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prisoner | s.r.
in which you and Spencer conduct a custodial interview with a serial killer - Spencer's first since he was released
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: post prison reid, fwb but also mutual pining, serial killers, prison, panic attack, chiromancy word count: 3.66k a/n: i originally came up with this idea in 2023 😭 😭 it's about time i finished it lol. definitely suffers from exposition overload but i don't caaaaare.
Fourteen times.
You had asked him fourteen times if he thought he was going to be okay doing the custodial interview. No one else was available to do it, but you still had your reservations. Sending Spencer to a prison felt wrong, even if he wasn’t on the inside of the bars anymore.
Without telling him the reason, Emily elected to send you with him to the facility, she said it was because you had never done one before, but you knew it was deeper than that. “How many victims?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the road as you drove to the destination.
“Eight,” Spencer answered, looking through the case file. The killer had asked for the interview, hoping to be transferred to a minimum-security facility. The odds weren’t good, but you needed to oblige the request even if it wouldn’t prove successful.
You hummed, turning down the road, you pulled up to the security station. Presenting your credentials to the guard, he lifted the gate for you, and you found your reserved parking. “Do you want to take the lead?” You asked him, trying to gauge how he was doing.
Nodding, Spencer got out of the SUV. You shut off the engine and followed suit. “Unless it doesn’t seem like he’s responding to me, I’d rather not present him with someone who fits in with his victim pool.”
“And they say chivalry is dead,” you said sardonically, grabbing your bag from the backseat before locking the car and following Spencer inside.
The two of you went through security, locking up your weapons and going through metal detectors. It wasn’t until you went inside the first gate that you noticed it; Spencer was fiddling with the belt loop of his slacks. “I can feel you staring,” he whispered so only you could hear. You watched his posture relax when the gate buzzed and opened in front of him.
You smiled softly, “I can see you fidgeting,” you responded. At work, the two of you were merely coworkers who knew each other really well, so you couldn’t just reach out and take his hand. Not that you’d want to, in a prison full of serial killers.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, implying that he wasn’t right now. The smile fell off your face as the two of you followed the guard into the warden’s office.
At the sight of you, the warden stood and smiled, “You must be Agents Y/L/N and Reid, thank you for making the trip down here.”
Raising your eyebrows, you reach out your hand for the warden to shake, “He’s Dr. Reid, actually.” You corrected, seeing as Spencer didn’t seem to have noticed.
“Ah, my apologies, Dr. Reid,” he responded kindly, gesturing for the two of you to follow him.
Spencer gently brushed your hand as you followed the warden. It was so subtle that someone else could’ve brushed it off as an accident, but Spencer Reid never did anything without purpose.
“Marshal Lukins is the most prolific killer we’ve had in my time here, we aren’t expecting anything to come of this, but you know as well as I do that we have to humor the psychos,” Warden McCall told you, stopping in front of a gate and calling out for it to be opened.
You raised your eyebrows, deciding against telling the warden that Lukins profiled as a sociopath, not a psychopath. “How’s his behavior been here?”
The warden shrugged, “He won’t be winning any merit badges any time soon, that’s for sure. Spends most of his time in solitary, really.”
“His file said he had gotten into an altercation with another prisoner, what was that about?” Spencer asked.
McCall cleared his throat, “turf war. You know, prison gangs can get rowdy. Especially when they find out the feds are coming.”
You raised your eyebrows, grateful you couldn’t see Spencer’s expression. “Oh, yeah,” he said quietly.
Then you were in front of a serial killer, someone who had been put away years ago, but the way he looked at you sent shivers down your spine. “Marshal Lukins?” You confirmed.
“Why hello, pretty lady,” Lukins responded, rising from the chair. His legs were chained to the ground, but his hands were free.
Behind you, Spencer cleared his throat, “Sit down,” he ordered. Taking a tone of authority that you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him.
Taking your seat across from Lukins, you looked him in the eyes, “You may call me Agent Y/L/N.”
Your interviewee shrugged, “I’ll call you whatever I want in my mind later.”
Ignoring the hairs that stood up on the back of your neck, you rolled your eyes at the skeevy pervert. “If you want to be transferred, you’re not making a very good first impression,” Spencer intervened, likely aware of your discomfort.
Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first criminal to make a pass at you, and in your line of work, it likely wouldn’t be the last.
“I’m not much worried about first impressions, people usually have a first opinion about me before they even hear my voice,” he responded, leaning back in the chair.
You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from responding, yeah, that happens when you murder eight women. “What would you rather our opinion of you be? That you’re misunderstood? Did you find god in prison, Marshal?” You asked him.
He leaned over the table ever so slightly, yellowed teeth flashing beneath the fluorescent light that hung above the interrogation table, “Would you like me to show him to you?”
Raising your eyebrows, you maintained a bored disposition while flipping open your files, “No.”
With custodials like this, you weren’t allowed to have photos in your files. Lukins was a sexual sadist, and the profile that Aaron Hotchner had put together was damning, describing the man in front of you to a T. He even got the age correct, right down to the receding hairline. Even though Lukins was in prison, you’d never provide him with visual aids to relive his crimes.
“Why did you request this interview if you weren’t interested in playing nice?” Spencer asked, setting his own files on the table in front of him, but he refrained from opening them. He managed to memorize their contents on the drive from Quantico, enabling him to weaponize his memory.
Lukins put his hands up in mock surrender, “I was hoping they’d send me someone nice to look at, make a good conversation with, and boy am I glad I took that chance.”
Spencer clasped his hands together and set them on the steel table, “Thank you,” he responded, keeping himself stone-faced in the presence of the killer.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the criminal in front of you snapped, jutting his chin in your direction.
Bored, your partner spoke up again, “Yes, you are,” he corrected. You were unable to communicate with Spencer without tipping off Lukins, so you let him continue, trusting that he knew where he was going with this. “In your trial, you said all of your victims were your sheep,” Spencer recalled from the file, “Is that why you shaved their heads before gutting them?”
Lukins scoffed, bored easily within the confines of the interview, “My sheep were my friends, but every sheep needs a wolf. Isn’t that right, Bo Peep?” He asked you, meeting your gaze despite the fact that Spencer all but told him not to engage with you.
You narrowed your gaze at him, tilting your head innocently, “Would you have let me be one of your sheep?”
He gave you a look that made you feel like you needed a shower, “You would’ve been a nice addition, could’ve rounded out my numbers.”
He reached out a hand, trying to take a piece of your hair between his grimy fingers, but you stood up quickly, stepping back from the table and almost tripping over your chair in response.
A few prison guards came in at the sudden movement, and Spencer had a vice-like grip on Lukins’ wrist, keeping him away from you. Tossing his arm back at him, Spencer glared at the killer, “No touching,” he instructed, looking back at you to check-in. He opened the door to the room, ushering you out before looking at the guards, “I want him in cuffs.”
With a hand on the small of your back, Spencer herded you to the private space that the two of you were expected to inhabit for the day. “Hey,” you spoke to him once the door was shut behind you.
Spencer was filled to the brim with nervous energy, shaking out his hands in an attempt to expel his nerves, “We should just go back to Quantico.” He shook his head, brown curls fanning out around his face, “There’s no way he can tell us anything that will get us to endorse his transfer.”
Watching him like this made your chest ache, and you had no idea what to do with that emotion. Your relationship with Spencer was strictly horizontal—usually—and you found yourself floundering when it came to how to act outside of bed. You wanted to take his hand, desperate to run your fingers over his knuckles and find the familiar callus from where his pencil rests on his finger, but you just couldn’t get yourself to reach out.
You hadn’t known Spencer before he was arrested in Mexico, but you made your mark on him without ever letting him lay his eyes on you. You sent letters to him along with the rest of the team, refraining from talking about cases and instead choosing to use your letters as a personal diary, chronicling your first three months with the Behavioral Analysis Unit with your prison pen pal. Periodically, you put money in his commissary account, despite the rest of the team telling you that you shouldn’t feel inclined to.
Pressing your lips into a thin line, your eyes tracked his pacing in the conference room before you started to voice your concern, “We have to go back in, Reid.” You grabbed a water bottle from the counter and twisted the cap off before handing it to him.
He took the water begrudgingly, glaring at you as he did so, “Why do we have to go back in, exactly?” After taking a sip of the water, he handed it to you so you could have some. You could’ve grabbed your own, but surely this was quicker.
“Lukins said I would’ve rounded out his numbers,” you told him, nervously fiddling with the cap of the water bottle as you waited for him to get it.
Spencer adjusted his tie, pulling the silk fabric further from his neck, “Yeah, I heard him.” It bothered him, the slightest implication that you were endangered in that interview room put him on edge, but all you could do was sit down and watch him.
You sighed, “We only have a record of eight victims. We don’t know what he’s rounding to, but that’s at least two more bodies that we don’t know about.” Lukins could be rounding up to ten, which would be the closest option, or you were looking at the possibility of a considerably higher body count. Your fear was that he would use those additional kills as a bartering tool to get a transfer.
He stopped in his tracks while he processed what you were telling him. Spencer turned to you, lips parted before he nodded, eventually agreeing with you even if it pained him to do so. “We should call Emily and let her know what’s going on,” he told you, taking a seat across from you and placing his head in his hands. “I’m gonna step outside for a second,” he said, getting up just as quickly as he took a seat and swinging the door open, leaving you alone in the conference room.
Holding your tongue, you stopped yourself from voicing your approval, even though you did think some fresh air would be good for him. Instead, you watched the door click shut before fishing your phone out of your pocket, tapping on Emily’s contact before bringing the phone to your ear.
“How’s it going?” Emily asked you as soon as she answered, and you couldn’t help but picture your unit chief waiting by her phone, hoping to hear from you or Spencer.
You sighed, inadvertently cluing her into how the custodial interview was going, “We might have a problem,” you told her. Continuing on to explain what had happened between you and Marshal Lukins, all the way up through your discovery that he might have a higher victim count.
Prentiss clicked her tongue on the other end of the line, “What does Spencer think?”
The question didn’t come as a surprise to you, neither did the fact that her inflection told you that she was sneakily trying to ask you how Spencer was. Wiping your free palm along the fabric of your pants, you leaned against the table, “Reid thinks Lukins is out for blood.” You opened your mouth to continue but were interrupted by an alarm being tripped, your head snapped up as lights started to flash on the walls.
“What’s going on?” Emily questioned you over the phone, but you could barely hear her over the blare of the alarm, a low-pitched buzzing sound that made your brain feel like it was vibrating within your skull.
Clambering to your feet, you grabbed your water bottle and walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you as you looked aimlessly around the prison for someone who could offer you an explanation. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurted into the receiver, stuffing your phone in your pocket and making your way to the front of the prison, ignoring the men who shouted at you from behind bars.
You looked down the walkway, watching as the failsafe on the doors was triggered and they slowly started to shut, triggering you to try and make a run for it. “Y/N,” Spencer called out your name, picking up his own pace from the opposite direction.
It didn’t take you long to realize that you weren’t going to make it, skidding to a halt as the bars clicked shut in front of you. You weren’t scared until you watched Spencer pull at the door, frantically trying to slide it open, “Reid,” you said his name, trying to get his attention. “Reid,” you shouted that time, trying to make sure he heard you over the alarm.
He didn’t pause to look at you, he simply continued to pull at the bars.
“Spence,” you said desperately, and that time his eyes snapped to yours. Wide brown eyes bore into yours as you placed one of your hands on his, both of them encircling the bar. “It’s not going to open,” you reminded him. A fact he was well aware of but didn’t want to acknowledge.
Silently, he leaned back into the wall, sliding down the side of it and looking up at the ceiling, pulling at his tie again, this time taking it all the way off. “It’s a lockdown,” he panted helplessly, “They’re in a lockdown.”
You nodded softly, having drawn that conclusion on your own, “It’s okay,” you told him softly, reaching through the bars and taking one of his hands in yours. “You’re alright, Spence,” you continued, your tone bordering on a coo.
He pulled his knees to his chest and slung his free arm over his legs, hugging himself.
It broke your heart to watch him like this. You pointed in the direction he came from, “Look. Hey, you could be free to leave, I’m the one who’s locked in,” you told him, highlighting the fact that the bars were blocking you, but Spencer could make his way back to the entryway.
“Not helping,” he told you, his voice almost a gasp as he tried to regulate his breathing.
Your shoulder’s slumped forward slightly, “I’m sorry. What can I do?”
Spencer just shook his head, squeezing your hand in response when you started sweeping your thumb over his knuckles. You ignored the buzzing of your phone in your pocket as you watched him, completely focused on making sure he was okay before you did anything else.
With your free hand, you grabbed the water bottle that you took from the conference room and slipped it through the bars. “Here, take this,” you murmured, setting it on the ground next to him when he didn’t take the bottle from you.
He visibly relaxed when the alarm stopped going off, but the lights were still flashing, which offered somewhat of an explanation as to why the door hadn’t opened yet.
You fiddled with his hand, opening up his palm and tracing the lines on his hand with your index finger, “Have you ever had your palm read?” You asked him, twisting your head to get a better look at it.
He looked at you, the panicked look in his eyes had subsided, promptly replaced with incredulity, “When have I ever struck you as the kind of person who would get my palm read?”
Shrugging, you slowly traced his love line, “You like Halloween, I thought maybe you’d let your curiosity get the best of you.” Although you supposed if Spencer really wanted to have his palm read, he’d just do it yourself. “When I was in college, my summer job was reading palms in a booth at an amusement park,” you informed him.
Spencer chuckled at your revelation, and the sound made your heart sing, “That is… oddly endearing.”
Nodding, you looked at his hand again, “Chiromancy says men were born with their left hand, and their right is what they accumulate throughout life,” you told him softly, sliding your other hand through the bar.
“Actually, I was born with both of my hands,” Spencer responded, a teasing lilt in his voice.
You rolled your eyes, studying his left hand intently, “You have water hands,” you said, showing him his own palm as if he’d never seen it before.
Spencer raised his eyebrows at you, “Well, now you’re just making things up,” he openly teased you that time, but he didn’t pull his hand away.
Humming, you furrowed your brows and pointed at his hand, “This is your head line,” you explained. “See how it’s long and straight? It sort of tapers off before the end of your palm—that means you tend to think realistically.”
“I could’ve told you that,” he challenged, but his eyes were following along as you pointed at his palm.
You shook your head and sighed, “Here’s your life line,” you said, pointing to a different line and tracing it with your fingertip. “It’s straight and goes down to the edge of your palm, which means you’re cautious about relationships,” you continued softly, leaning your head against one of the bars of the door.
He was silent after that one, briefly taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking down at his hand. You could tell that even though he didn’t quite believe what you were saying, he was perfectly fine with humoring you.
“This is your fate line,” you told him, entirely expecting to lose him the moment you began discussing fate. “It’s broken down the middle and curved in different directions, and that means you’re prone to a lot of changes in life. Changes influenced by external forces.”
Gently, Spencer pulled his hand away from yours, flexing his hand before looking down at it, “You’ve officially lost me.”
The corner of your mouth quirked up, “I’m surprised you lasted this long.” Just long enough apparently, the doors buzzed soon after, and you withdrew your hands from the slots as the bars slid into a hole in the wall.
Spencer got up first, dusting off his hands before he extended a hand to help you up. Your hand lingered in his for just a moment too long, the exchange oddly intimate for the two of you before his arms dropped to his side, “Thank you,” he murmured, a shy smile on his face.
Shrugging, you crossed your arms in front of your stomach, “There’s nothing to thank, Reid.”
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that it was disappointment that flashed across his face at your reply.
The warden had rather unceremoniously asked the two of you to leave, citing security concerns and letting you know that he’d be in contact with Emily to reschedule. Emily had called you six times during the lockdown, but you’d texted her once everything was clear.
Which left you heading back to the SUV with Spencer, there were prisoners out in the yard, so he walked on the inside, blocking your body from the view of the inmates. “Are you alright?” You asked him, feeling more free to inquire now that you were in the open air.
He nodded, “I’m fine, I just really wasn’t expecting something like that to happen when I asked Emily to send me on this custodial.”
Your footsteps faltered at his words, “You asked to go on this custodial?”
Spencer frowned, “I was on this case originally ten years ago, so I asked Emily to let me go.”
“And she said yes?” You asked incredulously.
Spencer opened the back door for you to place your bag in, “Not initially, but eventually she realized that I’d be her only option if she wanted to get it done today.” He shut the door and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s a lot earlier than I thought we’d be getting back, do you want to stop and get lunch on the way back to Quantico?”
Your eyes went wide and you were grateful that he couldn’t see your expression, “Uh, sure. Why not?”
“Perfect,” he said, “Maybe I can get you to tell me why you avoided reading my love line.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#criminal minds angst#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#margotober#angstober
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music girlfriend
synopsis: you’re the weirdest loser karina has ever met in her life, but you’re cute. and different. and she might just like you. (loser girlfriend x mean girlfriend core)
w/c: 5k+
warnings: swearing, lots of it; mentions of bullying. like always, read at your own risk :)
a/n: a concept like this was my first ever fic…except that it was way more toxic and horrifying. i’ve rewritten it. but just reading something i wrote over 10 years ago makes me CRINGE
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
yu jimin is a force of nature on campus; the kind of girl people talk about in hushed tones, partly out of awe and partly out of fear. she’s got a reputation that precedes her: mean, cold and walls higher than the burj khalifa itself.
she doesn’t mince words, and her insults almost always land with surgical precision. you don’t cross her unless you’re looking to get burned, and even then, it’s not guaranteed she’ll care enough to react.
people say she’s a heartbreaker, and the rumors aren’t exactly subtle. she’s the type who’s been through a messy breakup or two, you’d never know it by looking at her though.
karina, as everyone liked to call her, doesn’t mess around with vulnerability: she does leather jackets, sharp eyeliner, and a smile that’s more threatening than warm.
most of her relationships don’t last long; people get too close, then quickly realize that they’re only scratching the surface of someone who’s built walls too high to climb.
and, then, there’s you. you’re not even remotely on karina’s radar, like at all. unless you count that one time she stared you down just for coughing in her presence. you remember it vividly: it was a wednesday morning, and you were hurrying to class when you caught a coughing fit through the hall after attempting to chug a tropical juice box in two minutes.
unfortunately, karina was passing by at the exact moment you let out a loud, ragged cough, and she stopped dead in her tracks; fixing you with a death glare that never left until you were out of sight.
“are you fucking kidding me?” she yells out as you practically run away. “loser!”
that stare was enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and disappear, and it cemented your fear of her. you’ve avoided her ever since, not that it’s been difficult — she’s too wrapped up in her own world to notice someone like you anyway.
yet, despite the fear and the certainty that she’d tear you to shreds if given the chance, you never miss an aespa gig.
every friday night, you make your way to the dingy dive bar outside of campus where they perform, staking out your usual spot in the far corner with a ginger beer in hand because you couldn’t stand the taste of anything else, but you only ever manage to drink half before losing interest. it’s not about the drink; it’s about watching her own the stage.
you sit there, trying not to make eye contact, trying to be as invisible as possible while simultaneously wishing she would look your way, just once….in a way that isn’t terrifying.
of course she doesn’t notice you. or at least, she pretends not to. she’s too busy flirting with half the room, her eyes sharp and her voice carrying over the crowd like a spell.
your only real friend on campus is yunjin, your roommate, who’s the complete opposite of you —confident, outgoing and friends with pretty much everyone.
she talks about the girls in aespa often, but you never really pay attention because, well, you’re usually too busy trying to complete a lego set or desperately attempting to finish either a boss in wu-kong, or a quest in dead island 2. in desperate times, you turn to call of duty though.
one saturday evening, as you’re halfway through building a lego roller coaster on the kitchen table, zero human interaction, yunjin drops a bombshell.
“hey, by the way, aespa’s coming over tonight,” she announces casually, as if she’s talking about ordering pizza, fingers twirling her hair and all.
you don’t even look up from your seat. “uh-huh, cool.”
“no, like, they’re actually coming here. to our dorm,” she repeats, clearly trying to make sure it sinks in.
you snap a lego piece into place and nod absentmindedly. “yeah, i hear ya.”
yunjin sighs, clearly defeated. “you’re really not listening, are you?”
“nope,” you admit, focusing intently on the roller coaster track.
“can you please get a girlfriend?” she leaves you to yourself and retreats back into the couch, shaking her head at how hopeless you are. “god, this place needs another woman.”
and then, maybe fifteen minutes later, it finally registers. aespa. karina. here. in your dorm. you’re in your toy story pyjamas with fresh spaghetti stains on it.
you freeze mid-piece placement, your eyes going wide as panic washes over you. “wait, did you say aespa is coming here?”
yunjin looks up from her phone, a grin spreading across her face. “finally paying attention, huh? yeah, they’ll be here any minute.”
“jennifer, are you serious?!” you practically yell, scrambling to your feet, knocking over half your lego set in the process.
“very serious,” she says, clearly enjoying your reaction.
you don’t waste any more time. there’s only one thing to do: that’s to get the hell out of there. before yunjin can say another word, you’re darting down the hall, your feet barely touching the floor. you burst into your room and start throwing things into your bag, moving with a speed you didn’t know you had.
“are you really running away?” yunjin calls after you, chuckling.
“yes!” you shout back, shoving random clothes into your bag. “i can’t deal with this!”
“you’re such a wimp!” she teases, but there’s affection in her voice. “you’ll be fine, i promise —“
“absolutely not,” you cut her off as you slam your door shut. you grab your keys, yank open your window and climb out onto the fire escape, your heart pounding.
as you make your escape, you look down and realise you’ve left a trail of legos behind you, tiny colourful pieces marking your pathetic retreat.
meanwhile, aespa finally arrives. winter, the band’s chaotic drummer, is sprawled on your couch, balancing a bottle of cheap beer on her forehead. ningning, the bassist, is rummaging through your snack drawer like she’s on a mission from god. giselle, the lead guitarist, is inspecting your lego collection with an expression that’s equal parts curiosity and confusion. and then there’s karina — leaning against the counter, looking bored and vaguely annoyed, like she’s too cool for this entire dorm (which she probably is).
“so, where’s this lego nerd?” ningning asks, looking around the living room.
“oh, y/n? she…left,” yunjin says with a shrug, trying not to laugh. “like ran away when i said you guys were coming over.”
“scared of us?” winter asks, looking offended. “we’re not that bad.”
“no,” yunjin adds, shaking her head. “she just really sucks at socialising but once you get to a point, she will yap your ears off.”
“it’s karina,” giselle says knowingly, nudging the singer with a grin. “she’s the scary one.”
karina just rolls her eyes, unfazed. “whatever. if she’s that much of a coward, she’s not worth worrying about.”
as she glances around the room, her eyes land on the half-finished lego set on the kitchen table. she moves closer, her gaze shifting from indifferent to slightly intrigued. she picks up a piece, examining it for a moment.
“what’s this supposed to be?” she asks, holding up the stray lego.
“a roller coaster,” yunjin replies, still smiling. “she’s been working on it all day.”
karina raises an eyebrow, setting the piece back down. “interesting.”
“what, the legos or the girl?” giselle teases.
“both,” karina admits, her voice low and thoughtful. and for a moment, just a moment, her usual cold demeanor softens. “she’s kind of weird, isn’t she? fucking coughed on me once and it just set me off.”
“so you know of her?” giselle raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her face.
karina frowns. “what the hell is your deal?”
“definitely,” yunjin cuts them off before they get started. “she’s into video games and all that nerdy shit. has never had a girlfriend in her life, but she’s gorgeous and funny in her own way.”
karina hums, her gaze lingering on the legos. “i’ll be the judge of that.”
meanwhile, you’ve been hiding out at the park not too far from your dorm for a while now, perched awkwardly on a bench — staring blankly at a nearby pigeon that’s scavenging for crumbs. it was the first place you could think of in your panic, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, your stomach is making very loud complaints.
“great,” you mutter to yourself, pressing a hand to your rumbling belly. you didn’t plan this escape well. you don’t have money on you…just your keys and the few legos you hastily shoved in your pockets.
with a sigh, you finally accept defeat. “screw it,” you mutter, pushing yourself off the bench. “i’ll just sneak in, grab some food, and sneak back out.”
you start making your way back to the dorm, trying to convince yourself that you can avoid those girls altogether. if you’re lucky, they’ll be too busy talking to yunjin or trying to figure out the roller coaster you abandoned on the kitchen table.
approaching your dorm cautiously on your tippy toes, you open door as quietly as possible, sets of laughter audible from the living room — familiar voices that make you both excited and anxious.
you manage to sneak inside unnoticed, keeping your head down as you head straight for the kitchen.
the fridge is glowing right in front of you, immediately grabbing the nearest thing you see: a pack of cheese sticks and a pineapple juice box. you’re so focused on grabbing food and getting out of there that you don’t notice the figure leaning casually against the kitchen counter.
“back so soon, coward?”
you freeze, and slowly turn to find no one else but karina standing there. she’s holding a half-finished lego roller coaster piece, looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read.
“oh,” you croak out, feeling your face heat up. “i was just…hungry.”
she raises an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between disbelief and mockery. “hungry enough to risk coming back into enemy territory?”
“it’s not enemy territory,” you mutter, peeling the wrapper off the cheese stick awkwardly. “i just panicked.”
karina’s smirk widens. “because of me?”
“maybe,” you admit reluctantly, taking a bite of the cheese stick. “you’re kind of scary, you know.”
“good,” she replies smoothly, stepping closer. “keeps people on their toes.”
“it definitely kept me out the door,” you mumble, trying not to flinch as she moves even closer. you notice she’s still holding the lego piece, twirling it between her fingers like she’s trying to figure it out.
“so,” she says, her voice dropping a notch, “what’s with the legos? seriously. i mean, a roller coaster?”
you glance at the half-built model on the table, feeling both embarrassed and defensive. “what’s wrong with a roller coaster?”
“nothing,” she replies, surprisingly sincere. “it’s just unexpected considering you’re over twenty.”
“what the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.
she shrugs, her gaze shifting between you and the legos. “i’ve never met anyone who builds a roller coaster in the middle of a saturday night. alone.”
“what kind of person do i seem like, then?” you challenge, more curious than offended.
“the kind that runs away when someone like me shows up,” karina shoots back, but there’s no malice in her tone; just that familiar teasing edge.
you feel your face heat up again, but you manage to hold her gaze. “well, maybe i just don’t know how to deal with someone like you.”
“and what’s someone like me?” she asks, taking a step closer.
“mean,” you say bluntly, surprising even yourself.
karina blinks, caught off guard. “you coughed on me.”
“you remember that?”
“i felt a splash on my face you sore loser,” she whines, remembering the day so clearly. she watches you for a moment, then she gestures to the roller coaster. “so, are you gonna finish this or what?”
“i was planning to,” you say defensively. “it’s not my fault i got interrupted.”
“by yourself?” she raises an eyebrow at you.
“by you,” you correct, feeling a strange mix of frustration and attraction.
her eyes narrow playfully. “well, i’m here now. so, let’s finish it.”
“you want to help me?” you ask, genuinely surprised.
“why not?” she says, picking up another lego piece. “i’ve got nothing better to do, but come meet everyone first.”
you eventually shuffle into the living room, feeling like you’re walking into a lion’s den. the place is chaos: winter is trying to balance on one leg while shouting about something unintelligible, ningning is tearing into a bag of doritos with alarming enthusiasm, and giselle is inspecting your lego city sets like she’s discovered a hidden temple.
“look who it is!” ningning calls, grinning at you with chip dust on her fingers. “finally decided to join us, huh?”
“i was busy,” you say awkwardly.
“busy hiding,” karina corrects, plopping down next to you on the couch with a casualness that makes your heart rate spike.
“it’s not hiding,” you mutter. “it’s called strategic retreat.”
she shrugs. “sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“she’s literally just a girl,” yunjin chuckles, taking the first sip off her beer before grimacing. “what is this shit?”
winter suddenly flops onto the floor in front of you, looking up with wide eyes. “so, do you build like castles and stuff? or just boring things like a roller coaster?”
you frown defensively. “it’s interesting!”
“wow,” winter says, clearly unimpressed. “that’s so nerdy, i think i just lost 10 cool girl points talking to you.”
you roll your eyes. “i didn’t think you had 10 cool girl points to begin with,” the room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but feel a small sense of triumph.
“ohhh, she got heat!” giselle hollers, slapping her knee dramatically.
karina leans closer, her voice low enough that only you can hear. “you’re funny.”
you blink, caught off-guard by her close proximity. “uh, thanks?”
“don’t get too excited,” she adds, a bored look on her face. “i still think you’re weird.”
“i know,” you reply simply. “but that’s kind of my thing.”
somehow, yunjin turns the tv on and you end up in an impromptu mario kart tournament, with winter yelling instructions at everyone like an overly aggressive coach.
“take the shortcut, take the fucking shortcut!” she screams, despite the fact that she’s not even playing.
you manage to hold your own, despite ningning’s attempts to distract you by waving doritos in your face and giselle’s shameless attempts to use every dirty trick in the book. you’re neck and neck with karina, who’s surprisingly good and also surprisingly ruthless.
“you play dirty,” you accuse as she sends a blue shell your way, knocking you out of first place.
“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” karina retorts with a frown.
“it is a bad thing,” you insist. “only jerks use the blue shell.”
“guess i’m a jerk, then,” she adds, not looking the least bit sorry.
“you’re the worst,” you say, but there’s no heat behind it. in fact, you’re kind of having fun.
“i’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, flashing you a victorious smile as she crosses the finish line.
“you shouldn’t,” you mutter, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably because karina just smiled at you for the first time in your life.
as the night goes on, the group slowly starts to mellow out. winter has passed out on the floor, snoring softly with an empty can of beer in her hand. ningning and yunjin are sprawled across the couch, humming some random tune and giselle is poking at your lego millennium falcon with a mix of fascination and confusion.
karina is still sitting next to you, her elbow resting on the back of the couch. “so,” she says, breaking the comfortable silence, “you really like legos, huh?”
you nod. “yeah. it’s kind of my thing.”
“i can see that,” she says, glancing around at your impressive collection. “it’s such a loser vibe.”
you raise an eyebrow. “hey, you’re not the first to say that.”
“i’ll make sure i’ll be the last.”
you laugh, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. “well, thanks, i guess. you’re not as scary as i thought you’d be.”
“i can be scary,” she insists, narrowing her eyes for effect. “maybe one day i can build one with you, deal?”
“woah, okay,” you say, grinning back. “a deal it is then.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
since that unexpected night at your dorm, things between you and karina have taken an unexpected turn. it’s not exactly friendship —karina’s still mean, still cold in that familiar way, but there’s a new rhythm to it, a pattern of teasing that you’re surprisingly getting used to.
whenever you pass each other in the hallways, she makes it a point to throw some kind of insult your way, usually with a smirk that’s equal parts mocking and playful.
“hey, loser,” karina calls as you’re trying to balance a stack of books in your arms.
“hi,” you shoot back with a smile, doing your best to sound unfazed.
“nice outfit,” she adds, eyeing your oversized hoodie and faded jeans. “did you rob a fucking thrift store for that look?”
“maybe,” you reply with a grin. “at least i’m consistent!”
she laughs (surprising everyone around her), her eyes flashing with that familiar mix of amusement and something else — something warmer. “still a loser, though.”
“and what about it?” you retort, shaking your head as she walks away, still chuckling.
it becomes a routine over the next few days. each time you cross paths, karina manages to find some new way to tease you. whether it’s about your outfit, your habit of carrying too many books, or your eternal obsession with legos, her comments are always mean-spirited, but in a way that somehow makes you smile because you know she doesn’t mean any of it.
“what, still working on legos?” she asks one morning, catching sight of a lego manual sticking out of your bag.
“yep,” you say brightly. “gotta build something, right?”
“how pathetic,” she drawls, but there’s a spark in her eyes that betrays the insult.
“at least i’m consistent,” you say, giving her a mock salute as you pass by.
not everyone understands the strange dynamic between you and karina. a group of boys in the football team who’ve been eyeing the whole thing decides to get in on the fun — or at least what they think is fun.
one afternoon, as you’re making your way across campus, you hear someone call out, “hey, loser! still building legos? what are you, five?”
you turn, your stomach sinking as you realize it’s not karina, but felix who is doing a poor imitation of her usual teasing. his tone lacks the playful edge, replaced with something harsher, meaner.
“seriously, you’re still into that kid stuff?” jake sneers, towering over you. “what, got nothing better to do with your life?”
you try to laugh it off, shaking your head. “just having fun, guys.”
“yeah, real fun,” taehyun mutters. “no wonder karina only talks to you to make fun of you.”
you flinch at that, the words cutting deeper than you expected. before you can think of a response, someone else steps in.
“hey! back off,” yunjin shouts, marching over with fire in her eyes. “what’s your problem?”
they all look momentarily startled, but jake just shrugs. “we were just joking around, yunjin. it’s not a big deal.”
“well, it’s not fucking funny to me,” yunjin snaps, her voice loud enough to draw attention. “and if i see you messing with her again, you’ll have to deal with me. got it?”
they mumble a few half-hearted apologies before retreating, clearly not expecting to get yelled at in public.
yunjin turns to you, her expression softening. “are you okay?”
“yeah,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. “i’m fine.”
your roommate isn’t convinced, knowing you better than anyone else. she pulls you aside and demands to know if this has been happening often. you try to brush it off, insisting it’s just dumb teasing, but she’s not having it.
“i’m telling karina,” she says, her voice firm.
“don’t,” you plead, but she’s already walking off, determined to set things right. “it literally just started today!”
when yunjin finds karina, she doesn’t hold back. “your stupid jock friends have been picking on y/n,” she says bluntly. “all thanks to your teasing.”
karina’s eyes narrow instantly. “what? who?”
“those idiots on the football team,” yunjin explains, crossing her arms. “they think it’s funny to imitate you.”
karina’s expression darkens, a mixture of anger and something else — something protective. “where is she?”
“probably at lunch by now,” yunjin replies. “but karina, don’t just—”
“i’m going,” karina interrupts, her voice leaving no room for argument. she stalks off toward the cafeteria, her jaw set and her steps quick.
you’re sitting alone in the cafeteria, picking at your food and trying not to let the earlier incident get to you, but before you can get too lost in your thoughts, you hear a familiar voice.
“hey assholes,” karina calls sharply, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “got something to say to y/n here?”
you look up, startled, as she strides over to your table with the same jocks from before trailing behind her. they look a lot less cocky now, their heads bowed in a mix of embarrassment and fear.
“uh, we’re sorry,” felix mumbles first, barely making eye contact. “we were just messing around.”
yunjin’s eyes flash dangerously. “yeah? well, don’t. she’s off-limits.”
“seriously,” karina deadpans, her arms crossed - voice cold and mean. “if i see you pricks messing around with her again, you can say goodbye to your scholarships.”
you sit there, stunned and unsure of how to react. you weren’t expecting this; definitely not karina marching in like a one-woman army to defend you.
the boys mumble a few more apologies before scurrying off, leaving you alone with karina and yunjin.
karina lets out a slow breath, her expression still serious. “you okay?”
“i’m fine,” you say, still processing everything. “you didn’t have to do that.”
“yes, i did,” karina replies, her voice softer now. “and…i’m sorry.”
you blink, caught off guard by the sudden apology. “for what?”
“for making it seem like it’s okay to be mean to you,” she says, her tone unusually sincere. “i didn’t mean for it to go that far.”
you shrug, trying to play it off. “it’s fine. i know you were just messing around.”
“still,” she insists, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “i don’t want you to feel like that. not because of me.”
you manage a small smile, the warmth in her voice easing the lingering hurt. “thanks.”
karina looks almost relieved, her smile returning in full force. “so, we’re good?”
“we’re good,” you confirm, feeling a strange mix of gratitude.
and as karina sits down next to you, the rest of the girls start joining in.
you’re sitting in the crowded lunch hall, trying to enjoy your chips while listening to giselle talk about some wild party they’re planning. as usual, karina is scrolling through her phone like she’s half-bored, half-amused by everything around her.
you pop another chip into your mouth and crunch loudly, completely unaware of how it sounds in the echoing hall.
“jesus, y/n,” karina suddenly blurts out, her voice louder than necessary and back to her usual self. “could you chew any louder? i’m pretty sure they can hear you in the next building.”
you pause mid-chew, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. “sorry,” you mumble, covering your mouth with your hand. “i didn’t realize it was that bad.”
she rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at her lips. “you sound like a woodchipper. it’s a miracle i’m still sitting next to you.”
“you could always move,” you say, trying to sound unfazed.
“nah,” she replies, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “someone’s gotta keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t choke on those chips.”
you catch the faintest smirk on her face, and despite her words, you can’t help but smile. “you’re all heart, karina.”
she shrugs, pretending not to care. “you’re lucky i like charity cases.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
one day, karina manages to pull you out of your room and invites you over at the campus skate park. she’s doing tricks on her board like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you, on the other hand, are struggling just to stand on the board without wobbling like a newborn deer.
“come on, y/n,” she taunts, skating over to you with a smirk. “it’s not that hard. just balance, push off, and roll. even a baby can handle that.”
“easy for you to say,” you mutter, trying not to fall over.
she rolls her eyes but skates closer, reaching out to steady you. “here, let me show you. put one foot here, and the other here,” she instructs, positioning your feet.
you follow her instructions, but as soon as you try to push off, you lose your balance and crash to the ground with a loud thud.
her teasing expression instantly shifts to one of panic, her eyes wide as she crouches down next to you. “oh my god, are you okay? did you break anything?”
“just my dignity,” you groan, rubbing your sore butt.
“idiot,” she mutters, but there’s no heat in her voice. she offers you a hand, pulling you back up with surprising gentleness. “you scared me, you know.”
“didn’t think you cared,” you tease, but there’s a warmth in your chest at her reaction.
“well, someone’s gotta keep you from killing yourself,” she says, her tone gruff but her grip lingering on your arm a bit longer than necessary. “just…try not to die, okay? i’m not ready to be a witness to your embarrassing end.”
“don’t worry,” you reply with a grin. “i’ll keep falling just to see that worried look on your face.”
she scoffs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that creeps across her lips. “you’re impossible.”
“and you’re mean,” you say, but there’s no real bite behind it.
“yeah, well,” she says, stepping back onto her board. “i only pick on the ones i like, loser.”
you watch as she skates away, your heart doing an odd little flip.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it’s a rare moment of downtime in aespa’s usual whirlwind of rehearsals and chaos. the four of them are lounging in the practice room, sipping on energy drinks and half-heartedly tuning their instruments. giselle’s strumming random chords on her guitar, winter’s scrolling through her phone, and ningning’s lounging on the floor, doing absolutely nothing.
karina’s leaning against the wall, her eyes distant and her expression unusually serious. she’s been quieter than usual lately, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by the others.
“yo karina,” giselle suddenly says, breaking the silence. “what’s up your ass? you’re freaking me out.”
“nothing,” karina replies quickly, a little too quickly.
“oh, please,” winter scoffs, looking up from her phone. “this is about y/n, isn’t it?”
karina’s face stiffens, and she tries to play it off with an eye roll. “why would it be about her?”
“uh, maybe because you’ve been obsessed with her for weeks?” ningning chimes in, smirking. “seriously, the way you look at her, it’s like you’re trying to set her on fire with your eyes.”
karina’s cheeks flush slightly, but she keeps her expression neutral. “i just think she’s funny, that’s all.”
“sure,” giselle says, drawing out the word like she’s speaking to a child. “and i think jacob elordi is funny too.”
she glares at her, but it’s half-hearted. “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“oh, come on,” ningning continues, sitting up and crossing her legs. “it’s obvious you like her. the teasing, the constant calling her a loser, that thing where you get all weirdly protective of her? classic crush behavior.”
karina scowls, hating how transparent she apparently is. “she’s interesting.”
“interesting, huh?” winter teases, raising an eyebrow. “interesting enough to make you lose your cool every time she’s around.”
“whatever,” she mutters, turning away slightly. but her attempt at indifference only makes the others laugh harder.
“you know, y/n’s actually not bad-looking,” ningning comments casually. “she’s kind of cute in that nerdy way.”
“if she cut her hair a little and maybe wore something that wasn’t a hoodie three sizes too big,” giselle adds, grinning, “she’d probably have all the girls swooning.”
karina’s jaw tightens at that, her mood shifting from defensive to something closer to possessive. “she doesn’t need to change anything,” she says flatly.
“ohhh,” winter coos, catching the change in her tone. “you know, i actually heard a couple of girls in my class talking about how cute y/n is. one of them even said she’d ask her out if she got the chance.”
“what?” karina snaps, her eyes narrowing. “who said that?”
winter grins, delighted by karina’s reaction. “oh, i don’t know. just some girls, but they sounded pretty serious.”
karina stands up abruptly, her whole body tense. “which class is this?”
“whoa, chill,” giselle laughs, her eyes wide with amusement. “you’re not actually jealous, are you?”
her expression is a mix of annoyance and something deeper. “i just don’t like the idea of people trying to mess with her, that’s all.”
“sure,” ningning says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “and i’m sure this sudden urge to go find her has nothing to do with jealousy.”
“whatever,” karina mutters again, already heading for the door. “i’ll be back.”
“where are you going?” winter calls after her, though she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.
“to make sure y/n’s okay,” karina replies over her shoulder, her voice leaving no room for argument.
the other members burst into laughter as she disappears down the hall, clearly unable to resist the pull she feels toward you.
she makes her way to the building where she knows your class is held. she doesn’t exactly know which room you’re in, but that doesn’t stop her from pacing the hallway, her eyes darting to every door like she’s on a mission.
she leans against the wall, trying to play it cool, but her mind is racing. the thought of someone else being interested in you makes her blood boil in a way she doesn’t fully understand. it’s not like she’s made her own intentions clear, but the idea of you with someone else, it just doesn’t sit right.
she waits outside the classroom building for what feels like an eternity, her patience wearing thin. students start filtering out, and karina’s eyes scan each face, looking for you. she feels a strange mix of anticipation and anxiety, and she hates it.
finally, she spots you. you’re walking out with your head down, clutching a book to your chest. when you look up and see karina, your eyes widen in surprise.
“karina?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “what are you doing here?”
she shrugs, trying to act casual despite the fact that she’s clearly been waiting for you. “just passing by.”
“really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “you’re ‘just passing by’ outside my class?”
karina scratches the back of her neck, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “maybe i wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna trip over on the way to your next class.”
“are you serious?”
her expression shifts slightly, her usual confidence faltering. “maybe.”
you can’t help but smile, a mixture of disbelief and amusement on your face. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?”
“i know, i’ll walk you to your class anyways.
and for the first time, there’s no teasing, no sarcasm, just a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
it’s a lazy afternoon, and you and karina are sitting on the floor of your dorm, legs stretched out as you dive into a bag of cheetos.
yunjin left the room to run errands, leaving you and karina in rare company. she came over to drop something off to yunjin, band stuff they said, even though your roommate could not be in one for the life of her.
“these are so good,” you mumble, licking the orange dust off your fingers as you looked at the screen in front of you.
karina watches you with an expression that’s equal parts disgusted and fascinated. “you’re a mess,” she comments, her tone as dry as ever.
“thanks,” you reply cheerfully, taking another handful of cheetos. but as you reach for your drink, you accidentally brush karina’s arm with your cheetos-stained fingers.
she flinches dramatically, her eyes wide. “oh my god, you did not just touch me with those filthy fingers.”
you stare at her, half-amused, half-embarrassed. “oh, come on. it’s not like it’s toxic waste.”
“might as well be,” she snaps, though there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “look at what you did!” she adds, pointing at the faint cheeto dust now smeared on her porcelain skin.
“sorry,” you laugh, grabbing a tissue and trying to wipe it off, only for karina to pull back like you’re trying to brand her.
“don’t touch me!”
“you’re such a drama queen,” you say, still laughing.
she scowls, but there’s no real anger behind it. “one of these days, you’re going to have to find someone else to hang out with.”
“and one of these days, you’re gonna admit you like hanging out with me, cheetos fingers and all,” you retort.
“don’t push your lock, loser,” her eyes narrow, but she can’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “come to our gig this weekend, please?”
you shook your head - unfortunately, you had plans. “i can’t, i promised mina i’d join her party tonight.”
and within a second, karina inches closer towards you — burning holes through your face. “mina? party? what?”
“oh, not that kind of party,” you don’t pick up on the way her tone changes. “it’s a chat party, we’re gonna play games all night and —“
“who is this mina?”
“she’s from japan, really cool and she sings too, sometimes she sends me legos from japan.”
“no, you’re coming to our gig,” she shakes her head, not wanting to hear another girl’s name coming out of your mouth. “and that’s final, yes?”
“yes, okay,” the directness catches you off guard but it doesn’t take long to convince you, specially if karina and her dirty stares are involved. plus, you could always join mina’s party later on.
a strange mix of emotions start brewing in your stomach — guilt, excitement and something you can’t quite name. you’ve never been good at reading people, and with karina, everything feels even more complicated. you’ve never liked anyone before, not like this, and the whole thing is so new, so raw. you don’t know if her insistence is just about wanting you in the crowd, or if it means something more.
you’re still trying to process it when karina stands up, stretching lazily. “i should probably get going,” she says, grabbing her jacket from the back of the couch. “ningning’s angry spamming me, i’m late to practice.”
“yeah,” you reply, watching her as she heads for the door. “have fun.”
“can i come over again later?”
you smile, feeling a heap of butterflies down your stomach. “anytime.”
she gives you one last, lingering look before she leaves, and you’re left alone in the suddenly too-quiet space, your mind racing with questions you don’t know how to answer as you head back to your room and turn your console on.
yunjin returns a while later, looking a bit worn out but still cheerful. “hey, i’m back,” she calls, tossing her keys on the table before popping her head in your room. “did i miss anything?”
you hesitate for a moment, then decide to just spill it. “karina invited me to their gig this weekend.”
her eyebrows shoot up. “and? are you going?”
“yeah,” you admit, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion. “she was really keen about it.”
she studies you for a moment, then sits down next to you, her expression serious. “what’s going on, y/n?”
“i just don’t get her,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “one minute she’s mean, the next she’s nice. and now she’s acting all weird about me going to her gig. and she comes here to hang out with me but i know she’s a heartbreaker and i don’t want —“
“she likes you,” yunjin cuts you off bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“but what does that even mean?” you ask, feeling a surge of frustration. “i’ve never…don’t know how to deal with this. why?”
“it means she wants you there because she cares about you,” she explains patiently. “you know you’re a catch right? she even gets jealous when other girls are around you.”
“jealous?” you repeat, the word feeling foreign in this context.
“yes, jealous,” yunjin confirms, nodding. “karina’s not used to feeling like she’s not the center of someone’s attention, especially yours.”
you let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping. “this is all so confusing. i’ve never liked anyone before. i don’t know what to do.”
“you don’t have to do anything,” yunjin reassures you, her voice gentle. “just be honest with yourself. if you like her, let yourself like her. don’t overthink it.”
“easier said than done,” you mutter.
“i know,” yunjin agrees, her expression sympathetic. “but maybe this is one of those things you have to figure out as you go.”
you nod slowly, feeling a small sense of comfort in her words. “yeah, maybe.”
and as you sit there, replaying the conversation with karina in your mind, you realise that yunjin might be right. maybe this is something you have to navigate one step at a time, no matter how uncertain it feels. because despite everything, one thing is clear: you want to be there, even if you’re not entirely sure what it means.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the weekend arrives faster than you expect, and soon enough, you’re standing outside the venue for aespa’s gig. the usual nerves are there, made worse by the fact that this time, karina explicitly asked you to be here. yunjin’s with you, chatting excitedly about the show as you both head inside. your mind is elsewhere, tangled up in all the uncertainty that karina’s invitation has stirred up.
“you okay?” yunjin asks, nudging your shoulder as you both make your way to the backstage area.
“yeah,” you lie, forcing a smile. “nervous, i guess.”
“don’t worry,” she reassures you. “it’s gonna be fun, at least you’re finally with me instead of that musty corner.”
you try to take her words to heart, but as you step backstage, a new wave of anxiety hits. the chaotic energy of the crew prepping for the show is overwhelming, and you can’t seem to spot karina anywhere.
“she’s probably getting ready,” yunjin suggests, noticing your fidgeting.
“maybe,” you mutter, but something feels off.
you’ve been backstage before, but never like this. tonight, it’s different because you know karina specifically wants you here, which only makes her absence feel sharper.
after a few more minutes pass and there’s still no sign of karina, you make a decision. “i’m gonna go look for her,” you tell the girls.
“want me to come with?” winter asks.
you shake your head. “no, it’s fine. i’ll be quick.”
you wander through the backstage area, dodging equipment and crew members as you make your way toward the quieter sections.
that’s when you spot them: karina, standing in a dark corner with another girl, their heads close together.
a sinking feeling forma in your chest. something about the way they’re standing feels too intimate, like you’re intruding on a private moment. you can’t make out their conversation, but then you hear your name.
“y/n? really?” the girl scoffs, her voice dripping with disdain. “you’re actually interested in that loser?”
you recognise the voice now — it’s soyeon, karina’s ex. the one you’d seen flirting with karina before, she was the ex.
karina’s voice is low, almost defensive. “she’s not a loser.”
“could’ve fooled me,” soyeon replies, her tone harsh. “come on, karina, you know she’s just a rebound.”
you feel your face flush, a mix of anger and humiliation burning in your chest. part of you wants to step forward, to confront them both, but your feet feel like they’re stuck to the ground.
then, suddenly, soyeon closes the gap between them, her lips crashing against karina’s. for a moment, karina doesn’t pull away. instead, she seems to hesitate, caught between resisting and giving in.
that’s all it takes for you to turn and leave, your heart pounding in your chest. you push your way through the backstage crowd, barely registering yunjin calling after you. everything feels like a blur, like the world has tilted sideways and you’re the only one struggling to stay upright.
you’re back at your dorm before you even know how you got there. you slump onto your bed, trying to make sense of what you just saw. your emotions are a confusing mess of hurt, anger, and a crushing sense of betrayal.
all the uncertainty you’d been feeling, all the questions you’d tried to answer, now feel pointless.
you’re not sure how much time passes, mina and some of your friends are on the other end of the screen, but then there’s a loud knock at the door.
“y/n! open up!”
it’s karina’s voice, and she sounds angry.
“damn y/n,” mina chuckles. “who did you piss off?”
you hesitate for a moment, but then you get up and open the door. “i’ll be back guys, won’t be long,” you hear a bunch of ‘ooooh’s’ from them before pause.
your expression is blank when you open the door — karina storms in, her face flushed and her eyes filled with anger.
“why did you not show up?” she demands, her voice sharp. “i told you i wanted you there!”
“yeah, well,” you say, your voice colder than you intended. “i had a good reason.”
she frowns, clearly confused. “what are you talking about?”
“i saw you,” you snap, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “back there, with soyeon. i heard what she said, and then you kissed her.”
her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks genuinely shocked. “wait, you were there?”
“obviously,” you say bitterly, crossing your arms. “or do you just make out with your ex in front of your toys at every gig?”
karina’s face hardens, her anger replaced by a mix of guilt and frustration. “it wasn’t like that.”
“oh, really?” you challenge. “because it sure looked like that from where i was standing.”
“she came onto me,” karina insists, her voice desperate now. “i didn’t want it, y/n. you have to believe me, you mean so much more to me than you think.”
“i don’t have to do anything,” you say, feeling a surge of hurt rise up again. “you asked me to come, and then you turned around and kissed her. how am i supposed to believe anything you say?”
she runs a hand through her hair, her frustration evident. “it was a mistake, okay? i was just caught off guard.”
“well, congratulations,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “you definitely caught me off guard too.”
“please, y/n, you have to understand. i didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she takes a step closer, her expression pleading.
“it’s my fault for believing something.”
“what are you saying?” she asks, her voice almost panicked. “i do like you, way much more than i’d like to admit.”
“i don’t know if i can do this,” you admit, your chest tightening with the words. “i don’t know how to deal with all of this — specially not when you’re like this.”
karina’s face crumples slightly, but she tries to hold it together. “y/n, i’m sorry. i really am. i don’t know why i did it. maybe it’s because i’m a mess, but i don’t want to lose you.”
“you might have already,” you say, feeling tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but refusing to let them fall.
“don’t say that,” she whispers, her voice filled with a kind of desperation you’ve never heard before.
you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i need time, karina. i need to figure out what this means for me.”
her expression softens, and she nods slowly. “okay. i’ll give you time. just don’t shut me out completely, please.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
the days after the argument are rough, to say the least. you do everything you can to avoid karina —ducking into classrooms when you spot her in the hallway, sitting at different lunch tables, even changing your usual route to class.
the hurt and confusion from that night still linger, like a bruise that refuses to heal. you thought seeing her with soyeon would make things clearer, that it’d help you move on, but instead it’s just left you feeling hollow.
karina tries to reach out, of course. you get texts, missed calls, and the occasional knock on your dorm door that you pointedly ignore. the messages range from desperate pleas to frustrated demands, but you’re too tired to engage, too confused to even know where to begin.
“you can’t avoid her forever, you know,” yunjin says one evening as she flops down next to you on the couch.
“i’m doing a pretty good job of it so far,” you mumble, keeping your eyes fixed on your phone screen, pretending to be engrossed in bitlife.
“seriously, y/n,” she continues, her tone more concerned now. “you need to talk to her. she’s been a wreck.”
“oh, so now i’m supposed to feel bad for her?” you snap, the words more bitter than you intended.
she sighs, rubbing her temples. “no, but shutting her out completely isn’t going to fix anything. i know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but maybe there’s more to this than you realise.”
“more?” you ask incredulously. “like what? she kissed her ex. right after telling me she wanted me at the gig.”
“i get it, but people make mistakes. and from what the others told me, karina really does care about you and she’s really trying to show it.”
“well, she’s doing a great job of showing the opposite,” you snap, leaning back into the couch.
“you need to hear her out,” she insists. “even if it’s just to get closure.”
“yeah, maybe.”
the next day, you’re in the middle of a study session in the library when giselle, winter and ningning appear, sliding into the chairs across from you. you glance up, already dreading what’s coming.
“we need to talk,” ningning says, her voice gentle but firm.
you sigh, closing your textbook. “if this is about karina, i don’t want to hear it.”
“too bad,” giselle replies, folding her arms. “because we’re not here for your approval. we’re here to make you face reality.”
you glare at her, but there’s no real anger behind it, just exhaustion. “and what’s reality, exactly?”
“reality is that karina’s a mess without you,” winter speaks, her eyes sincere. “she’s been snapping at everyone, barely talking to us. it’s like she doesn’t know how to function.”
“and you think that’s my problem?” you ask, trying to sound indifferent.
“yes,” giselle answers bluntly. “because whether you want to admit it or not, you care about her.”
“i don’t know if i do anymore,” you confess, your voice small.
“you do,” winter says softly. “and she knows she messed up. she’s trying to fix it, but she can’t if you won’t even talk to her.”
you feel a pang of guilt at their words, but the hurt from seeing karina and soyeon still lingers, like a wound that hasn’t scabbed over yet. “i don’t know if i can forgive her.”
“no one’s saying you have to forgive her right away,” ningnint replies, her tone surprisingly gentle. “talk to her. let her explain.”
later that night, you’re alone in your room, staring at your phone. karina’s last text is still on the screen: “please, y/n. just talk to me. i miss you.”
you close your eyes, trying to fight the urge to respond. everything about this situation feels messy and complicated, and you hate it. you’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you don’t know how to navigate it. the push and pull of your emotions is exhausting, and you’re torn between wanting to hear her out and wanting to protect yourself from more hurt.
as you sit there, you hear yunjin’s words echoing in your head: “you need to hear her out, even if it’s just to get closure.”
you let out a frustrated sigh, tossing your phone onto the bed. you know she’s right, and deep down, you know that ignoring karina isn’t going to make the pain go away.
the next morning, you wake up with a sense of determination you haven’t felt in days. you’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive karina, but you know you can’t keep running from her either.
you spend most of the day debating when and where you’ll finally confront karina. your nerves are on edge, your thoughts a jumbled mess of everything you want to say, but also everything you’re afraid to admit.
after your last class, you find yourself making your way toward the music building. it’s the only place you’re sure karina will be — probably rehearsing with the others, maybe alone. the whole walk there, your heart hammers in your chest, and you can’t stop fidgeting with the strap of your bag.
you’ve rehearsed a thousand things to say in your head, but as you approach the familiar practice room, your mind goes blank. for a brief moment, you consider turning around and leaving. but before you can talk yourself out of it, the door swings open.
karina stands there, her eyes widening in surprise. for a second, neither of you speaks.
“y/n,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper.
you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “can we talk?”
“yeah,” she says immediately, stepping aside to let you in. the room is empty, dimly lit, and filled with the lingering sound of guitar chords from earlier practice.
you both take a seat on the edge of the small stage, the air heavy with tension. karina’s gaze is cautious, like she’s afraid of making the wrong move.
“i know i don’t have the right to ask anything from you,” she starts, her voice low and raw. “but i really need you to hear me out.”
you nod slowly, bracing yourself for whatever she’s about to say.
“that night,” she continues, her eyes filled with regret, “i messed up. i let soyeon get too close, and i didn’t stop her soon enough. but i swear, y/n, it didn’t mean anything. it was a stupid moment of weakness.”
you feel a twinge of hurt, but you try to stay composed. “then why didn’t you pull away sooner?”
she looks down, as if the weight of your question is too much to bear. “i don’t know,” she admits, her voice breaking slightly. “maybe it’s because i was scared of how real things were getting with you. or maybe it’s because i’ve always been too good at sabotaging anything good in my life.”
“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask, feeling a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “just pretend it never happened?”
“no,” karina says quickly, shaking her head. “i don’t expect that. i want you to know that you’re not just another person to me. you’re not a rebound, and you’re not a distraction.”
you take a deep breath, trying to process her words. “then what am i, karina? because honestly, i have no idea where i stand with you.”
her eyes soften, voice quieter than before. “you’re the first person who’s made me want to try. really try. and that scares the hell out of me, but i don’t want to lose you.”
you sit there for a moment, the words hanging heavy in the air. this whole situation is still new, still confusing, but her sincerity feels more genuine than anything you’ve felt from her before.
“i’m scared too,” you finally admit, your voice barely audible. “i don’t know how to do this, karina. i’ve never liked anyone before. not like this.”
her expression softens further, and she reaches out hesitantly, her hand stopping just short of yours. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. i just want to be honest with you. and if you’re willing to give me another chance, i promise i’ll do better.”
“okay,” you say quietly, finally meeting her gaze. “one chance, karina. that’s all you get.”
her eyes light up with a mix of relief and something else, something that looks a lot like hope. “i won’t mess it up. i swear.”
you manage a small smile, feeling a tiny weight lift from your chest. “we’ll see.”
the days that follow are tentative, filled with awkward moments and intimate conversations. karina is different now — not softer, exactly, but more attentive. she tries to be less mean in her teasing, though the familiar edge still slips out sometimes.
“nice shoes,” she says one morning as you’re both walking to class. “you finally decide to wear something that doesn’t look like it came from a dumpster?”
you roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite in her words anymore. “you’re still terrible at compliments.”
“working on it,” she admits with a smile.
the rest of the girls notice the shift too, specially yunjin, who seems pleased with the progress.
“told you it’d work out,” she says one evening as you both sit in your dorm, watching another episode of the witcher.
“we’re not exactly there yet,” you warn, but there’s a small smile on your lips.
“well, you’re getting there,” yunjin replies confidently. “and that’s enough for now.”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*
then comes another gig, this time with less anxiety and more anticipation. you’re backstage again, but this time, karina finds you before the show starts.
“you came,” she says, a genuine smile breaking across her face.
“of course i did,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “i said i’d give you a chance, didn’t i?”
her eyes soften, and she reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “and i’m not wasting it.” as she heads for the stage, she throws a glance over her shoulder. “stay close this time.”
when the music starts, you find yourself smiling, the weight of the past few weeks finally beginning to lift. you don’t have all the answers yet, but for now, just being here feels like enough.
the end.
#karina imagines#karina x reader#kpop x reader#aespa imagines#aespa x reader#kpop gg#aespa#kpop imagines#karina
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vacations with osc | l.n.
synopsis: in which Lando finally agrees to go on vacation with Oscar and Lily
a/n: based in this request! i'm really sorry if it sucks, but it was really rushed and i did my best
my masterlist
Lando had always had a great bond with each of his teammates ever since he joined Formula 1.
He was always the younger one in the team and he was always taken under Carlos’ or Daniel’s wing.
When Oscar joined the team, Lando was more than happy to play the big brother for the young Aussie, making sure his transition into F1 went as smoothly as possible.
The dynamic between the two of them was refreshing, too. Oscar was very introverted and quiet, which is the complete opposite of what Lando was, talkative and loud and energetic. They balanced each other out perfectly, and you had noticed Oscar slowly coming out of his shell as time went by and he got more comfortable around your boyfriend.
They weren’t best friends, but they had become friends, maybe even close friends at that.
Which is why it didn’t come as a surprise to you when Lando told you that Oscar and Lily would be joining you in Mallorca for 1 week during the summer break.
To say that you were excited to spend some time with Lily was an understatement. You two had become the beloved McLaren wags, always together whenever Lily would have some free time and would join Oscar for races.
She was the sweetest person ever, her personality fitting Oscar’s perfectly, and she was such a kind person to talk to. She made the weekend more fun for you because you constantly had someone to share opinions with that wasn’t part of the official team of mechanics.
When it was time to finally leave for Mallorca, the 4 of you flew there together, which meant utter chaos on the plane from Lando and Oscar.
“Osc, that’s not how you play, mate” Lando was raging out over playing UNO with Oscar, the both of them operating on their own set of rules.
“Don’t tell me how to play UNO, mate. The rules say that I can put down a +2 over your own +2” Oscar argued, staring incredulously at your boyfriend.
You and Lily were both silently watching your boyfriends bicker and fight over the cards, snickering and whispering quietly so they wouldn’t hear you.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Oscar so worked up about something before” you whispered to Lily, watching the heated exchange between them out of the corner of your eye.
She giggled, nodding her head.
“He’s really passionate about UNO, so he basically turns into a menace whenever he plays” she explained, making you nod.
A couple more minutes passed and the boys had finally come to an agreement, now silently analyzing their cards.
Lando was not the best player when it came to UNO or any card game in general, but he was damned if he was going to let Oscar beat him at something.
The rest of the flight was spent in the same manner, the boys arguing over game rules and you and Lily just gossiping away from the chaos.
Upon touching down, the four of you got into different cars that had been waiting for you at the airport and drove towards the villa you had rented for the week.
As soon as you stepped foot into the house, both Oscar and Lando immediately ran upstairs, screaming at each other about who was claiming which bedroom. You and Lily looked at each other, shaking your heads at the little children you both called your boyfriends.
After you girls unpacked your suitcases and put on your swimsuits, you dragged Lando and Oscar down at the beach, which was a mere 2 minute walk from the house you had rented, eager to not waste any time to get some sun.
While walking towards the shore looking for a good spot, you fell into step with Lando behind Lily and Oscar, taking his hand into yours.
“It was nice of you to invite them” you murmured quietly to him, making sure your friends were out of earshot.
Lando smiled and nodded, looking at the young Aussie with fond eyes.
“He’s a good kid. I know how tough it is to be the new guy, so I wanted to make sure he felt welcome and he was comfortable with me. We do have to help each other, at the end of the day, for the sake of the team” he explained, making you nod in understanding.
It was true. Even though on track it was everyone out for themselves, Oscar and Lando had massive respect for each other and, at the end of the day, they both had to do their best for the team, make sure that even though they were competing against each other, they didn’t forget to work together when necessary for the benefit of the team.
And you were glad they got along as well as they did.
The way went by as smoothly as any vacation day would.
You and Lily spent the entire day enjoying the sun and tanning while the boys joined you or played in the water for a while.
But they both mainly just watched the two of you, engaged in a passionate conversation about the latest books you’d both read, Lily’s studies and her work, gossiping about what you’d heard in the paddock and catching Lily up with everything she had missed.
It was a sight to behold for the two young men, who were both thinking the same thing: how did we get so lucky with them?
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#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#lando norris blurb#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x y/n#op81#oscar piastri#lando norris mclaren#lando norris drabble#lando norris one shot#landoscar#ln4#ln4 mcl#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#mclaren#lando norris
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Perhaps some Buddie “I didn’t know where else to go” if you so wish? Love your writing!!
(buddie) (975 words) (edit: now featuring eddie pov!)
cw: vague description of a very bad car accident
Buck is exhausted and aching and, at this exact moment, extremely confused.
Eddie, illuminated only by the flashing blue and red of the police car idling in his driveway, looks wrecked. The phone pressed to his ear slides through his fingers and clatters to the ground.
“Buck,” he says, only it sounds less like his name and more like a sob.
He launches himself forward and wraps Buck in a hug so tight it hurts. He presses his hand to the back of Buck’s head and buries his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. A shaky exhale ghosts across his skin.
“Eddie,” Buck says, tentatively returning the hug, “what—what’s wrong?”
A choked sob wracks his body.
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, alarmed. “What is it? Is Chris—“
“No,” Eddie gasps, “no, it’s—“ Another sob interrupts his speech. He doesn’t let go.
“Eddie, what?” Buck asks desperately.
He pulls back, just far enough to look Buck in the eye. His cheeks are tear stained and red and Buck’s really starting to panic because he’s only ever seen him like this once and—
“I thought— you— god, Buck, I thought you were—“ He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re here,” he says shakily.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” Buck replies helplessly.
Eddie takes a few deep, shuddering breaths. “I saw—it was on the news. They weren’t sure there were any survivors,” he whispers.
Buck’s stomach drops. “Eddie,” he says, unable to keep the devastation out of his voice.
“And then your Jeep was—“ Eddie continues haltingly. “I tried to call you.”
“I lost my phone,” Buck breathes. “I—I’m sorry.”
“God, Buck, you don’t need to—fuck.” Eddie lets go of him and drags his fingers through the tear tracks on his cheeks. “You’re here,” he says, something like wonder coloring his tone, “that’s everything.”
All at once, the exhaustion that’s settled into his bones threatens to bowl him over. “Can we—“ He gestures to the still open door.
“Yeah, of course, I—“ Eddie takes another breath and grabs Buck’s wrist.
Buck scoops Eddie’s phone up off the stoop and allows himself to be pulled into the living room.
“Was it as bad as it looked?” Eddie asks quietly once they’ve settled on the couch.
“Worse, probably,” Buck admits.
Black tags had outnumbered the green three to one. He’d’ve been one, probably, if his Jeep hadn’t gotten pinned between a Prius and the guard wall. The several minutes it took him to shatter his windshield and clamber out were the only thing between him and the tanker when it exploded.
By the time the 136 arrived, there wasn’t much left to save.
Eddie takes Buck’s face in his hands and tips forward until their foreheads touch. “Thank you,” he breathes.
“I got lucky,” Buck replies. So fucking lucky.
“Thank you for coming here,” Eddie clarifies.
“Where else?” Buck asks.
Eddie tenses. “Shit,” he says. “Your sister.”
For a moment, he doesn’t understand, but then Eddie’s scrambling for his phone and it hits him like a ton of bricks. She must think—
The call connects before the first ring finishes.
“Eddie,” Maddie gasps down the line, “is—“
“It’s me,” Buck says quickly. “I’m fine, Maddie, I’m okay.”
“Oh thank god,” Maddie says. Her voice cracks, and with it, Buck’s heart.
“I’m sorry,” Buck says. A tear slips down his cheek.
“Evan,” Maddie says, and yeah, that just about covers it.
“We need to call Bobby too,” Eddie says, a little mechanically.
“Of course,” Maddie says. “Thank you,” she continues in a rush. “Thank you both.”
The call ends and Buck takes a shaky breath. “You all saw it?” he asks.
Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, just— just me.” He stares down as his white-knuckled hands. “When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I…” Eddie trails off.
On instinct, Buck takes one of his hands. “I’m okay,” he says quietly.
“Let me—after we call Bobby?” Eddie asks.
Buck nods. “You can make sure,” he whispers.
With shaking hands, Eddie navigates to Bobby’s contact and taps call.
“Bobby,” Buck says as soon as it connects.
“Kid,” Bobby answers with palpable relief.
“I’m okay,” Buck continues. “I’m with Eddie,” he adds unnecessarily.
“That’s— thank God,” he says emphatically. “Athena!” He calls out, a little muffled.
Buck swallows harshly. “I’m sorry I scared everyone,” he says.
“You’re okay,” Bobby says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”
Eddie meets Buck’s eye and gives him a slow nod.
“Okay,” Buck says. “Okay.”
He talks to Bobby and Athena for another few minutes while Eddie grabs his first aid kit from the bathroom. It takes him a little longer than it should, and when he comes back, his eyes are a little more red and swollen.
They end the call and Buck lets himself be manipulated into a better position for Eddie to check him out. His eyes slip shut as Eddie methodically checks his vitals.
“Shirt,” Eddie says quietly after a few minutes, pressing his palm gently to the center of Buck’s chest.
Buck dutifully sheds his jacket and pulls the t-shirt over his head. As soon as it’s off, Eddie sucks in a sharp breath.
“That bad?” Buck asks.
Eddie reaches out and trails a gentle finger along the already purpling bruise that stretches diagonally across his torso. He shakes his head.
“It could be a lot worse,” he murmurs. His expression shifts minutely, and he swallows.
Buck catches his hand and presses it to his chest, right over his heart. “I’m okay,” he says. “I’m alive.”
Eddie closes his eyes and brings his other hand to Buck’s cheek. “I don’t want to say it like this,” he says.
“Eddie,” Buck replies. He aches.
“But…” he continues. “Stay?”
“Always,” Buck breathes.
Eddie pulls him into another tight hug. His shoulders shake.
#thank you anon!!#i hope you like it :)#abbie answers#abbie writes#911#buddie#buddiefic#buddie fic#fic#it is possible there will be more to this one 👀
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They’ve got the little window over the sink open and Bobby keeps calling through it, asking for ingredients, utensils. Eddie clatters around the cabinet by the fridge.
“Third shelf,” Bobby says again, elbow on the sill. It doesn’t help any more than the first time he said it.
“I don’t even- Bobby, I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just- you can’t just use a normal spatula?”
“The flexibility and sharp edge of a fish spatula,” Bobby says, also for the second time, with a strained sort of patience, “Is perfect for sliding under-”
Buck’s arm reaches over Eddie’s shoulder and plucks a long slotted spatula from Bobby’s elaborate and baffling collection. “Got it.” He kisses the side of Eddie’s head as he keeps moving, lips catching the top of his ear. “It’s better for-”
“Pancakes, fritters, any sort of delicate patty, yeah, yeah, I heard.”
Bobby and Buck grin at him with identical raised eyebrows, it's kind of uncanny. “He’s not hopeless after all.”
“I do my best,” Buck says, smacking Eddie on the back and heading towards the door. “He’s come a long way.”
Eddie crosses his arms. “I don’t have to keep handing you shit. We’re not at work. I could make you walk inside every time.”
Bobby grins wider. “And I could give you all the burnt tater tots.”
Eddie pouts. “I’m reporting you to HR for unfair retaliation in response to labor concerns.”
“We’re not at work,” Bobby says, serenely. “Hand me the tenderizer.”
Eddie was sent in here, originally, like half an hour ago, to cut up the two giant watermelons Hen and Karen had brought direct from the farmers market, but he’d only got the knife halfway through the first one when the side quests started coming. He finally returns to the cutting board as Buck and Bobby’s voice drift further away, towards the grill. He cuts the thing in half and then stares at it so long he jumps a foot in the air when Maddie suddenly appears next to him.
“Woah,” she laughs. “What secrets of the universe does that watermelon hold?”
Eddie coughs out a chuckle. “I was just- debating the best shape to eat.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Big choice. Little cubes? Little cubes are nice. Or, like, slices?”
“I’ve always been a fan of a nice wedge.”
Maddie makes a triangle shape with her hands. “It is a classic.”
“Kind of makes your plate top heavy, though.”
“You’ve got two watermelons,” she points out.
“Wedges and cubes,” Eddie nods. “I like your way of thinking.”
She grabs a bowl from a different cupboard — why does everyone know this kitchen so well already? This is the new Grant-Nash residence house warming party, Eddie’s got lost on the way to the bathroom like three times since he got here — as he cubes the first melon. “How was the movie?”
“Hm?”
“Didn’t you and Buck go see Conclave earlier? The trailer looked interesting.”
“Oh, yeah.” Eddie scoops the cubes into the bowl and rinses his hands off before starting in on wedges.
Maddie laughs behind him. “… and how was it?”
“Oh! Uh- yeah, I mean- you know, horror movies, they’re fun.”
Maddie tilts her head. “Wait, wasn’t that one a drama?”
“Uh-”
“Wait.” She wrinkles her nose. “Were you just- were you making out with my brother literally the whole time?”
Eddie, hands up, gives her a bare teeth grimace of a smile as she cackles and whacks him with a towel. “Hey- I mean, I kind of looked up once, they were in some sort of- I don’t know, a theater or something? It was really dark in there? It looked kind of creepy.”
“Oh my god.”
“There’s a lot of Catholicism themed horror movies,” Eddie weakly tries to defend himself. “How was I supposed to know?”
“By watching it!” She laughs. “Why spend the $12?”
“My air conditioning is broken,” Eddie says sheepishly. “And it was 10 AM on a weekday, the only other person in there was 80 years old and snored through most of it.” He frowns. “Which also makes more sense if it wasn’t- I don’t know, I thought it was like The Conjuring?”
She laughs again, helpless giggles while she covers her face. Her daughter laughs the same way sometimes. “Don’t you have catholic guilt? Wasn’t that a thing?”
Eddie shrugs. “My abuela always says once I commit to something I never do it by half.”
“So, making out all through a movie about the pope?”
Eddie points at her. “Gay making out all through a movie about the pope.” He frowns again. “Damn, it was really about the pope? Okay I’m not- look, I’m not feeling guilty about that but, uh, if you ever talk to my grandmother or Pepa, uh-”
“I don’t think it would come up,” she says, patting his shoulder.
“They’re not- it’s- they wouldn’t like me making out with a girl during a pope movie, either, it’s not the gay thing.”
“I know, Eddie,” she says, more kind than teasing. “Everybody’s really happy for you,” kinder still.
“Oh.” His cheeks are probably bright red. “Uh. Thank you.” His ears burn as he busies himself with the watermelon again. “You know- I wouldn’t’ve got here, without Buck.”
Maddie comes close, presses their elbows together until he looks back up at her. “He deserves someone who doesn’t commit to things halfway.”
It makes Eddie laugh with soft edges, because: “I think… I’ve always been all the way, with him.”
She smiles so wide her nose crunches. “I know.”
There’s a tap at the window, and there he is, Buck himself. His nose is a little pink from the late October heat, he’s smiling real big. “Hi.”
“What do you want now?” Eddie’s tone is snappy but he’s sure his face is pure mush.
Buck sticks a thumb at Maddie. “Chim’s threatening to, and I quote, ‘eat five hundred tater tots,’” Buck pauses, presumably in service of Chim’s love of dramatic effect, then continues, “‘and then fall into a coma.’ So, like, if you wanna do something about that you might wanna get out there.”
“W-” Maddie starts to ask, and then shakes her head. She grabs the cube bowl. “At least he should have some fruit, too.” She flashes them a grin as she walks out the door, their laughter following.
When Eddie looks back at the window Buck has his chin in his hand, smiling at him. “What?” He laughs, ears hot again.
“Admiring the view,” Buck says, with the combination of flirtatious and earnest that Eddie has come to expect but is never prepared for. “Food’ll be up soon. Come and join us?”
Eddie leans forward over the sink. “Cap doesn’t need anything else?”
Buck shrugs, very close now. Eddie almost laughs wondering if he’s on his tiptoes in the dirt out there. “He can get his own shit. I’ll eat your burnt potatoes.”
Eddie closes the last half inch of distance and does laugh, right into Buck’s mouth. “We can share,” he says, magnanimous, because Buck’s always been all in, too. He can go halfsies, it’s only fair.
There’s shouting outside, Buck pulls back, drums on the windowsill. Smile, wink, turn. Eddie grabs the wedges, and hurries out the door.
(Ao3)
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hi! long time reader, first time submit-er :) could i request a dilf!wonwoo fic where you’re trying to get your kids out the door to trick or treat with a friend or a family member because you and wonwoo have a halloween party and you get self conscious that you don’t look hot enough in your costume but wonwoo disagrees? very fluffy, maybe even smutty if that works for you hehe
❀ Pairing: Dad!Wonwoo x Mom!reader
❀ Summary: For the first Halloween in years, you and Wonwoo are able to enjoy it together without the kids. When you feel a little nervous about your costume, Wonwoo is determined to show you that you’ve always been the sweetest thing.
❀ Word Count: 2,278
❀ Genre: Slice of Life, Married Couple/Parents
❀ Type: Smut, Fluff
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
❀ Warnings: Light mentions of anxiety regarding letting kids go trick-or-treating without them, slight body insecurity and light mentions of a skirt not fitting comfortably, sexually explicit content including oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, spitting, hair pulling, stupid and corny during sex.
❀ A/N: Hey so anyway I’m not even that big of a fan of dilf-teen or parent-fic but here we are and I am ACTUALLY VERY INTERESTED IN DAD WONWOO NOW. SO THIS IS NOW YOUR FAULT THAT I’M THINKING ABOUT IT. Also the visual of Jihoon with a kid on his shoulders sent me into an early grave.
❀ A/N 2: PLEASE THE BANNER IS NERDY BUT THEY’RE DRESSED AS COWBOYS OK LMFAO
❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliween
“Soonyoung, her crown!” You warn, watching as your friend smacks the plastic crown off Haen’s head. She doesn’t seem to notice, too busy digging her greedy little hands in the pocket of his tiger onesie where she knows she’ll find candy. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Soonyoung scoffs. His outrage is lessened by the ridiculous tiger onesie he’s in, the suit zipped to the neck and the hood pulled up over his head. He’s got Iseul in his arms, cradling her in her dragon costume as she pulls on his hood while Haen reveals a Jolly Rancher.
“Maybe we-”
Wonwoo’s hand on your lower back cuts you off as he steps through the door frame. He pitches his voice low and gentle as he crouches down, eye level with your eldest child. “Hey, no candy until after. We agreed, remember?”
Pouting, she shoves the candy back inside Soonyoung’s pocket. Behind him, Jihoon and Jeonghan snort. “Yes, daddy. Sorry, I excited.”
Mouth pressed firmly to hide your smile, you feel the overwhelming sense of love for her as she puts her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for Soonyoung to escort her down the steps and sidewalk to go trick-or-treating.
“We’ll be fine,” Soonyoung assures, pouting as he takes Haen’s hand and spins around. Your other friends hold out the empty buckets made to be filled with candy. “We promised we had them, and we do!”
Wonwoo stands, hand sliding up your back as he does. “You remember where the key is?”
“Yes, daddy,” Soonyoung calls over his shoulder. He passes Iseul to Jeonghan, who holds her far less precariously. “We’ll let you know when we’re back. Go out on the town or whatever it is parents with no kids do.”
Children and parents line the streets. You watch your little group of friends with your two kids meander down the sidewalk, Jihoon immediately lifting Haeun to put her on his shoulders. Nerves eat away at you as they finally vanish from your line of vision, lost to the other swarms of trick-or-treaters and bobbing halloween lights hanging from trees.
“Maybe we should-”
“Nope,” Wonwoo says gently, pulling you toward him. “They’ll do fine. Jihoon is with them, what could go wrong?”
Blowing out a sigh you nod, taking a moment to just drink him in. As much as he hates dressing up on Halloween, he’s done it again this year for you, dressed in the exact cowboy costume that you had put together for him. It’s less a costume than it is precariously picked clothes - the tan, suede button up and brown leather pants had already been in his closet, along with the belt and bolo tie. You’d just purchased the hat and the boots to complete the look.
And it is a look.
Wonwoo has always had the annoying ability to look good in whatever he wears. It doesn’t matter if he’s sitting on the couch in a shirt with juice stains from Iseul spilling her apple juice all over him or if he’s in a pressed suit at a company holiday party - he looks good in everything.
Heading back inside, you catch yourself in the mirror near the entrance, tugging at your skirt a little. It’s a little higher and tighter than you remember, and the button digs into your stomach a bit more than you like. Chewing your lip, you quickly turn from the mirror, busying yourself in the kitchen looking for your car keys and purse.
Wonwoo follows you silently, leaning against the door frame as he watches you. His eyes are heavy on you, your stomach fluttering as you drop a credit card onto the floor. Cursing, you bend down to get it, feeling the skirt hug you tightly and restrict your movement for a second.
“I’ve got it,” he says quietly, pushing off the wall.
“No, no,” you manage to peel it off the tile. “This damn skirt is so much tighter than it used to be. God.” Standing up again, you shove your card into the wallet, not meeting his eyes as he drifts toward you. “Maybe I should change.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know.”
“I think it looks fucking fantastic.” You roll your eyes, looking at him with a deadpan stare. His mouth twitches a little as he drops his gaze to the jean skirt in question. “You look fucking hot.”
“We’re married. You have to say that.”
“Weird. I don’t remember that being in our vows.”
“It definitely was.” You fiddle with the zipper on your wallet, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I think it was right after in sickness. It said and always tell your wife she’s hot.”
His laugh is throaty and he reaches for you. You let him, his hands soft as he pulls you toward him by the waist. He smells like spicy cologne and something that is distinctly Wonwoo. Instead of looking up to meet his gaze, you focus on the pocket of his shirt, lifting your hands to fidget with it and press it flat.
“Baby,” he murmurs. You still don’t look up at him, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “I really like the skirt, but you can wear whatever you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm. It makes your legs look good. Not to mention…” One hand drifts from your hip to your ass, squeezing generously. Your breath catches and your eyes flick up to meet his. They’re dark, a playful edge to his gaze that you’re intimately familiar with. “You look good in everything to me.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” he imitates. Wonwoo’s fingers skim the edge of the skirt, brushing across your thighs. You shiver, clinging to him a little as your eyes flutter shut at the contact. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest as he says, “Want me to help you out of it?”
The two of you have been together for nine years, married for six. You know every part of your best friend turned boyfriend turned husband. There is no corner of his heart he has left unturned to you, no thought that you cannot complete, no words he can speak that you don’t already know.
So when he asks if you want him to help you out of it you know what he’s asking you. He isn’t saying he’ll help you out and to pick out a new skirt. He isn’t asking you to change it. He doesn’t even want you to put the skirt back on, if his hungry gaze and the low pitch of his voice tells you anything.
“I thought you wanted to go to the halloween party.”
His laugh comes out in a huff. “I’d like to get you out of that skirt more.”
Wonwoo’s fingers curl around the edge of your skirt, a question. “Please.”
Wonwoo has never denied you anything, and he doesn’t now. He spins you against the counter so that your hips are pressed to it, your back to his chest. He sinks his hands down your front, fingers deftly undoing the button. His hot breath is on your neck, his lips barely skimming your skin in an almost-kiss.
Button popped, Wonwoo pulls the material open. Instead of rolling it down at the waist, his hand snakes into your skirt, pressing against your underwear as his mouth connects with your throat. You let out a breathy noise, melting in his arms as he presses his fingers to your clit over the silk of your underwear.
“Oh,” you breath, going slack against him. He doesn’t mind, pinning you between him and the counter as he circles his fingers teasingly. He keeps his mouth busy, pressing wet kisses up your throat and toward your jaw. “Thought you wanted me out of it.”
“I will,” he promises, nipping your jaw. You tilt your head to the side, giving him more access. The lower pit of your stomach burns with desire, sparking at his lazy touch. “Just wanted to touch first.”
“Slow ain’t your thing, cowboy?”
“Nah, I’ve got a pretty thing that wants to take a ride.”
Your laugh is cut off by a hiss, your head falling forward, as Wonwoo glides a finger down to press at your entrance. You feel your muscles clench, your stomach lurching as he teases you. A hand shoots to his wrist and you dig your fingers in, nails biting.
“Be nice,” you warn sternly.
“Mmm. You’re using your mommy voice.”
“I wouldn’t have to if daddy was being nice.”
“Daddy says he’ll make up for it.”
Daddy does. He always does. Wonwoo loves to tease you and make you beg for it, but he doesn’t now, fingers pulling your underwear to the side so he can stroke your pussy in full. He moans at the wetness he finds, hooking his chin over your shoulder to watch as he works his hand between your legs.
Wonwoo’s fingers are deft and skillful, applying just the right pressure and stimulation to work you up. Your breath becomes stilted, feeling the ripples of pleasure as he gets you where he wants you. Pinned between him and the counter, you can’t move. Can’t squirm. Can’t buck your hands to meet his strokes when he sinks a finger into your cunt.
“Fuck,” he rasps, pressing a messy kiss to your shoulder. “Like fucking silk.”
Heat creeps up your neck. You feel breathless under his attention, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit as Wonwoo leisurely fucks you with his finger, dragging it out only to slide up to your clit, circling gently.
Your fingers dig into him as Wonwoo strings you along, enjoying the way your sounds turn airy and weak. He plays you perfectly, working you up until you feel your thighs twitching, eyes shut as you let him steer you toward your peak.
Wonwoo pulls his hand from your skirt, making you eyes fly open, mouth hanging open. Turning to yell at him over your shoulder, your words are lost as he drops to his knees, fingers yanking your skirt as he goes.
Cool air hits your legs as he taps your ankle, asking you to step out of the skirt. You do and he rewards you with a gentle kiss on the back of your thigh, his hands skimming up your legs. You feel the coolness wear his wet fingers leave a slick trail on your skin.
Leaning forward, he plans another gentle kiss on the curve of your ass, making you laugh. He hums pleasantly, hands warm and explorative. He presses the small of your back gently, making you lean onto the counter, ass out.
Delicately, he peels your underwear from your hips, tossing them somewhere else. His hands return to your legs, pressing gently to pry your thighs apart. He groans at your messy cunt, no doubt proud of his work.
The marble countertop is freezing cold, ground you as you rest your cheek on it. You feel your chest heavy, holding your breath for a moment when Wonwoo leans forward and dips his tongue between your folds tentatively.
“Soonyoung should take the kids more often,” Wonwoo notes, breath hitting you between the legs. You make a strangled sound, distracted by the way his fingers squeeze your thighs, digging into the meat of them. His tongue dips back in, dragging upward again. “Want to do this more.”
“You - fuck - did this last night.”
“Not with you bent over the counter and this pretty ass in my face.” His hand smacks your ass lightly, making you squeal. He laughs deep in his throat, a little bit of a groan as he mutters, “Exactly.”
Wonwoo stops talking, mouth busy as he fastens his lips to your heat, sucking gently. He drives you insane, losing yourself in the way his tongue circles gently around your bundle of nerves. He alternates between tongue and lips, a shattering combination of heaven and hell as he works you toward an orgasm.
His mouth isn’t the reason you fell in love with him, but as you start breaking apart, you think it might be a solid entry on the list of reasons. You reach back with one hand, knocking the hat off his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. He grunts, appreciative as he gives a particularly greedy suck, making your toes curl.
“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking away for a second. His fingers peel you open and you moan when you feel him spit against your hole, clenching around nothing. “Who needs candy when I have the sweetest thing right here?”
“Wonwoo.”
“You even melt in my mouth.”
“Wonwoo.”
He chuckles. “Yeah baby, I know.”
He always knows. He attaches his mouth back to you, slick and messy and loud as he works you to your orgasm. Your nails dig against his scalp - he doesn’t care. He lets you tug him further in, happy to press his face as close to your heat as possible.
You press back into him, muscle clenching. You burst like a bubble, completely coming undone under his mouth as you come against him, face pressed to the counter. He pushes you through it, not letting you escape him when you try and wiggle away, tongue hot and hungry until you’re begging him to let up.
Wonwoo pulls away, breathing heavily. His hands skate up and down your legs and suddenly you’re grateful your weight is all on the countertop, thighs totally useless.
“God damn,” you pants, eyes shut.
“Yeah,” he agrees and stands. You feel him crowd you in, touch seeking your hips. “Catch your breath, partner. You still got a ride to go on.”
-
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#wonwoo smut#jeon wonwoo smut#wonu smut#svt smut#wonwoo x reader#wonu x reader#seventeen smut#wonwoo fic#wonwoo fanfic#minors do not interact#minors dni#haliween
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life of pain. LL30. part one. smau + written.
liam lawson x chronically ill reader
reader has dealt with pain for as long as she can remember but what she did not respect was for her pain to be the reason she met her soulmate.
author's note: i shall be writing this from experience so reader suffers from elher's danlos syndrome, chronic pain syndrome and chronic fatigue syndrome. but if you have a different chronic illness please do imagine it as that
faceclaim: kristine froseth
y/ninsta posted a story
written: think i just won daughter of the year
y/ninsta posted a story
written: pj day
y/bff replied to this story: are you alright y/n you only wear pjs all day when it is a tough day
y/ninsta: i'm okay just been suffering the past week
y/bff: aren't you going to vegas soon
y/ninsta: fly out tomorrow
y/bff: just be safe okay love don't push yourself too far
y/ninsta posted a story
written: can't wait to celebrate you this weekend, love you dad
y/ninsta posted a story
written: fit check
y/ninsta posted a story
written: finally here
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"great more walking", you whispered under your breath as you tucked your phone back into your handbag. this was not your dad's fault, he had no idea that you had hardly gotten out of bed all week and now you were in las vegas pushing your body to do things that it really did not want to do. your lids were already heavy, ready for bed and it was barely 9pm, a feeling that you were used to but would never feel normal.
you had decided that you wanted to get good pictures from this trip, so you had only packed heels, a cruel way of forcing your pained body to wear the fashionable shoe rather than slipping into your good old faithful worn out sneakers.
slowly weaving through the crowd you made sure to keep your head up and not slump shoulders, a way of making sure the shooting pain in your shoulder didn't get worse. but as you walked your eyes looked up to see a large group of people walking towards you, they already looked drunk. fucking brilliant.
you just continued to walk forward feigning importance with each step but even then you got shoved by one of the men. your brow furrowed, no one got to disrespect you like that. you turned to get a look at the man who had shoved you and give him a piece of your mind but you quickly regretted that choice.
you twisted badly on your right near and as you were in heels there was no stopping your right knee from dislocating. something that happens all the time but does not get any less painful. your joint quickly popped out of place and then back in but the damage was done as a yelp left your lips and you crumbled down to the floor.
the people in the paddock were too preoccupied with the excitement that comes with attending a formula one race that they just did not notice you on a crumpled heap on the ground hand grasping your knee just to make sure that it was properly back in place.
you were getting yourself ready to stand back up all by yourself when you noticed a blonde man with his eyes looked on you making a beeline towards you. "shit are you alright, you took quite a spill there", he spoke and your brain registered the accent instantly. "i'm okay i do stupid stuff like this all the time", you spoke and the man gave you a gentle smile, "what exactly happened that looked a little more than a small fall?"
"my dislocated", you spoke seeing the usual horror spread on his face.
"shit do i need to call an ambulance"
"no, like i said this happens all the time"
the man looked at you with pure concern on his face, you could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to work you out.
"i have elhers danlos, you probably have never heard of it but it just means my joints like to dislocate all the time"
prince charming slowly nodded, "okay lets get you up and then i can help you find your friends"
"i'm here with my dad, he text me saying he was in the williams garage. i was trying to find him"
"okay i'll help you find him", he spoke before wrapping his arm around your waist.
"if you are going to touch me like that i better know your name mister", you teased as you heaved yourself up into a standing position.
the man looked a little taken back by your question almost like you should have known who he was, "i'm liam", he smiled
"nice to to meet you liam, i'm y/n", you spoke before beginning the walk with him, his arm still around your waist, just helping you keep your balance as you hobbled over towards the williams garage.
the walk to the garage was really nice, liam was asking you all sorts of questions like where you were from and what your medical condition really meant for you. you yapped on about your life, enjoying the man's company as you got to the williams garage.
your father was stood outside eyes searching for you but when he spotted you and your company his mouth opened wider, "Oh y/n", he called out as you and liam approached him.
"you worried me girl, did something happen", he spoke still side eyeing liam making you quirk an eyebrow.
"i'm okay, my knee dislocated, i'm fine though", you spoke knowing how worried your father got sometimes.
but your father was a little more focused on the man next to you, "liam", he spoke, "it is lovely to meet you", he smiled and you frowned a little, how did your father know liam?
"i am very happy to see you back in f1, you drive brilliantly"< your father spoke and you gasped.
"shit, you are liam lawson, the new rb driver", you spoke turning to him, "i am so sorry i didn't recognise you, i am a casual f1 fan, my dad here is the real superfan", you explained to the man rambling on a little bit.
"that is okay y/n it was kind of refreshing to meet someone that doesn't know who i am", he spoke kindly, "i'm going to have to head back over to the garage for some media bits but i was wondering if i could have your number. i could hustle you two seats in the rb garage for the race", he spoke, "it will a lot safer there for you", he smiled.
your father was looking at you two starstruck and you just nodded, "of course", you spoke before he gave you his phone and you plugged your number in, "thank you for helping me liam", you spoke before waving him goodbye.
he left you stood there stunned as your father asked you ever question under the sun about your interaction with the driver.
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Mama’s Girl
Synopsis: R and Jessie’s daughter has decided she no longer wants to be a princess for Halloween, instead she wants to dress as her favorite person.
Warnings: very very minor injury to R and Jessie’s child
WC: 1.4K
A/N: hi, happy (early) Halloween
“Drew, baby come on, you love your princess dress.” You tried coxing your three year old out from where she hid in her closet.
“I don’t want it.” Her little voice complained through the wall. You had spent the better half of an hour trying to get your daughter dressed for a Halloween party the team was having. She had suddenly decided she had no interest in her costume, taking every chance to run and hide, making a game out of it with you.
“Drew, this is what you picked out. Remember how excited you were to get it?”
“I don’t want it.” She said still hiding herself in the closet. “Want something else.”
“Baby, we don’t have other costumes.” Your daughter had been so set on the princess dress for months, it was all she talked about, she had been so excited the day you and Jessie told her you were finally going to go buy it at the store. Except now she hated it.
“Make my own.” The closet door opens and your little girl bounces by you and out into the rest of the house. You hear a door slam and bring your hands up to your face, taking a deep breath. You were doing your best to stay patient with her, but you just wanted her dressed and ready for when Jessie got home.
Standing up from the floor of your daughter's bedroom you grab the princess dress off her bed and start heading toward the sound of the slammed door. Before you make it out of the room you’re startled by your wife walking into the room, causing you to jump slightly.
“Where’s Drew?” She then sees the dress in your hand and points to it. “Why isn’t she dressed? We’ve gotta get going in a few minutes.”
“I know,” you clasped your hands together. “But your daughter is refusing the costume she begged for two weeks ago and now she said she’s getting a different one, so I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Hmm.” Jessie pretends to ponder, her hand on her chin. “Stubborn, headstrong, indecisive… sounds like your daughter if anything.”
“Shut up.” You roll your eyes at Jessie before shoving the dress in her direction. “Your turn to try.”
Jessie smiles at you, grabbing the dress from your hands before turning and heading out of your daughter's room with you following close behind her.
“Drew! I’m home, want to come show me your costume?” Jessie shouts in hopes of luring your child out from where she was hiding.
When there’s no response, Jessie starts wandering around the house, looking for your daughter. You hear her calling for your daughter, checking the basement and then she heads into the playroom. As Jessie disappears into the other room you hear the pitter patter of small feet coming your way.
“Want to be Mama!” Your daughter came flying around the corner, you expected her to still be half dressed but instead you’re met with the sight of your little girl swimming in a shirt. More specifically she’s wearing one of Jessie’s jerseys, backwards, waddling toward you.
“Mama!” Her little fingers point at the name and number that are normally displayed across your wife’s back. Her other hand had a tight fist around the laces of one of Jessie’s boots.
You can’t help but giggle at the sight of your daughter in the shirt that was way too big for her toddler body. “Baby, you said you didn’t want to be a soccer player.”
“No soccer player, want to be Mama!” You gently take the boot from your daughters hand, placing it on the ground.
“Drew, you have your own shirt, one that fits, do you want that?” Your hands find the hem of Jessie’s shirt, ready to help untangle your daughter from it. She had her own child sized Fleming jerseys she could wear.
“No!” She squirms from your grip before taking off running down the hall again. You watch as the fabric of Jessie’s shirt catches under your daughter’s foot, causing her to trip landing hard on the floor. Her immediate wail has you running to her and you hear Jessie’s footsteps behind you as you both rush to her side.
Quickly sitting your daughter in your lap you hold her sad face. Looking her over you notice the small cut and bump forming on her cheek, just under her eye. “Did you hit your face baby?” Your daughter gives you a nod, her bottom lip sticking out as she sniffles. Jessie turns and hurries away before returning.
“What happened?” Jessie stares at you wide eyed, handing you the ice pack and towel she had run to get. You gently place them on your daughter's face.
“Mama.” Your daughter extends her arms in Jessie’s direction, hands grasping at air, reaching for her. Jessie sits down next to you and you let Drew crawl from your lap into Jessie’s.
“She was in our room. I guess she wants to be you instead of a princess, she tripped on your jersey, it’s too long for her.”
“Want to be Mama!”
“Okay Drew, you can be like Mama.” You say, not about to argue with your injured daughter. “But we have to make sure this is safe, we don’t want you falling again okay?”
“Okay Mommy.” She mirrors your nod with a smile.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.” Jessie says tickling your daughter's sides causing her to squirm and shriek with laughter. She picks Drew up, carrying her to the bathroom and sitting her on the countertop.
“I got an ouch.”
“You did babygirl.” Jessie says as she gently blots your daughter's cheek with a wet washcloth. “But guess what?”
“What?” You watch your daughter look up at Jessie, eyes wide waiting to hear what she had to say.
“You know how you wanted to be like Mama?”
“Yes!”
“Remember when Mama had the purple spot around her eye?” Jessie asks, referring to the black eye she had gotten back in February.
“Yes.”
“You might have one of those too in a couple days, just like me.” Jessie says finishing cleaning up your daughter’s cheek. You loved watching Jessie with Drew, it was a privilege to get to parent with her and watch her become the mother she was to your little girl.
“Just like Mama!” She claps her hands together, letting her legs swing a little bit, overwhelmed with excitement that she’d be even more like Jessie.
“Yes baby.”
“Okay all clean.” Jessie says before scooping up your daughter to give her a tight hug.
“Mommy hug?” Your daughter looks over Jessie’s shoulder to where you stood in the doorway watching your wife and baby. Her little hands reached for you. She had always been Jessie’s little girl, clinging to her side, but it was nice that she wanted your hug too.
“Come here my tough girl.” You take her, giving her a tight hug.
“Tough like Mama!” Your daughter waves her hands about in excitement.
“You’re so tough.” You say to her, bending over to place her feet on the ground. “Okay, you can go as Mama for your costume, but can I help you? We don’t want you getting another boo boo right?”
“Okay Mommy.” She lets out a tiny huff and rolls her eyes. Jessie’s eyes widen and she stifles a laugh at the sass from Drew.
“See, your daughter.” Jessie says with a smirk on her face before she kisses your cheek and heads out into the living room. You quickly help your daughter turn around and tie up Jessie’s adult sized jersey, tricking her into tucking it in, the same way her Mama tucks in her training kit and everyday shirts.
“Okay baby, go get some socks on, and then you’ll be ready to go.” You pat her on the back as she runs to her bedroom to get a pair of socks.
You arrive at the Halloween party, a tiny bit late, but no one minded. You and Jessie walk hand in hand, letting Drew run ahead of both of you. She immediately runs up to Jessie’s teammates, turning around and showing them the name on the back of her shirt.
“She’s such a Mama's girl.” You shake your head before resting it on Jessie’s shoulder.
“I know.”
“But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You give her hand a squeeze.
“Me either.”
#jessie fleming#jflem#jessie fleming x reader#jessie fleming imagine#woso x reader#woso imagine#jessie fleming blurb#canwnt x reader
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feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort
nsfw under the cut, fem!reader
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Stan likes to call you:
sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk
calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.
✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”
✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart
✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.”
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Ford likes to call you:
“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby
he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him
starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”
༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”
༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”
༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”
༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth
“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”
And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.
nsfw
what Stan says during sex:
“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”
“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”
“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”
“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”
“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”
“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”
“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”
Ford:
“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”
“I need you so much it scares me.”
“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”
“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”
“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”
“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”
“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”
“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”
“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”
“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”
“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”
“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#stanford pines#x reader#gravity falls smut#stan pines smut#ford pines smut#ford pines x reader#gravity falls#stan pines x reader#Smut#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls headcanons#ford x reader#ford pines x you#stan pines x you#stan pines x oc#stanley pines x reader
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Kinktober day 29: Break in
Rio Vidal x nonbinary Reader, mention of Rio x Agatha, implication of future Agatha x Rio x Reader
Notes: Noncon->Dubcon, hate sex, reader has a vulva, daddy kink, Rio and Reader are exes, lots of non-gendered pet names
You’d been lonely since she left you. She got swept back up into whatever she had going on with Agatha Harkness. You couldn’t entirely blame her. Agatha was always quite charming, if a bit…unfeeling. People around you thought Rio could be unfeeling too, that she and Agatha deserved each other. You thought you had seen another side of her, a gentler side. But you were wrong. As soon as Agatha moved back to town she had dumped you, without hesitation.
You sighed as you entered your home after work. Your friends were supposed to come over and watch a movie but they all had something important come up. You understood in each case, but it still sucked. You prepared yourself for a night of movies and wine all by yourself.
Nothing could have prepared you for Rio sitting on your couch, ostensibly waiting for you to come home. You had changed the locks about a month after she dumped you because a burglar had come through Westview. Her old key shouldn’t have worked anymore.
“Jesus Christ Rio, what the fuck are you doing here? How the fuck did you get inside?”
“I missed you.” Rio said with a twisted smile.
“I hate you.”
Rio tilted her head and got up. You had the door open and were motioning for her to get out.
Rio looked like she was about to leave, but then gripped your wrist and took it away from the doorknob, letting the exit close shut.
“Rio get the fuck off of me,” you said angrily.
Your ex just chuckled.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say?” She said as if she was hurt.
“No Rio, I really don’t give a shit what you have to say. You’re lucky I don’t call the fucking cops on you.”
Rio smiled, amused at the fight you were putting up. She grabbed your other wrist and pinned you t the wall, hands on either side of your head. She pressed her body up against yours.
“Go ahead sweetheart, fight me. Call the cops on me. If you just wanna see me in handcuffs, you could always just ask.”
“Like you’d ever give up control.” You huffed. Her face was so close to yours. You hadn’t been close to anyone like this in so long.
“Baby, if you really wanna be in control,” her eyes darted down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, “you can be.”
“Fuck you, Rio”
“I know that’s all you want isn’t sweetheart? You need to be touched baby, I know, it’s okay.” Rio slotted a thigh between yours and you gasped.
“Fuck…fuck off Rio,” you spat.
“So much fight tonight.” Rio whispered in your ear, giving your cheek a quick kiss.
You turned your head away, so you wouldn’t have to face her.
“When’s the last time you got fucked baby? When’s the last time someone’s taken care of you?”
You didn’t answer her, concentrated on fighting the urge to grind down the leg between your thighs.
“Oh baby…no one’s touched you since me huh?”
“Fuck you,” your voice was starting to break. You were frustrated, hurt, but god were you turned on.
“Sweetheart,” Rio’s voice had softened, “look at me.”
You reluctantly met her gaze.
“There we go, you were always such a good pet for Daddy. And good pets get rewarded.” Rio said.
She leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. You resisted her. Despite how soft her lips were. How good her touch felt, in spite of everything. She pressed her leg further into you and you gasped. She took the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth and you finally melted.
She let your wrists go and you grabbed the back of her head and the fabric of her shirt. She moaned as you kissed her back. She sucked your tongue down for as long as she could.
“Good pet,” Rio husked when you two broke apart.
You couldn’t decide if you wanted to cry, hit her, or kiss her again. Maybe all three.
Rio saw the emotions brewing in your eyes. She gently brushed some of your hair back. “Oh sweetheart,”
You wanted to bat her hand away, but you also wanted her to pet you until the end of time.
“Daddy didn’t take very good care of you did she? Can she make it up to you?”
“Are you still with Agatha?”
“It’s…complicated with me and Agatha.”
“So at any moment you could drop me again? Disappear off the face of the earth?”
“No baby, never again. I’m so sorry I hurt you like that sweetheart.”
“Like you really care,”:
Rio looked upset now. “Of course I care.”
“Don’t lie to me,” you said, tears filling your eyes.
Rio put a hand around your jaw, forcing you to look into her eye, “I’m not lying, pet. I’ve always cared about you, always will.”
“Not more than you care about Agatha Harkness.”
Rio covered your mouth. “Enough, pet.” Her other hand skillfully undid your pants, reaching to find you soaked through your briefs.
“Mmmph,” you tried to protest against her hand.
“Ssshhh, pet. No more talking, no more thinking. It’s all out of your hands now.”
You felt warmth spread through you. You felt your head go fuzzy.
“Good pet, just let Daddy take care of you. I’ve got you. We’ll figure it all out, pet.” She slipped her fingers into your underwear, rubbing deft circles on your clit.
She held you up as your knees started to give out. How was she so strong?
“I know baby, I know how you love how my fingers rub you just right,” she removed her hand from your mouth, “tell me you love it,” she demanded.
You glared at her defiantly.
She sunk her fingernails into your hip, eliciting a whimper from you, “do as I say, and I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll take such good care of you. Just like I used to, I know what you need baby.” Her fingers slowed down, the edge you were building towards dissipating.
You cried as you told her “I love your fingers Daddy… I-I missed you,”
“There’s my good pet. So good for me baby.” Rio kissed away your tears and sped her fingers back up. Every circle of her fingers building you up.
Your breathing grew ragged, your body tensed up.
“Cum for Daddy baby, let go for me, unravel for me. I’ll put you back together, I promise.”
You couldn’t fight the orgasm as it wracked through you. Rio’s finger’s didn’t waver as she helped you ride it out. She kissed your neck, sucking big purple marks onto it. You would be hers again, all hers, you may as well start looking like it now.
“Fuck Rio.” You said breathlessly.
“Shh I know baby.” Rio led you over to the couch and put your head in her lap. She traced your cheek and petted your hair. “I got you, you’re safe.”
“Stay. Please stay Rio.” You pleaded, beyond caring about sounding pathetic.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Rio assured you. Not tonight anyway, she thought to herself.
You clung to her the rest of the night, all the way to bedtime. She cooed at you and petted you until you fell asleep. When you were soundly asleep Rio got a text on her phone.
—
Agatha <3: How’d it go tonight?
Rio: I’d call this part of the plan a success.
Agatha <3: Good, good, can’t wait till they’re ready to be shared.
—
Rio smiled at the messages and then looked back at your sleeping form, turned away from her.
“It’ll all make sense soon, pet,” she whispered before wrapping herself around you and drifting off with her-
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Big Mama Pt. 5
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC
Wordcount: +7.4K 🤦🏽♀️
Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), angst, P in V, oral (female receiving), Dom!Terry, CNC (roleplay fantasy "r-word")
A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.
Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋
Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋
Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋
Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋
6 months later ~ Halloween night
“Girl, why the fuck does this man have y'all stayin’ way the fuck out here?” Monica asked while driving. “That's the point. He knows I love the country. Plus, it so fuckin’ peaceful out here,” I said laughing. “’Vana, this is a serial killer's dream. Two black people in the middle of nowhere!” she blurted.
Tonight, we all went to a Halloween party as a group— Monica, Jordan, Terry, and I. The party was thrown at a warehouse downtown. It was fuckin' amazing. I had never had that much fun before. Terry even seemed to really enjoy himself, but he got sick at some point. He let me know that he was leaving early. I offered to go with him, but he declined. After he left, I tried my best to have fun but couldn't stop worrying about him. He wasn't answering my calls or texts which was strange.
I leaned over while sitting in the car. I unstrapped my heels and pulled them off. I was wearing a sexy schoolgirl costume that left nothing to the imagination. We agreed to dress up as a couple with Terry being a nerdy school professor. Our costumes made much more sense when we stood near each other, so I spent most of the night by his side.
Monica drove down the gravel driveway of the large farmhouse. Pulling to the front porch, I realized all the lights were off. It was eerily quiet— almost too quiet. Terry must have actually been sick if he had gone to bed this early. Monica's car came to a stop. She looked out into the field and stared at the barn. “This really is some serial killer type shit!” she said shaking her head. “Shut up!” I said laughing at her remarks. Monica was definitely on edge.
“I'm so done with you,” I said grabbing my heels before getting out of the car. “Just call me or text me. I wanna make sure you're safe. This shit so creepy,” she said scrunching up her nose and looking around. “Okay, scaredy cat,” I said leaning back into the window tickling her neck. “Terry is big and all, but not Texas Chainsaw Massacre big. Be safe!” she said. “Goodnight, whore!” I yelled as I turned and started walking towards the porch. I walked up the steps with the heels swinging in my hand. The front door was left unlocked because Terry had the only key. I opened the door and walked in.
I looked around the open living room in search of Terry. “Terry, baby? Where are you?” I yelled as I turned towards the hallway. Before I could move, I saw something flash across the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. I couldn't tell if it was a light or a reflection. I stood there for a second to see if it would happen again. Nothing. I shrugged my shoulders and proceeded to walk up the stairs. I was approaching the master bedroom door when I noticed a stain on the floor. It was a puddle of dark liquid. I couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled metallic. I leaned over in front of the door and hovered over the puddle. It looked like— blood.
I leaned up and quickly backed away from the door. I dropped the heels and held my chest. I turned back towards the stairs. I instantly wanted to flee but realized I didn't know where Terry was. “Terry, please. If this is a joke, this a fuckin' sick one!” I yelled from the top of the stairs. I turned back to look at the bedroom door. What if he was in there hurt? Shit!
I slowly walked back up to the door. I placed my hand on the doorknob and turned it slowly. I opened the door slightly peeking around. “Terry,” I said whispering into the room, “I don't like this.” I walked into the room, staying close to the door. I walked towards the center of the room facing the bed. The master bathroom door was cracked open with the light on. There was a smaller puddle at the bottom of this door. I wasn't liking this at all. My anxiety was pushing my heart through my chest. Every breath was feeling like swallowing razor blades. I inched closer to the door as panic was setting in. What if Terry was on the other side of this door? What if he was hurt, what if he was dead?
As I approached the door, I noticed faint marks leading from the puddle and into the bathroom— drag marks. No! I tried my hardest to level my breathing. I placed my hand on the door and pushed it open slowly. I opened the door to find blood splatter all over the bathroom and the tub covered in it. I almost screamed but covered my mouth. I started to back out of the bathroom. My foot stepped into the puddle by the bathroom door, soaking the bottom of my stockings. Tears were starting now.
As I lifted my foot to remove the stockings, there was a loud thud at the bedroom window. I didn't want to look out, but I had to know if it was Terry. I slowly crossed the room. The window had no blinds just a sheer white curtain. I pushed the curtain open lightly to peek but hopefully not be seen. I looked out towards the field at the rear of the house. That's when I saw him— a man. He was holding an axe over his shoulder. He looked like a lumberjack. THIS WASN'T TERRY! I stumbled away from the window unsure of what I just saw. There was no way this was happening. We didn't come way out here for this shit! I slowly leaned back towards the window to look again. This time I didn't touch the curtains.
He was still there, but his head was tilted up facing the window this time. The axe was resting by his side. He slowly raised the axe and slung it onto his shoulder. I could see there was something in his other hand. Before I could investigate further, he pointed towards the window. He could see me! He raised his hand above his hand and slung whatever was in his hand at the window. I ducked behind the wall. The object hit the window with a splat.
I eased away from the window to see blood splatter dripping down. I backed up towards the bed while still facing the window. Holding my chest, I tried to sort out what was going on. Then, I heard the sound of heavy boots thumping on the back porch. He was closer now. That's when I remembered the backdoor couldn't be locked from the inside. Terry had told me this earlier that day. But if the door couldn't be locked, he could just—. Before I could finish my thoughts, I heard the backdoor open and slam against the wall. The last place I wanted to be was in the room he last saw me in because this would be the first place he searched.
So, I slipped out of the bedroom door and hid in the guest room. I could hear his footsteps hitting the stairs as I closed the door. The closer he got; the louder it became. He paused at the top of the stairs. I heard his footsteps lead towards the room I left. While holding my breath, I heard him slowly open and close the door. I instantly began weighing out all my options. I could hide here like the typical dumbass— under the bed, in the closet, or behind a door. Or, I could sneak and hide somewhere else before he sees me.
Fuck it! I was trying my luck with the second option.
I stood near the door and slowly opened it. Peeking out into the empty hallway towards the other room, I turned around and tried to close the door slowly so it didn't creak. I turned back around and began tip-toeing towards the top of the stairs. Before I could get far, I noticed the bathroom door in the hallway open. I had this odd feeling that I was being watched. I didn't want to look, but I was too afraid to make any sudden movements. I pressed my back against the railing while closely watching the opening and the bedroom door of the room I left.
As soon as I reached the banister, I felt a presence behind me. I was right! He had never gone into the bedroom. He rushed from the open bathroom, coming straight towards me. He tossed the axe to the opposite hand with ease. The mask he wore covered his head entirely, so I couldn't see his hair, face, or eyes. I tried to run away from him, but he managed to grab the back of my top. I yanked away from him, causing it to rip. I stumbled down the stairs with him close behind me.
I knew better than to run out the backdoor. There was nothing but acres of open fields. The kitchen wasn't an option either as it was in the back of the home. I ran towards the front door, leaping off the porch. I sprinted for the barn across from the house. It was far, but I had a better chance of finding a weapon to use. The barn door was open. There wasn't an ounce of light inside. Fuck it! It was too late to turn back now. I ran into the barn and hid behind a mountain of hay.
He was cocky. He didn't even run after me; he casually walked. He treated this like it was an everyday encounter. There wasn't an ounce of worry in his demeanor. His shoulders were squared, and his stance was wide. He stood at the barn entrance, searching for any signs of where I went. He knew I was in here.
He rolled his shoulders and neck. He swung the axe back and forth at his side. He turned around, facing the barn door. He walked to the side and pulled the handle for the door. He slid it across the entrance. He was sealing me inside. There was nowhere to run, but the other door. It was closed, but I only needed an opportunity to run and enough gap to squeeze through.
Walking to the corner, he pulled a metal chain across the bar on the door and locked it. Now, I was LOCKED in. I had to get to that back door. I looked around me, but there was nothing. Had I really gotten locked in here with nothing to defend myself?
I eased along the slide of the bales, trying not to make a sound. I was short enough to stay concealed as I moved. I made it to the other end of the barn before he made another move. He was at one end and I was at the other. I realized that I could go for the door. It didn't look too heavy for me to pull.
All I had to do was get to the door, push it open enough to slip through and run. That's it.
I stood as close as I could to the wall. I took a silent deep breath. I peeked around to make sure he was still on the opposite side. I slipped past the hay and ran for the door. I could see him turn to face me. I grabbed the handle and pulled it as hard as I could. It wouldn't budge. I tried to push it again and again. Nothing.
I turned around to see him walking towards me. Oh no! That's when I heard it— the sound of a chain. This door was locked from the outside. There was no way I had just done this. I kept pulling at the door. I flattened my back against it, turning to face him. He wasn't moving any closer. He stood in the middle of the barn with the axe over his shoulder. I knew for a fact that I couldn't outrun him. So, what do I do?
“Please, just leave me alone. My boyfriend's here somewhere!” I yelled holding my arms in front of my stomach. He barked out the most sinister laugh I had ever heard, before stopping abruptly and going silent. “He's dead, you dumb bitch! You didn't get that from the mess upstairs!” he yelled. The world around me began to spin. He had said the quiet part out loud. Terry was dead, and I just didn't want to believe it. “What? I gotta show you his body for you to believe me?” he said walking closer. “No!” I yelled. “No!” he yelled mocking me, “You sound fuckin' pathetic.” I was crying even harder now. No amount of breathwork or grounding would save me from this. I was about to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “So, is this the part where you run again, huh? Save yourself the trouble, pretty girl. Just come here!” he said pointing in front of him using the axe. “Fuck… fuck you!” I said crying.
His body stiffened immediately. His hand gripped the handle of the axe tighter. “I said to c’mere. Right the fuck now!” he barked. I stood where I was frozen in fear. “If I gotta come getchu or you make me chase you, so help me God!” he spat. I pushed away from the door while slowly walking towards him. I had to try something.
As I moved closer to him, I shifted my path to the side of him. I didn't want to get close to him, but did I have a choice? I stopped a few feet from him so I was out of reach. “You do know that if I swing this fuckin' axe I can still hit you?” he said frankly. I looked between us. He was telling the truth. I wasn't stopping shit. If he wanted to get me, he still could. “Come on, pretty girl. Help me, help you. Stand right here,” he said in a calmer tone.
I still didn't move— I couldn't. No matter what I did right now? I was going to die anyway.
I looked down at my feet. “Is it the axe, baby girl? Tell me,” he said tilting his head. I looked up at the axe and trailed my eyes up to his face. I could sense that he was staring at me. “Look at me, lil’ mama!” he snapped. He seemed agitated with my antics, but I didn't know what to do. He was tall and appeared muscular. My short thick ass couldn't outrun him or fight him.
He waved the axe around wildly, slinging it away. It soared through the air and landed on the barn’s upper level. “See. I'm nice,” he said raising his hands. They were empty, but I wasn't stupid. I knew a man like this didn't need weapons when his hands could do damage and kill.
I wasn't any less scared, but oh well. I walked towards him slowly, holding my breath. Once I was in arm's reach, he grabbed my shirt by the knot in the front. It tore in half. He yanked it from my body, exposing my black push-up bra. I threw my hands up to cover my chest. He smacked my hand down. “Move your fuckin' hands!” he yelled, raising his hand as if he were about to hit me again. “I fuckin' dare you!” he grunted through gritted teeth. I dropped my hands by my side, waiting for whatever was coming. Why wasn't he doing anything?
“What do you really want?” I asked. I was tired of this sicko's games. “Does it fuckin' matter? It's not like you got anywhere to go,” he said laughing. He was faking his composure. He wasn't calm at all. His hands were flexing and his shoulders were tensing up by the second. Why did I let Terry talk me into coming out here?
“Arghhh… If you don't fuckin' move!” he yelled. Fear took over, causing me to take a step back. “You know what fuck that?” he said pulling out a pair of leather gloves from his back pocket. He pulled them over his hands and wiggled his fingers. His hands filled the gloves perfectly. He closed the gap between us in two quick steps. His chest was right in front of my face.
I dropped my head. There was no point in running. “Just do it already!” I yelled hitting him in the chest repeatedly. He stood there and took every hit. His body didn't move an inch. Nothing I was doing was even affecting this man. Angered because I was tired of being toyed with, I pushed him in his chest. He shifted a little. I pushed him again. He shifted back a little more. Before I could push him a third time, he grabbed my hands. He held my hands above my head. “Stupid girl. Was that fun for you? Aww, you're fighting the big bad man. How cute?” he said mocking me.
He released my arms. I looked down and rubbed my wrists. I was caught off guard by his hand wrapping around my throat. He lifted my body from the ground and pushed me against one of the posts on the barn. “If you ever put your fuckin' hands on me again, I'll snap your fuckin' neck! Understand?” he grumbled. His teeth were grinding, and his grip was tightening. “Yes!” I managed to squeal out. “That's what the fuck I thought!” he yelled, releasing his grip.
My body hit the ground with a thud. I held my neck. I was sure there was a mark or a bruise. I was leaning over on one side. He squatted down so that he was right in front of me. Reaching to touch my face, he stroked my cheek and wiped my tears. “You're too pretty to be cryin’, girl,” he said tilting his head to one side. He was just hovering over me stroking my cheek. It was as if he was in a trance. I took in a deep breath. He let his hand roam my body. First, he groped my breast. Then, he caressed my stomach. This didn't feel right. Why was he all of a sudden being so gentle— too gentle?
His hand went lower and stopped at the top of my skirt. He looked back up at me while his hand moved down to my thighs. He pushed my skirt up and began dragging his hand along my thighs. “Damn, I know he’ll miss this,” he said moving his hand up towards my pussy. I clamped my thighs shut. No way was he about to touch me there. His face shot up in my direction. One of his hands shot up and slapped me across the face. “Don’t fuckin’ try me!” he said grabbing my chin. Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could tell his gaze was locked on my face.
While still gripping my chin and focusing on my face, his hand began moving again. His hand stalled and rested on top of my pussy. He hooked his pointer and index fingers around the crotch of my panties, tugging them a little. He tore them off my body, and I screamed as the fabric scratched against my skin.
I kicked him in the chest as hard as I could. He grabbed my ankle and yanked me towards him. I tried to find something to grab onto, failing miserably. My palms burned from being pulled through the dirt. “Stop, or else!” he screamed, holding my legs down. “Fuck you! If you're going to do it, do it! Bitch!” I yelled slapping him across the face.
I turned over onto my stomach and began attempting to crawl away. He grabbed the back of my legs, pulling me back towards him. I managed to snatch one leg away. He leaned forward and jumped onto my back. His hands flew to the back of my head, pulling my hair so my back was flush to his chest. “Yell! Scream! Go ahead! Nobody can hear you, dumbass!” he said in my ear, yanking my head up. “Let me go!” I screamed.
I couldn't keep fighting him. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I knew only one of us would walk away from this, and it wouldn't be me. “You don't like living do you?” he said pushing me to the ground. My face hit the dirt. A metallic taste flooded my mouth— blood. I lifted my hand and wiped my mouth. I turned over, sitting on my butt. I pushed on my hands to get up. “Sit!” he screamed, knocking me back. I was tired of this shit. I wanted no part of this stupid ass game he was playing.
I pulled my knees into my chest and began crying. “Hell, nah! Shut the fuck up! The fuck is cryin’ gonna do?” he asked while grabbing the back of my head. He used his grip on my hair to pull me down before straddling me. “You know what? Maybe I was wrong. I like the way you look when you cry. Soft. Sweet. Defenseless. Scared. Yeah, I think I like this,” he said cupping my left breast. His hand wandered to my left bra strap. He pushed it down slowly before doing the same to the other side. “Take it off slowly. No need to rush. We got all night,” he said low. I didn't move. What was the point of doing what he said? Prolonging my ending life seemed futile.
He reached behind him and pulled out a hunter's knife. I stared at the blade, tensing up. I placed my hands on his chest, trying to push him away. He grabbed my hands in one of his and held them above my head. He twirled the knife in his hand before pressing it into the front of my neck. The adrenaline in my body was pumping, and my ears were ringing. “Just do it!” I yelled, sobbing. His focus shifted back to my face. I could almost see his features spread into a smile through the mask. “Okay!” he said laughing. I felt the knife leave my skin. The presence of the blade still lingering behind.
With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes. I waited and waited. Every breath seemed to bring me closer to my last. I felt his grip on my hands tighten but still nothing. What was he doing? I wanted to close my eyes but was too afraid of what I might see.
I felt the knife glide across my stomach. I felt the blade rest on the fabric between my bra cups.
rip
He sliced through the front of my bra and began making quick work of the straps as well. I opened my eyes to see him peeling the pieces from my body. My exposed nipples hardened from the crispness of the Autumn air. He raised the knife to my chest, sliding it across my nipples. The cold blade stimulated the sensitive buds. I squirmed underneath him. This was feeling— I don't know. Was I enjoying this, or was my fear driving me insane?
I moved my hands and twisted my wrists. “No,” I whimpered. “No? You sure, pretty girl? I bet if I rubbed my hand through that pussy of yours, she'd be sayin' something else! Wouldn't she?” he said putting the knife back behind him. “Just…,” I said trying to tug away again. It must have annoyed him because it earned me another slap to the face. “Quit the bullshit, baby! Let's see!” he said, placing his hands on the button of my skirt. He unbuttoned and unzipped it quickly. While grabbing both sides of the zipper, he easily tore the mini skirt in half. “Clean! I like that. You came prepared for me, huh?” he said rubbing the mound of my pussy. The fabric of his leather gloves was like ice against my skin. He scooted back on his knees a little so that he was straddling my thighs more than my waist. He stuffed his hand between my legs, palming my pussy. He cupped his hand, trailing it through my folds. He dragged his hand up and down my slit, grazing my clt each time.
I was shocked by what I saw when he pulled his hand out. Cum! What the hell was going on? “Oh! That's lovely,” he said bringing the wet glove closer to his face mask. He drew in a deep breath. “Now, I might not be the smartest man but that looks like arousal to me. Don't it?” he said bringing the glove to my face. “ Yes… no… I don't fuckin' know!” I yelled. “You might wanna admit it, baby. You like this, huh? You dirty slut!” he said stuffing his fingers into my mouth. I gagged at the force.
“Don't say shit! Just suck!” he said, leaning over me. His face was right in front of mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath through the mask. I opened my mouth wider, telling myself to just do it. I sucked on the glove lightly. “You can do better than that! Come on! The better you perform; the longer you may live. Make me proud,” he said, leaning up.
I sucked on the glove again— a little harder this time. He let his finger roam inside my mouth. I let my tongue slither around each finger, causing his dick to jump. I felt it move against my thigh. I looked down to see a tent growing in his jeans. Shit, it was big! Oh, no. I couldn't be thinking like this. What would Terry think of me?
“Don't worry you'll see it soon!” he said drawing my attention back to him. I realized that I had been unconsciously sucking on his fingers. He pulled the glove from my mouth and smeared my saliva all over my face and lips. “Sloppy. I like it!” he said, lightly tapping my cheek. “Imma let yo’ hands go. Don't do no stupid shit, okay?” he said. I nodded my head yes. What the fuck could I possibly do in this situation?
He released my hands. I instantly pulled them to my chest and began rubbing my wrists. “I'm sowwy. I shouldn't have been so rough when you're so soft and…” he said trailing his hands down my chest to cup both of my breasts. The material of the gloves felt smooth against my nipples, causing me to let out a soft moan. He broke from his trance and focused on my face again. I know he heard it. Why was I moaning from this? What the hell was going on with my body?
“Listen to me. If you promise to be nice, I'll let you live. Who knows maybe you can be my sex slave or something!” he chuckled deeply. “As if I have a choice,” I whispered turning my head. “Well, you're right about that. Shall we begin?” he asked clapping his hands. “Begin?” I asked confused. All I could see was his facial features shift under his mask. He was smiling— no he was grinning. A big sinister grin was spread across his face. He was about to enjoy whatever came next.
He lifted his hips and repositioned himself between my legs. He grabbed the back of my knees and pushed them up to my chest using one hand. With the other, he undid his belt buckle and pants. He didn't even care to pull them down completely. I watched as he grabbed his dick at the base. I immediately knew where this was going. I tried to push my legs back down, but even when using one hand he was stronger than me. He leaned over me and slapped his dick on my clit. It was heavy and hard as a brick. “Remember what I said. The better you perform…,” he said letting his thoughts trail off.
In one quick thrust, he was inside me— deep. My arms flew up trying to push his chest. “Don't do that!” he cooed. “Behave. I promise to make it worth your while,” he lulled, dodging my hands. It was like he didn't give a fuck about me fighting back. He was too focused on—. “Fine. Have it your way!” he barked.
He grabbed my hands and pinned them above my head. With his teeth, he snatched the glove from his other hand. He threw it behind him. I could feel his dick twitching inside me. He grabbed my neck and began pounding into me. I gasped for air. How was he switching back and forth like that? He was nice one second, then aggressive the next. This man was a fuckin’ psychopath.
His hips snapped into my ass. “If you want me to stop, stop me!” he laughed. I knew I couldn't. I had tried and tried again. “Come on! Do something!” he yelled in my face. I was done. My blood boiled and fear went out the window for a second. “Fuck you! Kiss my fat black ass!” I yelled pushing my thighs down as hard as I could. He falls back onto his hands. I used this as an opportunity to scramble away. “Arghhh, you stupid bitch! Tell me what’re you gonna do? Huh? You can't run. You can't hide. No one can hear you!” he yelled waving his arms around. Again, he was right. What the fuck could I do?
I sat there for a minute with my back turned away from him. I was on my knees crying into my hands. Each sob racked through my body. An idea jumped into my head— this would either kill me or save me. I didn't know what to do, but I did know what I had to do. ONE FINAL TRY.
I turned on my knees to face him. “So, you're saying that… if I… if I let you do it, you'll let me live?” I asked gasping for air in between sobs. “I'm a man of my word, love,” he said sweetly. I covered my body, waiting for his next move. “Fine! Just do it,” I said getting on my hands and knees and slowly crawling toward him. I was a few feet from him when he told me to stop. I looked up to see him twirling his finger. “Turn around. You're pretty and all, but I'm sick of your face,” he spat with disgust. I turned around and sat on my knees.
He climbed behind me. His presence alone swallowed my frame. I was a big girl, but that meant nothing right now. He pushed me forward. “Ass up, face down. Don't make me repeat myself!” he yelled smacking my ass. He was sitting between my knees with his hands by his side. I got on all fours in front of him. I heard him scoff and grunt. “Fix ya’ arch. If I gotta fix it, you're not gonna like it. Let's go!” he yelled.
I arched my back and pushed my ass into the air. Without realizing how close I was, my ass grazed his dick. He growled in response. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What the fuck did I say? I don't wanna see ya’ face. Turn around!” he yelled popping my ass again. I screamed out in pain.
“Oh, shut up! It didn't hurt!” he said laughing at me. I started to sit up, but he pushed me back down. “What you movin’ for? I'm just kiddin’,” he said playfully. This man was confusing the hell out of me. How did he expect me to react? There was nothing funny about this. I moved away from his hand before he could react. “Alright, damn! I'm sorry. You know what? No, I'm not. I'm sick of your shit, you disrespectful bitch! I’ve tried being nice to you, but you don't seem to give a fuck. Why should I?” he snapped while grabbing my hair. His other hand forced my ass to meet his hips. “We're gonna learn that attitudes don't work around here!” he said thrusting back inside of me. I could feel the thickness of his dick inside me. It was clear that this was turning him on.
I felt his hand slide up my back to my shoulder. He was pulling me back on him now. He was pounding into me like I was a sex doll. I could feel my pussy beginning to ache already. As if he could sense my discomfort, he paused. Letting go over my hair and shoulder, he placed both hands beside me. He was on top of me now. Fuck! I needed to get on my back.
He began to grind his hips into me slowly. What was he doing? He leaned over so that his mouth was near my ear. The mask was warm from his breath. “Better?” he asked seductively while fucking into me. It was as if his voice had changed, and lust had taken over. It wasn't raspy anymore. It was deep and soft— smooth like velvet. “Answer me. Is this better?” he asked, pulling his dick out to the tip. “Yes,” I moaned out. It was like I couldn't control it. It was starting to feel good. “Yeah, that's what I wanna hear,” he said, pushing his dick back in. He was kissing my cervix and bottoming out with every stroke. He was honestly fucking so well. I hated this. I wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but I couldn't help it. His dick felt amazing inside me. Every stroke felt like— love. How?
“That's right. Take it. You got it,” he said. My eyes started to roll in the back of my head as I could feel his dick swelling inside me. He leaned back up and grabbed my hips. The movement of his hips was slow and—. “Ahh, shit! Wait!” I said putting my arms out to the side. I flattened my body against the ground. I was yearning for something to grab. My hands dug into the dirt of the barn floor.
“Come on. I'm so close, baby. Fuck!” he said quickening his pace. His hips were snapping into me at this point. I could feel the gentle caress of his balls slapping my clit. “This pussy is mine!” he groaned, fisting the hair at the back of my head. He pressed my head into the floor.
As his hips shifted to pound down into me, he brought one leg up so that he was kneeling. My pussy began to clench around his dick. I could feel my climax approaching. The wetness of my pussy was working against me. He was sliding in and out of me with ease. My pussy was begging for a release. I needed to cum so that I could come to my senses.
His dick was throbbing inside of me. Oh, he was close, and I wanted him to c—. No, I didn't want that. I didn't want him to do that— not inside me, but it was TOO LATE! His hips snapped into my ass with force. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto him. He held me there, releasing every ounce of his nut inside of me.
“Ahhh, fuck! That pussy was nice. Can I keep you?” he asked letting go of me. I let my body collapse onto the ground. “One more,” I said turning to face him. “What?” he asked confused. “I didn't finish. I wanna cum,” I said pouting. I needed him to trust me because I needed this plan to work. “Can't get enough, huh?” he said, pushing me on my back. I let my legs fall open so that he could see just how wet my pussy was. I needed him to lose focus.
“Oh, you nasty slut. You like this shit! Don't you?” he asked, slapping his dick on my clit. He rubbed his dick through the mixture of our cum that was spilling out of me. He sat his dick at my entrance. “Beg, bitch! You want it so bad. Beg for this dick!” he growled, holding his dick at the base. Pride was out the door at this point. There was no turning back. “Please, I need it. Make me cum. That's all I want. Just make me cum. You..,” I said but before I could finish he forced his dick inside of me. “Ahhh!” I said moaning out.
As much as I wanted to hate this, it felt so good. His dick was hitting every spot and scratching every itch. My pussy was creaming around him, and I was leaking like a faucet. He leaned over me, placing his hands on both sides of my head. I could hear our hips slamming into each other. I rubbed my hand up his chest. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. I could feel every breath he took on my face.
He threw his head back in bliss. I was chasing two dragons at once— an orgasm and the key to my freedom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. I could feel my orgasm approaching. “I'm about to nut!” I yelled, gripping the back of his head. I placed my head on his shoulder. I could see it. IT WAS RIGHT THERE! I let my orgasm take over and began clenching and unclenching my walls to push him into his. His strokes got sloppy, and his hips stiffened. He dropped his head on my shoulder, letting his weight fall onto me. This was it— my only chance.
I slid one of my hands down his back while keeping the other pressed to the back of his head. “Stay in me, please,” I begged. I didn't need him to move. As my hand got closer to his waistband, I felt it— the knife! I gripped the handle and pulled it from his waistband. I pulled my legs under me so that they were pressed against his chest and kicked him as hard as I could. Knife in hand, I jumped on him before he could react. Pressing the knife against his throat, I began to speak. “Tell me why I shouldn't?” I yelled. “Because…,” he said, struggling to find an answer. “Take off the mask!” I demanded. “What?” he asked. “You heard me! Bitch!” I yelled back, pressing the knife deeper into his neck. I could feel his heart racing. Wasn't shit funny to him now. “Aight, damn!” he yelled while slowly removing the mask. His hands tossed the mask away from us.
What a sight?! I leaned in closer, turning the blade on its side. “Any last words?!” I snarled. He lay there quietly. “None. Fine with me!” I said, fisting the knife. “I just hope you know how special you are, Mama. Oh, and my girlfriend gone kick yo’ ass!” he screamed.
“Terry!” I said pouting. He grabbed my face and pulled me in for a kiss. “All you had to do was keep acting scared. Dammit!” I said pushing away from him. I was straddling his waist with my arms folded across my chest going into full brat mode. “I'm sorry! You said the code word for ending the scene, Mama. How was I supposed to know you wanted to keep going?” he asked grabbing my chin. “You ruined the fun,” I said dropping my arms. “Did I though?” he asked taking one of my nipples into his mouth. “You still got one more in you?” he asked, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “How the fuck am I supposed to say no?” I asked leaning in to kiss him and dropping the knife.
He placed his arm around my waist and lifted my hips. He reached his hand between us, guiding his dick inside me. “Ouu, shit!” I moaned into his mouth. “Come on, Mama. You got it. Make Daddy proud!” he said smiling. I pushed him back onto the ground. “Here comes, Big Mama!” I yelled, giggling. I hopped onto my feet and started bouncing on his dick. My hips smashed down into his. I leaned over and began kissing his neck. “Let me have it, Mama. Let's go!” he yelled, smacking my ass. Terry let out the sweetest moan as his head dropped back. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.
Fuck, I couldn't help myself. Look at him. Eyes rolling. Toes curling. Moaning to the gods. Yeah, I did that! Me!
“You like that? Huh?” I asked, placing my hand on Terry's neck. I pressed down on the front of his throat. Terry's eyes shot open and his hand reached for mine. “Don't you fuckin' dare!” I said, slowing down my hips and gripping his dick with every grind. “Fuck!” Terry said letting his hands fall. “Nah, look at me. Ain't that what you said?” I taunted while gripping his neck even tighter. “Ahh, fuck. I love you!” he screamed out. “Yeah, I wanna hear that shit. Eyes on me!” I said, mocking him. His eyes opened slowly as his breathing became ragged. I could feel his heart racing under the palm of my hand. I held the grip on his neck with the other.
The sound of my ass colliding with his hips echoed through the barn. “Give me it, Daddy!” I said, releasing his neck. I sat up straight and began to ride Terry like the stallion he is. “Ahh, that's… oh, fuck! Here it comes!” Terry said, grabbing my hips and holding me in place. His hips froze as he squeezed my waist. I felt every drop of his cum paint the inside of my walls. I giggled into my hand and said, “Oh, I'm not done!”
Terry's face was overcome with shock. “You heard me,” I said, rocking my hips. “Fuck it. It's all you, Mama,” he said, collapsing backward. “Oh, I know!” I said cockily. That's when I noticed Terry was smirking. “You just don't know when to stop, huh?” he said grabbing my hips and lifting me off of him. He pushed my body over his chest so that my pussy was directly over his mouth. His tongue immediately found my clit. I was definitely about to cum from this. His mouth covered the sensitive bud as he sucked.
I felt his hands rubbing and squeezing my ass. I fell forward and began grinding against his face. I felt Terry's lips curl into a smile. “I'm about to cum,” I announced loudly. Terry popped my ass and held me down, encouraging me. His tongue slithered along my entrance. He was missing it on purpose, teasing me. I whined like a bitch. Moans were leaving my mouth repeatedly. His tongue finally found its way into my pussy. I clenched as I felt my orgasm approaching. “Ah, fuck!” I yelled, leaning up and straddling Terry's face. He removed his tongue and began sucking on my clit again. That's what did it. I came all over Terry. “Ugh… mmm. Fuck, Daddy!” I moaned through my orgasm. I could hear him laugh from underneath me. “Damn you!” I yelled, climbing off of Terry's face. “I love you, too. Mean ass!” he said. “I guess I love you,” I said, laughing while leaning over to kiss Terry’s lips.
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ao3 • 6.1k • @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: “Where did you find that costume?” • beta: @netflixandchilis 🧡🖤
Summary:
“This is not a sex costume.” Steve rolls his eyes, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me of—”
Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.
His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.
Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddie’s Halloween party dressed as a stripper.
*Knock knock knock*
Steve steps back from Eddie’s front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasn’t fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailer—he’s done it before after all, but sue him; he’s feeling playful tonight. And if there’s one night a year you’re allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, it’s Halloween, right?
Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitter…
He’d just finished dropping the kids all off at Henderson’s house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steve’s fucking exhausted.
When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.
“Hawkins PD, open up,” he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.
Steve’s skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.
Cheap ass costume…
The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailer’s interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.
Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.
“Got a couple of noise complaints, ma’am. Are your folks home? I’m gonna need—”
Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, “Wait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.”
The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but can’t make out much of the muffled voices after that.
Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve can’t help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasn’t that convincing… was it?
“Man, c’mon…” Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. He’s very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots he’d been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddie’s lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.
“C’mon, open up, Hawkins Police.” Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.
In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, it’s Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.
Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair he’s got taped to his face. He can’t wait to rip the damn thing off.
Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.
“Sir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?” Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona he’s decided to adopt.
“What the–” Eddie starts, but doesn’t seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.
Steve’s putting on a good show, it seems.
“Because it’s a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.” Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, “I could have you arrested.”
Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. It’s an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honest—he’s just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?
“Shteve, where in the fresh hell…?” A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddie’s got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. “Is that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devil’s lettuce in there?”
Robin sounds like she’s choking on something, Nancy’s all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but he’s not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit he’s doing wasn’t even all that funny, even he can admit that. It’s just dorky fun. But Eddie’s shoulders are shaking and he’s giggling hard enough that he’s gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his face…? Besides the stache, of course.
A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.
“Alright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.” But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steve’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.
“Slow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,” Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, “Jesus Christ, Steve, you’re gonna get the actual cops called on us.”
Sargent Cinnamon?
Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. “What? Why?”
“Just—just turn around for me for a minute.” Eddie says. His hand falls from Steve’s chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.
“Yeah, give us a spin, Steve.” Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.
“Why?” Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.
“We just have to confirm something.” Eddie says, playing coy.
Now that Steve’s really looking at him, he can see Eddie’s clearly dressed as a vampire. He’s all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape that’s tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup that’s smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.
He looks… good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky too…
“C’mon, just let me in. I don’t wanna spin.” Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.
Eddie’s brows pinch together in mock sympathy, “oh, I’m so sorry Officer, but in that case, we’re gonna need you to come back with a warrant.”
Steve sighs. He’s cold, annoyed, and he’s pretty sure there’s two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels that’ll need patching up before the night is out. “Dude–”
Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, “ah ah ah. You don’t get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.”
Steve’s brain stutters to a halt. “...I’m just dressed as a cop. What’s the big deal? Why’re you guys acting so weird?”
“Less yapping, more spinning, Deputy.” Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. It’s like a trap—one Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.
He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. “There. Happy? Any more questions or demands?”
“Yeah, just the one,” Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. “Where did you find that costume?”
Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. “Just a regular costume store.”
“What store exactly?” Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, “was there, oh, I don’t know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?”
And with that, there’s simply no helping it; Steve’s face goes scarlet. “No! It was just that pop-up Halloween store—the one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, what’s the big deal?”
“Did you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?” Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.
Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but… thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.
Oh God…
“There’s that lightbulb,” Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, “knew it would turn on eventually.”
Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. They’re just poking fun at him, surely. If he’s being honest, he’s sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. It’s like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!
If he didn’t know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently they’ve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. It’s like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.
“This is not a sex costume.” he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.
“Steve,” Eddie’s voice goes soft, as if he’s opting to break the news to Steve gently, “you’re dressed as a stripper, man.”
“No, I’m not!” Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, “It’s just… I’m just a cop. Okay, maybe it’s a sexy cop, but it’s just a stupid joke costume! It’s not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesn’t make it a stripper outfit.”
Eddie nods empathetically, “right right, sure.”
“It’s true!”
“Totally, yeah.”
“I’m being serious!”
“Oh, I know you are.”
“It’s just a little tight is all.”
“I’ll say.”
Steve huffs, “I swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me of–”
Steve doesn’t have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.
The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesn’t hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steve’s ass cheeks.
Either way, he’s standing there, on the Munson’s front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap he’s got resting atop his head.
Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way he’s basking in Steve’s utter humiliation. “Well well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?”
Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.
“Wh–Why would you do that!?” Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.
“Honestly? Because I don’t have a lot of impulse control,” Eddie admits truthfully, “but mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.”
Steve’s had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, he’s freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.
“Don’t tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.” Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steve’s costume.
Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. He’s sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!
He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!
“You did.” Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. “You really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkin’s a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!”
“No, I–” Steve sputters, “well, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasn’t any kind of show.”
“Were the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?” Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. “Did they give you extra candy?”
“One, I didn’t go trick-or-treating, so I didn’t get any candy at all,” Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! “And two, I didn’t know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.”
Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steve’s as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didn’t bear witness to his great blunder.
“Didn’t it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?” Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.
“Well, in hindsight… yes.” Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, “but I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!”
“Oh, Steve.” Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.
“Sweet, naive Dingus.” Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.
So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of ‘em, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.
“C’mon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.” Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. “Unless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?”
That’s the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddie’s offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddie’s unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.
Steve notices that Eddie’s oddly quiet now that they’re alone.
Steve was sort of used to Eddie’s constant prattling on when they were together—so much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. It’s damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.
Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. “Here, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.”
“Thanks.” Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.
He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.
Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.
“Oh, sure, now you’re shy.” Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. “Shit, shit, shit–”
“What is it? What happened?” Eddie’s full attention is back on Steve, and Steve’s insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.
And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but… it’s different with Eddie. Even Steve’s not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel… seen, maybe. Special. Understood?
Steve doesn’t fucking know. He gives his head a shake.
“It’s just these stupid boots. I’ve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldn’t have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...” Steve explains, as if it’s a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until it’s propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, “they’re just stinging a little, it’s fine.”
“I’ll get some band-aids.” Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, what’s new? Dude is tornado incarnate.
By the time Eddie’s back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steve’s already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. He’s poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.
“Here.” Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesn’t. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.
Which sounds harsh even in Steve’s own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as time’s gone on, and the further Steve’s gotten away from high school, the more he’s realized that his favorite people in the whole world—the ones he’d lay down his life for any day of the fucking week—are all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldn’t he be proud to be counted among them?
Steve finds he doesn’t entirely hate the concept.
“You must think I’m a moron, huh?” Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.
“For getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?” Eddie asks, grinning. Knows he’s being a cheeky little shit.
Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, “it could’ve happened to anyone, y’know. The costume thing, I mean.”
He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.
“Maybe. But it’s funny because it happened to you.” Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.
“I don’t, though, by the way.” The couple of words tumble out of Eddie’s mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isn’t following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. “Think you’re a moron, I mean. You’re just… more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesn’t make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.”
“Foolhardy?” Steve’s hands stop what they’re doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steve’s pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?
Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddie’s inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.
“It’s a good thing—well, it is when I say it…” Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, “whatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.”
“I know what foolhardy means I just–” Steve doesn’t have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. “Fuuuuuck…” he groans as he pulls.
“Stop, stop, just–” Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steve’s boot.
“No no, Eddie, don’t–!” Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddie’s jumpy, erratic movements he’s known for. His foot can’t fucking take it…
“Calm down, I’ll pull it off slow. I’ll even give you a countdown. You just–just relax, alright?” Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldn’t hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddie’s fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steve’s skin heats underneath Eddie’s hold. It’s enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.
Trying to follow Eddie’s instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddie’s grip. “Relax. Right. Okay.”
“Alright. My safe word’s Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?” Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else… And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steve’s hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spiders…
A beat passes before Steve’s brain catches up with him. “Why the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?”
“Because nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.” Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasn’t exactly experienced with things like safe words and… well, the things that normally go along with safe words.
He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actually…
“Ready?” Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. He’s cradling Steve’s booted foot, one hand low on Steve’s calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.
Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. “Ready.”
“3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!” Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steve’s heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. “Aaaaand we’re done!” Eddie says triumphantly.
Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. He’s built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if it’s something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesn’t care.
When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. “Y-you don’t gotta do that part–”
Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. “It’s okay, I wanna help.”
“My feet probably fucking reek, dude. I’ve been wearing those all day.” Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesn’t sit right with Steve. “You don’t–... I-I can do this part.”
“I told you, I don’t care.” Eddie says as he peels away Steve’s sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.
Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steve—to say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steve’s heel.
“Unless,” Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, “unless you don’t want me to.”
The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if they’re both just realizing that they don’t really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they don’t know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isn’t. It’s a little uncomfortable, sure, but… exciting, in a weird way.
Steve swallows, “no, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. I—”
I like it when you touch me.
The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second he’s not sure if he’s said it out loud or not.
But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesn’t let on.
Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.
Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steve’s blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasn’t got a clue.
There’s something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle… almost sweet person. It’s hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesn’t show the second side nearly as often as the first–and only to a lucky handful of people. Steve’s one of those happy few.
It’s like a secret Eddie.
Steve briefly wonders if there’s a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling he’s more of a ‘what you see is what you get’ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesn’t mean he’s shallow.
And just when Steve thinks Eddie’s done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steve’s foot for him.
Which…
Honestly, Steve doesn’t know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But there’s more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when you’re sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. It’s that same sort of feeling. Only more.
“Thanks, man.” Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than he’s feeling. Because… Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. It’s been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. He’s always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.
But here’s Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. He’s still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve can’t wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steve’s chest ache, fixing to burst.
“No problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.” Eddie’s tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steve’s feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but they’re comfortable enough and blissfully warm.
“Well the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.” Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddie’s energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when they’re strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.
“Christ, you’re cute.” Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing he’s done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what he’d just said.
Eddie thinks he’s cute?
The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of things—from puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didn’t mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddie’s just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when he’s high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, but—well, Eddie always smells like weed.
“Here’s your–” Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling he’s got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddie’s blushing by the way he’s holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve can’t be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, “sorry, man.”
It’s said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isn’t usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesn’t—can’t leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s not—it’s whatever, dude.” Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.
Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Steve says, quick, casual-like.
Eddie chews on his lip. “I didn’t make it weird?”
At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but… well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.
And Steve likes Eddie’s flavor of weird anyway.
“Hey, I’m the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didn’t I? If anyone’s made it weird tonight, it’s me.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.
Eddie’s wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. “That’s true.” He chuckles.
“I like your costume though.” Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. “Vampire, right?”
If possible, Eddie’s eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.
“That’s Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.” Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.
Steve pretends to cower, but he’s always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. “Terrifying. If you hadn’t torn it off me earlier, I’m sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.”
And again, it’s enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.
“C’mon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.” Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. It’s sort of adorable.
It’s profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.
Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. There’s some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but it’s settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.
Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steve’s not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is… it’s nice.
And when there’s a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but it’s the damnedest thing. Even after the joke’s over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just… doesn’t take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.
They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesn’t risk putting his hand over top of Eddie’s—he can’t. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddie’s warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.
It’s hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steve’s ever had—but it’s also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.
#steddie#my writing#I’m thinking of putting together a tag list for all of my Steddie works#if anyone is interested??#message me/comment to get added!#steddie fanfic#fanfic#write Rae write#Steve Harrington is a himbo#and you’ll never take that from me#Eddie Munson is a chaotic gremlin with a crush#costumes#Halloween#Steddie spooktober 2024#Steddie spooktober#stranger things#stranger things fan fiction#my edits#steddie edit#Steddie graphic#Eddie Munson#Steve Harrington#eddie munson is alive
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Silver Lining | Worst!Logan Howlett x F!Reader
Synopsis: Logan was too familiar with depressive episodes, spending years stuck in his own. He never wanted you to feel the way he did, he wanted to take your pain away.
Warnings: ANGST, like no joke this is just straight up angst/whump with a somewhat happy ending, not character angst but reader angst – or at least that is what I think it would classify as?, mentions of mania, mentions of mental illness, reader screams at everyone and tries hard to make people hate her because she thinks she deserves it, mentions of depression, reader has a depressive episode, crying, self-doubt, mentions of unavailing oneself, language,
Rating: M
Word Count: 3.9K
Author’s Note: You know, at times when there are things you cannot tell anyone about, you write. This happened to be that moment for me. Also I know I said this was going to be angsty but I don't think I did the angst justice enough. I'm not used to writing it so I apologize if it's not full blown whump.
Tagging(?): @battermyheart @plagued-kitty @cxrrodedcoffin @babygorewhore @strangererotica
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“I fucking hate you, leave me alone!” You scream at your apartment door, hearing Wade on the other end banging harder. You didn’t mean any of the words, you wanted to take them all back, you wanted to say you’re sorry and move on. Your hands reach out to tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the root. Growls of agony and pain tear from your throat as you drop to your knees on the plush carpet, rocking back and forth. “Let me go, please let me go!” None of your words made sense, they felt foreign on your tongue as the pounding got louder, as the screams turned sour. The world faded to black as your head hit the carpet, your throat raw – straining against your sorrows. Footsteps echoed like snow on a winter’s night; The silence was not comforting. Bloodied fists fell beside your face, and Laura’s soft words lulled you to sleep. “We will be here when you’re ready. Please, take care of yourself.”
No one expected that a day full of laughing and bonding would take a hard left turn. No one knew what hid beneath your surface, they never realized how bad it was getting. All they saw was smiles and sunshine radiating off of you, never knowing they were caused by pain. You thought you were getting better, that you weren’t faking it this time – unfortunately your brain never got the memo. None of your words held any meaning; You knew that but you were worried your friends might not. Then again, day one you did tell Wade to not get attached – that was for his own sake when one day you were no longer here. It was an unspoken song in your head – it never rang true but certain times felt like it would, that it may.
Peter’s party was supposed to be fun, celebrating his anniversary of a year with B-15. A full day planned by Wade and Laura. Logan and you were made to keep them both busy for a while, while Al complained about the constant smell of latex balloons. A day you had been looking forward to for weeks; Spending time with Logan while also not feeling pressured into anything. Wade’s constant comments about you two shacking up held some tension between the two of you, sometimes making it awkward to even say hi to him. But this was supposed to be a turning point for the best, the manic episodes a thing of the past. You were finally healing, so you thought. Alas nothing stays the same forever; A little chaos thrown into a beautiful painting can sometimes turn the colors muddy.
Thirteen days it has been since you left your apartment, almost a full two weeks since you spoke to anyone. Text messages gone unanswered, calls gone silent. Knocks at the door becoming few and far in between as the days grew longer. The care packages dwindling down to one every other day than ever four hours. They did care, it wasn’t a bullshit excuse your mind made up, deep down you fucking knew and yet? It didn’t feel right. It was foreign of a concept; A group of people looking out for you because they care. You had been in with every wrong group possible that it ruined any singular chance of trusting their actions. Happy endings were not in your card, so you had convinced yourself. Episodes like this became your only friend, constantly reliving the worst moments over and over until you couldn’t cry anymore. The utter pain on Wade’s face as he cried for you, as Laura tried to help you, as Al reassured you, as Logan held you, were too much to constantly see. The distance was necessary. But never, never would they give up on you.
Over the last two weeks Wade has come by and sat outside your door, recounting missions and how they went to reading the newest Booktok craze in graphic detail, never spearing a moment to see if he could hear you laugh. Instead all he heard was sobs, self-hatred, and pain. It gave you the time to process your rage, to understand it cannot be pointed towards others who were only trying to help, to figure out a way to explain how sorry you are. But you never needed to, because Logan did – and they made sure they let you know. Out of everyone, Logan was rooting for you the most. Looking out for you, making sure no one came to disturb you when he heard your wails of sorrow, letting you feel rather than cause any discomfort. It killed him silently to hear you like this, not to be able to hold you through it, he wanted to do so much more.
Every text that you stomached to read from Logan was always reassuring, never condescending or jokey. Between small quotes he heard over his life of resilience to funny memes he stole from Wade, he was your cheerleader in every way. It helped you to know, even if you didn’t respond. It gave you the confidence to finally get up and take a deep breath, to understand what you were going to say. That was your plan for today and nothing was going to stop you. As soon as you realized in the early afternoon, you spent the rest of the time cleaning up your apartment, taking a shower, and getting your best comfy clothes on to have a sit down chat with everyone. It felt like everything was going to be okay – you felt like you had control over your emotions; This time it would be easy to convey what sparked your episode. Taking a deep breath you opened your apartment door as walked across the hall to Wade’s, keeping your hand steady as you knocked.
The controlled, hard thuds rang through your wrist as you heard a groan come from the other side, inaudible mumbles coming from Althea. A small smirk played across your lips as you heard her rambles, knowing how feisty the older woman is. The door to Wade’s apartment opened quickly as she stood facing you. Seeing Al after a few weeks of going MIA made your throat dry up, only hearing her words of reassurance as you had a breakdown. Instead of speaking you stared at the woman, fingers slightly trembling. Al let out a sad breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. ‘Oh honey, come on in.” How she knew that it was you wasn’t even a question in your mind, just her gentle nature of feeling you made your eyes misty. Al left a decent gap between her and the door as you crossed over the threshold, staring into the comfortable space.
You could tell that Wade and Laura weren’t around, considering how the pull-out mattress wasn’t out still and Wade’s door was wide open. But you knew he was here. As Al closed the door behind the two of you, the third door of the right opened quickly, the wood creaking against the hinges. Standing in the doorway with warm eyes and a stoic stance was Logan, staring at you like he was in disbelief. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, instead he kept his eyes on your face. Your hair was tucked behind your ears and away from your features; Logan’s eyes trailed over each part with a soft smile on his lips, relief coursing through his veins. “How are you doing?” he asked calmly, not moving a muscle as he gauged your response. The tranquil state you were previously in started to crumble at those four words, your eyes growing tight and blurry as you stared into Logan’s hazel eyes. Your fingers began to shake as your heart raced, a sob threatening to tear from your throat without warning. All you could do was shake your head at Logan’s question, blinking your tears away. Without a thought, you moved fast into Logan as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his flannel. Everything you had been holding onto for two weeks was already coming out; The dame officially breaking as he held you. “I got you, sshh – you’re okay,” Logan responded as he rubbed your back, tightening his hold on you as you cried.
Logan slowly shuffled you backwards into his bedroom, letting the heavy door shut on its own as he held you the entire way. Due to how lost you were in his sweet embrace, you didn’t realize that you were now in Logan’s room or better yet, laying with him on his bed. Positioning you to face him, Logan never let you go as he pulled you close to him, letting your face press into his neck as he pulled the comforter over the two of you. Short, sweet hums left his lips as he rested his cheek against the top of your head, letting your subconsciously link his thick legs with yours. “I’m proud of you for coming over, you know that?” Those words warmed your chest as you felt your body shiver, the praise meaning everything to you. Pushing your face deeper against the crook of Logan’s neck, you belted out a wail as you gripped his shirt, just knowing it was starting to soak with the runoff of your tears. You shook your head against his chest, slightly digging your nails through his shirt.
Over the last year you watched Logan transform from gruff and rugged emotionally to happy and prideful. Though that hardened shell of his would never leave, he seemed to be a lot lighter mentally. After he became the new anchor being, new resident of Earth-10005, and the new friend of Wade, which all still was confusing to your human brain, he realized that life was so much more than reliving your past – and learning to move forward from it. It was a slow journey for him but, he found solace in the understanding and knowing. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to grab you and pull you close, knowing this only mirrored what you did for him all those months ago. Being on the receiving end of it felt bizarre for you, but it felt like home. You didn’t want to believe it, but it was true. “You shouldn’t,” a low whispered escaped through your sob as Logan trailed his fingers over your back, drawing small shapes against your hoodie.
“But I am, it’s a big first step.” It was true in a way, the first step was always the acknowledgement. Just leaving your apartment was a great first attempt, and now you were really making strides. “We love you so much, I love you, sweetheart.” Hearing Logan say that caused your heart to clench; The game of cat and mouse of feelings you two have been ping-ponging over the last year reached its peak quickly during this whole time, realizing you two were in silent cahoots – there never needed to be a talk about labels when it happened to naturally. Neither one of you would admit it but, you were together way before any of this went down. Swallowing down the smartass retort wanting to slip off your tongue, you sank your nails a bit deeper into his shirt, feeling his hiss come out. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Lo. Do you know how to love?”
You hated yourself for those words, knowing you didn’t mean it but let it go anyways. A typical defense tactic to push people away. Logan knew it too which is why he never responded, only snickered at your persistence. He knew exactly how you would react, knowing from your past conversations about your previous episodes. Running his beard across the side of your cheek, Logan nodded against your face as he spoke, “I love Wade. I love Laura. I love Al. And most importantly, I love you.” Hearing him say again that he loved you should’ve been one of the happiest moments, knowing you both were making great strides in your relationship, yet it left a burning hole of lies in your chest. You scoff at Logan’s declaration, a fresh wave of warm tears cascading down your cheeks as you push your face further into his burly chest. You tried so hard to mask your cry with a cough but, Logan knew better. The words holding their true meaning, the truth snaking its way through your brain. Shaking your head against his pecs, you inhale a deeply, smelling his shower gel and natural musk flooding your nose. “You don’t love me, you barely know me.”
Logan smiles softly above you, trying not to roll his eyes at your clear avoidance of the talk you were about to have. He found your stubbornness endearing, seeing a bit of himself within you. He was the same way after all, never acknowledging or wanting to accept but always question, always avoid. Hiding and not accepting the truth was easier than healing at times. Logan placed his lips to the top of your head as he kisses it gently, rubbing his large hand up and down your back. He never let his lips pull back your head as you let out his words, wanting the warmth of his breath to sink in, hoping that would help you to understand the truth over the lies your mind was telling. “Then give me a chance to.” It slipped out between his lips so naturally you had no time to adjust, hitting you like a ton of bricks.
You stop in the moment; Your breathing, your crying, your whole body. Logan’s words sank deep within your soul, causing a bloom of emotion to burst within your chest. The truth was burning your nerves one by one, every fiber alight and refusing to be put out with your self-doubt. Every stage of grief you could possibly feel ran through your with cold fingers, awakening you for what felt like centuries. Trembling hands grip tighter at his flannel tighter, pulling him close and pushing him away at the same time. Your brows furrow as you scan the darkness within, trying to find a reason why he shouldn’t. All you could find was positive after positive with Logan, remembering how he tried to do the same to you and you refused to give up on him. Now it was your turn, but stepping into the unknown scared you more than anything else. Opening yourself up to him, was terrifying. “Don’t push me away, please.” Logan whispered into your hairline, feeling his own soul hurt for you.
“That’s all I know how to do.” It wasn’t a lie persay, but it wasn’t the whole truth. You never pushed away the gang, not ever. Anytime you were mildly upset you made sure to be with them, and they stayed with you through it all. Even the times you got annoyed with them, you never gave up on that friendship. You knew deep down you’d never push them away, in fact it was funny to you how you even thought that. As Wade had one said, we are like herpes – we never leave, sweet cheeks. “Let me help you break that cycle.” You wanted to believe Logan, trust his words and actions of the man you love. But it was fear inducing to do so, because every what if made its way out of the wood works, chiming in their two cents. What if he leaves you? What if he moves on? What if he is saying this just to make you happy? What if he doesn’t mean it? What if he just feels sorry for you?
The offer to help you break the cycle was what set you off, tearing yourself away from Logan. Sitting up roughly on his bed, you bunched the comforter down at your hips, placing your head in your hands. The fresh wave of tears was threatening to spill over as you shook your head, your knees trembling with every inhale. “What if it can’t be broken, Logan?” You pan your eyes up at him, your bottom lip quivering. “What if that’s all I’m ever going to be destined for? Healing others while I hurt myself. I don’t know if I can be fixed, or changed or-“ Logan abruptly stopped your spiel as he reached for you, holding your face within his hands. The gentle flecks of golds and emeralds swimming in his irises caused your heart to flutter, his natural beauty causing your cheeks to warm. He stared at you like a man in love, needing you to know just how precious you are.
“I said the same thing about myself, for fucking years. I refused to believe I could be happy, in a better place mentally, I didn’t want to be happy. I wanted to hurt, knowing what I did to cause pain to others. I believed I deserved it. Not a day goes by where I sometimes slip into my old routine. But I remember that people do appreciate me, they do love me - even if I don’t want to believe it.” You noticed how Logan wasn’t aware he was crying with you, his tears slowly falling from the inner corner of his eyes as he spoke. The hold he had on your face growing harder, not in a painful way but in a comforting one. Every word he spoke he wanted to sink in, to show you if it wasn’t the end for him – it wasn’t for you either. “But-“ you chimed, trying to find a reasoning but coming up short. “No buts, just feel. What do you want, sweetheart?”
The question held a lot of meaning, a lot of endless possibilities that you weren’t able to explore in your lifetime. For the first time in so long, you felt like you finally had a choice over your own decisions, not your mental health. The way you stared at Logan, with admiration and hesitance caused his heart rate to speed up, his palms growing clammy at what you may say. He could smell your fear, hear your heart pumping at an abnormal rate. Placing his wide palm against your calf, he rubbed over your leggings with languid strokes, helping to coax your answer out. The feelings finally setting in, everything hitting its peak, knowing you were not going to be hitting rock bottom again. “I want to be happy.” It didn’t sound real coming from your mouth, foreign against your tongue as Logan painted his face with a slow smile, admiring your strength and truth to wanting to be happy, instead of staying in that darkened space.
“Louder, darlin.” Logan coaxed with a gentle smile, pressing his lips to your temple as he took a deep inhale. He liked to believe that was his way of ridding you of this pain, inhaling it so he could hold onto it – so you could feel at peace. A small grin made its way upon your lips as you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch deeper. His arms came to hold you against his chest, peppering kisses along the left side of your face as you exhaled. “I want to be happy, Logan.” This time it felt real, felt right coming from you. Your tears dried up quickly, the sticky residue still on your cheeks as you started to get back on your metaphorical feet. His kisses caused your stomach to burn with love and passion. Grabbing at his right hand, you pulled it to your lips as you kissed over where his claws would come out, showing him how even something so deadly deserves care.
“Give yourself permission to.” Logan smiles genuinely as he cups your cheek, running the pad of his thumb over your skin. Reveling in his touch was the only thing you could do, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you smiled. Having someone like Logan be so patient with you, caring for you like no one before has, made you feel safe. It made you feel like things were really going to get better, and now they were. He was right, you needed to give yourself over to your own happiness, and welcome it in. It was a scary thing to adjust to but, you deserved it. The torment you had been putting yourself through, dealing with crisis after crisis and believing every mean word to be true, you deserved this much needed break and acceptance. Logan pressed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, wanting you to take in every word deep within your soul. “I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I won’t give up on you.”
That was all you needed for the tears to start again, this time though – they were different. They were sweet this time around, not sour and hateful like earlier. This time they were cool to the touch, not scalding hot. Hearing the love of your life say that, meant the world was healing. You were silently giving yourself over to Logan fully, letting him help you instead of shutting him out. Welcoming him in during your time of need was what the world gave you, and you were never going to take it for granted. Sighing out into his touch, you sniffed back a few tears as you cleared your throat, knowing another cry would slip out sooner. “No one’s ever told me that.”
It broke Logan’s heart to hear that, knowing people gave up on you too easily during your time of need. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in the world, dealing with the demons on your own; He needed you to know he would make sure you never fell down that path again. Leaning into you, Logan pressed his plush lips against yours, letting the slow hum of the central air drown out the loud voices in his mind. Just like that the world stood still, in this moment it was just you and Logan – no one else, no other thing. Time stopped to let you both take this all in, to realize two souls were converging into one, and the path ahead was twisting together for the two of you. The soft nature of the kiss felt like it could heal all of your wounds, and deep down you believed that it did. Logan was stitching together every slice in your being, healing those jagged scars, stitching your soul into one again. “Good thing I’m not no one,” Logan smiled against your lips, stealing a few sweet kisses as he nudging his nose to yours, making you look up at him. “I’m someone to you.”
#logan howlett#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett angst#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x reader#worst!logan#worst!logan fic#worst!logan fanfic#worst!logan fanfiction#worst!logan angst#worst!logan fluff#worst!logan x f!reader#worst!logan x reader#worst!logan howlett#worst!logan howlett fic#worst!logan howlett fanfic#worst!logan howlett fanfiction#worst!logan howlett angst#worst!logan howlett fluff#worst!logan howlett x reader#worst!logan howlett x f!reader
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I wanna touch on a couple things I noticed from the asks that are being sent regarding the current discourse. About a month ago I received this ask, wanting me to 'name, names' after I made some generalized post about something or another (probs racism per usual because that's been consistent)
What I don't make clear outside of the vetted and trusted people I speak to daily, is I usually send messages to the person I'm talking about in hopes to advise that something was not hitting. I’ve blocked a couple ppl whenever I feel like my point was dismissed because I don’t got the time baby
Occasionally, I'll do anon if I'm just not in the mood for potential issues if the ask gets answered publicly and the reason for that is what I'm about to show you.
This is an ask my mutual @kyletogaz got after expressing frustration about the situation/lack of apology and so is this and this. And this is a link to @ungodlybre post on all the asks she's gotten in the last few days after she commented on a post about the Mace fic. I just received an ask a few seconds ago yall can look at as well
This is the post my friend/mutual kiko made that I reblogged and essentially got the ball rolling on the current convo about how Mace/black characters are depicted in fiction. Kiko has been one of the few other poc people providing links and information on what the issue is with the fic.
I noticed the glaring tonal difference in how non black people like Kiko, who originally brought up the issue, are in comparison to the black female bloggers that I referred to earlier, after they expressed frustration about the new crop of fandom shit.
I couldn't find the ask that @/Fulltacs (a non black person) answered when asked about why the writer was getting heat, but I read the ask and it was actually pretty respectful towards fulltacs, while being incredibly dismissive/rude when referring to Bre (@/ungodlybre)
I've seen several of my white mutuals repeat in their tags/posts the issue about the fic and what not. I have yet to see them receive the kind of directly antagonistic asks from anons who claim to be black/poc with the intent to shut down or convince us to stop talking about the writer. I’m not gonna get into digital blackface or blackfishing but I have my doubts on these anons being racially black.
Overall this is all an example of something called racial gaslighting but specifically misogynoir
Misogynoir is a form of racial microaggression towards black women where race and gender meet. It usually stems from implicit bias, which is the reason why people had a problem with the fic in the first place. Not the damn kink. or even the unwitting use of an anti black slur.
The continued dismissing about word use/forgiving the author and the overall vitriolic tone asking these black women to educate or saying things like: ' You are a bully’ ‘shut up because it's not that big of a deal’, ‘the writer tried or I'm black and-' is just an example of how black women are spoken to on and outside the internet and why many of us have chosen to not directly say anything about racism outside of private messages.
It’s why Kiko and the mutual that dm’d @/auspicoustidings are latinas who’ve chosen to address the situation as an act of solidarity when Jess (kyletogaz) and I were excited to read the Mace fic and were unsettled by it
"the intersectional nature of Black women’s identities triggers a particularized stereotype or trope of the “Angry Black Woman” and explains how this trope is often invoked in aggressive encounters to deflect attention from the aggressor and to project blame onto the target." - A quote From this article
“racial microaggressions are subtle and everyday slights and insults that can include insensitive comments based on an array of racial assumptions … as well as the minimization or denial of the racialized experiences of people of color.” - From this study on Perceived Gendered Racial Microaggressions Experienced by Black Women.
I don’t have the time or the desire to do a crash course on misogynoir and the ways implicit bias shows up in real life and fandom. What I can say is if you need or want the visibly/vocally black people in this fandom to shut the fuck up right now, while non black people (including the author) are being afforded a sense of kindness/assumption of innocence and well doing for speaking up, than you are apart of an anti black problem
Those black bloggers said innocuous shit like “long suffering sigh” or “hate to see it” and are still getting hate and that is the reason we are saying many fics about black characters like Kyle who is often disregarded, make us uncomfortable . This kind of bias is a dog whistle only those who have been raised black/poc see irl and it’s present in the way people write fics.
My ask is for people to take a second and really ask yourselves if you think this is a safe space for Black/non black poc people to educate on racist tropes in writing and then I wanna know if you even realized that before I said something
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Cornered
Warnings: kissing, cheating, flirting
After your first kiss with Wanda, sitting on her lap as she took your breath away, you quickly pushed her off and ran out the door. You weren’t a shy girl by any means, and you knew you two were playing a dangerous game, but really? A pastors wife? Wanda Maximoff, the doting wife and volunteer everyone looks up to? You were barely a sophomore in college, kissing a woman who’s married and in her 30’s like it’s no big deal. You had no business being involved in something this scandalous.
When her lips collided with yours, it suddenly turned into a big deal…everything was a big deal. You couldn’t be letting your fun feelings go too far, and besides, you were only here for the summer. Your feelings for Wanda weren’t real, it’s just a fling. Wanda, on the other hand, felt completely different. She knew that you wouldn’t stay in town forever, but that didn’t stop her from wanting you one bit.
She got worried when you didn’t show up for your special solo that Sunday, the one she found you a pretty dress for and did your blush and- even the thought of the kiss made her cheeks grow with heat. After service she waited at a lonely table while her husband chatted it up with all the families and other guests. Wanda got used to having your company, talking and laughing and giving you light touches. Her high status as the Pastors wife surprisingly didn’t leave her with many real friends.
When she got home, the first number she called was yours, sitting on the couch with a cold glass of iced tea and waiting for you to pick up. You saw her call, took a breath, and declined it. Funny enough though, you were still wearing the dress and her makeup…you just couldn’t take it off. The doting wife called you 10 times in the span of an hour, leaving countless voicemails.
“Hi sweetheart, it’s Ms. Maximoff…it’s Wanda. Please call me.”
“Why’d you miss your solo, we worked so hard on it?”
”We should talk about earlier…it was completely unprofessional and I’m sorry, honey.” “Call me back, or meet me at my house in an hour. I’d prefer your discretion on this.”
You decided to be a mature adult and drove over to her house, anxiously knocking on the door. The beautiful woman you’d kissed just hours earlier stood there, hair shiny and soft with perfect lips and- that’s not even what you were here for. Focus. “Please come in, make yourself comfortable,” she said as she took your coat and your purse.
You two sat across from one another on two separate couches, letting uncomfortable silence stir between you two. Then, you spoke, “I just want to say I’m sorry for earlier, it should’ve never happened and I-”
“Don’t apologize, Y/N. I wanted it…I still do.” “What-what’re you saying? Wanda your husband is a pastor and you work at the church and- I don’t even know what’s going on.” “For years I’ve been able to keep my desires hidden until you, Y/N. I don’t know why but I have to have you, and I know you want me too.”
“You’re married-”
“You think my husband doesn’t have his own flings?”
She sat on your side of the couch now, a finger gently running up your knee to your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine. You wanted her so badly. You needed her touch.
“No one would have to know.” And you said yes.
That’s how you ended up with your dress ruffled, makeup a mess, hickeys on your tits, and a phone number in your pocket that said, “Call me night or day- W.”
#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff x reader#mommy!wanda#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#dark!wanda maximoff#Pastors wife!Wanda
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Gem spits the blood out of her mouth, wiping the rest of it off her face. She raises up and pulls her sword out of the fallen body, his horns broken and clothes tattered.
She finally looks up, scared to face the result of the concurrent battle taking place near her. The cruel hand of fate twists both ways, with her ally fighting her… something. She’s simply glad she didn’t have to be the one to face her again, memories of a time past clearer in her mind than the peaceful waves of home, blood and loss and swords and an arrow in her back.
Joel stands up too, brandishing his axe, gleaming with the witch’s blood. He’s grinning big and feral, teeth shining in the moonlight, wolfish smirk dangerously loud in the sudden silence that’s befallen their temporary residence.
Two wild animals in a standoff that can only end in more blood.
Gem still has her sword raised, keeping her eyes on the moving target, never straying to the corpses littering the ground. They start circling each other, two celestial bodies, never close enough to touch.
“So what now, Gem?” he asks, red eyes scanning her, red patch in his hair, red blood staining his face, red, red, red. His sharp grin is still in place, too wide for what the situation calls for, but Joel’s always been a fool.
“I don’t know, Joel,” she replies, voice even, face stoic. “You’re the one that started circling me like I’m some prey animal. I’m not afraid to fight you, you know.”
“Oh I know you’re not, Gem. But you should be.” He jumps at her, axe raised high in the air, clanging against her sword. She managed to block, but barely, his ferocity surprising her.
“Oh, should I now?” she asks, something teasing in her voice. The fighting feels natural, the way Joel matches her perfectly in this way making something warm and fiery burn brighter in her chest. It triggers a memory in the back of her head, one of simpler times, of wooden swords and trophy heads, of jokes and salty air.
His axe catches her as she’s distracted, too slow to sidestep the attack. Blood spills down her arm, and she curses, steeling herself. This is no time to be distracted, she admonishes herself as she gets into a lower stance, counter attacking with her sword.
Steel drags against steel harshly, sword and axe at odds. They’re grinning at each other, Gem realises as she tastes sweat and blood on her tongue. There’s something almost beautiful about the fighting, two dancers so in sync, it feels like a performance. Animals, performing an intricate mating dance, before they devour each other, angry teeth against flesh.
Her sword catches skin and guts and everything in between as she manages to hit Joel in the abdomen. He gasps, the first sign of weakness he’s shown since they’ve stopped being allies - forgotten are the nights spent in the barn together talking about anything and everything, their hopes and fears, huddling in a single bed when it was cold despite being too big.
Like a shark that’s smelled blood in the water Gem pounces, ferocious and fast, a flurry of steel and red hair, red rage, red, red, red.
But Joel knows her, knows inside and out, has spent days upon days sparring with her and fighting other people with her, and he side steps with ease.
Back to circling each other. Gravity against the vastness of space.
It’s Joel’s turn to spit blood, raising a hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth. The hand goes back down to his newly acquired wound and he grins again.
“That all you got, Gem?”
Gem screams, something feral and wild and lunges at him, his axe barely coming up to block her sword. His smirk falls off his face, a concentrated expression taking its place, sweat dripping down his brow. She privately takes pride in that, it’s not easy for Joel to stop pretending, to drop the mask.
The fight for a while, the sounds of steel and heavy breathing all blending into the melody that accompanies their dance. Their steps calculated, the choreography premeditated. They exchange the lead when they feel like it, both of them too untamed to allow themselves to be led for too long, their need for control equal as their skill.
The fight drags on so long, the first rays of sunlight rain down upon them, birds chirping happily in the distance, oblivious to the battle below them. Orange paints the sky and Gem pants.
She’s clutching her side now, the wounds she’s acquired over the course of the night catching up to her. Joel’s the same, their circling now taking on a rather staggering quality, exhaustion dragging their limbs down like lead.
“Don’t suppose you want to give up? Any minute now?”
Gem scoffs, a smile tugging at her cracked lips. Joel smiles back, softer than the situation calls for. But Gem’s always been a fool.
“Didn’t think so,” he admits, and charges at her.
Later, she stands over the bodies.
She is gonna bleed out any minute now, she knows.
She walks to the red barn, one last time. The sunrise paints the sky red. Geminitay bleeds out. Red, red, red.
#hiiii#ficlet#this is inspired by a convo with a friend where we were talking about how cool it'd be if it was gem joel impulse and pearl as the final 4#and especially gem and joel as the final 2#i am kind of insane about them if u couldnt tell#geminitay#smallishbeans#smallishtay#ambiguous relationship#kind of#joel smallishbeans#wild life#life series#wild life smp#traffic smp#trafficblr#trafficshipping#<- just in case#life series predictions#eddie yaps#mine#my writing#fanciction
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