty voice too…Take care of my Tommy, girl!” She warns, glaring down at you. “Tommy. Get'er to pop out a few farmhands, will you?" All blood drains from your face. They…want you to…what? Tommy carries you down into a dark, creepy basement. You almost puke. You see dead bodies hanging from hooks and dismembered limbs and bones strewn about….is that Edd? You're carried down a hallway and into a room. The room is empty besides a dirty mattress in a corner. He throws you on the mattress and begins to undress you immediately.

You scream and try to stop him, but he's just too strong. "P-Please stop!" You cry. Tears flow down your cheeks and you hiccup. Tommy leans down and wipes away your tears, not calming you in the slightest. He strips you down to your bra and panties and takes a good look at you, drinking up your body. You can see the lust in his eyes. He grunts in excitement and removes his bloody apron. You curl your body up and hide yourself from him. He softly strokes your cheek and hugs you like you're a teddy bear. He's oddly gentle, but you feel he's losing patience. He taps your shoulder a few times, silently urging you to show yourself to him. when you don't, his taps become a little harder. He grunts in annoyance. He presses himself into you, trying to get closer. You feel his hard cock through his pants and try to shuffle back.

He grunts in frustration, yanking your arm and knees apart, forcing your body to reveal. You need to do something!…" Please,… don't hurt me, Tommy" He only stares into your eyes. You can see emotions swirl in his eyes before he lets go of you and stomps out of the room. Looks like he's giving you time to cooperate. You bring your hands to your face and sob. You look up. You have to get out of here! You hope to god you can do this. You get up and tip-toe towards the door as quietly as you can. You slowly open it and slide it open just enough for you to fit through, which proves to be quite difficult as it's very heavy. You don't know how the monster did it before.

You continue to quietly make your way down the dark hallway, missing the dark shadow to your side. You try not to look around too much at the carnage before making your way up the stairs. You find the window you previously broke now boarded up. You take a deep breath, preparing to make a run for the front door. You haven't heard anyone yet so you think you're still in the clear. You make it to the front door and just as you're about to try and open it, your body is slammed against the wall, your breath knocked out of you. You cough and groan. You feel dizzy. You look up to see Tommy staring down at you with a look of anger. Was he waiting for you to try to escape?

You grit your teeth before lifting your knee to knee him in the crotch, but he anticipates it and grabs your leg, lifting it. He makes space for himself between your legs and lets his large hands roam your bare midriff and up to your breasts where he proceeds to rip off your bra, revealing your chest to him. You whimper in pain and try to hide yourself, earning yourself a shove into the wall, banging your head slightly.

The corners of your eyes go dark for a few moments. Your head stops spinning when he leans down and slides his tongue up your cheek. His other hand reaches down and roughly grabs at your clothed cunt. He makes sounds of excitement once again. Saying you're terrified would be an understatement. You feel his fingers cup and wiggle around down there, not knowing what to do, but liking the feeling of doing it.

You again try to shove him off as best you can. He grunts in annoyance and moves the hand previously on your chest up to your throat. Your whimpers and please turn into choked gasps and gurgles as he squeezes. He gets even closer and you can feel something hard rub against your lower stomach. "Get her, Tommy, get her!" You hear from behind him. He grunts in response and tears off your underwear. He brings it to his nose and inhales. His eyes roll back a bit as if smelling the most heavenly scent imaginable.

You now realize he's probably never held a woman before and he's completely deprived of any sort of warm human touch. "Common, Tommy, gimme that! You get to have her, the least I should get is her undies!" His brother pleads. Tommy contemplates holding the small bit of cloth in front of him before tossing it back, which his brother catches and desperately presses to his face, moaning into the fabric like it's an oxygen mask.

Tommy grabs your hair and begins dragging you back down to the basement. You scream in pain and grab onto his hand for any relief as you're forced to the ground. "No! Please! Ahh Stop!" You cry out. He drags your naked body down the blood-crusted steps and makes his way back to the room you dread. He tosses you onto the mattress once again. By the time you manage to get up on your knees, you hear a clinking sound and turn to see him undoing his belt.

You crawl into the corner as he gets on his knees before you, his shadow casting over you. He unbuttons his shirt and lets it fall off. You now know that trying to inflict pain on him is futile. Muscles that scream he could crush you like a soda can. Not only is he as big as a fridge, but he also looks like an off-season pro wrestler. You can see a very prominent bulge struggling to free itself. The size of the tent itself is intimidating.

His eyes lock on yours as he slowly unzips his belt and frees his aching cock. You look away and feel his weight settle on the bed closer to you. You can feel his heavy breathing on the side of your face. He grabs your legs and yanks you beneath him, positioning himself at your entrance. You feel his bulbous tip rub up and down your folds. "Please…" Your eyes widen and you trail off as your eyes lower to what's prodding at your cunt. You want to look away, but morbid curiosity wins. It's almost unbelievable. His cock like himself, is too big. It's long, very thick and veiny. It looks like a beer can. You can just tell he's smiling under his mask.

He slowly pushes the tip in. You try to scoot back, but he grips your hips with his massive hands and pushes forward, but fails entry, seeming too big. He grunts in frustration. He tries again, this time managing to push the tip in. You scream. It hurts so bad. "No, y-you're too big!" you gasp, squirming in place. He holds your hips tighter and continues pushing forward, impaling you on his cock, all the way to the base.

Your mind blanks. You're unable to think cohesively. You're in so much pain. He lets out a groan of pleasure and doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size and just starts moving. It feels like your organs are moving around to accommodate his massive size. You look down to see a large bulge in your lower stomach. You whimper and groan as he thrusts. "W-why?" You croak. He looks up at you before lifting your knees, pressing them to your chest and leaning on you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel him push deeper into your womb, the tip of his cock threatening to push through your cervix. He nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, cooing softly to you affectionately while playing with your hair as if to say 'I love you'.

You cry beneath him, moans being forced from your lips as his hips plow into yours. Tommy grabs your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. You can hear him making happy sounds of some sort between grunts. He suddenly picks you up and gets off the bed with you in his arms, skewering you on his cock. He raises you up and down like a human fleshlight. You uncontrollably moan into his shoulder. His hands grope your ass as he starts to force you up and down faster. It feels good. You can't help but feel shame.

He grunts loudly and forces himself as deep as he can. You whine as you feel a rush of hot cum flow into you. Rope after rope, he fills you up. You feel so hot inside. Your stomach bloats from the sheer volume he fucked into you. He pants and looks at you, rubbing your cheek with his. He slowly lifts you off his cock, cum pouring from your abused cunt before setting you down on the mattress. He covers you with a thick warm blanket and brushes your hair from your face, stroking it with his thumb lovingly. If you knew this was gonna be a one-way trip, you would've brought some pillows.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #male yandere #yandere noncon #texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #slashers #fem reader

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slut4slytherinss · 5 months

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Gold Rush

SEND REQUESTS!!

Summary: in which (fem!)reader is in love with Mattheo, but so is everyone else. Reader pushes her feelings deep down, convinced Mattheo, beautiful Mattheo could never love her. In doing so, hurting herself, and a certain curly haired boy.

3,014 words

Warnings: cursing, fighting, slight mention of sexual content, reader being self-conscious, Mattheo being an idiot, Mattheo and his big ego, angst, potentially more parts(???), not proofread bc I don’t have time, a few references to movies IF YOU SQUINT, possibly ooc Mattheo (I haven’t read Everything Black in a hot minute forgive me), use of Y/n, Tom Riddle is Mattheo’s father in this, Regulus is in fact dead (rip my man), Mattheo and reader being a bitch lol, in character-ish Enzo but not headcannon Enzo, THEO IS IN THE SLUG CLUB FOR THE PLOT IM AWARE THAT HE WASNT IN THE BOOKS

2nd person pov

Hufflepuff prefect reader

Female reader

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

Your eyes are trained on the dark haired boy, specifically those deep eyes. “I know I’m pretty, you don’t have to stare, love.” Mattheo grins, you quickly dart your eyes away, “I wasn’t staring.” you murmur. He scoots his chair back, the feet scraping against the old library floor, he stands up and walks towards you— not even bothering to push the bloody chair back in. He takes a seat right next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder, “You really should be studying, y’know? Can’t have m’girl failing her exams.” My girl. You roll your eyes. “I’m immune to your charms, Riddle.” You say, almost as if you were trying to convince yourself of that. “Are you, though? I mean, remember in first year when you—“ you quickly cut him off, a foreign red flush invading your cheeks. “I was eleven!” You whisper-yell, his grin widens at your embarrassment. “Okay.” He drags the word out, “Some things never change, badger.” You furrow your eyebrows “Excuse me?” “Y’know? Badger, you’re a Hufflepuff, unless you’re shagging Diggory and stole his tie.” He gestures to your yellow tie, you roll your eyes. “First of all, Cedric is taken and if you call me badger again, I will ruin your pretty face.” “You think I’m pretty?” Another eye roll. “If you keep rolling your eyes at me, they’re gonna get stuck back there.” Before you can reply, a girl you recognize as a Slytherin fifth year, only younger than you by a year, calls for the boy sitting in front of you. “Mattheo! I don’t have all day, c’mon.” He looks back at the blonde girl and sighs, “Merlin’s beard,” he murmurs, then calls out to her “I’m coming Eloise!” Causing you to let out a laugh. He gives you a look, making you laugh even harder. But once he walks away, you realize that he, Mattheo Riddle, is probably hooking up with that girl, that absolute model, making your smile fade. Making you feel like an idiot for even thinking that he’d like you. For thinking you should inflate his ego even further by confessing.

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. Everybody wants you. Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

You clutch your books close to your chest, dodging the hundreds of children rushing to get to class. Like every other day. A paper airplane comes straight toward you, it’s about to hit you clean in the forehead, you duck just in time— but a hand reaches out and catches it. You look over to thank the person, it’s Mattheo. Of course it’s Mattheo. That damned boy never leaves you alone. “You alright?” He asks, seeming genuinely concerned. Of course he does. He always does. “I’m fine, Riddle.” You spit out, fighting back your horrid feelings. He tries to speak but you just walk toward the potions classroom.

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush.

You sigh as you walk into the lavatory. Standing in front of the sink, you splash your face with some water. Trying to cool yourself down. “Y/n?” Fucking Mattheo. “I really don’t have time for your bullshit, what are you even doing in the girls la—“ you cut yourself off as you see Mattheo, a girl against the wall, not Eloise, a different girl. An older girl, a seventh year. Looking annoyed as ever. You let out a breath of surprise. Shaking your head you turn back around and walk out of the bathroom. Feeling like an idiot. Like always when it comes to that boy.

I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush. Everybody wants you. But I don’t like a gold rush.

“Wait! Y/n—“ he rushes out of the bathroom to follow you, he grabs your wrist and you turn around quickly. “Let go.” You spit out, he tenses his jaw. “Why are you even acting like this? You don’t need to get so pissed just because you’re jea—“ Slap. Your eyes widen, as well as his, “Did you just slap me?” “No.” you reply quickly. “You just slapped me.” he persists, “No I didn’t.” “Yea, you did.” “Yes I did.” you finally admit. “Why?” He asks, “You said I’m jealous, I’m not jealous. You just have a big head.” “I have other big things.” You slap him again. But this time on his forearm. And, oh Merlin. Why is his arm so muscular? Why are his eyes so deep and brown and beautiful? Why do his oh so pretty brown curls look so pull-able? Why do his lips look so perfect and kissable? Was he always this beautiful? Of course he was. He was always beautiful. You’ve known that since the first time you saw him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominos.

You walk into the Slytherin common room with Dorothea, one of your closest friends, she’d convinced you to come to this party. And you’d stupidly agreed. You stupidly got drunk. You stupidly found Mattheo. You stupidly kissed him. You stupidly hooked up with him.

You look around the room, Mattheo has his arm under your neck. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself “yeah, okay. I can get out of here.” You roll over a bit, pulling the covers off of yourself carefully. You easily get out of his warm, soft bed. An odd coldness filling your body as you do so. You slip on your shoes and realize that you don’t have your shirt on, you look around his room, which is surprisingly clean— minus the clothes everywhere, on the doorknob, there’s your shirt. How did it even get there? You shake your head and walk over to it, putting it on over you. You hear Mattheo groan and you quickly look over, he’s still asleep, but reaching out in the bed, as if looking for you. It takes you a moment before you realize that you need to leave before him and his charm pull you back in.

I see me padding ‘cross, your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

It’s been 3 weeks. 3 weeks since you went to that party. 3 weeks since you found Mattheo. 3 weeks since you kissed him. 3 weeks since you hooked up with him. 2 weeks and 6 days since you woke up in his room and mission impossible escaped. You haven’t spoke to him, or anyone in Slytherin at all. In fear that he told everyone he knows and you’d never live it down. He didn’t. But you don’t know that. You’re choosing out a dress for dinner, you’re in the slug club, but so is Theodore Nott and those two are friends, best friends even. So of course Mattheo was the boys plus one. No matter that. Dorothea suggests a simple dress that shows off your body, but you shake your head, “No, Dor, that— that doesn’t compliment me right.” So you choose a dress that goes down to your knees, it’s long-sleeved, completely covers your cleavage, which was the goal of course. You paired it with some old converse, not liking the feeling of heels on your feet all night. You have your hair done nicely in your favorite style.

“No Mattheo, I really don’t agree with that, you’re so— so contrarian.” You shake your head, “Oh give me a break!” He groans, but you just give him a look, calling him an asshole with your eyes. He’s just told you an opinion on the muggle-world, he’s a pure blood, seriously, who does he think he is? Giggles can be heard from others sitting around you, including Dorothea and Theodore who are sitting next to each other. Slughorn tries to get you two to stop, “O—okay, Mr. Riddle, Ms. Y/l/n, please refrain from arguments at the table.” “This isn’t an argument, it’s a debate.” You correct.

As you’re walking back to your common room, you overhear some girls talking “Oh, wouldn’t they be such a cute couple?” One of them giggles, the other nods in agreement “They argue so much, plus, doesn’t Y/n Riddle sound so nice?” “Oh I dunno, I’m kind of jealous of her.” A third one adds. Your eyes widen as you realize they’re taking about you and Mattheo. You quickly butt in their conversation, “We would not be a cute couple! He’s insufferable and his ego is larger than himself!” You huff.

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit. And the coastal town, we wandered ‘round, had never seen a love as pure as it.

“You know that you can’t avoid him all day, right?” Cedric tells you as he notices you staring in Mattheo’s direction in the Great Hall. “I can and I will.” The boy rolls his eyes, “C’mon, when me and Cho get into—“ “Don’t compare you and your girlfriend to me and Mattheo— that’s just.. no!” you mock gag, shaking your head. Cedric just grins at you knowingly, “Why are you smiling at me like that?” you ask, Cedric licks his lips “No reason.” “Shouldn’t you be making out with Cho in a broom closet or something?” you tease, he laughs “Yeah, probably. Shouldn’t you be getting in Mattheo’s pants again?” “Leave it Ced, it will never be.” You murmur as you look down at your tea, mixing it around lazily with your spoon.

And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause you know it could never be.

“Why are you avoiding me?” You stop dead in your tracks, goddamnit. Why is he everywhere? You slowly turn around on your heels, face reddening, “I’m not avoiding you.” you reply simply with a shrug. “Yes you are, I’m sick of it.” He rolls his eyes. “What’s it matter to you? We aren’t friends.” “What are you talking about? Yes we are.” “No, we’re really not Mattheo, you only talk to me when you know I’m going to leave.” You spit out, annoyed with everything, “No I don’t! I talk to you all the—“ you cut him off “Just leave it, I’m done here anyway.” You say before turning back around and walking away, “Well— don’t come crying back to me when you realize no one else cares!” He yells, letting his emotions and large ego get the best of him. “Fuck you!” “You’ve already checked that one off!”

‘Cause I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush. I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush. I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch. Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

He is such an asshole! Who the fuck does he think he is?! He has no right to speak to you— or anyone for that matter — like that. You huff as you walk into the Great Hall, feeling his gaze immediately land on you. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of meeting that gaze. Taking a seat at your own houses table, you can hear his friends laughing loudly, stupid boys. The only time you do look over at him is when you hear his fork slam against the table and he stands up from his seat, to be fair, the entire Great Hall looks over at him. He ignores his friends and clenches his jaw as he walks out of the huge room, brushing right past you and leaving a small gust of wind from where he walked. Your lips slightly part as you watch him, but you look away just as quickly. Refusing to let him get his way. You shake your head as you now look over at his friends — who you now realize are staring over at you. Furrowing your eyebrows you mouth an annoyed “What?” to them, hoping to get any explanation. Theodore just shakes his head at you, and Lorenzo Berkshire mouths back a “Nothing.” making you even more annoyed with these boys. You decide to take matters into your own hands and stand up, making your way to the Slytherin table where they’re sitting. “Hello, boys.” you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Uh — hey..” Blaise Zabini murmurs, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on with that dickhead who just walked out of the Great Hall making a scene?” Draco Malfoy laughs at that “Dickhead? Did you just call your little boyfriend a dickhead?” “He’s not my boyfriend Malfoy!” you exclaim which causes Draco to laugh and Theo to nudge his arm, Enzo speaks up “Um, Y/n he’s just upset you’re ignoring him.” now the rest of the boys groan, collectively murmuring little “C’mon man!”’s and “Enzo!”’s he throws his hands up in apology. Eyebrows going up you look at them, “Seriously?” you scoff “he’s mad at me because I’m not talking to him? After what he did?”

Walk past, quick brush. I don’t like slow motion double vision in a rose blush. I don’t like that falling feels like flying till the bone crush.

“Why don’t you just make it easy for him and tell him how you feel?” Theo speaks up with a shrug. “Excuse me? And how exactly do I feel Theodore?” you ask, twisting toward him. “You want him, obviously.” “Everybody wants him! I don’t — I don’t like that horrid feeling!” you exclaim loudly, catching the attention of others around you.

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush.

Lowering your voice, you rest your hands on the table, pushing Blaise’s plate away to do so. He stops in the middle of his chewing to give you a glare, then continues slowly chewing. “You’ve liked him since fist year, admit it.” Blaise speaks with his mouth full, so it’s a bit muffled. “Shut it and eat your potatoes Zabini.” you spit out. He shrugs and does just that. With Zabini out of the conversation Draco speaks again, “But really, stop leading our boy on.” “I haven’t led him — or anyone for that matter — on!” now it’s Theo’s turn to speak “Well.. you did kinda sleep with him and then leave the next morning,” “That was a mistake.” “Still shitty.” Enzo says. You huff, “That’s — no! Even if it was shitty, it’s not like I’m in love with him. He shouldn’t’ve expected anything from me.” Draco raises an eyebrow “Wow, didn’t know Hufflepuffs were such—“ “Dude, don’t finish that sentence.” Enzo says with an eye roll before looking toward you, “If you don’t like him, then don’t lead him on, it’s not difficult.” Looking him up at down for a moment, you sigh and your eyes move around the group at a quick pace. “Tell him I don’t like him, and — that I’m sorry or whatever.” Damn. That hurt you to say. Who knew it’d be this hard to get over him.

What must it be like, to grow up that beautiful, with your hair falling into place like dominoes?

As you lay in your bed, miserable and alone, you think about Mattheo. Because of course you do. He’s plagued your mind since first year. Rolling your eyes, you silently curse yourself for not realizing how horrible it was to fall for him. He’s got the perfect life, minus the fact his father is literally the dark lord, still, he’s rich. He has hundreds of girls in love with him and multiple in his bed. You aren’t going to be any of those girls, not now at least.

My mind turns your life into folklore. I can’t dare to dream about you anymore.

You hear your name called out by a familiar voice, Pansy Parkinson, her loud — but not angry — footsteps reverberate along the stone walls of the castle. You stop walking just as she catches up to you, out of breath. She reaches for your shoulder to steady herself and you grab her arm to help her. “What’s wrong Pans?” You ask once she catches her breath. “Riddle told me about what you said.” You wince at the mention, “Oh.” She must notice the look on your face since she adds a quick, “Don’t worry, I’m not mad, that boy needs to learn that not every girl is in love with him.” As an afterthought. “Never mind that, you are,” you furrow your eyebrows “—in love with him. You’re in love with him.” She finishes, which causes you to stammer out a quick and defensive, “Am not!” In response. “You literally gave him a bouquet of flowers, which you handpicked, in first year.” “In first year! Yeah, but that’s not now!” She rolls her eyes, “Come on Y/n/n, you’re just going to end up hurting yourself if you keep saying that.” She then removes her hand from your shoulder and you do the same, “Okay, I’ve got detention now, see ya later.” Then she runs off. She literally runs off after telling you that you’re in love with Mattheo Riddle. As if you didn’t know that. As if you didn’t sleep with him.

I see me padding ‘cross your wooden floors. With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door.

The last slug club meeting of the year before you leave for Christmas. You aren’t supposed to bring plus-ones, but Slughorn likes Theo too much and let him bring Mattheo. You sit slumped in your chair, dressed nicely though. Dorothea is sick so she couldn’t come. And Mattheo has the audacity to sit right fucking next to you. Purposely making those contrarian remarks, to get you to speak, so he can hear your voice again. Annoyed or not, he wants to hear it. But you don’t. You just stand up and move to sit beside Theo. Mattheo swallows and stops talking, looking down at his food.

At dinner parties, won’t call you out on your contrarian shit.

You sit by a garden in Hogsmeade, looking at the flowers silently. Of course, thinking about those girls from a few weeks ago at the Slug club meeting, how they were talking about you and Mattheo. Did everyone think that way? That’s impossible, he’s him, you’re just you. You barely know jack shit about each other. Sighing, you lay back in the grass and fiddle with the strings on your cardigan. It will never be.

And the coastal town, we never found, will never see a love as pure as it. ‘Cause it fades into the gray of my day old tea. ‘Cause it will never be.

He stands at your doorframe, knocking on the door rapidly. Hearing you groan on the other side and sheets ruffling. He quickly tries to fix up his messy curls and look at least a hit presentable, you open the door as he’s smoothing out his shirt, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you’re — well —in your pink unicorn pajama set, that causes him to grin widely. But then he hears your voice murmur a sleepy “Mattheo?” and becomes serious again. “Um—hey.” He smiles gently, out of character for him. “I know it’s late and all, I just had to um.. talk to you.” You rub your eyes and yawn, “Well?” You ask, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I know we aren’t close or anything, but I really fucking like you. I mean—really like you. It’s so weird for me to feel this strongly over.. well, y’know a girl who I barely know. But you’re just different, you make me feel things—things that no one else does.” He watches you watch him nervously, this is really different than the Mattheo you know. “Anyway.. what I’m trying to say is, I think we’d be really good together. I want us to try it out, if you’d have me?” “Mattheo I—“

Gleaming, twinkling, eyes like sinking ships on waters. So inviting, I almost jump in.

A/N: IM SOOO SORRY FOR THIS TKAING SO LONG TO WRITE(literally ignore my spelling mistakes wtf) ANYWAY YEAH, LMK IF I SHOUKD MAKE A OART TWO OR SMTHING?????

PART TWO

MASTERLIST

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unholyhelbig · 4 months

Note

new oversight will be everything! i can’t wait!

Title: Work Life Balance [an Oversight Oneshot]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: When reader gets hurt during a job, she starts to worry about how her girlfriend, the infamous mafia boss that controls the city, will react

[a/n: while this isn't a new chapter of Oversight (I am working on that), it is set in the same universe as the Oversight. It's based off of a Private Practice episode, and something a little lighter & silly. Enjoy!]

Warnings: Gun violence, blood, spit, threats, blood, hurt/comfort, No spell checks

Check out the full Oversight universe

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The metal bat had slammed against the side of your face with enough force to blind you momentarily in the right eye. It knocked the sense out of you too and your bearings were scrambled until that darkness started to ebb away into a blurry image of the alleyway.

There was a pungent scent in the air, rotted food in dark green trash bags that had been torn by tiny teeth, or elongated claws. Crumpled napkins and discarded soda cups littered the damp ground.

Before the man could swing the bat for a second time, you caught it half an inch from your face and shoved it away. He was disarmed and you were able to shove his back up against the wall, holding him there despite his squirming. His lip was split, the blood drying quickly from the bright red to a deep black.

“Come on, man.” You twisted your hand into the fabric of his shirt, bunching your fingers around his collar. “We fronted the product, so you have to front the cash.”

“Fuck off,”

He spit on you, a gummy mix of tobacco and sugar. There were a lot of things you could handle; the ringing in your ear, and the pain in your knuckles from the first four blows you threw. But spit was where you drew the line. It had bugged you since you were in fifth grade and Amy Sheldon dangled a long string of it inches from your nose before slurping it back up through the slit in her buck teeth.

“Alright,” you breathed out, making sure you kicked the fallen bat out of his reach. “You agree to push product on that little street racer of yours in exchange for twenty five percent of the cut. You get sloppy and sample the product and don’t have the cash to give to my boss?”

You lifted him from the brick and shoved him back down onto it with enough force to push the putrid breath from his lungs. “That doesn’t feel very fair, now, does it?”

He smiled at you with a laugh that rivaled a cackle. His teeth were orange with diluted blood. There was no getting through to him. Your free hand dipped into the side of your jacket. Over the last two years, you’d grown well accustomed to the feeling of a gun in your hand.

You pushed the tip of the gun under his chin into the soft spot of his skin. He stopped laughing, the sound getting stuck in his throat with a choking sound.

“Do you know what they call me?” You gritted.

“A raging bitch?”

You made a buzzing noise in the back of your throat, much like the signaling of a wrong answer on a game show. There was a soft click as you pulled the trigger of the gun. The man in your grasp tensed and hissed.

“Wrong. You know, at first, I just forgot to load my gun. Got me into some pretty hot water, scalding actually. But eventually it became a bit of a calling card. Roulette. I can pull the trigger as many times as I want, but only one will hit it’s mark.”

He swallowed hard, you felt it in the side of your hand. He was sweating and you were growing tired of the empty threats. Yelena wouldn’t approve of something like this, and you were sure Natasha wouldn’t have had a second thought about putting a mark between his eyebrows.

“Most men aren’t lucky more than twice,” You pulled the trigger again, met with another soft click. Of course, there were no bullets in the chamber; they rattled in your front pocket like your keys. “Three times at most.”

His voice cracked. “Please,”

There was a sharp scent in the air that rivaled that of trash. You were losing blood fast. It had streaked down the side of your face from a gash on your temple and crusted the collar of your shirt.

“You have a week to make up the difference. A week and I’ll be back with a gun that has more than one bullet in the chamber. Am I clear?”

“Yes, but-“

“Am I clear?”

He nodded aggressively and you sheathed your weapon, releasing him. His legs gave out and he sunk to the damp pavement. You picked up the weighted metal back, entirely content to take it with you. It would make your next encounter a hell of a lot easier.

It was impossible to sneak into the house without giving yourself away. Even if you were to park down the block, unlace your shoes and pad into the foyer barefoot, and leave the front door open a crack, you were at risk of creating a scene.

That didn’t mean that you couldn’t keep the injured side of your face away from Natasha for as long as possible. She would know that something was up, and despite her throwing you into this life in the first place, her heart broke when you were on the deep side of any injury.

You set the metal bat down with a bucket of black umbrellas and a bench that was mostly unused. There was a dull metal thump that aggravated the headache that was coming on. You attempted to sneak up the stairs, but the second your fingertips hit the mahogany handrail you were stopped by an irritated voice with a Russian lilt to it.

Yelena was sprawled out on the sofa, a book was face down on her chest, lifting and falling with each breath. She’d given up on it in favor of the warmth that Kate provided her. Kate’s head was on Yelena’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around her midsection. Yelena looked perfectly comfortable in between Kate’s legs, both of them were about ready to doze off and if you had waited an extra five minutes, maybe you would have gotten away with sneaking in.

“Did you get hit by a bus?” Kate asked.

You leaned against the entryway of the sitting room. “Ricky got a good hit in with a metal bat.”

“Oo, Natasha is going to be mad at you.” Yelena chuckled, taunting you like a child. You would have thrown a pillow at her if Kate wasn’t in the line of fire.

She was going to be mad at you for not using the buddy system that was proposed and certainly for not dodging the hit that was coming your way. Natasha hated when you got hurt and that sad look in her eyes was worse than whatever pain could be inflicted on you.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks pretty bad.” Kate said.

You shot them both the middle finger before turning away and padding up the stairs towards your shared bedroom with Natasha. Most days, she was holed up in her office and you didn’t bother her until the ache for her touch, for her presence, bothered you both enough to cave.

That was most days.

Some days, Natasha could be found in your room in sweatpants with a laptop propped up on her crossed legs. She was dwarfed in the silk bedspread, her hair in a messy bun and a pair of glasses on the bridge of her nose.

This was quite possibly your favorite look on Natasha, this quiet version of her. She’d let you hold her in this state instead of the other way around. You hated to break the mood, hated that she glanced up from her laptop not once, but twice.

Wordlessly, Natasha set her work aside and walked over to you. She cupped your face, her fingers cold against your cheeks. Her voice was soft and when she was angry enough, there was the slightest bit of a Russian inflection to her words. “What happened?”

“I… didn’t use the buddy system.”

“Mm, you didn’t use the buddy system.”

Her thumb moved against the black and blue wound against your eye. She pressed every so slightly, testing its durability. You winced, drawing in a breath through clenched teeth. It wasn’t bad, really, her touch soothed you just as quickly as it had bitten you with pain.

Natasha was good at taking care of you and she pulled you into the large master bathroom that the two of you shared. There was an abundance of white and beige. It was always a few degrees cooler than the rest of the house and offered a form of comfort as such.

There were nights where the two of you would simply brush your teeth shoulder to shoulder, and there were nights where she had her arms wrapped around you amongst the deep scent of lavender. Bubble hit her touch as her fingers roamed over the most intimate parts of you.

Now, she guided you to the edge of the sink and lifted you up in a fluid motion. She stood between your legs, making you feel even more like a child when Yelena had scolded you downstairs. Still, there was a degree of affection in her movements. Natasha frowned as she pulled a med kit from the bottom of the sink.

She tutted “Zaychik, this looks bad.”

“Image wise or the actual wound because-“You let out a small noise when she placed the frigid and stinging antiseptic against your face. It sent electric down your spine. “I didn’t know he had a bat.”

“A bat?”

“Right out of left field.”

Natasha’s frown deepened. This was supposed to be an easy job, and by all means, it was. You had accomplished your assignment of scaring up. You were sure he had released his bladder as he slid down the wall into a fetal position. Getting the money from a frightened man was going to be no problem.

Tonight was intended to be calm. You’d come home and shower and eat pizza and spend the entire night curled up in Natasha’s arms while she typed away on the computer. You’d listen to her breathing, her heartbeat.

Instead, she was roughly patching you up, buzzing with anger under her stare. “Why didn’t you take Clint?”

“Nat, I have a fantastic idea.”

“If it involves gutting that man alive and hanging him from a flagpole, then I am all in, darling.” Her words were light, distracted, as she wiped away a good portion of dried blood.

“What if we left things at the office, metaphorically speaking. What if we didn’t bring stuff like this home? Shut it all off.”

She pulled back far enough to stifle her floral scent. There was an adorable crease between her eyes. “My mind doesn’t work like that, Malysh. This home is my office and vice versa. Someone hurt you and that is my business. That is my work.”

“I know,” you said, tucking a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. She glowered under her thick-framed glasses. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the frown off her face. “I know, but sometimes I just want to be with you.”

“Huh,”

“Huh?”

“Huh.”

This wasn’t exactly a constructive conversation. You figured as much when she ripped a bandage out of its waxy packaging and slapped it onto the gash against your temple. You let out a disgruntled noise and she grasped your waist and maneuvered you back to the floor. Your legs had fallen asleep and you were a little unsteady.

Natasha flicked on the sink and started scrubbing her hands of your blood. “No sex,”

“What?” You blinked at her, scratching fruitlessly at the adhesive on the bandage. It was incredibly itchy.

Natasha dried her hands on the nearby towel, “You heard me, no sex.”

“You… You’re withholding sexual pleasure because of something that happened at work?”

“Not something that happened at work, your refusal to talk about it.”

“Natasha,” You nearly whined.

“No sex!” She huffed, pointing towards the exit of the room “Go sleep on the couch.”

You dropped your shoulders in defeat. You had been banned to the couch? Your girlfriend didn’t’ withhold most things and the two of you had a very healthy and active life. There wasn’t true anger behind her words, instead she was testing you. Watching you until you give in.

“Fine,” You huffed, crossing your arms “The couch sounds lovely.”

“Good,”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

You grabbed the fuzzy blanket at the base of the bed and started to stalk towards the door. You could feel Natasha staring at you, waiting for you to turn around and apologize but it wouldn’t happen. Not this time. You were setting boundaries and if that included…no sex… then that was fine. It was fine.

“Zaychik?”

You turned back to Natasha, one eyebrow lifted, “Yes?”

“Leave the blanket.”

She gave you a sugary sweet smile before settling back into her previous position, pulling her computer into her lap. Your jaw was agape, but you tossed the blanket at her nonetheless and stormed out of the room.

The nerve, the absolute nerve!

Natasha wasn’t particularly hard to have a conversation with, but work was nearly untouchable with her. You knew that. She knew that. You did as you were told and protected her and her assets at all costs.

When you got back downstairs you fixed yourself a sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwich before sulking back into the living room and flopping down onto the recliner in the corner. Yelena had since fallen asleep, and Kate was reading the book while her eyes grew heavy.

“You got kicked out, huh?”

“Kicked out, banned from sex.” You waved the sandwich around in the air “doghouse.”

Kate scoffed “the Romanoff sisters aren’t always the most forthcoming, are they?”

She was looking lovingly at Yelena, stroking her hair as the smaller woman curled deeper into her, fingers clenching at Kate’s flannel and then releasing as she settled back into a comfortable sleep.

“They make it hard to love them, but the moments where the mask slips and they’re vulnerable. Moments like these make everything worth it. And despite everything, you know they care. They’ll always care.”

“Sometimes too much,” you took a large bite of your sandwich.

“No such thing.”

Yelena stirred in her arms, nose pressed against Kate’s pulse point. She clenched her eyes tighter, her next words mumbled “Kate Bishop, if you don’t stop talking you will be sleeping on the couch with y/n.”

“Doghouse,” You said with a long sigh.

“Mm,” Kate hummed, letting out a quiet whisper “Doghouse,”

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dilfl0v3rss · 11 months

Note

Hear me outt 🌝 - jealous ony .. and y/n gets a lil lesson

yes yes yesssssss😩

all mine

cw: car sex, public sex!!

word count: 1.8k

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

ony isn’t the jealous type, having lots of confidence in your love for him. he trusted you with his life and expected you to do the same with him so if there was an issue that had him feeling a little more possessive then it usually had barely anything to do with you. it was these thirsty ass niggas.

“baby please go sit the fuck down. too damn early for you t’be irritating me.” it was nine in the morning and you decided i’d be fun to give ony a little show in the living room, twerking and singing along to different songs playing on youtube. right now the princess dianna remix was playing and you was sitting in his lap, bouncing up and down as if you were riding him. “cmon boy i know you wanna touch all dis.” hands raking all over your body as you looked down at his bored face.

ony wasn’t trying to do nothing but smoke a wood with his breakfast and you were ruining that by putting your tiddies all in his face. “mama go somewhere wit allat before i spank you furreal.” his deep voice rumbled from his chest as he lightly pushed you off of him. this man clearly had an attitude, but you knew his stuck up ass wasn’t gon say nothing about it. “what’s wrong papa? why you so aggy?” you were trying to get him to communicate with you, but quickly changed your mind once he got to sucking his teeth, acting as if you were being a pest or something.

rolling your eyes, you started to say something smart, but we’re cut off by the sound of ony’s ringtone. connie’s contact came up and the way your man moved to grab the phone pissed you tf off. “yoo?……nah i’m just chillin at the crib rn…..of course gang we out.” your hands instantly gravitated towards your hips, weight being supported on one leg as you gave him a stank face. “you out where?”

once again, this sassy ass man sucked his teeth before replying. “finna go hoop wit the guys.” this had to be some type of sick joke. there’s no way this man, YOUR man, the one who literally had an attitude five minutes ago, was suddenly prepped up and ready to go run around with his little friends, but couldn’t even have a little fun with you.

“what about me? you don’t wanna stay wit me today daddy?” voice softening as you leaned down to ony’s face. you looked into his brown eyes as you waited for him to fold. he stared right back at you, licking his lips before his phone buzzed once again, ruining the moment as you seen his group chat start to blow his phone up with messages. “you can come wit me ma, but i wanna go hoop.”

what a fucking joke. you pushed yourself of off where your arms were rested before walking to your room, hips swaying with attitude. you wanted to go to target anyways so you decided you’d go to the park with him just this once to get what you wanted, but you had no intention of speaking to this man until he gave you the attention you deserved.

you sat on the park bench, watching ony get all sweaty and sexy playing with his friends. “cashhh bitch! y’all niggas suck i’m finna start putting money on this shit.” ony chuckled as he watched eren and reiner holding their hands on their knees, clearly out of breath from getting their ass whooped again.

“man fuck you. you and connie don’t even need to be on the same team cause y’all mothafuckas played in high school. if we was on that field you know damn well me and rei would be whooping that ass.” eren and reiner dapped each other up before each of them went to go get some water. ony approached you on the bench, shirt discarded somewhere near the courts, chest glistening with sweat as he practically snatched the water from in front of you and drank it.

“excuse me you fucking beast. at least ask.” you reached to snatch the water back, but he just held it higher so you couldn’t reach, giving you a warning glacé. “girl watch your mouth ‘fore i embarrass you in this park.” you rolled your eyes, plopping yourself back in your seat and pulling out your phone. “just go play wit ya little boyfriends ony.” you mumbled, texting on your phone as if you said nothing.

ony clearly didn’t hear you, walking back to go set up another game. “excuse me. this seat taken?” you turned around with attitude, still pissed at your stupid ass boyfriend. when you looked up at where the voice was coming from you were surprised to see a very handsome older man staring back at you. “nah you good. s’just me.” the man smiled at you, gladly taking a seat while digging in his back for his sneakers. “aww that’s a shame. why’s a pretty girl like you at the park all alone?”

you were going to correct him and let him know that you meant alone on the bench, not alone at the park, but your words were soon forgotten. “i’m zeke, eren’s brother. you a friend of his?” you nodded your head, voice stuck in your throat as zeke chuckled at your lack of reply. “you don’t talk much do ya? that’s fine. how about you give me your number and i’ll do all the talking.” as handsome as he was, you were a loyal woman and only wanted to be with one man.

you opened your mouth to politely shoot him down when you were interrupted. “nah she good.” ony’s lower stomach was was right behind your head as you and zeke looked up at him. face showing signs of irritation as he stood over you with his arms crossed on his chest. zeke held his hands up in defense as he practically rats you out. “i mean no harm, the pretty lady said she was here alone so i asked for her number. i had no idea.”

you looked up at your boyfriend, giving him a shy smile as you practically smelled the jealousy coming off of him. “uhh we’ll since that’s outta the way, you guys got room for one more?” zeke stood up, clearly uncomfortable with the tense energy being emitted from the both of you right now. “go ahead man, m’just leaving.” the blonde man gave him a small nod before leaving the two of you alone. “baby it’s not what is lo-”

“get in the car mama, we going home.”

the two of you didn’t even make is home, legs spread in the passenger seat as ony had one hand caressing the back of your neck while the other was buried deep in your panties. you’ve tried explaining the situation many times, and he seemed to understand what really happened, but he still fingered you with so much vigor that you couldn’t help but feel he was upset with you. “p-please papa i didn’t do anything wrongggg. it was just mis-miscommunication.”

his fingers dug into you deeper, nodding to you in understanding as he sucked hickies into your neck. “i know mama. i know. it’s just…just-” “jus’ what daddy? what i do?” a soft sigh left your lips at ony’s fingers left your hole, lifting to your clit before rubbing it slowly. “ion like seeing you talk to men ion know.” his fingers moved faster, making you shake under his arm as your release approached.

“i didn’t k-know. m’sorryyyy” your climax was at the tip of your tongue, but before long it was ripped away. ony leaned back in his seat before pulling his shorts and boxers below his hips. dick standing tall against his stomach as his hands moved towards your hips. “it’s okay princes. ima teach you, and make sure you never forget.”

though ony had a soft smile on his face, his grip on your hips was tight as he lifted you over the center console. your sundress was bunched up at your stomach so your boyfriend had easy access to your pretty pussy. he waisted no time ripping your panties in the middle and lining himself up with your tight entrance. “no screaming, no running, no crying, understand?”

before you could answer a scream erupted from your throat as ony slammed you down on his dick. “the fuck i just say mama?” large hands squeezing your ass tightly as he continued bouncing you up and down on his lap. lewd moans flew from your lips as you felt how delicious your walls felt against him. “i know it feel good, but i need you to stay quiet f’me okay? we still in public.” your eyes migrated toward the tinted windows, getting a good view of the still occupied park as well as you friends playing basketball.

“i’ll be quiet, promise.” your lips connected, dancing sloppily with each other before ony spoke into your mouth. “good girl.” his dick began kissing your cervix, palms taking up most of the space of your ass. “you mine right?” the two of you were eye to eye as he moved his hand to your neck, a silent command for you to bounce on your own as he continued thrusting from under you.

“y-yes daddy. only yours.” ony smiled at your response, rewarding you by angling his hips upward in the way that makes you want to melt into him. “this my pussy ain’t it?” he took your wrists, holding them behind your back as the two of you made love chest to chest. you moaned his name repeatedly like a prayer until you felt the urge to pee. “your heart, mind, and body. who’s is it?”

you felt your climax once again, this time stronger than before. pussy already leaking so much that it wet the seats under you as you continued fucking yourself onto ony’s dick. he knew you were close when you clenched tightly around him, clearly holding your release in so you can ask for permission. a wide smile crept into his face as he watched how obedient you were. “answer me and you can cum mama. who you belong to?”

“y-you daddyyy.” usually this answer would’ve satisfied him, but your boyfriend was in a different type of mood today. “nah princess say my name. my real name.” your pussy fluttered around him in delight, loving every second of this moment as you began kissing up his chest. ony shivered under you when you reached his neck, stopping right behind his ear. “i’m all y-yours. on-onyankoponnnn.”

your orgasm crashed down in waves, making you shake as your juices ran down his thighs. your boyfriend wasn’t far behind you, shooting his load deep inside you while holding your body on his. “that’s my good girl. never forget that either.”

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #aot x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #aot smut #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon aot #onyankopon smut #onyankopon

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mylackoffaith · 5 months

Text

Dragon's Dreamer - Part I

Summary: Winning races is child's play compared to waking up naked, and tangled in the sheets with none other than Daemon Targaryen himself. Not only that, but you're also the daughter of Otto Hightower?

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x modern!reader word count: 3009 words

“Cunt!”

You shift your gear, and manage to slow the car a little as your opponent, Blaze moves in front of you as a means to block your path. You swerve to the right, in a way to overtake Blaze.

This race was not going your way, clearly. Actually, not just the race, but your whole day was just horrible. What with your landlord not fixing the water problem in your apartment and then to top it off, he had the audacity to increase the rent. Dick face.

You mentally curse the person whose face you first saw this morning, blaming them for the mess your day has become. Then you remember it was your black cat, Storm. Instantly, you retract all your curses because, well, Storm's your baby, and he can never bring bad luck.

Teeth gritted, hands firmly on the wheel, you refuse to let Blaze have the upper hand. Today is not the day you lose a race, especially when there's money on the line. Your engine roars as you slam the gas pedal, and send your car surging forward.

You can tell Blaze has noticed you trying to overtake him, as he tries to block you again, but you're not letting that piece of shit take your cash home. As he moves to the right, you swerve left this time, and slip past his car and zoom past the finishing mark.

You drift to a stop, a bright smile on your face as you savour the victory. Your chest is heaving, your blood is pumping, and your adrenaline is still running high. Blaze screeches to a halt behind you, his face a mix of surprise and frustration. You can hear the roar of the engines and the cheers of the crowd.

The cool breeze feels amazing on your hot and flushed face as you step out of your car, heart still pounding. Before you can fully get out of the car, a screech escapes you as you are lifted off the ground and spun around.

It's Emma, your best friend, grinning from ear to ear, and cheering your name. "You crazy bitch, you did it! I could kiss you right now!" they exclaim, as you wrap your arms around their neck to keep yourself from falling.

Emma sets you down, both of you laughing and catching your breath. The high from your victory is buzzing through your veins. You can feel the eyes of the crowd on you, and Blaze begrudgingly walks over, a forced smirk on his face.

"Lucky win. No need to get too cocky," Blaze mutters, trying to save face but you can see the annoyance in his eyes.

"Cut the bullshit, and face it, she smoked you fair and square. You're just a sore loser." Emma retorts, their tone sharp and unapologetic. They stand next to you, with their hand around your waist.

You can't help the smile that spreads you, and raise a brow at Blaze, "No, no. You're right, Blaze. Maybe it was a lucky win, but when I wake up tomorrow, I'd still be a winner, and you'd still be stuck to the same old loser routine. Tough break."

Blaze scowls at your words but doesn't say much, clearly irritated. Laughter erupts between you and Emma as Blaze retreats, the cool breeze carrying away the tension of the race.

Emma turns to you, placing a kiss on your cheeks. "You, my girl, deserve a few drinks. How about after you collect your prize, we hit The Hop House? First round's on me," Emma suggests, a mischievous glint in their eyes.

You grin at Emma's suggestion, feeling the thrill of the victory still coursing through your veins. "Hell yeah, when have I ever turned down free drinks?" you reply, feeling the rush of excitement and accomplishment.

The two of you head off, with Emma's arm around your shoulder, ready to drink the night away. Your pool of cash awaits, and calls your name. our pool of cash is calling your name, and you've got plans for that moolah – rent's getting paid, the fridge will finally be full, Storm will get a new toy, and that PlayStation plus subscription is getting renewed. Because let's be honest, Joel Miller and Arthur Morgan are calling your name.

Nothing can ruin your night, or the following day.

A groan escapes you, and son of a bitch does your head hurts, as you lift it from the pillow. You squint your eyes at the blinding sunlight stabbing through the curtains, regretting every decision made last night. Your head's pounding like a drummer in a metal band, and you're pretty sure a family of woodpeckers set up shop in your brain overnight.

Sitting upright, you realise that the room's a blur, and you rub your temples like that's gonna magically fix the hangover. A pathetic whine escapes you because going to work with a hangover is the last thing you want to do. Dealing with Rhys and his relentless flirting on top of this pain? No, thank you.

"Oh good, you're awake."

You flinch so hard, you might've set a record for the fastest, most ungraceful wakeup in the history of hangovers. The screech that escaped your throat is a sound you vow to never repeat. Like, ever. You whip your head around, and regret it immediately. The room spins, and you grab onto the edge of the bed for dear life.

You blink a few times, trying to focus on your surroundings. The blurred room starts to come into view, revealing a place that's definitely not your messy apartment. Because no way in hell is your room this big, nor does it look straight out of period drama.

You're stuck in some fancy-ass room with curtains that look like they belong in a royal castle. And speaking of fancy, there's a guy sitting across from you, looking like he just walked out of that show that your sister watches and sends you edits and facts about.

The guy is broad, like, shoulders-for-days kind of broad, and tall enough that you gotta tilt your head back a bit to meet his eyes. He's wearing a black coat, the ones that Lords wear in a historical drama, complete with shiny buttons and intricate embroidery

He's got long, silver hair, and violet eyes? What the fuck? You squint at him, convinced you must be seeing things. Violet eyes aren't a real thing, right? Because if they are, you need to meet God immediately and demand why you weren't given a pair.

"Easy there, little girl," he says with a smirk, cutting off your eye-colour investigation. You're still trying to process the silver hair and violet eyes when he leans back in his chair, all casual-like.

You're sitting there, staring at this dude with silver hair and violet eyes, feeling like you just stumbled into a weird dream. But, nope, this is real, and he's calling you "little girl." Rude much?

"Motherfucker, don't call me little girl. The last guy who tried that got a black eye," you retort, because, seriously, who does he think he is? You might be in an unknown place, but you're not about to let this silver-haired dude talk down to you.

"Oh, the daughter of Otto Hightower has a bit of fire in her," he chuckles, raising an eyebrow like he's enjoying this little exchange. That smirk on his face? It's practically begging for a fist.

"First of all, who the heck is Otto Hightower, and secondly, who are you?" you demand, your arms, crossed defiantly, suddenly feel a lot heavier, and when you glance down, it hits you.

You're naked. Covered only by these flimsy silk sheets, you're clutching onto them for dear life. You pull the sheets away to look down, to see that you're naked from head to toe. Your face snaps up at the man sitting in front of you, only to see his amused expression morph into a wide grin. Great, just great.

"Oh, don't worry, little Hightower, I've seen it all before," he says with a teasing glint in his violet eyes. You're not sure whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, but you quickly decide on a mix of both.

"Alright, first of all, stop with the 'little Hightower' crap. Call me by my name or don't call me at all," you declare, mustering all the confidence you can while wrapped in those flimsy sheets. He leans forward in his chair, still grinning like he finds this whole situation amusing.

"Fair enough, little Hightower," he says, emphasising the last two words just to irk you.

You shoot him a death glare, but he just laughs. "Alright, Silver Fox, let's cut the crap. Where am I, and how the heck did I end up here?" you demand, deciding to take charge of this weird conversation.

The silver fox tilts his head to the side, a confused glint in those violet eyes, while his head rests on his fist. "Did I fuck you too hard to make you lose your memory?" he smirks, clearly enjoying the banter.

You roll your eyes, unamused. "Trust me, if that were the case, I'd remember it vividly. Now, are you going to answer my question or keep making terrible innuendos?"

"Oh, good one, little Hightower. After the passionate night we spent, I reckon your father would have no choice but to wed us. Could you imagine, the pious and eldest daughter of Otto Hightower, and Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue prince?" he teases, his tone laced with amusement.

Daemon Targaryen.

You can't help but let out a chuckle, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. The laughter bubbles up within you, gradually turning into a full-blown, almost maniacal eruption. It's almost too surreal, and you find it hard to believe that this isn't some elaborate prank your sister pulled.

You remember all the times you had scoffed at the complicated family tree, and the absurdity of season 8. Your sister had insisted you give it a chance, and now it seems like she's turned the tables on you, dropping you into the very world you dismissed.

The daughter of Otto Hightower. The guy that pushed his daughter into the bed of the walking dead and practically handed her a one-way ticket to the chaos express. Seriously, why couldn't you be the daughter of someone sensible, like Ned Stark? The guy was practically the gold standard of fathers in the messed-up Game of Thrones world.

House of the Dragon, you loved it because it was much better than Game of Thrones. You also loved Rhaenyra, your bisexual baby, she could do no wrong in your eyes. Aegon was relatable, what with your mommy issues, I mean sure the guy was… Well, you pause, realising you might be here a while if you list out all his issues.

Viserys, if he weren't a king, you would bash his head in. First the guy pressures his wife for an heir, then he kills her. The only good thing the man did was make Rhaenyra the heir. Then the guy is a dick to all his other children. If Viserys had no haters, you were dead.

Rhaenys, and Corlys. The DILF and MILF of the Seven Kingdoms, and possibly even Essos. Well, followed closely by Oberyn, and Ellaria. . Rhaenys, your queen, held a pedestal in your heart so high you'd gladly sacrifice yourself just for the privilege of sharing the same air. And, oh, when they say black don't crack, Corlys was living proof.

Laenor, now there's an underrated gem. Honestly, the best guy in the whole series. He accepted the Strong children as his own, raised them as his own, all while hiding who he truly was. Then there was Laena, sweet and fiercest Laena, who you'd willingly walk into fire to protect.

Helaena and Luke. Your precious little babies whom you'd preserve and hold forever if you could. They're the kind of innocence you'd fight the Mountain for. Your little dragons, the only ones who you would kill anyone for.

Jace, your sweet gentleman, the kind of guy who'd rescue kittens from trees. The type that makes you believe chivalry isn't dead. Truly, Ser Harwin's son, and you loved both the father and son, for being the way they were.

Aemond was…well, Aemond. Complicated, pitiful, and a source of both frustration and fascination. You loved Luke, but you also loved Aemond. So you were honestly conflicted when he had lost his eye but gained Vhagar.

But the Daemon gave… a whole new meaning to the term "complicated." It's like he took a crash course in creating chaos and then decided to make it his life'

"You find something amusing, little Hightower?" He's still grinning, but now it's more like he's enjoying a private joke.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head slightly. "Please, just call me by my name. I've had enough of your 'little Hightower' nonsense already. And I'm not finding anything about this situation amusing, trust me," you reply, your tone a mix of irritation and disbelief.

Daemon's grin widens, clearly revelling in your exasperation. He checks his nails, before crossing his arms casually, silver hair cascading down his shoulders. "Alright, name it is, little Hightower."

You shoot him a glare, but he pays no mind, seemingly unfazed by your annoyance. "So, care to explain how I ended up here in this…room?" you ask, your sarcasm dripping like honey.

Daemon chortles, the sound echoing in the room. "Well, my little Hightower, it was quite the surprise, I must say, having the pious daughter of Otto Hightower, bursting into my room, begging me to take her maidenhood. I suppose I should commend you for your bravery. Not everyone dares to enter the lair of the dragon."

You arch an eyebrow, your irritation growing. "You do realise that storming into someone's room and begging for deflowering isn't exactly a standard move, right? I'm not some damsel in distress, and I certainly didn't come here to beg for anything."

Daemon's violet eyes gleam with amusement as he tilts his head, considering you. "Ah, a damsel with a bite. I like that. It's not every day a woman challenges me, especially in such… unconventional circumstances."

"I didn't burst into your room, and I certainly didn't beg for anything. I have no idea how I got here, and I'd appreciate it if you could provide some actual answers."

His grin fades slightly, replaced by a more contemplative expression. "Well, that's a bit disappointing. I was hoping for a more scandalous tale to spread across the Seven Kingdoms."

"Sorry to disappoint your highness, but my life isn't a series of scandalous escapades. Now, can we focus on the matter at hand?"

"Fine. Last night, upon my return from Flea Bottom, what greets me? You, sprawled in my bed, slumbering in all your naked glory, like a celestial offering. It was quite the unexpected revelation," Daemon remarks with a grin, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You glower at him, the reality of the situation sinking in. "Look, I've already told you, I have no idea how I got here. I didn't plan this little rendezvous, and I certainly didn't intend to become some sort of surprise package in your bed."

Daemon's amusement persists as he hands you his white tunic. "Oh, don't sell yourself short, my dear visitor. Not everyone gets the privilege of waking up beside Daemon Targaryen. Consider it an experience worth cherishing."

As you reluctantly take the tunic from Daemon, still wrapped in those flimsy silk sheets, you shoot him a look that could melt steel. "You know, waking up beside you is not on my list of life goals," you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than to him.

Daemon seems unfazed by your displeasure. "Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn't it?"

You scoff at Daemon's casual attitude, shooting him a pointed look as you begin to struggle into his oversized tunic. It's a struggle not to trip over the lengthy fabric, but you manage to maintain at least a modicum of dignity.

The tunic hangs loosely on you, and you shuffle towards a massive mirror, still holding onto the silk sheets as if they're your last shred of dignity. The room spins a little less now, allowing you to navigate the unfamiliar terrain with some semblance of grace.

As you catch sight of your reflection, you scream. No, it's not because you suddenly transformed into a Targaryen dragon or something equally absurd. It's the realisation that your once normal, probably slightly neglected, hair is now ginger.

Ginger hair.

The ginger hair revelation hits you like a ton of bricks. You stare wide-eyed at the reflection in the mirror, desperately hoping this is just some bizarre dream. You reach up, running your fingers through the vibrant strands as if expecting them to revert to their usual colour with a simple touch.

You take a deep breath, trying to accept the bizarre turn your life has taken. As you gather your courage, the room starts to spin again, and a wave of dizziness washes over you. Before you can protest or question Daemon further, darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision.

The last thing you hear is Daemon's voice, distant and muffled, as you succumb to unconsciousness. The world blurs and fades away, leaving you in a disorienting abyss. The sensation is akin to tumbling down a rabbit hole, but there's no Wonderland waiting for you at the bottom.

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rookiesbookies · 3 months

Note

Oh my God, if you wrote more sex doll!141 I would be thrilled. It's such a good concept and you've executed it wonderfully!! (Personally I'm partial to simon but if you wrote any of the other characters I would still eat it up).

-🦝

So I’m going to be honest, Simon is a very difficult character for me to right in intimate situations because of how his character is structured. It’s one of the reasons I have trouble flushing out how I write him and why he may be much more varying than my other boys when I write them fic to fic. He’s truthfully the hardest character for me to right and he’s the one I know the most about so I hope this is good.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

I gift you, Sex Doll!Simon and his loser!reader as a gift. As always, under the cut.

A doll and his loser 2, electric boogaloo.

When Simon’s lady had ordered him, she had also been drunk. She was ovulating, feeling sorry for herself, and incredibly horny when the ad on whatever porn site she was on popped up for the sex dolls. So she scrolled through the options, noticing the ‘Johnny’ Doll was sold out, but it didn’t matter, one had caught her eye immediately. The doll style they had named ‘Simon’. His mask made her run wild. She noticed how the pants clung to his thighs and wide shoulders and it made her mouth water. She couldn’t even remember what she ordered the next morning between headaches and vomiting but she just assumed it was something she forgot and paid off that credit card charge.

It was days later when the box arrived.

“Big ole box you got there,” her neighbor teased, “need help getting it in, little lady?”

She huffed, she had been trying to push it in for about 20 minutes. “Please,” she whined.

Her neighbor helped get the probably 200 pound package into her room. The box was all scratched, fragile stickers torn. She thanked her neighbor and ushered him out as she began to open the weird box.

The language seemed made up, but she didn’t expect to get the box open and a giant Ken doll to fall on her with a loud thud as the two hit her floor.

“You’re a big bitch,” she groaned as she shoved the doll off her. His eyes fluttered open and she watched him curiously. “Hi.”

She was met with silence. He seemed mute, like his mouth was stuck shut.

Confused and slightly disappointed, she stared down at the doll lying on her floor.

She had expected an interactive experience, a companion that would fulfill her desires, but all she had in front of her was a lifeless figure. Frustration began to well up within her, fueled by the lingering effects of her hangover.She had gotten wasted the night before again.

Frustrated, she decided to give the doll a chance. After all, she had spent a considerable amount of money on it, and maybe there was a way to activate its features. She carefully inspected the doll, running her hands over its smooth, artificial skin and marveling at the intricate details. But no matter how hard she looked, there didn't seem to be any buttons or switches that would bring it to life.

Determined to find a solution, she grabbed her laptop and searched for the website where she had made the purchase. But it was as if the site never existed. It wasn’t in her search history, it wasn’t in her purchase history, she couldn’t even find a number on the box.

Frustration turned to confusion as she scrolled through her browsing history, desperately trying to find any trace of the website that had led her to this mysterious doll. It was as if the entire transaction had been erased from existence.

Feeling a mixture of unease and curiosity, she decided to take matters into her own hands. With the doll still lying motionless on the floor, she sat down next to it and began examining every inch of its body. Perhaps there was some hidden mechanism, some secret activation method that she had missed.

Then she saw the icon on the box between the gibberish writing, something about the lips.

She crouched down and tenderly pressed her lips against the cool, skin textured rubber of the cheek of the robot. In response, his previously stiff body began to move and his facial features softened into a look of happiness.

A surge of excitement coursed through her veins as she realized that there was more to this doll than met the eye. She had stumbled upon something extraordinary, something beyond her wildest dreams. Her hangover instantly forgotten, she eagerly awaited what would happen next.

Slowly but surely, the doll began to move. Its previously inanimate limbs twitched and flexed as if awakening from a deep slumber.

“Hi,” she said softly, running her hand over the mask.

He flipped his mask up over his lips and quickly kissed her passionately.

She let out a squeak as he climbed on top of her.

“So pent up,” he mumbled, kissing down her neck as she giggled. His hands roaming free. “So stiff, I could use a good stretch, love. And it seems based on your purchase of me, you could too.” He said with a teasing tone before pulling off her pants she wore to work.

He began to eat her through her panties, but it was more lip locking with her lower set. He moved her panties to the side and continued his make out session with her labia. His teeth occasionally gently pulling on them. He took his sweet time getting her wet before he did any more. He spit on her then dug in.

Messy, his face covered in her natural lube, mask rubbing against her clit.

She sat there like this for a while but she got too loud so he stretched his long arm so his palm stretched over her mouth, thumb rubbing her cheek as he continued. Her eyes rolling back as he edged her slowly. One, then two, then three times. Her body convulsing as he finally lifted himself, she let out a whine and he shushed her before freeing himself from his jeans.

He got real close to his ear. “How badly.” He commanded.

She whined out pitifully as a plea.

“Good.” He said, throwing a leg over his shoulder before sliding in and thrusting. A fast pace in, a roll of the hips, and slow pull out. He held this pace for so long she began to feel like the sex doll. It was brutal in the most wonderful way.

Toe curling.

Ball smacking.

Pussy dripping.

Best sex of her life.

Her cervix thoroughly bullied.

Her moans muffled and covered by his rough palm.

Her rug covered in sweat, her flooring under it glistening with heat.

When he finally let her come it was like reaching the peak of Everest. She gasped and whined and moaned, almost screamed into his palm. He fucked her through it and came not long after from her body milking his cock.

He removed his hand and cock making her whine, returning his mouth to her cunt to make out with it again.

He cleaned her of his cum before picking her up and running a bath.

“Worth every penny.” Was all her mushed brain could muster.

#cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

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laurfilijames · 9 months

Text

Happy Birthday, Darlin'

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 4,014

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Smoking. Mild descriptions of cuts and blood. Mentions of fighting. Unprotected intercourse. Slight asphyxiation. Some insecurities about Jax and his habits.

Summary: It's your birthday, and while Jax is pressed to make it to you in time to celebrate, he makes sure all your wishes come true.

A/N: Happy Birthday to ME 🥳 yes, I'm that bitch who wrote herself a birthday fic because I can. I've been dying to write for Jax for so long and thought this would be a fun way to get a feel for writing his character. If my writing wasn't self-indulgent before, it definitely is now.

This takes place after Season 2 Ep 12 The Culling where the Sons fight The League/Zobelle's guys because I just found Jax to be wildly sexy in that scene (but also when isn't he?)

---

The night air was cool on his face as he ripped as quickly as he could down the quiet, country roads back into town, easily shifting into fourth gear knowing every cop in Charming would be responding to where he just fled from and not having to worry about being pulled over for his excessive speed.

Jax knew he was pushing it for time - your birthday over in just less than two hours - so with a reminder of his bruised and bloodied knuckles, he twisted the throttle and opened up his Harley even more in order to get to you faster.

With a smile on his face at knowing your neighbours already complained about his presence on your street, he let open again on the straight section of road about half a mile from your house, hoping you and everyone else would now be fully aware of his arrival.

The fight with Zobelle’s gang already had him fired up, but not nearly as much as getting to see you did, and as he pulled into your driveway, his buzzing fury changed into a different kind of energy entirely.

Taking one last haul on the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, he blew out the smoke and tossed it onto the asphalt, stepping on it with a twist of his dusty shoe as he unbuckled his helmet.

Jax glanced up to see the dim, warm light of a lamp in your living room, smiling to himself again that you were still awake and no doubt waiting for him as he took his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped the main compartment.

Relieved the box didn't get smushed, he pulled out the still perfectly preserved cupcake and dug in his pocket for the single candle he stuck in there earlier, bringing his lighter out with it along with another cigarette.

He placed the fresh smoke between his lips, not paying any attention to the cut stinging on his lip where it rested, focusing on sticking the candle in the center of the cupcake and lighting it. With the pink candle set ablaze, he brought his lighter to the end of the cigarette and inhaled as it burned the paper, shoving the Zippo back in the inside pocket of his cut before carefully making his way up the steps to your front door with his free hand blocking any wind made by walking from blowing out the tiny flame.

He grunted quietly to himself when he knocked on the door, his hand more sore than he thought it was after punching Weston's face in so many times, muttering to himself when he realized he was getting blood on the side of the cupcake from a split on his other hand.

"Ahh, shit," he sighed, knowing he didn't have enough time to try to clean anything up when he heard your footsteps coming to answer. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and quickly forced the smoke out with a deep blow, waving his hand so it wouldn't be in your face when you opened the door.

An automatic smile formed on his lips as soon as he laid eyes on you, leaning against the doorway in nothing but your panties and his white reaper crew t-shirt that he left the last time he was over, his voice hoarse as he started singing.

"Happy birthday to you," he began, taking a step through the entrance. "Happy birthday to you," he continued, getting right close to you until your faces were inches from each other, his eyes flickering over your shy, but happy features as his gesture made you flush all over.

"Happy birthday, darlin'. Make a wish."

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, looking from his intensely blue eyes down to the candle in front of you, and blew it out.

"What'd you wish for?"

"I'm not supposed to tell, Jax."

He smirked, leaning even closer to you so his lips were hovering over yours, "Then I'll have to guess."

His kiss tasted like smoke, but you didn't care, craving the nicotine that transferred from his mouth to yours like you were addicted to the habit itself, deepening the kiss by arching into him as if you were never able to get enough.

Jax walked forward, guiding you further into your house, the sound of the door closing lost on both of you as he kicked it shut behind him and eventually broke your kiss.

"I didn't think I was going to get to see you today," you whispered, your lids heavy with lust when you looked up at him.

"Yeah, well, I skipped out early to come give my girl her gift." He held up the cupcake and let you take it from his hand, watching your expression change to confusion as you noticed the blood stained on the side of it.

"Is that your blood?"

"50/50 chance," he laughed, swiping his finger through the icing before licking it clean.

“Should I even ask?”

“Probably not.”

You began taking in the deepening colours of purple and red on his cheek, the cut on his lip and the ones that flawed his hands, the concern you felt taking away from the joy in having him there.

“Is this why you're late?” you questioned, your fingertips ghosting over his cheek and down to his lip.

“So you were expecting me, then," he winked, his smugness always managing to outshine anything else, forcing you to roll your eyes at him.

He kissed you again, plucking the cupcake out of your hand and placing it blindly over on the hall table where you kept your keys and purse, his hands reaching up to cradle your face.

"I should report you for theft, you know," he warned, pausing to take a breath, nodding down at his shirt that hung loosely on your body.

"I think of it more as safe keeping until the owner comes back to claim it," you challenged, your eyebrows raising to show your displeasure in it being too many days that had turned into weeks since he was last here.

"Hey, at least I didn't miss your birthday," he objected, trying his best to defend himself, his head tilted while his eyebrows rose to crease his forehead.

You backed away from him, turning to walk through to the kitchen, looking back over your shoulder.

"And how many other birthday's did you celebrate in the meantime?"

"Oh, come on," he laughed frustratedly, your accusation making him look up at the ceiling. "You know it isn't like that."

You nodded slowly in silent agreement, trying not to let your insecurities and jealousies get the better of you.

He sighed loudly, waiting for a moment before following you, his voice raising slightly to make sure you heard from down the hallway.

"You're the only one I always come back to. The one I want to be inside every night."

Hearing his footsteps coming toward you, you closed your eyes and breathed out, terrified of the hurt he could cause but realizing you were being hurt every time regardless.

His voice was near and softer now that he was in the kitchen with you, making your heart pound faster in your chest even though he seemed so calm.

"You gotta stop pushing me away."

It was safer that way; always keeping him at an arm's length, never wanting to get your heart involved when you knew what he was like and how many beds he ended up in. Jax Teller could have any woman he wanted; more charm in him than all of Charming, a simple crooked grin or nod as he strutted past enough to seal the deal, and not one person could say he wasn't successful in his endeavors.

Despite it all, you wanted him, but kept it casual enough to get a taste of what you needed, having said to both yourself and him on more than one occasion over the years that nothing more would ever happen as long as his habits remained the same, and you weren't about to ask a man like him to change.

He came up to you, his hands holding your waist, his lips peppering across your shoulder and dangerously close to your neck. You closed your eyes again and sighed, relishing in the sensation while praying he didn't do the one thing you always told him not to.

But Jax always did whatever the fuck he wanted.

He kissed up along your neck, making you moan and breathe deeper, trying to keep some sort of resolve.

"Jax, you know my rule," you pleaded, feeling your entire body ignite to his lawlessness.

"Remind me what that is again?" he lied, continuing to kiss and suck your neck, knowing damn well what it was.

You shivered, feeling yourself slipping away and quickly becoming willing to do anything he asked or all the things you really wanted to do; the way he kissed your neck was your kryptonite and weakness and the one thing you always prevented in order to save yourself, fearing you would reveal exactly how you felt about him anytime he lingered there.

"Jax…"

He stopped, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him, his eyes dancing back and forth with yours as he looked at you seriously.

“I'm done playing. I want this," he said pointedly, speaking with surety.

You let go of the breath you were holding, still questioning whether to trust him regardless of how convincing he was right now.

Taking hold of your cheeks again, he smoothed his thumbs back and forth across them, an honesty and pleading present in those clear blues that made you lose yourself every time.

Before you could argue or plead your case, he crashed against you, inhaling deeply like he was trying to suck all the air out of your lungs, his tongue probing deep into your mouth to tangle with yours.

There was no sense in trying to hold back now, done with pretending for as many years as you had, the whine that passed from your mouth to his signaling your surrender.

The metallic taste of blood mixed with tobacco teased your tastebuds with each kiss, increasing your hunger to taste more of him while your body displayed those needs and your hands roamed frantically under his hoodie and the waist of his low-sitting jeans.

The leather of his cut was soft on your fingertips as you ran them along the open panels, feeling Jax’s eagerness increase in his kiss when you peeled it down his arms and placed it carefully on the kitchen chair beside you without looking. He shrugged off his hoodie and white t-shirt while you busied yourself with unfastening his belt and jeans, letting the weight of his knife pull them to the floor without assistance, leaving him standing in his boxers with a cheeky grin on his face.

“You seem pretty happy unwrapping your present.”

“Is this all I get?” you teased, matching his smile and giggling when he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, giving your bum a harsh smack as he started making his way down to your bedroom.

"Come on, birthday girl, let's go make those wishes come true."

A seriousness took over again once you were in your room, what remained of the playfulness exchanged just a minute ago in the kitchen leaving the moment your feet touched the hardwood floor, Jax peering down at you with a look you hadn't seen before.

You'd be lying if you told yourself you weren't absolutely terrified, scared of letting yourself fall even further for him, but the way his expression had softened and his eyes held what you knew had to be love for you in them, you were ready to give in.

“I mean it,” he muttered, one of his hands reaching up to tuck your hair behind your ear where you leaned into his touch.

You crashed against him, kissing him hard, the need to have him more fierce than ever and only fueled more by him meeting your enthusiasm equally.

Jax tore his shirt from your body, only pausing in kissing you for long enough to get your head through it, stepping closer to you so your bodies were pressed together, feeling his hard cock nudging against your thighs and then between your legs through his boxers.

More desperate for him now than you thought you had ever been, you tugged his loose-fitting shorts down roughly, your mouth watering as his dick sprung free and bounced temptingly before you took hold of it and began rubbing the silky, veiny skin, his approval of your touch sounding as a low growl from deep in his chest.

"Fuck," he hissed, his mouth close to your ear as he leaned in against you, his hips moving into your strokes.

Finding his focus, he let his fingers hook in your thong to pull it down over your hips, his head angling to meet your mouth with his again as he slipped his fingers in your folds to spread your slick, both of you pressing your mouths against each other's harder as ecstasy quickly took over.

This was normally the time where one of you would frantically reach for a condom, barely keeping it together in time to get it on him as the temptation to go without almost always won, and today it seemed it would. You had always trusted that he wrapped up whenever he was with anyone, and although you were on birth control you were happy not to take any risks, but today was different. You wanted him, and all of him.

Jax walked forward until the back of your legs met your bed, and forcing you to sit, he crawled in over you, his blond hair hanging in your face as you spread out beneath him and he settled between your open legs.

He gave you a once over before meeting your eyes, admiring your perfect form spread and ready for him to ruin, his cheeks flinching as he clenched his jaw while he waited for you to give him the go-ahead.

Your consent was silent as you lifted your head up to capture his lips with yours, his sun-bleached beard scratching over your chin, lifting your hips at the same time so you rubbed yourself over his leaking head.

Jax wasted no more time, driving into you deeply in one push, pausing when he bottomed out to flex his cock inside you. You moaned into him, your hands clawing over the tattoo covering his back, unable to believe how good it felt to have him bare inside you.

Immediately choosing a rhythm that was both slow and hard at the same time, he thrusted in and out and ground against you with perfect precision, sending you close to the edge faster than ever before.

"You feel so fucking good!" he growled, his mouth parting from yours and leaving a string of wet between them, moving his lubricated lips over to your neck where you whined loudly and rocked more into his movements.

"Fuck, Jax!" you cried, knowing you were leaving ten red trails across his pale skin, but feeling the need to claim him as yours.

He was doing the same, sucking at your neck to leave darkened blemishes behind, his tongue alternating where his teeth came out to nip harshly at the tender skin to soothe each bite, his tempo growing erratic as he lost himself in your dripping cunt.

You seemed to only get wetter the more he kissed your neck and fucked you deeply, hitting that sweet spot with his head with each blow, the way you squeezed his girth tightly as he dragged in and out of you making him want to blow it already.

He forced himself to pause, needing to compose himself so he could keep fucking you for as long as he could, not wanting this to be over any time soon. Your whining increased, making him unsure if it was because he was sitting idly inside you or that he was persistent in continuing to kiss your neck all over to the point you had goosebumps littering your skin and you writhing desperately under him. It made him smile, knowing he had such an effect on you, smug in his ability to have you past the point of control and that you were seconds away from admitting something you tried so hard to deny for so long.

If Jax was anybody but the asshole he was he would've said it long ago, but selfishly he wanted to hear it spill from your gorgeous lips first, and he didn't ever go down without a fight.

"Roll over," he demanded, pulling out of you and forcefully grabbing at your leg to help flip you onto your stomach, hooking your knee up to bend at a high angle.

You took your hair in your hand and draped it over one shoulder, exposing the side of it for him to do with what he wanted, making him smirk more that you clearly wanted him there despite what you always said.

The hand that wasn't supporting him on the mattress gripped your cheek and spread you apart, driving his dick in you again torturously slowly, watching your face contort as he stretched you open. Your hands tore at the sheets as you backed yourself into him to push him in further, meeting his hips in slow, rolling motions, that tingling sensation of your building climax quickly returning.

Sex with Jax was always mind-blowing and the best you ever had, but tonight it felt so much better, so much more powerful, and you knew you could never have it any other way again.

He leaned over you to gently kiss your neck, more carefully than before, his efforts in wrecking you focused in his movements even though the feel of his lips on your sensitive skin had you shivering and threatening to come undone just as much.

The scent of your skin was like a drug to him as he breathed deeply, his nose ghosting at your nape and in your hair, dragging him right along with you to a point he would never recover from.

Wrapping a hand around to wedge between you and the bed, he found your clit, rubbing precise circles with his fingertips in the way he always knew made you scream, the thought of feeling you cum on his bare dick making him feel more feral than he ever had.

"Jax, I'm so close- Fuck!" you cried, your breathing growing ragged, your limbs moving recklessly to try to gain momentum on your climax that sat waiting just on the edge, seeking to keep up with his ruthless pounding.

He slowed his pace, adjusting to a speed he knew would have you at his mercy, his fingers pressing onto your swollen bud harder but in more languid strokes. His nose brushed along your neck, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin before he started kissing you again, the way your body tensed beneath him telling him he had you right where he wanted you.

"God, Jax, I love you," you admitted, feeling freed and unashamed in saying what you had feared to the most, your body relaxing into your words and finding the release it sought.

Jax hammered into you, pounding you through your high, his grunts mixing with your shouts of pleasure as you quaked and strangled him tightly.

Giving you no time to recover, he sat back on his heels and lifted you up with him, his cock momentarily slipping from you as you positioned yourself over his lap, allowing him a glimpse of your milky cum that coated it and sent him into a frenzy.

He speared back into you, your pussy sensitive and still tingling from your orgasm, his hand holding you back against his chest and pinching one of your nipples between his fingers to keep you as stimulated as possible.

Reaching up to turn your face to the side so he could kiss you, he rutted up into you brutally, feeling your pussy stretch out over him with each pump, your wetness dripping out to soak his golden pubes.

His kisses turned sloppy, nearing his end, his hand slipping down to hold your throat where he could easily control the amount of air allowed to pass through your windpipe, the knowledge of knowing you trusted him enough to let him do it lighting him up with an intense buzzing.

Before he could give in to that temptation, he let one hand return to your tits that bounced with his thrusts, the other replacing his lips on yours as he pulled your bottom lip down with his thumb and shoved two of his fingers inside. You sucked on them appreciatively, wetting them with your spit thoroughly as he triggered your gag reflex and pinched one of your peaked nipples at the same time, making you moan and clench hard on his dick. Removing them from the heat of your mouth, he trailed them between your breasts and straight down your stomach, landing on your clit where he spread your spit generously and worked to make you cum again.

You ground on him quickly, the increase in your movements sending you through to another climax, the sound of him grunting and panting in your ear as he began to cum encouraging you, but not as much as knowing he was about to fill you up.

He drove up into you harder, his teeth scraping along your neck and up to your cheek where he growled in your ear roughly, "I love you, too, babe."

You came together, feeling his hot spend coat your insides and start to leak out of you as he didn't let up on fucking you, wrecking you harder than he ever had before.

Your body felt weak and charged all at the same time, like you were melting into him but somehow needing more, and sliding off his dick with a quiet moan at the loss of him, you turned around to face him, sitting in his lap where you wrapped your arms and legs around him and held him close, continuing to kiss him with a necessity that was greater than breathing.

Holding your head in his hands, Jax met you with equal fervor, his chest rising and falling sharply against yours as he worked to catch his breath, and slowly guided you to lay down in the sheets with him.

Your legs tangled together, your arms holding and caressing each other with a surety you had never known before, relishing in the after effects of a level of bliss you were positive up until now you were never going to experience.

Slowing your kisses until they stopped, Jax looked at you warmly and flashed you a lazy smile, and you couldn't help but trace your fingertips over the creases beside his mouth and then up to run through his tousled hair.

You felt a slight pang in your chest in knowing he would probably leave soon, needing to see to some duties for the club, always having to run off shortly after his time with you to go deal with something that his loyalties couldn't ignore.

"I don't want today to end," you whispered, not ready to call it quits on your birthday just yet, and especially not ready to let him out of your bed after confessing something so huge.

Jax shifted onto his back, stretching out with a groan to reach for your alarm clock on your nightstand to check the time; 11:51 pm. Following the cord from the back of it into the wall behind the table, he pulled the plug out, watching the screen turn blank before rolling back over to you, his knee wedging between your legs as he settled his weight on top of you.

“Your birthday isn't over yet, darlin', and I'm not going anywhere.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @blairsanne @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered

I went ahead and tagged everyone I have written down for my Charlie/Will Miller taglist so my apologies if you're not interested in being tagged in Jax fics and I will happily add or remove anyone as they wish!

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy fic #jax teller fic #charlie hunnam

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stardustdreams-andcaffeine · 1 year

Text

Rain Therapy | Bucky Barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: The line between friends and lovers is impossibly thin, yet somehow the hardest line to cross. It's a line that you and Bucky just can't seem to break, but it's nothing one of Tony's infamous parties can't fix.

A/N: Another fluffy one for me, which is still something I'm growing used to writing. I'm getting anxious for some angst, so ask me for some and I'll see what I can do!

Warnings: two idiots in love, slight angst, tooth-rotting fluff, language, allusions to smutty content, jealous Bucky

Word Count: 7,206

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The whisper of lightning, the promise of thunder, the answer of rain. The sky darkens and the sun is forgotten, casting a gloomy light on the earth below.

And yet, in the midst of all that chaos, I find it to be a chemical mixture for peace.

“Y/N, Y/N what the hell are you doing out there?”

That illusion of peace shatters, and I let out low groan, keeping my eyes shut as the raindrops fall down on my form outstretched on the pavement.

“I was having a peaceful moment of bliss until someone decided now was an opportune time to bother me,” I call back.

“An opportune time to-” I hear him cut off incredulously, muttering something to himself as heavy, booted feet slosh through the rain to reach me, “Get off the damn driveway, doll. You’re gonna get sick.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a myth,” I respond, staying pleasantly where I lay right in front of the Avengers Compound.

“Myth my ass, now get up and inside before I throw you over my shoulder and do it for you.”

I click my tongue, not having to open my eyes to know my best friend is standing right beside me, “So much violence, so much language. You should join me, some inner peace would do you good.”

Thunder cracks above, rumbling through the earth and into my bones. Even though I don’t hear his steps moving away, Bucky goes silent beside me. I begin to think he’s taking me up on my offer of a little rain therapy.

“See,” I sigh into the cacophony of nature, “Isn’t that peaceful? Maybe-”

I don’t even have time to react when a pair of strong arms, one of them freezing cold due to the metal in the rain, grab my waist and lift me clear off the floor. My eyes snap open with a jolt as I see myself being thrown over Bucky’s shoulder just like he promised.

“What the-” I stop myself as he secures me with his arm dangerously near my ass and slap his broad, muscular back, “You little bitch!”

“A little bitch who’s gonna keep you from getting a cold,” Bucky responds, and I can hear the smugness in his tone from back here, “Is the rain still peaceful?”

“No, there’s a jackass who got in the way.”

I feel his body rumble with laughter, feel the noise pass through my body and make my heart tumble in its cage. With that, his arm edging near a zone that’s clearly more than friends, and the sight of his wet t-shirt stuck to his back, I feel the anger flood from my body. Instead, I find myself thinking about what his abs look like with his rain-soaked shirt pressed against them.

Damn it, I’ve really got it bad.

I try my hardest to shove the image from my mind, but it only sticks harder and makes the spot where Bucky’s hand rests burn. I notice his metal hand on the other side, rain dripping off of it, and I can’t help but let my mind trace to-

I halt my thinking abruptly. He’s your best friend, he’s your best friend, he’s your best friend.

He’s my unfairly hot, broody, and annoyingly heart-fluttering best friend

With his free hand, Bucky shoves open the front doors to the Avenger’s Compound, walking a few steps until we enter one of the large, high-ceiling living areas where a television blasts a movie.

“I told you,” Tony announces after the group of my friends and teammates sees Bucky walking in with me on his shoulder, “Sam, you owe me five bucks.”

“Put me down, terminator,” I grunt, to which Bucky finally sets me on my feet.

Immediately I go to hit him, but the sudden change in my body’s gravity sends me off balance slightly. I stumble back slightly, trying to make the blood rush from my head so I can balance again.

“Woah, careful there, Bambi,” Bucky laughs, gripping onto my waist to help steady me.

Where his hands touch, metal and skin alike, my skin sets on fire. The radiating electricity from his touch only annoys me further and I shove out of his hands, swatting his chest.

“I’m fine,” I grumble, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze and holding a finger in his face like a scolding parent, “Next time you manhandle me, I’m going to remove your arm like Ayo showed me.”

Bucky smirks at me coolly and says something, but I miss it because my eyes drop down to where his t-shirt sticks to his abs from the rain. Just like I imagined it would, it makes my mouth go dry and my heartbeat miss a step.

“See something you like?” Bucky taunts.

Cheeks flushed, I look up at him calmly and smile, “Just thinking about what a shame a body like that is wasted on the grumpiest man alive.”

The group of Avengers lounging around the various chairs and couches in the living room snicker, their attention drawn from the television. He lifts an eyebrow at me and those infuriating steel blue eyes ricochet my pulse.

“Sure you were.”

“Whatever,” I mumble, turning and looking at team, “Who bet against me?”

Tony, Bruce, Wanda, and Nat lifts their hands and I gasp, pressing a hand to my chest in feigned hurt.

“Traitors,” I grumble, not being able to stop the smile that wants to twitch onto my lips as Bucky walks up beside me and rests his arm on my shoulder.

“They bet right, didn’t they?”

I look up at him with the half-smile I wasn’t able to stop, “Screw you,”

I turn around and leave the living room, making my way towards my room so I can shower and change. From behind me, I hear Bucky’s laugh that sears itself into my memory.

“Love you too, doll!” He calls out, and my heart launches into my throat.

He doesn’t mean it like I want him to, not like how I mean it. Not like how I've meant it for months.

As I finally get to the confines of my bedroom, I shut to the door and let out a trembling breath. I keep my back pressed to the door for a moment, leaning my head against it and forcing myself to forget the way his hands felt, to strike from my memory the beauty of his laugh. When I finally peel off my wet clothes and step into a scalding hot shower, I let the water and steam surround me long after I'm already clean.

I'm a coward, a coward and a fool for falling for my best friend and not being able to say a word to him about it.

Long after I'm out of the shower and cuddled up with a book on my bed, a knock sounds on my door. I've barely glanced up at it in confusion when Natasha's voice calls out, "I know you're probably reading a book but put it down and let me in unless you want me to break down the door."

A half-smile tugs onto my lips and I set my book aside, untangling myself from my covers and opening the door for my friend. She gives me a smug smile and waltzes in, plopping down on my bed. I can't help but shake my head at her as she makes herself at home.

"Why are all of my friends so violent?" I taunt, sitting down next to her.

"Most of us are trained assassins." Nat gives me a playful nudge, already lifting my spirits from the gloom and doom they were resting in. Her knowing gaze immediately notifies me that I can't escape the conversation to come, so I don't even bother to skirt around it.

"Why does my life suck?" I groan, dropping down onto my back dramatically. Nat laughs beside me, shaking her head down at me.

"So many questions tonight," She remarks, following the words with a tired sigh and laying down beside me. As we both stare up at my ceiling, my mind is held captive by one person. Both it and my heart have been held hostage and I'm starting to understand the truth in Stockholm Syndrome.

"You know, and brace yourself because this is gonna blow your mind, you could just tell him how you feel," Nat advises.

"And risk ruining everything that we already have?" I reply, my brows creased in an ever-present state of worry, "I could live with being friends with him forever as long as it meant I still had him in my life. But if I tell him how I feel and it changes everything to the point where he can't even be around me?"

I take a charged pause, startled by the sudden rise of emotion. I swallow down the burning pain, but ultimately I decide to go easy on my breaking heart. The poor thing doesn't know any better. All it knows is that it wants Bucky Barnes and I keep locking it and its desires into a cage of bones in my chest.

"A life without him...I couldn't live like that."

Nat sits up beside me, catching my attention in time to see the sympathy flashing across her features, "Y/N, I know it's scary but if you'd just trust me I think the outcome would surprise you."

She can tell that I'm still not convinced, so in a last ditch effort to rally me from my slumber of inaction, she reaches across me and grabs the book I was reading. I sit up, a protest just starting on my tongue as I reach for it. She pulls it out of my reach and holds it in front of her chest, displaying the cover for me to see.

"Do any of the characters in these books ever fare well from denying their passions?" Nat asks, and I find that she has me in a figurative corner, "Do their stories end well when they decide, 'Nah, I'm too scared to tell him I love him'?"

"I don't love him," I protest, but the lie is sour on my tongue and allergic to my soul. It gets rejected so quickly by everything within me that I almost think I'll have a physical reaction to it.

"Bullshit." Nat challenges, setting the book aside and grabbing my hands. I shake my head, trying to escape her arguments that my heart jumps in agreement with.

It's a brutal thing, to have your heart yearn for one thing and your mind so resolutely against it. I've always thought it strange how the dichotomy of desires could root in a person, but it makes sense in a way. The heart is led by our passions, our intuitive cravings. The mind is hardwired by nature and instinct to protect us, to propel our survivals.

Even if that means our passions must be slaughtered.

I'm keeping my mind in charge by sheer will that's hanging precariously over the edge of a cliff. My will only has a few fingers left to hold with, and I can feel it slipping every day Bucky's near me, every time his skin brushes mine, every time he simply is.

“I need to move on,” I almost desperately announce, gripping handfuls of my sweatshirt to keep from crying, “I need a way to move or this is going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.”

Sympathetic to my distress, Natasha lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder, “You know, with Tony’s Semi-Annual Charity Gala coming up this weekend it’s the perfect time to move on.”

I perk up slightly, the thought breaking a sliver of hope in the pit of despair and self-pity I allow to well up. For an Avenger, I sure know how to wallow in pain.

“…or make a move on a certain super soldier.” Nat continues.

“Don’t be silly, I’d never steal Steve away from you,” I jest, my tone wavering but stronger than before. Nat rolls her eyes from beside me before shoving my shoulder. With a sigh, I finally meet my friend’s gaze, “One last chance. One chance and then I’m putting myself out of my misery”

That’s so easily said. The unspoken truth is that my poor heart doesn’t stand a chance. It hasn’t for a long time.

“Great!” Nat smiles, squeezing me into a side hug on the bed, “I’ll start planning your outfit now!”

And with that, she’s off my bed and into my closet. As we spend the better part of the night deciding on what to wear to the upcoming gala, I can’t help but let my mind stray to its usual focus. With a groan of exhaustion, I drop my head into my hands and tell myself that same lie.

“He’s my best friend. That’s all.”

It’s getting harder and harder to believe.

|||

A few days later

It's been a few days since the rain incident, and I've finally managed to garner a moment alone from everyone. It's not that I don't love being around them, but it taxes me more than I care to admit to be around him.

A forlorn sigh brushes past my lips, but as I nestle down on the floor in the library Tony had put into the Compound, I find my worries drifting away. Instead, they're replaced with the story in the pages, rapturing my attention and distracting my mind.

That is, until the door opens and I feel his presence before I see or hear him.

"There you are, doll. I've been looking for you all day," Bucky calls, his deep, smooth voice cascading into my very soul. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying desperately to not let it show on my face how jarring it was to be snapped from the book to the person I've been trying to avoid.

"You've been looking for me?" I ask, managing to make my voice seem calm and pleasant. He approaches where I'm sitting on the floor, a breath-stealing smile tugging at his lips.

"Course I have, I haven't seen you in days," He replies, his face the picture of relaxed calm, drawing a fierce dichotomy to the barely-veiled confliction on my own. Bucky takes a moment, surveying me sitting on the floor amidst all of the chairs and couches available. He lifts an amused brow at me.

"Why are you on the floor?"

I can't stop myself from smiling up at him and all control I had in keeping myself away from him disintegrates, "It's more comfortable to me. Are you judging me Barnes?"

His laugh bursts light into the depths of me, and as I watch his face relax I can't help but look on in awe at how far he's come. When he first joined the team, he was withdrawn and quiet and even grumpier than he is now. He never smiled, never laughed, and barely spoke. Now, of course he's adorably grumpy most of the time, but he smiles and laughs. He enjoys life, and he more than anyone else in this world deserves to enjoy life.

"What're you reading?" Bucky asks, and I try to ignore the way my pulse rockets up when he settles down beside me on the floor.

He stretches out his long legs, keeping the one furthest from me bent and resting his arm on top it. His other leg is stretched out and nearly touching my own. To help balance his weight, he settles the hand closest to me, his metal hand, onto a spot on the floor behind my back. The position makes his chest brush against my shoulder ever so slightly and all I can feel is the burning of his presence and the searing of his gaze.

"Just some fantasy book," I reply, not wanting to bore him.

I look over at him to see his eyes already on my face, his own radiating a serene peace. He furrows his brows at my prolonged examination of his features and the ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of his lips, "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just," My mouth has gone dry again, and I can't seem to clear the haze on my mind, "You look at peace."

"Well someone pretty incredible suggested rain therapy, which works like a charm for my grumpiness."

A laugh bubbles out of me, only widening the smile on his face. I find myself subconsciously leaning into his presence and bringing our faces closer.

"Seriously," Bucky continues, making me realize our proximity and pull back to a normal distance, "I'm always at peace around you."

My heart doesn't just miss a step, it stumbles and falls and nearly gives out in my chest. His words affect every part of me and it's a feat of pure resilience that I don't reach over and press my lips to his.

"Unless you're doing something stupid and testing my nerves," He adds on, lightening the air and making me giggle. He nods towards the almost forgotten book in my hands.

"You were going to tell me about your new read," Bucky reminds, and I smile.

I spend the next ten minutes detailing what's happening in the book, my excitement about it taking over and making me ramble on without barely taking any breaths. I occasionally look between the book and Bucky, sometimes gesturing with my hands to establish my enthusiasm.

Even when I'm not looking at him, Bucky's gaze never leaves my face.

So much for giving myself space to try and move on from him. That thought is far from my mind, though. The longer I’m near him, the closer he is, the harder it is to remember to forget him. And now, with Tony’s Gala tomorrow night, I don’t know how I’m going to move on.

Maybe I really can give this one last shot. It could break me if it goes wrong, but I have a feeling I’ll break a little regardless.

|||

The next night

Not even the pounding of the music and the chatter and clatter of hundreds of guests can drown out my racing mind.

“Stop tugging at your dress, you look great,” Natasha chides from beside me.

With a huff of anxiety, I heed her words and stop fiddling with the snug material of the one-sleeved dress. It hugs my curves down to my waist before draping elegantly to the floor, broken only by the high slit up the thigh.

“I know,” I reply, downing my second drink of the night and setting down the empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter with a brief smile, “I just haven’t seen him yet. He’s coming right? Tony told us all to be here, so he wouldn’t just-”

“Why does there have to be so many people here?”

My words die out at the distant but unmissable rumble of words behind me. I turn around, and my entire world seems to focus on the epicenter that is Bucky Barnes as he walks in beside Sam Wilson.

“It’s a party man, I thought you loved parties back in the day,” Sam replies, smiling at a few people as he walks in.

“Yeah well I don’t like people like I did then,” Bucky grumbles back, messing with the edges of his all-black suit that is tailored so perfectly that it hones every inch of his body.

His broad shoulders, his muscular form, his piercing blue eyes in a fierce dichotomy with the darkness of the getup…I almost trip in my heels.

“You don’t like any people? That breaks my heart, Barnes,” I manage out coolly, walking up to the pair with a half-smile tugging on my lips and my heart dancing with the butterflies within.

Bucky’s gaze turns from the party goers to where I walk up to them, and a part of me melts at the way a light filters into his features. His dashing smile makes my own grow before I can stop it. The way he simply stops for a moment and stares at me, as if the throngs of people around us don’t exist…

It’s more than an effort to shove my poor heart into its shackles.

“I guess you’re an exception, doll,” He amends, and Sam rolls his eyes beside Bucky as they stop before me.

“It’s not like I’m right here,” Sam announces, making me giggle slightly and look to him.

“Hey Sam, good to see you,” I greet, walking over and hugging the man. He hugs me back, smiling brightly.

“Good to see you too,” Sam responds, his eyes catching on something over my shoulder, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe there are some fans who need me.”

I laugh as I watch him walk over and greet a group of women by the bar. When I turn back to Bucky, I shove down my nerves and shake my head as I pull him into a hug.

“You look incredible, Buck,” I announce, trying to ignore the rightness of his body against mine as he pulls me into a hug that lasts a moment more than I should have let it.

“Y/N,” he deadpans, pulling back but leaving his arms on my waist to admire me. His eyes sparkle with something akin to awe that makes hope rise in my chest, “You put me and everyone else in this room to shame.”

“You obviously haven’t looked in a mirror,” I remark, desperately trying to not show all over my face how beautiful he is.

Bucky just smiles. He looks at me and he smiles and I am undone.

My eyes catch on Natasha over Bucky’s shoulder as she mingles in the background of the party. When our gazes meet she gestures to Bucky with a hand, mounting the words ‘Come on’ as she does. Nodding back to her, I remember the conversation we had a few days ago and right before we joined the gala. I have to be bold and make a move, take a chance before I lose the ability to do so.

“So,” I turn back to Bucky, smiling knowingly up at him, “How’re you doing with the whole party thing?”

Bucky takes in a breath, nodding his head slightly as he surveys the party scene around us. Drinks are flowing, laughs rising, and music is permeating through every sector of the Avengers Compound. The floor shakes with the base and the clattering of shoes as he looks back to me, “Oh you know, just fantastic.”

“Is that so?” I taunt, almost laughing at the dripping sarcasm in his voice. He shoots me a grumpy glare that finally unleashes my laugh. At the sound, Bucky’s features soften and a smile touches his lips. I notice this and furrow my brows up at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky whispers, just holding that’s soft smile in his eyes that makes me almost forget the track of the conversation. When I snap myself from my daze, I gasp.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” I exclaim, holding my clutch up and opening it to find what I stashed earlier, “I know how you are with parties like this and all so I thought that this might help make it a better memory.”

“You got me a gift?” Bucky asks, shaking his head at me with furrowed brows, “You should have told me, I would’ve gotten you something too!”

I shake my head, finally finding what I’m looking for and glancing up at Bucky, “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

With a bright smile to cover my pounding, anxious heart, I hold out the small book in my hands. Bucky glances down at the gift I hold out, and I watch his body go still. Anticipation dances in my belly as he ever so gently reaches out and takes the old, fading The Hobbit novel into his hands.

“It’s a first edition, don’t ask me how I found it,” I inform, playing with the fabric of my dress to give my now empty hands something to do, “I know how much you loved it and now when you’re watching me read in the library, you can read too.”

My words ring out between us, and yet Bucky barely moves. Just when I’m beginning to grow nervous, my heart melts into a puddle in my chest when he lifts his steel-eyed gaze to me. I’ve never seen him cry before, but here and now I can see the lining of unshed tears in his gaze.

“Buck-"

He closes the distance between us, pulling me so close to him that there’s no room for separation. I melt into the hug, becoming nothing more than an extension of his body. There’s no him. There’s no me. There’s only us as we’re suspended in time, caught in this moment.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he mumbles, not moving back an inch and letting his voice cascade over my neck and down my spine, “You don’t know what this means to me.”

Reluctantly, I pull back. Every part of me shouts in protest, but I know we have to separate as some point. I give him a soft smile, trying to ignore the noose that’s slowly tightening around my heart. I’m a goner. I have no chance of recovery.

“Don’t mention it,”

Bucky stares at me for another moment, the charged silence soon taking on an anticipated feel. We’re both waiting for the other to make the first move, I can sense it. I see Nat nudge me from afar again and decide to finally muster up my courage and stop waiting. I notice Bucky shakes his head at something, mumbling something to himself, but I press on.

“Hey, do you wanna da-”

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Bucky bursts out at almost the same instant, making me cut off my sentence quickly.

A drink? He’s going to get a drink right now, as soon as I was about to ask him to dance? I know he didn’t mean it as a rejection, but it still stings like one.

“Oh, uh yeah sure. That’s-”

Before I can even finish speaking, Bucky has darted away desperately towards the bar at the North side of the room near Sam. I stand dumbfounded, my heart slowly sinking. This is going to be much harder than I thought.

|||

It's been nearly an hour and a half and Bucky is still managing to be everywhere that I am not.

I can take a hint. Even if that hint shatters my soul a little.

As I watch the super soldier mingle with some of the guests, a polite and slightly annoyed smile on his face, I feel something snap within my chest. Here I am, lounging pathetically at the bar all alone, and there he is, my best friend who I can't seem to fall out of love with. His strong jaw and steel eyes don't dare to turn in my direction, and I feel my fracturing soul crack even more.

I have to let it go. I have to let it go. I have to let him go.

With a long sigh, I pick up the drink before me and down its contents, letting the burn soothe away the edge of the crawling pain in my chest. Once the glass is slammed back down on the bar counter, I steel my nerves and stand.

It's time I stop feeling sorry for myself and move on.

My eyes scan the thick crowd scattered throughout every inch of Tony's gala. Music radiates through every molecule of air, and just one glance at the dance floor has my feet moving before my brain is. As I walk over to the dance floor, I see a random guy standing with a few others. He's cute enough with a charming smile, so I grab his arm as I walk past, making him glance over at me. I flash him my best smile and tug him towards the dance floor.

"Dance with me?" I ask boldly, and his smile widens.

"I'd be honored," He replies, letting me pull him onto the dance floor.

I should let myself be whisked away into the music and the movements and the feel of his hands on my hips as we dance. I should let the base and the crowd and the charming man before me wipe away every thought, but I just...can't. All I can think about when his hands slide gently on my waist is how different it feels when those hands are Bucky's. My heart is crushing slowly, and so I do everything I can to forget it.

It's actually beginning to work until the music abruptly cuts out.

Groans and boo's arise from the crowd with me on the dance floor as we all look around, trying to figure out why the music's stopped. "That's so weird," The nice guy I'm dancing with mumbles. I mention my agreement, my eyes sweeping the edges of the party before I catch a glint of dark metal. My eyes fly back to the metal only to see Bucky storming away from the sound booth, his metal fist clenched so hard that I'm surprised it doesn't malfunction. In his metal grasp is a hunk of wires, and my stomach drops.

He did not.

"Don't worry folks! I'll have the music back up in no time," Tony announces, flashing his winning smile to the crowd as he jogs to the sound booth, "There was a slight malfunction"

I see him shoot Bucky a glare, but true to his words the music is back up in a matter of minutes. I feel anger begin to make my blood boil and I pull away from the guy I was dancing with. I see a frown pull onto his face as he lets me go but follows me a few steps.

"Are you okay?" He calls after me, and my heart twists in sympathy. I must look absolutely furious and he probably thinks it's pointed at him. So, I do my best to give him a sympathetic smile.

"I'm alright, thanks for the dance. I needed it," I comment, before turning and continuing my beeline for the brooding super soldier in the corner. He's standing with Sam, muttering something that I can't hear as I finally break through the crowd and walk up to them.

"Here we go," Sam mumbles, slowly backing away as I come to a stop in front of Bucky.

"What the hell, James?" I grit out.

"Oh she used the first name," Sam comments, his eyes widening, "I'm going to go check on Steve."

Then he leaves, and it's just Bucky and I. Bucky just shrugs, not meeting my furious gaze.

"I don't know what you're so mad about but-"

"Oh really? So you didn't just rip out the sound system?" I accuse, crossing my arms over my chest. He finally turns and meets my gaze, and damn it all I can't stop the swooning of my heart at the dark, rugged look on his face.

I'm angry, I remind myself. I'm angry with him.

"What does that have to do with you, sweetheart?"

I scoff, shaking my head at him, "You are unbelievable! I was finally starting to have a good night and-"

"Dancing with that handsy prick makes your night a good night then?" He interrupts, and I have to fight to keep the smug look off of my face at catching him.

"What were you saying about this having nothing to do with me?" I fire back, lifting an eyebrow. Bucky clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to me, probably expecting me to back off. I don't. Instead, I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, trying and failing to seem taller than him.

"I don't like you dancing with other men like that," Bucky informs, his voice dark. He's so close to me that his whiskey and pine scent invades my senses, threatening to empty my head of the argument at hand.

"I can dance with whoever the hell I want, Barnes. And since certain people made it very clear they didn't want to dance with me, then certain people should have no say in who I dance with"

"I don't dance, Y/N." His eyes are cool fire and they sear right through me. Even in this heated argument, all I can seem to think about is how badly I want him, body and soul. My thoughts are banished when he spits his next words out, "Not with you, not with anyone."

It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't. So why do I have to fight to keep the hurt off of my face?

Just like that, the fire in my argument is gone. I nod, taking a few steps back, "Okay, that's all you had to say."

And then I turn around and leave before he can see the tears welling in my gaze.

I force myself into the crowd, making sure I move quickly and weave myself between those around me to get away as fast as possible. Then, with my heart in my throat, I finally make it to the outskirts of the party where a glass sliding door leads out into a training field. Through the glass, I can see rain pouring down into the dark, almost moonless night.

Seeing it unravels a bit of the pain within my chest, and I don't even think as I slip off my heels and walk outside. I shut the door behind me, muting the sounds of the party and leaving the downpour of rain and the distant rumble of thunder to take over my senses. I set my heels down carefully and walk out into the field, barely jumping when the cool, refreshing droplets begin to pound into my skin. It's not long before I'm soaked and my entire outfit is ruined. I don't mind, though. I'm not planning on going back there anyways.

I sit down in the grass, not even minding how it dirties my dress, and hug my knees close. When I slip my eyes shut, I'm reminded why I love the rain so much.

In moments like this, I can't distinguish my tears from the rain

I don't know how long I sit like this, my eyes shut and the rain drenching me. Eventually, my body stops shaking from the sobs that have now subsided and any evidence of my breakdown has been washed away. I'm almost at peace when I hear that voice, that stupid, addicting voice, ring out behind me through the storm.

"I'd say you'll catch a cold, but I don't think you'd care much"

I swallow hard, cursing my heart for the way it jumps. I open my eyes, but keep my gaze firmly forward across the training field.

"Especially since it's coming from you," I add on, grateful for the lack of tremor in my words.

"I guess I deserved that one," Bucky concedes softly, his voice getting closer. My body begins to shiver with the anticipation of him being close, the response purely visceral and out of my control. I just hope he thinks it's from the rain.

"You think?" I scoff lightly, not having the strength to be angry anymore.

It's silent for a long while, and I almost begin to think that he's left and gone back inside. I'm proven otherwise when I see Bucky walk out from behind me, standing right in front of where I sit with my knees drawn to my chest. Against my better judgement, I look up.

And there he is, drenched like I am and an unreadable look upon his stupidly handsome face.

"Bucky-"

He extends out his human hand, and my words die, "Dance with me."

Every part of my heart beams, and it’s an effort to keep the fluttering of my heart out of my body language. I pause for a moment, almost as if to give him time to retract his hand. When he doesn’t, I hesitantly meet his gaze.

“I thought you didn’t dance,” I whisper. His half-smile grows as he looks down at me with what almost looks like…adoration.

“I don’t,” Bucky confirms, his voice like sugar and pine, “But for you I’d do anything”

I can’t even try to hide the visceral effect his words have on me. With a thousand butterflies batting in my stomach and my heart beating viscously out of rhythm, I allow a small smile to grow on my lips. A new excitement in my chest, I reach up and slip my hand into his large, rough one calloused with work and time. It fits mine perfectly, as always, and his touch muddles my senses and wakes me up all at once, as always.

As he helps me stand, the rain still pouring down on us, he tugs me close to him so suddenly that I stumble right into his chest. A small laugh escapes my lips as I catch myself on his broad chest. Bucky’s so close, so warm, so intoxicating to me that every fiber of my being yearns for his proximity. I’m nothing but a firing hum of nerves and sparks being this close to him, with a hand on his chest and his arm secured around my waist.

And we dance.

There’s no music, there’s no reason. We just dance. Bucky’s magnificent at it, every step dripping in ease and cool confidence that only makes me love him more. I’m so caught in the moment that every thought of a reciprocated or unrequited love has been banished from my mind. All that exists is here and now, underneath the downpour of the heavens with the cacophony of nature as our song.

He twirls me around, making water splash up and a giggle bubble out of me when I slip and fall directly into him. His body rumbles with low laughter when he catches me stopping my fall. Bucky doesn’t even have to say a word for me to know he’s making fun of me, so I slap his chest with a huff of laughter.

“What?” Bucky’s amused voice is the harmony to the melody of the rain.

“I can feel your judgement from here,” I point out, but before I can raise my lightened gaze to meet his on my own, a metal hand hooks under my chin and gently turns my face up until our eyes clash.

Suddenly, I’m not so humored anymore.

Neither is he, I can tell. The air is different—still light with joy but now corded with something deep, rich, and intangible. His piercing blue eyes seem to be burdened with a million different thoughts, but I can barely bring myself to breathe let alone ask him what is going through his beautiful mind.

Bucky doesn’t say a single word, though. He doesn’t have to. My eyes glance down to his lips for no more than one half of a second, and by the time I’ve returned my gaze to his, he’s closing to distance between us and connecting his lips to mine.

I’ve never understood what is so special about kissing in the rain. I get it now. There’s something so dichotomously beautiful in this moment, in the cold, relentless rain and the desperate, burning heat of Bucky’s lips moving against my own.

Again, no words are needed for us both to understand. This kiss is everything that has been bottling up over our friendship. It’s every quiet moment in the library and loud moment in our arguments. As his hands tug me closer and ignite my skin as if it were burning clean off, as his lips and tongue move with mine, every thought and worry and tear-filled, longing night washes away. The very thought makes me sigh into the kiss, and finally we break apart only for the need for air.

Bucky doesn’t let me pull away an inch.

His arms keep my locked close, his forehead against mine as we both catch our breath. He nudged my nose with his before pulling away only enough to meet my gaze. One hand of his cradles my jaw, his thumb running lazy circles on my cheek.

“Does this mean you like me?” I whisper, a humored glint already lighting my gaze. Bucky laughs roughly, his voice sending shivers down my spine that don't go unnoticed. Rather, the other hand he keeps on my waist lifts to absently trace the path of the shiver, almost making my knees go weak.

“I more than like you,” Bucky quips, a content smile taking over his features. My heart misses a step and I don’t dare to dream.

“You really like me?” I taunt, and another heart-warming laugh pours from those perfect lips.

“You’re gonna make me say it, doll?”

I swallow thickly, my eyes not leaving his. I don’t dare to say another word, leaving the challenge up to him. Bucky sighs, moving the hand he keeps on my spine to cradle the other side of my face, now cupping it in his full grasp. He presses a long, gentle kiss to my lips before pulling back enough to where his lips still graze mine as he speaks.

“I love you, Y/N. Always have. Always will.”

My knees nearly go weak, and suddenly I'm so very grateful for the rain's ability to hide what is a drop and what is a tear. I'd never hear the end of it from him if he knew that's what his confession brought me to. When one of thumbs catches a stray tear, though, I know he's fully aware.

"I love you too, Buck."

Bucky smirks before me, bringing his mouth close to my ear and sending another shiver racing down my spine, "I figured that much out, sweetheart"

"Oh whatever!" I announce, hitting his shoulder but leaning in closer to his mouth that now trails from my jaw back to my lips. He presses a sweet kiss to my lips before holding me close to his chest and looking up into the sky that downpours upon us.

"Rain therapy, I guess it really does work," Bucky remarks.

"I would say I told you so, but-" I'm cut off by Bucky suddenly grabbing me by the waist and throwing me over his shoulder.

"What was that?" Bucky calls up to me, spinning me slightly and only making me giggle louder.

"Bucky, I'm in a dress!" I protest. He slaps my ass smugly and begins to walk with me still over his shoulder back to the compound.

"I know, let's get you out of that"

As my laugh tumbles out of my mouth, it twirls and dances and gets lost with the pounding of the rain and the rolling of the thunder. Once again, I'm in the debt of the rain, and I can't help but smile at it gratefully as my best friend and the love of my life walks triumphantly with me over his shoulder into the midst of Tony's nice party. Neither of us care about the looks we receive, though. Neither of us even notices.

All we see is the rain and each other.

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #angst #bucky barnes fluff #fluff #bucky oneshot #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

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powderblueblood · 5 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER THREE — EDDIE MUNSON COMMITS TREASON (BREAKS UP a CAT FIGHT)

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summary: you deal with the fallout of your fight at steve harrington's party... in the passenger seat of eddie munson's van. so much for pretending you didn't exist to one another, huh? content warnings: as always, MINORS FUCK OFF, because we have *deep breath* implied fantasy smut, lots of swearing, confused yearning, themes of threat, heavy snark, another mention of the drink tab which i feel like is/was gross word count: 7.2k

Dear Dio, Tommy Iommi, Gary Gygax, Pee-wee Herman, Ronnie Ecker — forgive me for what I’m about to do.

I know I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Like the time I lit all my hair on fire and spent middle school with a buzz cut. Or the time I almost trapped myself in a spread eagle with my own handcuffs. Or the time I got my arm stuck in a wall for an entire afternoon when I was trying to rescue a feral cat.

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. But the stupidest among it all has got to be saving this girl from the bare knuckle wrath of Carol Whatsername. You know the one.

Tonight, for whatever reason, this insane ex-rich chick has decided to teeter on the edge of a pool of boiling hot lava and for whatever reason, I feel like it’s my responsibility to yank her back.

Which sucks, because she’s a total bitch to me.

Even if she just told everybody Tommy Hagan had crabs and has been cheating on his girlfriend in such a deranged way that it almost made me pop a semi.

Anyway. Tell my guitar I love her.

The world around Eddie slows to the tick of a football game replay as you let the last incendiary word you speak to Carol bounce around the goddamn Roman amphitheater Harrington’s back yard has become.

This is insane. What he’s watching is insane. Like, he knew you and your dumb little court of Hawkinsites bickered back and forth, but you’re the last person he’d ever expect to air their dirty laundry like this.

It’s incredible to watch the fascist leadership that he and the rest of the social nobodies have suffered under for so long rupture in real time.

What’s even more incredible is how little hesitation there is on his part, shoving through the crowd when he sees Carol leaping for you. Eddie’s nearly jostled backwards by some slobbering roid heads— they’ve already called CAT FIGHT! and a crowd is clamoring. But Eddie’s got years of thankless equipment lugging behind him, giving him deceptively strong arms.

And thank god, because you are not an easy girl to hold onto.

Carol lands a decent punch to your face, slamming with a dull knuckle-on-cheekbone crunch that makes all the onlookers, including him, go ooof! You stagger back in a state of shock (though, c’mon, you heard what you said just now, right?) and Eddie takes his shot just as you dive forward to retaliate.

He grabs you under the arms so you can’t like, elbow him in the fucking nose, a pale imitation of an illegal wresting move that Al Munson had forced him to learn at the tender age of seven. His dad had fancied himself a wrestling manager at the time— you can imagine how that worked out.

But Jesus, can you ever squirm! Your body writhes against him—stop—hips bucking—don’t go there—as you try to get free. He doesn’t even think you realize who’s dragging you away from the screaming harpy, otherwise you’d probably turn your fury on him.

He takes full advantage of the rage blackout and manhandles you through the party, earning a baffled look from Steve Harrington, who’s finally graced his own party with his presence. A pinch-faced Nancy Wheeler lingers behind him, but then again, Wheeler’s always all pinch-faced.

“What the fuck?!” Harrington breathes, exasperated.

Eddie struggles against you struggling, just about dragging you over the front doorstep. Trust this guy to be upstairs in a domestic dispute, missing all the action while getting no action.

Even in the chaos, Eddie will never pass up an opportunity to fuck with Harrington.

“You gotta start hidin’ your bath salts, man! Chicks are going crazy in there–Evil Dead type shit!”

—

“You’re dead, Lacy! Monday morning, you are fucking dead!” Carol screams down the hallway.

“It’s a date, bitch!” you screech, Munson’s nelson hold on you stronger than your thrashing. With a lot of work, he manages to haul you as far as Harrington’s front yard before you wriggle out of his grasp. You shove him, hard, all white hot and punch drunk and regular drunk on top of that.

He yelps, high and frightened. You weren’t expecting a noise like that to come out of a surly-looking dude like him.

So you do it again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you spit, and Munson flinches.

“Cutting you off!” he exclaims, this half-yell, half-laugh. It stings, the way he’s looking at you– like your anger isn’t anger, like it’s just amusing to him.

“Well, who gave you the right? Who died and made you my parole officer, Munson?!”

“Oh, I’m not– but I also didn’t feel like being woken up at home when the cops come looking for you after you go all Raging Bull on Carol. You haven’t been around the park long enough to hear ‘em, but those sirens really perforate the eardrums!”

Your jaw sets itself stiffly and you bind your arms over your chest. Unfuckingbelievable. “I would’ve, you know,” you breathe, seething, “Beat her up.”

Munson’s dark eyes glide over you, like he’s checking you for concealed weapons or signs of a zombie bite— you avoid his gaze entirely, staring square into the middle distance.

You promised that he didn’t exist to you, yet here he is. Driving you off the road. Breaking up your fights. Existing.

“Yeah, I know you woulda. You’re scary,” he says. You shrug, and he reaches to massage his shoulder. “And strong. Shit.”

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t feel bad. You don’t feel bad because he’s grinning at you now and despite yourself, despite everything that’s transpired and the everything about him, you’re trying your hardest not to grin back. Adrenaline and vodka are still burning a hole in your chest.

“Stay out of my way, then.”

“Noted, but,” a couple of steps from Munson’s end closes some space between you. He’s peering at your face, right where Carol clocked you. A hand reaches out, angling your chin closer to the Harrington’s glaring porch light with his fingertips. You stiffen and squint, performatively wary, but you don’t stop him. You just let his eyes pan over you, looking anywhere but into them. “You might need a little first aid first. And a ride home.”

“I was actually planning on carjacking Hagan,” you say coolly, the smile you were trying to beat away edging its way across your face. Munson releases your chin and the spot where his fingers were buzzes. It’s just the cold. It’s just your slutty librarian outfit, you tell yourself. You have to swallow in order to speak again. “Seems like fitting payback.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, what did I just say about cops?”

—

Eddie tolerates your eyes rolling back in your head when he props the passenger door open for you, helping you into the cluttered van with an outstretched had.

See, I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t open doors for girls wearing stilts for shoes.

Those things were not made for clambering into a vehicle like this, sure, but they’re– nice. For what he knows about shoes, which is nothing. They make your legs look more… leggy, and for whatever reason this is making his brain soft.

In your other hand is a cold can of High Life, which is the closest thing to an ice pack he could nab. That bruise blooming under your eye is going to be nasty, and he’s a little curious how you’re gonna look with it. You, with nary a hair out of place on a bad day, with a big ol’ purple shiner in a place that’s hard to hide.

Gunning out of Harrington’s hood, a silence settles between Eddie and you. The radio hums in the background– a mainstream station for once. He thoughtfully figured that an aural assault by Sabbath would kinda rub salt in your wound.

He’s thoughtful, but he’s not not nosy. So, of course he’s gonna ask–

“That whole… verbal smackdown back there,” Munson starts after clearing his throat. “With Tommy H and everybody.”

On your end, the adrenaline has worn off and the numbing effects of the booze have amped up. You feel loose and warm, apart from the beer can cooling your bruise. There are twice as many streetlights streaming past you as usual. This is going to blow later– if you don’t blow chunks first.

“All that about your dad pimping me out?” God, I mean, Hagan couldn’t compose a written sentence to save his life but maybe he had a future in speculative fiction. Did he just come up with that on the fly? “Take a wild guess, Munson.”

Eddie recoils in his seat– gross. Gross. “Not the– the shit with Tina and Carol and–”

“Oh, the crabs? Yeaaaah, that’s true,” you slur, “But I rejected Tommy waaay before I knew that. Call it my brilliant instinct. And then he has the nerve to call me frigid, which– trust me, I’m anything… anything but.”

Munson seems a little surprised at this. You can see it in the way his eyebrows dart under his curly bangs.

But you’ve had your share of disappointing experiences with the blandly acceptable boys in your circle– it’s par for the course, it’s part of advancing in the field. You can’t throw your cat into the street completely, but god forbid you be choosy about the boys you want to copulate with. The ones you’ve hooked up with, all unremarkable and perfunctory, always seemed so smug afterwards. Like they’d conquered something.

But from Eddie’s purview, you always held yourself like you were above everyone else; not just the underclassmen and the social rejects, but even your own friends. He’d watch you sometimes, because it’s hard not to watch you. He’d wait for the few flickering moments you let your guard down, when you thought no one was paying attention as you sat at the lunch table or walked the hallways. So achingly unamused by the guffawing, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie of your forced high school persona and your forced high school friends. Then, one of them would say something like, Right, Lacy? and your brow would unarch and you’d be right back in the groove with the rest of them, giggling dumbly and glossing your lips.

He always wondered how you did it, tolerated it. And why.

“Now, far be it from me to agree with a shithead like Hagan–and I don’t, before you get scary–but I kinda get where he’s picking that up,” Eddie winces, throwing a glance to you, glassy-eyed with your head against the window. You’re looking at him with narrowed eyes, eyeliner smudged. Even that look could cut down a man with twice his ego. “You’re a little bit frosty. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day– which, y’know, could be–”

You absolutely do not let him finish the thought.

“It’s caaaalled being aloof, Munson,” you drawl, shuffling your shoulders against the passenger door and pulling a stray thread from your skirt with a sharp snap. “Playing hard to get, duh? Leave them wanting more? You wouldn’t get it because you’re so goddamn big and obvious all the time…”

“Obvious!” he brays, letting his jaw hang open with theatrical flair, “Obvious! Lacy, you wound me, I–”

“Obvious,” you bark back, “Obvious like a neon sign, obvious like a circus tent, obvious like– like– look at me, look at me, I’m a weirdo!” Your Munson impression, complete with devil horns, is a little dorkified but it shuts him right up. That loose little tongue of yours has trasmuted your mood from wrath to barbed silliness. “So obvious you wouldn’t know that kind of subtlety. Not if it hit you in the face.”

A familiar tune whistles from the radio, distracting you. “… or cause you’re a virgin.”

“Okay—!“ Eddie starts, immediately assuming the position of point guard. His hackles are raised, but to be honest, he’s so willing to let you ramble on. It’s the first time he’s heard you talk this much, ever, save your little tête-à-tête by the lockers the other day.

Eddie doesn’t want to stem the flow just yet. He’s not thinking about it too hard.

“Oh shit, do you hear that?” Like a Virgin pumps from the tinny speakers and you reach to turn it up, your head drunkenly bobbling on your neck. Eddie winces; it’s so weird, watching you like this. It’s like dream logic. It’s like opposite day. “Munson’s a virgin! I’m gonna touch him for the very first tiii-iime! Munson’s a vii-iir-gin—“

“First off, no I am not and no,” he audibly swallows, positive you didn’t realize what you just sang, “no, you are not, ‘cause— well.” He clears his throat. A flare of heat burns around his collar. “I’m not the type to bone and tell.”

“Bone and tell.” You guffaw, a sound so unbecoming yet so endearing coming from you, and slump back in your seat. That tight little skirt you’re wearing rides up about an inch and a half. “Sounds like something a virgin would say.”

Eddie huffs; no way around this. You’re fucking with him, and it’s the indefatiguable male ego that’s not going to let him let you win.

He fucks, okay? Or has fucked, prior to this.

Not that there’s anything wrong with not fucking.

But he’s done it.

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the road, and you’ve got him like a stuck pig with that expectant glare. His eyes linger on your exposed upper legs for a half a second.

Christ, you’re annoying. It occurs to him that wants to bite the soft flesh of your thigh and hear you squeal about it, but you are annoying as hell.

“Fine. Fine. You wanna know?”

Your head lolls against the rough upholstery of the seat and you bat your lashes at him. “I really wanna know.”

And Munson will tell you, you know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“Nicole Summers.”

“Bullshit. Nicole Nicole? My Nicole?”

“Nicole Nicole. Nicole, formerly yours. The only-girl-meaner-than-you Nicole. It was tenth grade,” he snorts bitterly. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life.”

“Nicole told us she got her v-card stamped by a board waxer in Maui.”

“I’ve got a lot of side gigs. You don’t know about me.”

You snort too, despite yourself. That’s a lot of despite-ing tonight, Lacy. You sit up in the seat a little, interest catching. Flame to a candle wick.

“How was it?” you press.

Munson furrows his brow, like duh. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life, I just told you.” A beat. “Until— …Cass Finnigan.”

Now, an encounter like that is less surprising, but still you holler, “Bullshit!”

“I’d say the same shit if it hadn’t, y’know, happened to me,” he stage whispers, “In this van.”

Your eyes widen, a flicker of a grimace sailing across your face. You wonder how he pulled that off, but all that comes to mind is the start of a bad porno– Cass meets him at that dingy little bench out back of the school to pick up and he’s, I don’t know, test driving some of his new supply and offers her a toke. She’s all, why the free samples, Munson? and he’s all, I only let the prettiest girls test the product. And because Cass is notoriously insecure–who among us, girl–she’s all, who, me? and he’s all, come back to my van, and she’s all, but I’m going steady with Mikey B, and he’s all, I won’t tell if you won’t and then he fucks her in the ass.

Because Cass is saving the first hole for marriage and you know that. You’re the kind of person people tell things to.

What you don’t expect is a weird pull of… envy. Why, in this imaginary scenario, had he never invited you back to his van? Well. You know why. But you’re drunk, so logic begone. “When did all this go down?”

“Uh, right before school got back,” Munson answers, kind of apprehensively. He could be lying, you figure.

“Well, Cass has been having a weird year,” you mumble, meaning to think that rather than say it. You know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“What’s that supposed to imply exactly?” Eddie says, an edge in his voice. He can’t help the way something in his chest flares; like he forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop with you, and now it’s dropping.

“It stands to reason that she’d wanna, like, do something stupid,” you explain, and you know how it sounds. It’s mean. But honestly, you’re so drunk, and so past the point of attempting to spare people’s feelings.

“Like hook up with the local freak,” Eddie finishes for you, tone flat. You couldn’t not put him in his place, could you? Not that he thought Cass liked him or anything, he could feel her (literally feel her) going through the motions like a social experiment but– God, a little delusion doesn’t hurt now and again.

“Exactly!” and even in your inebriated state, you can feel the tension in the air, hanging between you like a balloon full of noxious gas. Rather than cut it, you want to poke at it, unfeeling as to whether that’ll make it worse or better between you and the boy in the driver’s seat. You hike yourself up further, leaning toward him, pulling the can of High Life from your face.

Munson’s profile is this beguiling mix of hurt and irritation, lit by the scuzzy orange hue of the passing streetlights.

“What, did you want me to act impressed? Did you want me to lie to you?”

“What? No– look, I know what girls like that– think of me, but,” Eddie’s voice shrinks in his throat, making him sound completely pre-pubescent. He notices you lean forward in his peripheral vision, like you have to strain to hear it, “that doesn’t make it any less shitty.”

Oof. He did not need to unleash that little piss-shake of earnestness right now. He mentally steels himself for a ribbing from you, a cackling, piercing laugh like you let out before Carol punched you.

“Of course it doesn’t!” you froth, “Just like it doesn’t make it any less shitty when guys act like they’re settling a bet with their buddies when they hook up with me.” You cross your arms to your chest with a quickness, slamming back into the seat. “Bet you couldn’t make it with Lacy, she’s got a combination lock on her pussy. Fuck you, dude.”

That coaxes a bark of a laugh from Munson, which makes you giggle a little in turn. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not quite relief; more like satisfaction. One point to Lacy, you made him laugh.

“Combination lock, huh?”

“Allegedly.”

“Bet none of those losers even know how to crack a lock.”

Your head tilts in his direction, forward this time. “And you do?”

Munson’s eyes flash at you, a dangerous orange glint sparkling in the darkness of his irises. “My criminal skillset is pretty diverse.”

He pins you down with this look from the driver’s seat and for a heartbeat or two, and you let him. Just long enough that a stab of sobriety sneaks in– and you can’t deny it, but you wish it didn’t.

You’re drunk.

If you can stay drunk, all bets are off.

If you can stay drunk, whatever you do doesn’t matter, because you were drunk.

You could reach over and press your fingers into the soft denim between his legs, make something hard there. You could squeeze the thickness of him over his zipper and kiss the shock of alabaster skin on his neck, where his pulse goes all jackrabbity under your touch. You could make him forget he ever heard the name Cass Finnigan.

And it would mean nothing.

And you wouldn’t have to justify it, because you were drunk. That’s what you’ve always been taught.

But you uncross your arms and you pull at the hem of your skirt and look to the road, just as the van swerves into the trailer park. Munson doesn’t take such a hard turn at the corner this time, probably wary of your risk of ralphing all over the van if he does. He pulls into that negative space between your trailer and his and instructs you to wait in your seat.

“Trust me, the descent out of this baby is much trickier than it looks,” he assures you, jogging to the passenger door, a jingle of keys and pocket chains and belts on leather, “and you’re way too gone to make it in one piece, princess.”

So he holds his hand out again (“M’shitfacedlady,”) and gingerly you take it, and it becomes very apparent very quickly that your legs have turned to rubber on the drive home.

“Oh, shit!”

Your attempt at gracefully exiting the van is ruined by an unsteady ankle, sending your weight right into Eddie Munson’s chest. Luckily, he was braced for it– just about. “Told you you couldn’t make it without me,” he breathes as you clutch a handful of his Metallica shirt, vision quadrupling. He’s warm, and you suddenly realize that you’re freezing.

Trembling.

“Stop flirting with me,” you hiss to one out of the four Munsons in front of you. “I need to go to bed.”

Eddie forces himself to bite back another double entendre, which is a shame, because they’re doing an awesome job of covering up how goddamn nervous he suddenly is. He moves his arm to your waist, helping you haul ass to your front door. He’s got to keep one arm outstretched behind you in case you lose your balance again– which you almost do, a couple of times, wavering around like a dashboard Jesus.

He watches you like he’s trying to commit this to memory, the rare case of you being so beyond your usual composure. He’s even got to intervene after the first five minutes, making unlocking your front door a two idiot job.

Eddie’s about to wave you off and disappear to scream and something else into his pillow when he sees you take a dangerous lunge into the darkness of the trailer. “Woah, girl–”

But you recover, in a kind of brainless way, taking a measured Bambi-like step forward. One after the other.

Fuck. He can’t leave you like this.

You’re gonna trip and brain yourself on a Fabergé egg or whatever the fuck it is you and your mom have in there.

“Uh– Lacy?”

The trailer is eerily quiet. You feel like you’re trespassing in your own place. Boxes of out-of-place, too-expensive ephemera are still strewn everywhere, but you navigate the maze of them like it’s nothing. Sense memory. You don’t even entirely register that Munson is following you inside, that he’s frantically whispering after you, until you reach your bedroom door.

A coldness shoots up your spine as you turn on him. You didn’t invite him in here, did you?

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask for the second time tonight. This time, it comes out a little fearful.

Eddie picks this up, right where you’ve erroneously dropped it. His chest gets a little tight. You didn’t think he was trying to–?

“Making sure you lie down in the recovery position, that’s all,” he throws his hands up in total surrender, Scout’s honor, all that shit. “I’m not tryin’ to pick any locks tonight. I swear.”

“I don’t need your help, Munson,” but just as you twist the doorknob, you keel over through the door, hitting the floor like a lead balloon.

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” he blearily smirks down at you, “And yet.”

But Munson’s not such an asshole about it that he just leaves you there. He hauls you up, again, and you stagger towards your bed, flopping face down on top of the comforter. He says some variation of okay, well, that’s how you choke to death on your own vomit, Jimi Hendrix and bullies you into the recovery position.

“Don’t freak out, I’m just–” and Munson sits gingerly on the edge of your bed, taking one of your high heeled feet in his hands.

What the fuck, you mumble, either aloud or in your head. But he’s fiddling with the tiny buckle at your ankle, gently undoing it. Another chill runs through your body but you don’t move, not an iota. You just… let him do it. His hands on your aching feet aren’t a totally unwelcome touch. He’s being featherlight about it, almost afraid to touch you even though he had no problem sheepdogging you into bed.

“You could do anything to me right now,” you hear yourself saying. “No one would even know. No one would even care, I bet.”

It’s meant to sound like you’re goading him, or even flirting with him, but it comes out sounding pitiful. You cringe, your hands creeping up to cover your face.

“I’d care.” Munson’s voice is a tiny mumble– you know he’s just defending himself, but it kind of sounds like something else. He slips your right shoe off and sets it on the floor next to your left one. He hesitates for a moment before getting off your bed.

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Have a fun hangover, Lacy.”

–

You do not have a fun hangover. You wake up late Saturday afternoon after Friday’s bacchanal and don’t emerge from your room save from the occasional bathroom trip to puke up what little dignity you’ve got left. Sunday morning is when your mom hammers on the door and drags you to the kitchenette after confirming that you’re still, y’know, alive.

“This is your game face, hm?” she says, pulling at your chin to examine your violet bruise that seems to have developed its own heartbeat. She doesn’t hold your face the way Munson did, gentle and searching, just tugs into the sparse light streaming into the dingy kitchenette.

You attempt to steel your jaw, but your bottom lip is starting to waver.

“What happened?” your mother asks, and beneath all the jagged broken glass, there’s a tiny sliver of tenderness.

Call it your pride, but you don’t reach for it.

“I went out,” you say tightly, “and I made a fool of us.”

She hacks up a scoff through her smoker’s cough and disappears into her bedroom, leaving you alone to pick at a cold waffle. The few moments of consciousness you’ve had since Friday night have been spent trying to piece the party together– you remember clearing the better part of a bottle of cheap, cheap, shitty vodka with Robin Buckley’s help (weird), you remember getting into it with Hagan and Carol and getting wailed on. You remember getting a ride home with Munson, but the finer details of that are fuzzy.

You think, and this is a thought that turns your already 180’d stomach, you let him into your bedroom, but you can’t be one hundred percent sure. All you know for an absolute is that your shoes came off that night, and you would never bother to take your shoes off after a night like that.

So somebody must have.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been having a hell of a meanwhile.

Fact of the matter is that you managed to detonate a nuclear bomb at Harrington’s party just under an hour after your arrival, which has got to be some kind of world record. It was also a world record for how little product he’d managed to sell during one of those parties, because he was preventing the manslaughter of a teenage girl– could’ve been you, could’ve been Carol. He nearly wishes he let that fight play out, as he stares into his empty wallet.

Eddie’s gotta busy himself somehow, gotta do something– weirdly, he’s not in the mood to make a whole lot of noise. It’s not such a terrible day for working on his van, so he slams his toolbox on the ground and gives a couple dozen casual glances toward your bedroom window.

Your blinds still aren’t fixed. That’s got to have been shitty when you woke up with a splitting vodka headache and a shiner the size of Canada.

Eddie keeps finding excuses to pace back and forth in perfect view of your window. Not in a peeping Tom sort of way, but in a way where he’d kind of like to see any sign of life from you. Even if you just rose from your bed like Nosferatu and gave him the finger. Then, he could relax.

“Ed,” a gruff voice comes from the makeshift trailer porch, “fuck’re you doin’.”

Those dulcet tones would belong to his beloved Uncle Wayne, who, ever since his hours got cut at the plant, has become unbearably observant of Eddie’s every movement. Wayne’s not a neglectful kind of father figure, not like his blinders-wearing real dad is, so he actually gets concerned when Eddie’s acting out of sorts.

“Engine,” Eddie mumbles, pivoting fast like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, “Engine’s making hinky noises.”

“Sounded alright last night,” Wayne levels him instantly, “when you came home.”

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he twists an oily rag in his hands, avoiding Wayne’s stony stare.

“I was up.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. God, whenever Wayne susses him out, it’s like drip torture. He’s slow as molasses with the confrontation on purpose, making Eddie sweat and out himself on every little fuck up he’s ever made. “You go in there?”

Chin jerks towards your trailer. Eddie’s shoulders shrug towards his ears, head tilting back. “Wayne, it’s not– she was real drunk, like blotto, I just–”

“You steer clear of that one.” It’s the definite nature with which Wayne says it that makes Eddie’s stomach drop. No prelude to it, no I know, kid, you were just tryin’ to do right by her. Nothing.

“Wayne–”

“She ain’t what you think she is. Not if she’s anything like her bloodline.”

He says this like the realization hasn’t hit Eddie like Carol hit you on Friday fight night.

He says this like people haven’t been saying the same thing about Eddie for years.

–

Monday morning comes and you’re still somewhat suffering. A headache nags at your temple, but you pin that down to anxiety rather than an extended play of your hangover.

It occurs to you that you should dress as down as possible today– realistically, of course, as you’d never be caught dead in sweatpants. You need comfort, you need something that feels like a well-worn blanket so you opt for a deep burgundy sweater dress that actually belonged to your mom in the 60s.

You’d found it in the back of her closet when searching for a belt you knew she’d stolen from you and pulled it out. Mom! you chirped, How cute! How come you never wear this?

Oh, God, she’d cringed, batting the garment out of her way as she passed you in a cloud of Shalimar, Just throw that ratty thing out for me, would you?

But you didn’t. You kept it tucked away in the back of your closet and took it out when you needed it. When you needed to bury your face in it. Substitute it for a comfort she refused to give you. Which you realize is terrifically sad, but so’s life.

The warm red is a distant cousin in the color family to the bruise under your eye. That bruise, it’s a glaring reminder of what a fucking loser you’ve become. The old you, the real you would never have stooped to that level– never had let them drag her down like that. But now you’re the kind of girl that screams and starts fights at parties, you guess.

Your rage feels ugly in the cold light of day.

You’re locking the door of the trailer behind you just as Munson emerges from his humble abode and it’s nothing short of awkward. Like you’d both seen each other naked or something.

You both stand there, in your relative doorways. His mouth gapes like he’s about to say hi, say something, and a memory comes back to you. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day. No one likes that. No one wants that.

Regret stabs at you.

“Can you see it from there?” It’s the only thing you can think of to say, because you’re sure as fuck not saying hi.

“What?”

“The bruise. Can– can you see it from over there?”

Munson sort of half-snorts. “Not from here–”

“Ugh, thank god.”

“--but this is like, over fifteen feet away.”

You roll your eyes, which hurts a lot, thanks guy, and walk toward his van.

“Now?” you say, waving a hand under your eye, right where you’ve applied and blended and applied and blended a criminal amount of concealer. Munson leaves about a foot of space between you, on purpose, and you crane your neck back, on purpose. Reinstating the forcefield between you.

“Oh yeah, you can barely even see that you got your ass kicked.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Munson. Do you really want to start your day with a knee to the balls?”

“You’re right. That’s usually an after-dinner activity,” he grins and jerks his head toward the van. “Need a ride?”

Need a ride? Like it’s the most ordinary, everyday thing in the world, Eddie Munson offering you a ride to school in his deathtrap of a van. Your stomach pulls at the sense memory of being in there on Friday night, and what you’ll look like getting out of it in the parking lot of Hawkins High.

“No,” you say, shaking your head, definite and resolute. “I’m walking.”

He scoffs. “C’mon. It’s too late to start walking now. You’ll be late for first period.”

You scoff back, imitating him. “So what?”

“You’re never late for first period.”

“I can be late– how the hell do you know I’m never late for first period?”

“Because, dummy, I’m always late for first period,” he tells you, yanking open the passenger door, “And I sit behind you in History, and you’re always there when I come in, leaning back with your nose in some dumb book and your stupid hair all over my desk.”

It’s true– you are always reading in history, because Kaminsky can’t teach for shit and you’ve already read ahead on the coursework anyway. You liked to rub that in his face by pulling out some unprescribed literature during class. Plus, no one you really care about is in your class, so you don’t have to worry about getting made fun of for having your nose in some dumb book. Illiterate jocks would never try that shit with you– nobody there would.

Until now.

And it’s true that Eddie Munson sits behind you, and barrels in like an idiotic excuse for a hurricane with some idiotic excuse for being late that you always scoff at, because does he ever get tired of his own bullshit. But after that brief cameo appearance in your day, you really do forget about him.

Until now.

“So?” he says, all expectant.

And you consider it for a second, you really do– but you don’t think you can handle the blowback of leaving a party with Eddie Munson on Friday then turning up with him on Monday. Going to the same class. Where he sits behind you. It’s just… overexposure.

The same realization must hit him, because all of a sudden he’s slamming the door shut with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Your tardy slip, babe.” You can’t help but think he sounds a little wounded.

But fuck it. Fuck it! Since when do you stand around feeling sorry for Eddie Munson?

Before you know it, the van roars out and leaves you in the dust.

You don’t make it to school until after second period, because that so-called bus route a fifteen minute walk from the trailer park must not even exist, so you forge a note from your mom in the parking lot.

As your fountain pen hovers over the paper, brainstorming an excuse, you consider pulling out the big guns– say you had to attend visitation day at the penitentiary. Use this disaster to your advantage for once; but you pull back. Scribble something about a doctor’s appointment and dot your mother’s ‘i’s with eerie precision.

You make quick work of dropping the note off in reception– the uptick of being the kid of the town’s gossip beacon is some people still feel sorry for you. Some people weirdly include Janice, Principal Higgins’ secretary, who snatches the note from you before you can even reach the actual receptionist’s desk.

“I’ll file that for you, dear,” she says, all coo-cooey with an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, “How are you and your poor mother doing these days? And your,” her croaky voice drops to a whisper, “dad? How is… he being treated?”

You blink at her, gripping the fountain pen in your hand. “Do you know what a shiv is, Janice?”

Just then, the bell trills and you take your leave, stepping out into the linoleum.

Someone calls your name from down the hall. You crane your neck to see Ronnie Ecker jogging toward you, paper in hand.

Now look, you’ve never had a problem with Ronnie Ecker. You can’t say you’re particularly fond of her but she’s smart; she keeps to herself and she was a decent lab partner during your junior year of dissecting frogs together. Squeamish, but that’s why you were there, to handle the scalpel. As much of a social outcast as she is, she’s not nearly as odious as the rest of them. That’s pretty goddamn remarkable amongst the Hawkins student body.

She is also, you’ve come to notice, a resident of Forest Hills trailer park.

“Hey!” she says, “Um, I noticed you missed first period and Kaminsky was handing our papers back so I figured you’d want yours…”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me missing first period?”

“Huh?”

“No– nothing,” you huff, taking the paper from her. A solid B on A+ material– told you Kaminsky couldn’t teach for shit. He’d be hearing from you about this. “Thanks for this, Ronnie.”

You start down the hall but notice Ronnie’s keeping in step with you. “I also just wanted to say– I heard about what happened Friday. And I think it’s sick, you standing up to Hagan like that. Asshole needed to be put in his place.”

Well, there’s only one person she could have heard the nitty gritty of that news from. You know she’s trying to flatter you, but all you feel is a flame of embarrassment, plus a touch of anger– even though the news has easily circulated the school hallways by now.

Along with the rumors of you taking Hargrove, Buckley and Munson, and not in a fight.

“Well. Y’know. I was pretty wasted,” you attempt to brush it off and you see Ronnie deflate a little.

Like you’re not the blazing hero someone made you out to be.

“Okay, but is it true you had a threesome with Billy Hargrove and Robin Buckley and Robin was wearing the Tigers mascot suit?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

–

Classes pass in a monotonous blur, like most Mondays, but worse. That would be thanks to the extra shot of dread that’s served with your cafeteria meal of a wilted salad and soda. Last week at lunchtime, you at least had a tenuous standing with your former circle– you could still sit between Tina and Nancy Wheeler and suffer Tina’s thinly veiled jabs at you with a semi-placid look on your face. Nancy would look at you with eyes full of pity, and you’d want to punch her face in, but you’d be fine.

But now, as you stand in the cafeteria swirling with people and catch the death glares from your old table (save for Nancy and Steve Harrington, who just straight up refuse to make eye contact with you), you’re just about ready to snap.

Your flight instinct tells you to toss the tray out of your clammy hands and run, and keep running, until you disappear into the woods behind the school, never to be found. Your body becomes mulch before anyone remembers to look for you. Maybe you make really good fertilizer and a couple of pretty weeds sprout up from where you die.

Your bruise, under its flaking layers of concealer, throbs twice– as if to say, don’t you fucking dare.

You make a confident beeline for the table, chin tilted and eyes set in a stare that could be categorized as withering, if only it was trained on anybody in particular. You grab a chair that some dumb underclassman is about to sit in and drag it with you, legs screeeeeching across the waxed floor.

Who gives a shit who you were on Friday night.

“I can sit here, right?” you say, and place your tray on the table next to Ronnie Ecker.

She just stares at you for a hot second. That’s too long to stay standing in uncertainty, so you settle your stolen chair at the table and sit next to her.

Ronnie isn’t the only one staring, however– the rest of these dorks, all in their matching t-shirts with Satan’s fiery head emblazoned across them, are watching you with their mouths agape.

“Is this a prank or something?” one of them, a curly-haired freshman, says.

This question is directed toward their fearless leader, decked out in denim and leather at the head of the table. That is to say, the direct opposite end of the table that you’re sitting at.

“That’s no way to greet a lady, Gareth,” Munson says, feigning coolness but you can tell he’s a little flustered. The dead giveaway is in the way he misses his mac and cheese with his fork, the way his solid gaze double-blinks. You’ve thrown him off game– and because he’s impossible not to overhear sometimes, you know that game is all he’s got going on at this table.

There’s that feeling again– point to Lacy.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

This is Munson’s version of what the hell do you think you’re doing, but you choose to ignore him. It’ll drive him insane, and you know that, glaring red warning sign that he is. Instead, you flash a smile at the freshman that almost makes him pass out, Cupid’s arrow struck straight through the heart.

You cross your legs and angle your body toward Ronnie– and by extension, in the direction of your old table. You can see Carol burying her face in Tommy’s shoulder, the both of them on the verge of losing bowel control with laughter. Laughter at you.

Who gives a shit who you were before Friday night.

“So, Ronnie,” you say, taking a sip of your Tab, “You get up to anything fun this weekend?”

author's notes: let me get ahead of everything and say yes, i am absolutely fucking with the timeline. suspend your disbelief, my beautiful babies, and enjoy steve, carol, tommy and ronnie ecker still being in high school because I SURE WILL. but on an absolutely serious note, thank you so much for all the support and each and every note you’ve put on the chapters so far. i seriously, seriously appreciate it. now, the notes: - you think eddie munson doesn’t fuck with pee-wee herman heavy? you think he didn’t watch this movie in reefer rick’s, high out of his gourd, and think oh yeah i love this freak? get REAL! RIP paul reubens, this one’s for you. specially every time i mention a handjob - eddie munson also has charlie kelly disease - speaking of iterations of always sunny characters, much like frank reynolds, there’s not a get rich quick scheme al munson hasn’t tried. we’ll get into that a little more… later - admittedly, the whole ‘face eating on bath salts’ thing didn’t gain traction until the 00s, but if hawkins is going to be ahead of its time in anything, it’s fucked up shit happening to people! - did you notice how i blended eddie and lacy’s povs in the van? i’m going to continue doing that in moments where they’re on a similar ~wavelength~ - jimi hendrix did unfortunately die of asphixiation, but instead of thinking about that, watch this sick video of him playing guitar that eddie definitely has committed to memory - RONNIE ECKER KLAXON. i know that in flight of icarus she’s described as tall, but that hasn’t stopped me fancasting her as ayo edebiri in an eddie munson wig - at this point, you might be thinking damn, everyone sure seems to hate each other in this story. like, why is nancy wheeler catching strays? i’m here to remind you it’s the 1980s and teenagers kind of suck. play the track - thanks again for all the love! you can keep this crazy train going by liking, commenting, reblogging and generally showing me the same kindness you’ve shown me so far. love u my little hellcats

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #e. munson by powder

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itsbeeble · 10 months

Text

Should’ve Said No

Summary: It’s dark, and cold, and lonely when Seungcheol gets to your apartment. He knows what he’s done. He knows the mistakes he’s made. Now he’s stuck wishing he had just said no.

Genre: Angst, idol!au, lovers to strangers, hurt/no comfort

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x gn!reader

WC: 1.4k

Series Masterlist

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT

Warnings: this is gonna hurt, cheating, a lot of arguing, swearing, mentions of alcohol use, there will be no comfort, cheol is a BITCH, reader calls the mistress a bitch, a bit of violence (reader slaps cheol and shoves him)

Listen to Should’ve Said No by Taylor Swift for full effect

It’s quiet in your apartment when he opens the door. He’s tired, and all he wants to do is curl up beside you after months of being away on tour, but there’s something weighing on his chest. Something lonelier than the apartment he comes home to.

It’s dark, and it’s quiet, and it’s lonely, and he swallows the lump in his throat when he sees you at the kitchen counter with your back turned. There’s a faint light from your phone, but he can’t hear any videos playing. He notes how you’re curled in on yourself, one of your arms wrapped around your stomach and the other clutching your phone.

“Y/N?” You visibly flinch when he speaks, and you lift your head. Your face is just barely illuminated by the light of emanating from the screen in front of you. “Baby, what are you doing up?”

You shrug, fingers drumming on the counter as you debate what to say to your lover. He comes up behind you, and you can sense his hand rising to touch your shoulder.

The sound of your phone slamming down on the marble stops him, and he can only freeze when you get off your chair and circle around to the other side of the kitchen, leaning with your back pressed against one of the drawers and your arms dangling limply by your side.

There’s an social media post opened on your screen and a lump begins to grow in his throat.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, AKA S.COUPS, OF SEVENTEEN SEEN WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN

There’s a video of him, clear as day, leaning down to this woman’s ear and whispering something. His hand is placed on her hip, rubbing circles with his thumb. He pulls back, just far enough to look her in the eye and he has to shut his eyes, knowing what comes next.

“Baby, listen—”

“Don’t call me that,” you’re oddly calm when you speak, almost defeated. “You don’t get to call me that.” Seungcheol purses his lips, turning your phone off and lowering his gaze to the counter.

“I’m sorry.” You can only look at him, the disbelief and anger and sadness in your eyes spearing him to his spot in your apartment.

“That’s it?” You whisper, but to him it’s almost like you screamed it right into his ear. “That’s all you have to say about that?”

“I…” he huffs out a breath, shifting his weight left and right. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N. I really don’t. You saw the post, you’ve probably already decided where you want to go from here—” He doesn’t even see you cross the room. He doesn’t hear your feet softly hitting the ground, he doesn’t hear the soft sobs leaving you. Seungcheol only feels the stinging of your hand against his cheek, the burning of the aftermath.

“You don’t…” he admires that you take a moment to collect yourself before speaking again. “You don’t have a single explanation for what you did? Not even a weak ‘I didn’t know what I was doing’ or- or a ‘I was drunk and thought she was you?’”

You’re pacing, tugging at the strands of your hair and plucking the split ends. You’re not looking at him, and he wishes he could take back everything he’s said tonight.

“Would that help?” His voice is bitter.

“Did she approach you first?” You look at him suddenly, and it’s his turn to look at the ground.

“What?”

“Did she approach you?” You repeated. “Or did you go to her? You always did like someone who made the first move.” Your voice trembles and Seungcheol feels the regret bubbling up, a boiling pot ready to spill over and burn at any given moment. “Was she even worth it? Was she worth ruining what we had?”

“I- no she wasn’t—”

“Then why did you do it, Choi Seungcheol?” You snap. “Why didn’t you just say no? Push her away, tell her you were taken— fuck, Seungcheol, why didn’t you just go home?”

You can’t help but wonder why none of the boys were there to stop him. You wonder where they were when he made the choice to shatter something good. To take everything he had and smash it on the floor, stomping on it and crushing it to dust. Did they know? Did they even care? Why did none of them tell you?

“Do you really think we would’ve lasted anyway?” Seungcheol glares hard at you, the exhaustion from his flight and the will to just end this and move on with or without you pushing to the front of his brain, words spilling from his lips before he could think to stop them. He watches you reel back, watches the fight disappearing from your eyes. It’s so dark in your apartment, so dark that he can hardly see but he can’t help be glad for the lack of light. He can’t bear to see the tears welling in your eyes right now.

“What are you talking about, Seungcheol?” Your voice cracks.

��Our relationship was failing either way,” he spits out. “I’m always gone, and when I’m home you have work. It was bound to happen to one of us at some point. And don’t tell me you haven’t at least thought about it, because you’d be a fucking liar.”

Silence, and then you’re taking a step back, pressing yourself against the cold metal of the refrigerator. Your heart is pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears.

“Get out.” Seungcheol blinks at you. His hand wraps around the back of the chair next to him.

“What?”

“Get. The fuck. OUT. GET OUT. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING APARTMENT,” you’re shoving him toward the door, beating on his chest with your fists knowing that you aren’t doing any lasting damage so you grab one of the travel bags he’d set down and throw it at him. He stumbles back, dumfounded and clutching the bag you’d thrown at him. “I gave you EVERYTHING. I stuck with you knowing that NOBDY FUCKING ELSE WOULD HAVE BOTHERED and you just throw it the away for some bitch you met at a club?” He tries to hush you, warning that your neighbors would wake up but you couldn’t care less. He’s pressed against the door now, and he’s almost afraid of what you’ll do and what you’ll say even after he leaves.

“You need to calm down,” his voice is trembling now. Not from fear. No, this is anguish. It has finally hit him that he’s losing you. That there is no coming back from this.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down, Choi Seungcheol.” You spit out. “I hope she was worth throwing six years down the fucking drain.” You rip your door open, shoving him and the rest of your bags out. “Happy fucking anniversary.”

Seungcheol feels his stomach drop, his heart falling with it when the door slams in his face and the lock clicks into place. He feels almost numb, confused, and almost…almost relieved that you didn’t decide to just kill him where he stood.

His body slumps forward, his forward resting against your door while he gathers his thoughts.

You were right. You had given him everything, gave him your all through the entire relationship. You’d supported him and loved him and forgiven him for everything he’d done.

Except this. He’d done absolutely unforgivable. He couldn’t turn to anyone for this, knowing they’d never forgive him. The members themselves already won’t speak to them, and when they do it’s business only. He wonders which member would have told you if you hadn’t found out on your own.

Was she worth it?

He truthfully doesn’t know the answer to that. He’d been so cruel to you rather than accepting that he was wrong. So, so very wrong for everything he’d said and done.

He should’ve gone home, called it a night and told the members to either catch a ride with him or find their own way home. He should’ve pushed that woman away the moment she’d touched his arm. The moment she leaned up to ask him to dance with her. He should’ve said no the moment he saw her, but he didn’t. He’d betrayed you, betrayed your trust, betrayed everything the two of you built together and there was no getting it back. Not this time.

It’s cold, and dark, and lonely while he walks down the hallway. It had been a long time since he’d felt this alone, since he’d truly given up.

It’s cold, and dark, and lonely, and it’s all his fault when the rain pours down and doesn’t stop.

Taglist: @captain-brie (i tagged this one bc i didn’t know which you wanted me to tag 😭😭)

#itsbeeble #itsbeeble masterlist #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop x reader #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop smut #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #choi seungcheol #seungcheol imagines #scoups #scoups x reader

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milesandcorysupermacy · 4 months

Text

"I know someone who can" (Part 1)

1610!Miles x Confused-Black-Fem!Reader

Genre: Friends-to-lovers, Fluff, lil bit of angst

Warnings: We're like lowk cheating 😭, Cursing, Use of N Word, Google Translated Spanish, That's it I think lemme know if I missed sum 🤷🏾‍♀️

Songs that it's based on: Let Me Love You By Mario, Don't By Bryson Tiller

Summary: Basically, you get into a lil argument with your man (Jaleel) and run to Miles. You tell him that it's been like this for a while and he isn't having any of that. He tells you that you deserve better, luckily he knows someone who can provide better 😉

The IG Post:

-----------------------x-o-x-o-------------------

"You are so fucking insecure, it's unbelievable"

You say, rolling your eyes. You were sitting on Jaleel's bed, with your arms crossed. This nigga had the audacity to press you about an IG post on your PRIVATE Instagram. The post wasn't even that bad. Jaleel's been like this ever since the start of your relationship. At first. You just thought it was cute that he was a little possessive, you thought he was just showing that he cared. But now you're 4 months in and that shit just not cute anymore!

"I'm insecure? Nah I'm just responsible for you, and ion like you out here showing ya ass for all these lil niggas that are thirsting over you. You MY bitch."

Hold up...you know he ain't just say what you THINK he said. All your respect for him went out the window the second he said that. Plus, he wasn't even looking at you during this whole argument, this nigga is turned around, on his PS5, in his gaming chair, paying you no attention. You know what...you don't even care that you're at his house at this point, you're about to say what's on your mind.

"FIRST of all, I'm nobody's bitch. Second, Boy you are not responsible for me. Nigga, you ain't my daddy. You make it seem like I'm just a job, not your girlfriend. You know what...Miles WARNED me about you and I should've listene-"

You said, before getting so rudely cut off by the dreadhead in front of you. To be honest, you probably just fell for the height and hair. (Because if a 6 foot dreadhead walked up to you, you would take the opportunity too. Don't lie.)

"There you go, always talking about that nigga. 'Miles this, Miles that', since you wanna talk about him so bad why don't you just go be with him. But let me tell you something, that'll be the biggest mistake of your life. Because, he don't want yo' ass anyway. I'm the best thing you'll ever ha-"

He's cut off by the sound of you grabbing your shoes, and purse, hopping off the bed. One thing your mama has always told you is 'If you disrespect yourself, you'll allow others to disrespect you' and you weren't about to sit up here and be disrespected.

Jaleel turned around in his chair and looked at you, puzzled.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving, I'm not about to let you talk to me like this. J, I deserve so much better and that's what I'm about to go get."

You said, walking to the door. You heard him stand up out of his gaming chair and run after you. With the controller still in his hand, he stood in front of you. Blocking the exit of his apartment.

"Wait, wait, wait. Bae, I'm sorry, ok? Maybe I took it far this time but, you know you're not gonna actually leave me, right?"

He chuckled out, thinking this whole thing was a joke. Little did he know you weren't playing.

"Look, you can be delusional if you want to but I'm done."

You say, pushing past him and walking out the door. You heard faint sounds of Jaleel cursing in the background. You honestly weren't paying attention, there was just so much going through your head. You honestly couldn't believe that you just did that. You just kept your head down, continuing to walk down the hallway of the apartment complex. You felt tears well up in your eyes, not from sadness, but pure rage. You couldn't even believe that you stuck around for that long. How could you do that to yourself? Did he ever really care about you? Was he being egotistical? Was he right about you wanting to get with Miles? What are you gonna tell your mo-

You heard a little thump from your shirt rubbing against someone's jacket, dragging you out of your train of thought. You must have accidentally bumped into someone on your walk home.

"I'm sorry"

You said with a slightly congested, scratchy voice since you were just crying. Before looking up to see who it was, you recognized the Jordans and shadow of a tall, sort of lanky boy with a taper fade. Apparently he recognized you too.

"Y/N? Mami, why are you crying? Where's your jacket, you must be freezing!"

He said, pulling you into his embrace in the cold weather, wiping the tears from your eyes.

"Voy a matar a quien te haya hecho esto."

(I'm gonna kill whoever did this to you)

He muttered under his breath, still embracing you as he lead you to his home.

"I was just at Ja-"

"Shhh, you can tell me about it when we're inside so that you're warm and safe, Cariño."

(Dear)

He said as he continued speed walking the streets of Brooklyn, New York, with you wrapped in his warmth. He wanted to get to his apartment as soon as possible to make sure you're ok, you took note of that. Jaleel was wrong about a lot of things, but maybe he was right about this. Maybe you do wanna be with Miles...?

_______________________________________

This was lowk originally a one-shot but likeeeeee it's a lil more juicy when it's in chapters 😋 anyway, lemme know what yall think in the comments, I WILL REPLY BC I LOVE YALL 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

#miles morales #across the spiderverse #atsv #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales fluff #miles morales x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales x black!reader #spiderverse #miles molares

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0cta9on · 5 months

Text

Unlikely Duet - 1

length: 3k+ words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male OC

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“Yuno Lin! Detention! NOW!”

The sight of Principal Geier’s screaming face was nothing new to me. The bright shade of red on his furious expression combined with his shiny bald head made him look like a ripe tomato. I’d chuckle at the thought if my chest didn’t hurt every time I so much as breathe.

A crowd of students and teachers had huddled around Bryce Merten’s unconscious body. The football player’s face was all bloodied and bruised, but he was breathing, for better or for worse. I grabbed my bag I had tossed on the ground and trudged my way back into the main building of the school.

It was the end of the school day, so some students were still hovering around their lockers, getting their stuff or talking to their friends. The echoes of my footsteps reverberated throughout the hallway, alerting others of my presence. The look of fear and confusion as they see my face full of cuts and bruises is also nothing new to me. I pay them no mind as I walk the familiar route to the detention room.

I pushed open the door, its creak announcing my entrance. Instead of the usual stern expression of Ms. Rusnak’s wrinkly face, I am suddenly face to face with Minji Kim, the golden girl of Evergreen High School. She’s the student council president and ranked #1 in the entire school, basically the poster child of perfection.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Her voice, laced with an unexpected sincerity, caught me off guard. She stood up from her desk and walked towards me, her face full of concern. I shrugged, ready for the usual judgment or disdain, and walked past her, taking a seat in the front row of desks. She sat back down at the teacher’s desk where she had been working on a pile of paperwork before my arrival and glanced at me with a worried expression, tracing my wounds with her eyes.

“What happened to you?” she asks.

I hesitated for a moment, not used to the genuine concern in her voice. Reluctantly, I recounted the events that led to the fight, how Bryce had been tormenting a freshman for weeks, and how it ended up with him face down on the concrete.

Minji listened, her expression shifting from stern to contemplative. When I finished, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“Look, I get it. You just wanted to help, but you can’t be doing it like this. You could get expelled. You should have spoken to a teacher about it,” she suggested, her voice gentle yet firm.

I scoffed, bitterness seeping into my tone. “You think they would have done anything? They knew about it the entire time, but that fucker is on the football team, so they turned a blind eye to the whole thing.” I let out a deep breath, glaring at her. “He needed a good punch to the jaw. I just happened to be the one doing it.”

Minji frowned, her eyes searching mine. “I know it’s frustrating, but taking matters into your own hands isn’t the solution. You could get expelled for this, and then what? You won’t be able to help anyone.”

I avoid meeting her eyes, my gaze fixed on the scuffed surface of the desk. “I had to do it,” I muttered. “No one else would.”

She sighed, realizing the impasse between us. “Just… be careful. I’m sure your friends wouldn’t want to see you hurt,” she remarked as she turned back to continue her paperwork with a sigh.

Her words stuck in my head as I continued to stare at the desk. She was right. Of course she was right. If the teachers actually did their job and reprimanded the bullies the first time, then I would have never had to fight. Hell, I never enjoyed fighting in the first place. But I had to do it. Someone had to knock some sense into these sons of bitches and that responsibility was unfortunately bestowed upon me for whatever reason. And… Did she say “friends”? What friends? Everyone was too afraid to even look at me. Surely she knew that… right?

The minutes ticked along, our conversation lingering in the air. Eventually, a bell sounded on the PA system, signaling the end of detention. Without a word, I gather my bag and start to leave, but something stops me. I glance out the window and notice the darkness settling over the school grounds. It would be easy for me to just leave and move on with my life, but a voice inside at the back of my head was urging me to do the right thing. Despite my better judgment, I turned back around.

“I’ll walk you home,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I have the time to process them.

She looked up at me, a look of surprise in her eyes. “O-oh, you don’t have t-”

“It’s dark outside,” I interrupted, my tone leaving no room for argument. “It’ll be too dangerous if you walk home alone.”

Minji offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. “Thank you for the offer, but I can manage. I don’t live that far anyways.”

“Let me walk you home then,” I insisted, my voice surprisingly unwavering. “If you don’t live far, then I’ll be out of your hair in no time. Just let me make sure you get home okay.”

She studied me for a moment, uncertainty flickering on her face. Finally, she relented with a small nod. “Fine. But just this once.”

I merely grunted in response as I held the door open for her. We walk through the dimly lit hallways and exit the main building into the cold, gray night. A heavy silence hung between us as we left the campus, greeted only by the faint glow from a couple street lights casting long shadows on the pavement.

We walked side by side, the echoes of our footsteps reverberating through the empty streets. Minji seemed lost in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. I maintained a distance from her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable as we approached the street that led to her house.

As we near her house, the first droplets of rain pattered onto the pavement, foreshadowing the impending downpour.

Minji glanced up and snapped out of her trance, her expression shifting from contemplation to annoyance. “That’s just great. We’re gonna get soaked.” Without exchanging words, we quickened our pace, hoping to reach her house as soon as possible.

Our slight jog turned into a sprint as the rain intensified. The glow of her porch lights beckoned to us like a lighthouse guiding us toward its welcoming shine. Reaching the shelter of her porch, we stood there and watched the rain get heavier and heavier, transforming the world around us into a blurry, mesmerizing dance of droplets.

Deciding it was time to leave, I shifted my weight, preparing myself to step back into the heavy downpour. But before I could move, I felt Minji’s hand gently touch my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain hitting her roof. “Stay here.”

I glanced at her, my eyes wide in confusion. “What?”

Her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink as she shakes her head. “I-I mean until the rain lets up.”

“I'll be fine. It’s just a little rain,” I say. As if on cue, the sound of thunder booms in the distance.

Before I could protest anymore, Minji opened her front door and gestured for me to come inside. “You’ll catch a cold if you go out like this. And it’s the least I can do to repay you for walking me home.”

I glance back at the unrelenting rain one last time and sigh. “Okay. I’ll leave once the rain lets up.”

Minji smiled at me, leading the way inside. The warmth of her home enveloped me, a welcome contrast to the cold rain outside. I stood awkwardly near the entrance, the sound of the rain becoming mere background noise as Minji shuts the door behind us.

“Wait here, let me get you something dry to wear,” Minji says as she kicks off her shoes and disappears up the stairs. Curiously, I peer into her living room while I wait for her, being careful not to drip any water onto the carpet. A comfy-looking brown coach faces a large flat-screen TV, one that I’ve only seen in the electronics aisle at Walmart. Various pictures line the shelves around the TV, including family photos, a wedding photo of what could be her parents, and a graduation photo of an older boy I haven’t seen before.

The sound of Minji’s footsteps breaks me out of my thoughts. She appears in front of me with a blue sweater and black sweatpants neatly folded in her hands. “Here. It’s my older brother’s. He’s away for college right now, so I’m sure he won’t mind if you borrow them.” She hands them to me, a small smile on her face.

I took them from her, scanning her outfit. She had changed into a simple graphic T-shirt and black cotton shirts, a far cry from the usual school uniform that I see her wearing. Then, a sudden realization hit me - by some odd twist of fate, I was standing inside Minji Kim’s house. The atmosphere shifted and I brought my guard up in this unfamiliar setting.

“Thanks, Minji,” I muttered, unsure of what else to say.

“No problem, uhh…” Minji’s voice faltered as she suddenly brought her hands up to her face, the light pink hues of blush peeking through the cracks of her fingers. “Oh my god… I never asked for your name…”

I raised an eyebrow, surprised by the oversight. “Yuno. Yuno Lin.”

She uncovered her face as her embarrassment transformed into a sheepish smile. “Right, Yuno. I’m so sorry, it’s been a long with the rain and all this work I had to do.” She walked past me, into the living room area, avoiding my gaze. “There’s a bathroom right around this corner that you can change in. I’ll make us some tea in the meantime,” she said with an apologetic look on her face. I simply nod and kick off my shoes before following her deeper into her house.

I enter the bathroom while she disappears into the kitchen, presumably to make the tea. I strip off my uniform shirt, completely drenched from the rain, and examine my upper body in the mirror. A fist-sized blob of bluish-purple and red adorned my chest like a shitty tattoo, alongside another bruise on my arm and a couple more cuts on my cheek and lips. I shrugged. Not the worst thing that’s happened to me.

I quickly remove the rest of my wet clothes and change into the clothes Minji gave me, leaving my soaked school uniform in a messy pile on the bathroom counter. The warm fabric felt foreign, but welcoming. As I stepped out of the bathroom, the comforting scent of black tea hit my nose, leading me to the kitchen where Minji was steeping two cups of the stuff.

She turns to me, a warm smile on her face. “The tea is almost ready.” I watch as she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a first aid kit. “Let me help you with the cuts.”

I shake my head, “I’m fine.”

Minji frowns at me and gently pushes me back into a chair. Before I can protest, she’s already cleaning the cuts on my face with antiseptic, her touch surprisingly gentle. I feel an odd sensation in my chest as I steal a glance at her, her face almost uncomfortably close to mine as she focuses on her task.

“There,” she says, finishing up with a small bandage on my cheek. “You’re good to go.”

I grunt in response, still feeling a little flustered. Minji hands me a cup of warm tea, our fingers brushing briefly. I take a sip, the warmth of the liquid heating me up from the inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered, avoiding her gaze as I stared down at the contents of the mug in my hands.

Minji, seemingly oblivious to the hint of awkwardness that I feel, takes a seat on the kitchen counter across from me. “No problem. It’s the least I can do.”

I take another sip of tea, unsure of how to navigate this foreign scenario. I try to rack my brain, searching for something to say, but nothing comes out. Thankfully, Ms. student council president manages to save the day.

“Soo…” she starts, her eyes peering into her cup. “What do you usually do when you’re not getting into fights?”

I glanced up at her, surprised by the sudden question. “Um… I don’t know. Nap, I guess.”

Minji giggles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Really? That’s quite… unique.” She flashes a bright smile at me.

I shrug, feeling a little embarrassed by her reaction. “What about you?” I ask after a pause.

Minji chuckled, a smile lingering on her face. “Well, when I’m not studying or dealing with student council stuff, I like to sing.”

I look up at her, genuinely curious. “Really? I would’ve never guessed that.”

“Yeah, I haven’t really told anyone this aside from a few close friends. Sometimes I would tell my parents that I’m studying at the library, but in reality, I’m at the karaoke place with them.” She giggles to herself before her expression suddenly darkens and her gaze drops to the floor. Minji lets out a sigh before saying, “My parents would never approve. They want me to go to a good college and probably become a doctor or something.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence, aside from the thunder and rain that continued to pour outside. I saw a side of Minji that was kept hidden behind the cheerful facade she usually wore. Despite the two of us being strangers before today, I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards her. I racked my mind, thinking of something to say that could offer her comfort.

“I-I’m sorry,” is all I managed to stutter out. I mentally facepalmed myself for not being able to help her more.

Minji looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a brief moment, I could see a deep sadness within them. She managed a small smile before looking back down at her mug. “It’s okay, Yuno. It’s just a silly hobby anyways.”

She steps off of the kitchen counter and downs the remainder of her tea before placing her mug in the sink. I watch as she peers over at the clock hanging on the wall, the arms pointing to 9:00. “It’s getting late, but…” Her gaze turns to the window above the sink, a sigh escaping her lips. “The rain isn’t letting up.”

I stand up from my chair, mentally preparing myself for the treacherous walk home. “It’s okay Minji, I ca-”

“You can spend the night here.”

My eyes grow wide in shock, staring at the back of her head as she continues to face the window. “H-huh?”

A million thoughts run through my head as her unexpected offer hangs through the air. Spending the night? At Minji’s place? It felt like I had suddenly woke up in an alternate reality and didn’t notice until now.

Minji slowly turned to look at me, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush as she met my bewildered gaze with a sheepish smile. “Yeah… Look, it’s pouring outside and you could get sick. My parents are both gone for a business trip, so they won’t be back until this weekend.”

I hesitated, completely baffled at the situation I was faced with. No words come out as I continue to stare at Minji in shock. “I-I uhh… w-what?”

Minji briskly walks past me without another thought. “You can crash on the couch. I’ll get you some blankets.”

I suddenly find myself alone in Minji’s kitchen. Me. In Minji’s house. Alone. With Minji. I don’t know how long I stood there in silence. I was like a deer caught in headlights, completely still despite the feeling of impending doom heading my way. My mind was running at a thousand miles a minute.

“Yuno!”

My head snaps towards the source of the sound. Minji’s head pokes out behind the wall leading to the living room. “Are you okay?”

I scratch my head, feeling a bit awkward. “Y-yeah, I’m good.” I come to my senses and walk towards the living room, where Minji placed a couple of pillows and two neatly folded blankets on the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. Oh, I went ahead and put your uniform in the wash. It should be all nice and dry in the morning.” She says, flashing me a reassuring smile. I notice a twinge of anxiety deep within her eyes.

“T-thanks,” I reply sheepishly.

“If you need me, I’ll be upstairs in my room. Just knock.” Minji begins to walk away but stops at the foot of the stairs. “Um… Good night, Yuno.” She gives me a small smile before disappearing up the stairs.

I plop myself onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, unsure of what to make of this day. I replay the events in my head - The monotonous school day, followed by me kicking Bryce Merten’s ass. Meeting Minji in the detention room. The rain. And now I’m in Minji Kim’s house, drinking Minji Kim’s tea, and sitting on Minji Kim’s couch. What the fuck.

I lay down on the couch, the exhaustion of everything catching up to me. The plush cushions carry me gently, enveloping my body in comfort. My eyelids begin to get heavier and heavier until my vision eventually goes black.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

“Hanni!! What should I do?!” I whisper-screamed into the phone.

“Girl, you’re gonna have to explain all that again, I could barely understand you,” I hear my friend reply in a snarky tone.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before I relay the events again. “Okay, so I was just doing paperwork in the detention room because Ms. Rusnak was out and all of a sudden this guy named Yuno walks in with his face all bloody because he got into a fight somehow, and then I was gonna leave after detention ended, but he offered to walk me home, which was nice I guess, but then it started raining so I invited him to wait inside until the rain calmed down because I didn’t want him to get sick, but for some reason, the rain NEVER calmed down, so now he’s sleeping on my couch.” I stop to catch my breath at the end of my rambling, waiting for Hanni’s response.

“Wait, Yuno? As in Yuno Lin? The guy who knocked out Bryce Mertens?” she asked.

“Y-yeah… I think so.” I hesitantly admitted.

“I mean, I didn’t know you were into bad boys, but whatever floats your boat,” Hanni teases.

I groan in annoyance. “Hanni now is not the time for jokes! My parents will kill me if they find out I have a boy staying over!!”

I hear Hanni chuckle at her own joke. “Relax, Minj. Your parents won’t be back for three more days, you’ll be fine.”

I collapse face first into my bed, feeling defeated. “I guess so…” My muffled voice says into the mattress. I let out a long sigh, turning onto my back and staring at the ceiling.

“Sooo, what’s he like?” Hanni asks. “I always see him alone all the time, so I assumed he was just some creepy weirdo or something.”

I pause, contemplating my answer. “He’s… different from what I thought he would be. He’s not a creepy weirdo at all. He’s quiet and a little awkward, but he means well and seems nice enough.”

Hanni’s curiosity peaks. “Oooh, mysterious bad boy with a soft heart sleeping with the student council president. Sounds like a plot to a K-drama.”

I quickly sit up, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment. “Hanni!! It’s not like that at all!!” Hanni’s laugh can be heard from the speaker of my phone. I hang up and collapse back on the bed, too tired to deal with her for tonight. I let out a sigh and tightly shut my eyes, hoping that I’d wake up and find out all of this was just some weird dream.

#newjeans #kim minji #newjeans minji #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #minji x male oc #newjeans minji x male oc #minji x male reader #newjeans minji x male reader #fluff #minji fluff #newjeans minji fluff

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luvneymar · 1 year

Text

(2) ALL I WANTED WAS U — JUDE BELLINGHAM

SUMMARY: After coming back from a one-night stand with his his best friend, Jude realizes you don’t see him. He’s in love with you and you don’t see him.

PARING: bestfriend!jude x bestfriend!reader

NOTE: DRAMA?🤣 jude is a literal simp and my mission during this fic is to make sure y’all know dat !!!

“C’mon guys! Hustle! The tournament is in 3 weeks and you all are sloppy! Mount & Grealish stop giggling like schoolgirls and start running!” The coach for the men’s England World-Cup team screeched from the sidelines rubbing the sweat off his forehead as his veins bulged in anger.

The rest of the team were causally jogging just fast enough for the angry man to not yell at them but not Jude. Jude was either right behind them or right in-front of them ignoring all of them despite their best efforts to talk to the boy.

With his headphones on his ears he was in his own zone, his own space thinking about what you both had talked about just around 2 weeks ago. Your words ran laps around his mind 24/7 for the last 14 days.

“I slept with Trent.”.

“I fucked Trent.”

“I had sex with Trent.”

No matter how he worded it in his mind it was still the same, the deed had been done. You fucked him & there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He felt like a non-consensual cuck. Stuck in a three-way that didn’t even exist.

I mean how can you not know that he’s been pining for you since forever. Ever since Trent & all his other friends constantly mentioned how hot you looked in this & how great your rack looked in that he finally saw the bigger picture & came to terms with the weird fuzzy feeling in his stomach he’d get every time you’d kiss him on the cheek or hugged him.

“Jude! Why you running all alone? Join us!” Trent yelled out signalling Saka, Phil & Marcus to slow down & wait for him to catch up. Jude hadn’t even acknowledged Trent’s call despite hearing him loud and clear. He jogged right passed them as if he hadn’t heard.

They all looked at him with a weird face jogging up towards Jude stopping him as they grabbed his shoulder stopping him from running off. “Hey didn’t you hear me? Slow down.”

Jude shrugged his hand off and tried to jog off but Trent’s hold was quite strong forcing him to stay in place placing him into a full-stop. He pulled off his headphones in anger shrugging his hand off as he turned to look at the group. “Oh my days, What!”

“Geez dude, what bug crawled up your ass?” Phil muttered through a chuckle which caused Marcus & Saka to snort causing some weird domino of laughter, Jude’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he motioned to place his ear phones back onto his head.

“Sorry sorry, what’s going on with you? We haven’t talked in like two weeks.” Trent asked concerned smacking Jude on his butt lightly signalling him to continue walking jogging after he caught the look of annoyance on the coach’s face.

“Nothing I’m just anxious for the tournament.” Jude brushed him off with a statement that wasn’t even true. Just seeing his face pissed him off so bad which made him angry all the time.

“Your right. France is definitely going to hand a lot of countries their asses on polished silverware.” He joked looking around to see if anyone else laughed at his joke, Jude rolled his eyes as he prayed that Trent would cut the conversation short.

How can he just make a causal conversation just weeks after he literally told him so casually that he had sex with you in details that ran laps in the right, left, front & centre part of his brain. Just thinking about it made Jude want to beat the shit out of him.

“Whatever.” He grumbled with annoyances laced in his voice.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting like a little bitch ever since I told you about what happened a few weeks ago.” Trent questioned also irritated that his friend was ascribe flaky.

“What happened a few weeks ago?” They all questioned, wanting to find out what was making their friend so pissy.

“Y’know (Name)? (Name, Last Name)? Jude’s friend? Yeah met her at the club we went to a 2 weeks ago and managed to get her into bed. Told Jude how mind-blowing it was and now he’s pissy.”

“Oh her? Shit I’d be mad too. She fine as fuck, I’d just be mad you got to tap that before I did.” Phil mentioned in a broken sentence unable to control his laughter.

As the group laughed Jude poked his cheek with his tongue trying remain calm & collected, it was quite hard seeing as how he was literally listening to his friend objectify you in a vulgar manner with no respect for you at all.

“Judey lighten up! There are other girls out there. Girls your age. She wouldn’t shack up with you even if you were the only man on earth. You have girls flocking after you left & right.” Marcus slapped Jude on the back after finally calming down from the laughter than had went around.

“She’s probably not into younger men anyways, I mean you just graduated high-school a few months ago. She probably graduating soon.” Trent mention remind Jude once again about the age gap you both had in.

“Won’t that make her look like a cougar anyway? Find out if she has a sister of something. You gotta forget about her.” Trent added making the group burst in laughter once again.

Hearing them home about you in that way in an attempt to try and make him feel better about the fact that you were “too old” for him just pissed him off even more.

Jude stopped in his tracks & pulled Trent by his shirt stopping him his tracks too abruptly, “Im not pissy i’m pissed you cunt, my “problem” is that you slept with my friend knowing damn well I had feelings for her you fucking ass!”

After he said nothing but chaos insured, Jude spun Trent around so he could face him as he proceeded to give him a dirties punch of the century. Trent stumbled back a bit holding his nose in pain cursing all sorts of profanities before walking up to Jude & within the same split second punching him in his eye.

“You fucking bastard.” Jude mumbled before proceeding to jump on-top of Trent punching him in his face a few times before Trent managed to roll him over getting a few punches on his face as well.

Many different rows of profanities were passed around until the group had decide to step in thinking about the nearer future & how this could effect the result of the tournament they were training for.

“Guys knock it off!” Phil shouted out trying to pull Trent away from Jude as they assaulted each other just to get punched in the nose instead, hearing the groan he let out the rest of the team turned around to see the commotion altering the coach as-well.

The coach rushes over towards the pair who had bruises & a bit of blood on both of them as they continued to drown in testosterone using their natural male instincts to figure out their differences.

“What the hell! Guys break it up now! Whatever your fighting about I promise you it isn’t worth it!” The coach yelled out standing in between the 2 men sending a reasonable distance between the two stopping them from sending anymore punches each others ways.

Once the fight had ceased to exist the coach turned to Trent seeing as how he was in worse shape than Jude with a busted lip, a head laceration & a bruised eye. “Who started the fighting?”

“That fucking cunt right there.” Trent spit out the blood that rested in his mouth before pointing to Jude who stood there with Phil trying to hold him back from trying to attack Trent once again.

“Jude come with me. Now.” Jude wiped away some of the blood from his forehead as Phil wrapped his arm around Jude helping him walk away from the circle that formed and towards the building where the coach’s office was.

Once they reached there the coach signalled Phil to exit the room as he wanted to talk to Jude alone. As soon as the door closed the coach bursted in the a fit of anger yelling at Jude as he throw different types of things off his desk onto the wall behind Jude.

“What the hell were you thinking? Has your cranium suddenly stopped working and all your common sense has been flushed down the drain?” He yelled out poking his finger into the side of his head as Jude stood there staring at his shoes that were stained with mud & some splotches of blood.

“But He—!” Jude tried explain with no avail.

“No speaking when I’m speaking! I don’t want to hear it. Your my star pupil. Hand picked from the best of the best. You cant be fighting with your companions like that.” He lectured Jude finally calming down enough to speak to him rationally.

The coach looked up at him just to see his eyes hadn’t moved from the spot on the floor it had been for the past minute, “I’m honestly disappointed Jude. I didn’t expect this from you of all people. You’re much more mature than the others even for your age.”

“Well tell that to the bastard talking shit.” Jude muttered under his breath trying to get a word in his defence.

The coach raised his eyebrow as he heard what Jude said but wanted him to say it with his chest. “Did you have something to say Bellingham?”

“No sir, sorry.”

“You’re going to apologize to him and you’re going to be benched for the a while for the starting games. That’s your punishment.” The coach walked towards the door signalling Jude to follow him.

“But I—!”

“No buts. Now get out before I start searching for a replacement for you.” Jude’s hands failed down to his sides in defeat as he walked out of the office grinding his teeth in frustration.

if you could just get a word in the coach would see how this situation wasn’t even his fault, but he knew there was no point in trying to explain himself once the coach made up his mind he made up his mind.

As he walked back onto the field, bandages decorated all over his face he heard the whispers from his teammates. see who was whispering about him just to see the same four who instigated the whole problem. “Look, look here he comes.”

fortunately, the rest of the practice goes smoothly without any more disturbances from Trent and Jude as the coach make sure that they were both separated heavily and did the exercise at two different times just to make sure another fight wouldn’t happen.

—

“I’m back.” Jude announced in a solemn and dull voice like a defeated puppy, how could he possibly come back home and face you after he basically went all warrior ninja on Trent because of you. It was too embarrassing on his part.

As he works as he walked towards the common area, he heard a voice that was all too familiar to him. He couldn’t exactly put a pin on it, but he knew that it was somebody he knew.

“Hey Jude.” You greeted him turning your head from the screen playing a random Christmas movie quickly before turning it back snuggling into the mysterious figure that rested beside you.

as he looked up from the floor, all the pieces finally came together for him the very person he beat the shit out of that very afternoon with sitting beside, you, snuggled up into your chest casually scrolling on his phone.

“What the fuck? Why is he here?” The words came flying out of his mouth before he could even stop it, you turned to look at him with a sheepish smile on your face pulling your hand from around him to fidget with your fingers.

“Well you left so abruptly this morning I wasn’t able to tell you.” You muttered pausing the movie which caused the anonymous man to look up from his phone cunning smile on his face as he waved to Jude head still semi-snuggled into your chest.

“Hey man.” Trent waved to him half-assed stupid smug smile still resting on his face.

“Don’t ‘Hey Man’ me I’ll fucking kill you.” Jude dropped his bag by the side of the couch, and walk towards chance just for you to stand up in between them, trying to stop a fight from arising.

“Jude no! No more fighting. If you have a problem make your issues vocal. Just, no more fighting. Please.” You begged him looking up at him with the eyes you had to know had an hypnotic effect on him.

“Fine.” He muttered absolutely defeated. he had been utterly shame today not only had he basically confessed his feelings to his friend about his newfound girlfriend he beat the shit out of him just for him to get his wounds licked by you.

He walked away towards the direction of his room & closed the door quite aggressively, he hadn’t even recognized himself. He he isn’t the type of person to slam doors whenever he’s upset or try to fight people whenever they have a difference.

but that was just the effect you had on him. you were able to make him go absolutely insane basically put him under your spell like a wizard. even though you were currently resting in trance, arms, kissing on him, loving on, and touching on him, and fucking on him.

He was determined to make sure that you’d be his at the end of the day. Ever since the day you both met he was sure that you’d be his one day even if he had to get rid roadblocks like Trent, he’d gladly do so.

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