#i wear the same three shirts on repeat

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 1. tags: dubcon

-

You duck behind a stack of boxes when you hear Johnny come whistling into the warehouse.

He shouts your name out somewhere off on the other side of the warehouse, voice echoing through the building. You keep absolutely still, fingers clamped around the clipboard that’s pressed close to your chest. Even your breathing slows, open-mouthed so as to keep it almost soundless. It’s strategic. You’ve gotten good at making yourself invisible back here, practically melting into the stack of boxes. 

A minute or two goes by with repeated calls of your name, echoing from different parts of the warehouse like Johnny’s making the rounds. Searching for you. He’s probably been looking around the store for ages, with his track record. Someone must have let it slip that you were assigned to inventory today instead of being out on the floor. 

You only let out a sigh when it’s been long enough that any reasonable person might have given up on trying to find you in the loading dock.

“Hiding from someone?” a deep voice asks from behind you.

Your gut all but self-ejects. When you turn around, he’s standing there in the same bright blue shirt that you also wear. His is stretched tight across his chest though, like it’s a size too small. You wonder sometimes if it’s on purpose. It’s hard not to let your eyes wander, but by now you’ve trained yourself to keep your eyes level when speaking to Johnny. 

“Nope,” you squeak. “Just…you know…counting. Counting boxes and…stacks.”

He laughs, loud enough to make you startle. It’s far too enthusiastic, like you told a particularly funny joke instead of stumbling over your words and you still don’t actually know if he finds you funny or not. 

“Cool,” Johnny says, taking a step closer to you. The clipboard doesn’t feel sufficient enough to put any real distance between the two of you. “Thought I could maybe come hang out with ye back here. Dinnae want ye to feel lonely.”

“Nope, not lonely at all. Totally peachy. Actually glad I could catch a break from…everyone.” You take a step back.

He follows you, another step forward. “Aye, dinnae worry, I get what ye mean. Some of the others—” he whistles, “—right buggers. Glad to catch a break myself as well.”

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be…out in the front? I, uh, don’t want you to get in trouble with Jeff—”

“Ah, Jeff’s fine, kitty, dinnae worry about me,” Johnny coos, sounding pleased as punch. He takes you at face value instead of reading into the set of your jaw and the way you keep inching away from him as he gets closer to you, convinced that you genuinely in your heart care about whether he gets written up or not. “They fuckin’ love me, ye ken? Think he wants ta take me out for lunch tomorrow, but told him I’d only go if he invited ye as well.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” you whisper instead of screaming. You’re doing that a lot these days. Talking through the scream bubbling behind your front teeth. 

“Would ye want ta then?” he asks, suddenly in your face, three quick steps bridging the gap between you in barely a second, hardly enough time for you to blink. You blink and it’s just Johnny, in startling definition. Thick eyebrows and scar across his chin, the bridge of his nose perfect like he’s never broken it before. “Grab some lunch with me?”

“I, uh…I brought my lunch from home.”

“It’s a’right, I’ll buy it for ye, hen. Dinnae need ta waste your money.” Sometimes when he talks to you, he gets like this, fervent and almost desperate. He seems only half aware of it. “Ye like that mediterranean place nearby, right? Seen ye go there once or twice; wanted ta tag along, but dinnae want ta alarm ye.”

“You saw me go there?” you repeat. 

“Aye, happened ta glance out the window when ye were on your lunch break. Back before management changed my break time. Cheers for that as well because it was really startin’ ta bother me, ye ken? Not being able ta eat with my favourite coworker.” 

You never know how to respond when Johnny lets on a bit too much about how he feels about you. Sometimes he slips up and it comes rushing out, a big spool of thread unwinding in front of you.  

“Yeah, well…I don’t know about today but maybe…” you say, trailing off. There’s a danger in just brushing him off, you feel. 

“Tomorrow then,” he decides, grin still splitting his face. “I’m no’ on the schedule, but I can drop by at your lunch break and go with ye. How’s that sound?”

“Well, you know…it sounds…” He’s close enough now that if you lean forward, you’ll faceplant in between his pecs. Despite everything, you have to slightly fight the urge. Sometimes you think it’d be easier if he weren’t so absurdly gorgeous. It doesn’t make any of his actions okay, it doesn’t excuse his behaviour just because he’s pretty, yet still he pulls you in somehow, magnetic. “It sounds—you know, actually, I think Jeff wanted to talk to me about something, so if you don’t mind—”

Johnny tries to say something, but you manage to duck around him and scurry off, disappearing into the stacks of boxes before pressing forward until you burst out the main doors out of the warehouse. It leads to a hall that goes towards the store, but you haul it to the women’s washroom instead. The one place he can’t follow you inside. 

In the washroom, you can finally breathe. Resting your hands on either side of the sink, you look into the mirror where haggard eyes with deep circles underneath stare back at you. 

You flinch when one of the toilets flush and the stall door opens, another coworker stepping out. 

“Did I hear Johnny outside?” she asks, taking the sink beside you to wash her hands. You nod, still tongue tied. “He really follows you everywhere, huh?”

For a second, your shoulders relax. “God, I know, he’s always just hovering—”

She cuts you off, sighing dreamily. “You’re so lucky. He’s so hot, it’s unreal. I can’t believe he works here, like that’s insane. I’d kill to have him as obsessed with me as he is with you.”

“He’s—he’s not into me, he’s just…you know, he just hovers.”

The water shuts off. Your coworker shoots you a dubious look, almost mocking. “Yeah, alright. Sure. Not into you. Not like he hangs off your every word. You don’t have to be humble—we’re already jealous. It’s like rubbing it in when you pretend like it’s totally normal.”

You slump, defeated, when she leaves without drying her hands. It’s moot to try and commiserate with anyone. They don’t see him the way you do, not for who he is. Your coworkers love Johnny; you’ve seen someone genuinely fistpump after being scheduled with him. 

They don’t see any of the weird shit though. They don’t see the way he insists on walking you to your car well into the evening after a closing shift together. They don’t notice the way Johnny laughs a little too hard and with too much vigour when someone calls him your shadow, his eyes just a little too bright and fervent. 

They’re never around to see him ask if you want to sit on his lap while he shows you how to use the forklift in the backroom. They’ve never seen him beg management to let him take his breaks with you and doesn't let you have a moment of peace, just sits with you in the breakroom or follows you to your car when you say that you're going out for lunch. 

Sometimes you look at him and think, this guy should not be in the Appliance section of a big box store. Johnny should be on the front cover of magazines, in commercials for toothpaste, acting in Hallmark movies, or maybe hand modelling for obscenely ornate watch companies that cost the equivalent of a mortgage—not handing out free samples of sliced cheese.

That was then.

It starts like this: an overeager sales associate who butts his way to the front of the line on your first day. 

You think at first that you’re golden. It seems like a sweet deal—an easy enough job, maybe not what you went to school for, but still something to pass the time and not too backbreaking. Plus, the guy shaking your hand and chatting up a storm in front of you is making you melt inside. He’s easy on the eyes—all bright smiles, effortless charm, either just brushing or exactly six feet, and built. Broad shouldered and lean. 

Johnny’s a model employee as well—knows the handbook inside and out, and shows you the ropes on your first day along with the assistant manager giving you a tour of the store, which is helpful because there’s at least three floors that you could easily get lost on. He walks elderly customers to their cars with their bags, shows up to work early for every shift, always with a smile and a positive attitude, and you find out early on that management loves him because of his frankly incredible sales record. 

(And you get it too; you can’t imagine anyone looking into those gorgeous blue eyes and turning him down.)

He's also a spokesperson for the company in all of their internal training videos because he was hired through some “Jobs for Vets” program that they just rolled out. The guy can also stack things on a shelf like no one's business, products lined up with military precision (hence the ex-military status). 

All in all, you can’t help feeling like for once in your life, you didn’t draw the short stick. 

Then one day, you’re alone with Johnny in the breakroom early in the morning before the store has opened yet and he turns to you with a wide, boyish grin and says apropos of nothing, “Named my fleshlight after you.”

You think your brain skips a couple tracks like a record player. You rewind and replay what was just said to you. There’s no two ways about it—you must have misheard him. Of course you did because surely your coworker of two months didn’t just look you in the eyes and say with a sweet sunshine smile that he named his sex toy after you. 

He doesn’t laugh, just stands there and smiles while stirring sugar into his coffee. He takes it black. You take note of that because the brain still has to work when the mind shuts down momentarily, so you use it instead to catalogue things around the breakroom. One of the motivational posters hanging near the door is hung a bit off-centre. The fluorescent lightbulb on the far side of the room is dimmer than the others. Johnny’s eyes have a little light spot in them like the tip of an ocean wave.

“Excuse me?” you ask, dumbfounded. Your voice sounds hollow even to you.

“I named her after ye,” he repeats, not a trace of shame in his voice. “Used ta not have a name at all, but figured since I say it so much when I’m enjoyin’ her, she might as well share it with ya.” 

He stares at you after saying that, letting it hang in the air. Your brain chooses that moment to come back online and all it can do is load that image of Johnny home alone with his fleshlight, toes curled in his sheets and the muscles of his legs straining as he moans your name. All you can do is give a little awkward laugh, growing more uncomfortable by the second the longer he stares at you without blinking. 

Then, something passes over his eyes and suddenly he's back to normal, laughing and clapping you on the arm before wandering off to the men's apparel section. 

It leaves you reeling for the rest of the day, sure you imagined it. It recontextualizes a few things for you though. He’s always been on the handsy side, verging on inappropriate, but skirting just enough around the edges of it that you usually brush off Johnny’s weird behaviour. Chalk it up to annoying little brotherly tendencies. You know he has a few older sisters anyway; you figured it was just how he related to women in his environment.

Not so. 

It escalates after that initial escalation. Not that things started off on an appropriate note, but at least before you could rationalize most of his quirks.

Now it’s this: his hand on your lower back during work hours when you’re busy helping a customer and he sidles up next to you, pinkie brushing so low on your back that you worry for a second that he might slip it down the back of your pants. Lifting you up by the hips whenever you have a hard time reaching something on a shelf instead of just reaching up and grabbing it for you. A complete misuse of his height. He digs his fingers into your sides and never lets you go right away when he puts you down. 

“Aw shit, bonnie,” he coos when you complain about it hurting you. “Dinnae mean ta hurt ye. Want me to give ye a little massage in the breakroom?” 

You learn quickly that there’s no point in complaining about his behaviour to anyone. You can't complain to any of your coworkers because the second you so much as criticize his work, they bark at you to be nice to him. He's just re-acclimating to civilian life, of course he's not perfect at his job yet, they say. They defend him almost viciously; the real jealous ones even tell on you in front of him, leaving you to stand there embarrassed and on the spot until Johnny just smiles and says that it's alright. That you'll just have to teach him better. 

There’s not much you can do besides grin and bear it. You can hope one day that you'll get transferred; you don't have much hope for him being transferred. Not with how endeared he is to management.

When you finally open the door, ready to leave the bathroom and get back to work, you nearly scream when Johnny lurches off the wall across from the bathroom door where he’s been leaning. Waiting for you.

“C’mon, hen,” he says, all teeth. “Lemme walk ye back ta work.”

[fuckmymunson]

eddie who has a reputation to uphold, the weird and scary freak who wears chains and big metal rings and always goes on tangents about his hatred for the popular kids, not a sliver of fear or weakness in his eyes. eddie who at the same time never leaves his house without the light yellow scrunchy with daisies on it that you gave him, always on his wrist or wrapped in his hair.

eddie who’s sweet n soft on you in a way he never is with anyone else 🥹

💌 a/n: Oh god, this, this, this, this. Please, I don’t ask for much. I’m so happy to get back to writing! Hope you like it!

🪷 Check my recent poll ¡! 📌

“I lost it” His voice sounded almost defeated, and quite inopportune.

“Eddie!” You jolted in your place, closing the light green locker door. Behind it, there he was, the big, scary, mean freak of Hawkins High. Covered from head to toe in chains, leather, ripped jeans, black, black, all black. With dark, unruly hair and a chunky rings.

But also, with puppy eyes, and a quivering lip.

“You scared the shit out of me, Eds” The frown on your pretty face made his heart jump inside his chest. You were an angel, a sight for sore eyes.

“I lost it” He repeated.

“You lost what?”

“I’m sorry” Eddie looked down, apparently now his Reeboks were the most interesting thing.

“Care to explain what is missing and why are you apologizing?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you waited, for almost three minutes.

“I lost the scrunchy you gave me” He finally admitted, like a criminal at trial.

Eddie heard you sigh, to his ears, was a sigh of disappointment. In reality, it was a sigh of relief. Only Edward Munson knew how to make a simple thing as a scrunchy into a faithful message.

“That’s it? Eddie, it’s just a hair tie” You shook your head, still not comprehending the dimensions of his problem.

“It’s not just a hair tie!” He exclaimed, now almost offended, of course only he could switch mood that easily. A few curious students looked at your way, still wondering how did an adorable piece of cotton and sunshine like you, was dating the metalhead, three-times senior freak of not only high school, but of the whole town.

“Yes it is, love. I can just give you another one, don’t worry— Look, I can give you the one I’m wearing…”

“I don’t want that one” He said, his words sounding almost like a tantrum. “I want the one you gave me on our first date, the yellow one with little sunflowers”

“Daisies, Eddie” You corrected him with a smile. Only Eddie was able to remember such a tiny detail and forget a crucial detail.

Only Eddie was able to make you feel loved, cherished and appreciated. He was so different from every other person you have dated before. He snatched your heart from the very first day and it’s been a daily occurrence for almost a year. The scary, weird freak, the person considered a devil worshipper, the mean senior who had the admirable (or idiotic) courage to stand out against others who felt like they had the right to humiliate and ridicule those who weren’t like them. Your Eddie, the one who broke a jock’s nose one time for slapping your ass walking through the halls. Your Eddie, who waited patiently until every extracurricular activities you were into were over, so he could drive you home and hold your thigh and listen to you throughout the whole ride. Your Eddie, who loved Saturday night because it meant movie night, cuddles and kisses. The mean freak who let you braid his hair, paint his nails, sew his old t-shirts.

The Eddie Munson who was scared of spiders but wasn’t scared of a hundred people crowd. The boy who initiated a food fight at the cafeteria and had to go to the nurses office because an orange hit his eye and he realized he was allergic to them. The man who every Friday made fairy tales, knight stories and evil monsters come true and walk this very earth with just his voice and his imagination at his D&D club. Your Eddie, who on your first date, dropped a chocolate milkshake on top of your white dress, forgot to fill his fuel tank, and had to push his van all the way to the nearest gas station.

That’s how the bright scrunchy ended up in his hair, in a makeshift ponytail that you made by running your delicate fingers through his tangled hair.

That was your Eddie.

Your Eddie. Yours. Yours.

“Fine, let’s go find it” You said, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “Tell me what you did today…”

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[usedtobecooler]

okay but what about virgin eddie being eager to please and the reader showing him the ropes and he’s just naturally so good at it :( i need it :(

oh anon what are you doing to me!

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, cumming in pants, corruption kink, reader really likes that eddie is a virgin, car sex, dubious content (i think? reader rubs up against him without consent?), dirty talk, lots of eddie being called pretty and handsome!!

Word Count | 2.8K

A/N | i really took this and ran with it, god damn!! virgin!eddie just does things to me the boy is SO corruptible. i need help, jesus and a nap after this.

You sort of knew he was at least inexperienced from the get go. You'd met working at the local record store and doing the late shifts together. You never missed the way he'd get so flustered any time you'd pay him a compliment.

'Eddie you look so nice today', 'wow Eddie you should wear your hair up more often it looks good', or when you'd greet him with a 'hey handsome' or 'hey pretty boy' and he'd stumble over his words and go beet red. You could tell he didn't really get chicks, it was obvious by the way that all he could talk about on Monday mornings were his D&D campaigns that he played with literal sophomores.

Twenty year olds who barely skim by to graduate after their third year repeat of senior year didn't get babes. He knew that, you knew that. But you were so attracted to him anyway, you got a sick thrill out of how easy it was to panic him and make him blush.

You gave Eddie a ride home from work every night, the trailer park was a fair few miles from the shop and his van went bust a few months prior so it was sat like an antique with grass growing around it just outside his front door. Wayne made a point of complaining about it a lot when you were in earshot.

'Either fix the damn thing or get the piece of crap towed away. I know we live in a trailer park but we sure as shit ain't tramps.'

So yeah. He wasn't necessarily a lady killer but he was just so pretty to look at and it made your stomach do funny jumps. He was so passionate too, he could talk for hours about his guitar or Lord of the Rings and he remembered every little detail. Soaked in everything you'd ever say and remember it for next time.

So sue you. You liked Eddie 'the freak' Munson who was just the sweetest, prettiest boy you'd ever met. And you needed to corrupt him.

You were subtle to begin with. When you'd shuffle by him in the store you'd make sure to get as close to him as possible as if the space was just too tight for anymore room. You'd lay a hand on his waist to brush past, lightly dance your fingers on his shoulder. 'Whoops, sorry' you'd say when your ass would brush past his dick, you'd pretend not to notice his flustered look and his stumbling words.

It all came to a head on one Saturday night as you were driving Eddie home. Dio's Holy Diver playing as background noise. You bonded over your love of the same bands too, you'd occasionally catch his eyes go all gooey when you'd talk about Metallica. You couldn't help but notice the ways his eyes would wander over your chest, where a band shirt would usually be sitting. The way he'd look at your legs in your fishnets and tight skirts. Stutter when you'd catch him and give him a wink.

But anyway, this particular Saturday you'd asked if he wanted to go to a fast food joint for some burgers before going home. You were, admittedly, starving after bailing on lunch in favour of helping Eddie with the new shipment of vinyl that had came in.

Eddie was a gentleman, offering to pay for the burgers since you'd been driving him home and who were you to refuse a free meal. He took them to go so you could drive to a place somewhere quiet and eat in silence.

You drove up to a spot you went to occasionally when you needed some time to sit and relax on your own. It was essentially an old junk yard full of shitty banger cars but nobody ever came out here and it was nice for watching the stars on a clear night.

You eat your burgers mostly in silence, both of you chomping down like you hadn't eaten in days. You're sat in a silky leopard print skirt, fishnets all torn around your inner thighs from them rubbing together all day. You sit really unladylike, legs open and comfortable.

You catch Eddie peaking again.

"Eddie, sweetheart, its only a pair of thighs." You say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence in favour of embarrassing him, "You see them everyday."

Eddie flusters a little, mouth still full of burger but he stops chewing and goes bright red, floundering for words, "S-sorry, uh, fuck I can't help but look. Your tights are all torn." He points out, motioning towards the large holes.

"Babe, you can't honestly tell me that's the reason you were looking," You say, balling up your fast food paper and tossing it in the back without looking, "you're trying to catch a glimpse of my princess parts."

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth at the use of those words, only using them to tease Eddie and his seemingly virginal ways. Worried if you call it a pussy he'll open the door and flee.

"Uh, eh, I wouldn't know much about that," Eddie cringes at his own words, he can't even look at you and it's just so endearing, "I can't say I've ever seen one."

You gawp a little bit. Taken aback by his confession.

"What do you mean, Eddie?" You ask, the teasing way in your voice only coming out just a smidge now, "You've never...?"

"God, don't make me say it, sweetheart," Eddie grimaces, tossing the last of his burger on the dashboard, hunger long forgotten at the embarrassing conversation, "I'm a twenty year old virgin. Laugh all you want, you should."

"I'm not gonna laugh," You say, all too quickly, "I just can't believe no girl, or guy maybe, has ever pinned you down and just ridden the shit out of you. You're really hot, Eddie. I mean, really hot."

Eddie's cheeks flush so dark they're almost purple and suddenly he's shuffling awkwardly in his seat next to you, like he's trying to cover himself from you.

"Hey pretty boy," Your voice is barely above a whisper now, you lean over and tug at his arm to get him to turn to you again, "I find that kinda... hot."

Eddie scoffs at that but lets you move his arm, your fingers beginning to dance down it, edging closer to his wrist, "Yeah, right. You don't have to lie to me I know it's ridiculous. Who the fuck is still a virgin at this age unless it's by choice?"

"Means you're all kinds of corruptible, handsome." You're not teasing anymore, bringing your hand further down to drag your fingers over his knuckles, "Makes me kinda hot and bothered."

"Oh, oh right," Eddie sucks in a breath and shudders, Jesus Christ this guy has no game and it's so fucking cute you're about to burst. Your cunt is twitching already just thinking about ruining him.

"Maybe I could show you the ropes? Y'know? How to touch a girl an' get her going?" You suggest, and you can see the goosebumps littering Eddie's arms, "Obviously so that when you find a girl you really like you can wow her."

A strangled little noise caught between a whimper and a sigh escapes Eddie's lips, his head thumps back against the headrest on his seat, displaying his gorgeous expanse of neck, the veins protruding in ways you can't ignore. Admittedly, he's already got you going without even having to touch you, and you know now that you're fucked.

"You gotta say yes or no, handsome. Just so I know you're into this and I'm not adding two plus two and getting five," Your voice is gentle as you finally grip hold of Eddie's wrist gently, dragging it over to rest on your inner thigh. His fingers flex on the skin, gripping ever so slightly, making you exhale a shaky little moan.

"I, uh, I would like to. But I'm gonna be shit, no point denying it," Eddie barks out a little sarcastic laugh, his brows furrowing together.

"Oh, honey," You giggle, "you're a guitar player. Those fingers already know what to do without me having to show them. I'll just tell you what to do, where to press, how fast I like it, how hard. Can you listen to me and do that?"

You chance a glance down at his crotch and can see the thick outline of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. Your mouth practically starts salivating, already eager to know just exactly how it looks. In your daydreams it was big, but looking now in the dim light at his concealed erection, it was obvious just how big it truly was.

You get up from your seat, shuffling a little so you can swing a leg over and perch yourself in Eddie's lap, gasping a little when you sink down just enough to rub your cunt along his hardness. Eddie bites down on his lip, a strangled, breathy moan leaving him.

"This okay?" You ask, just to make sure, and he's nodding so fast he could get whiplash. You take ahold of Eddie's right hand again, sliding it under your skirt to let his palm rest lightly over your pussy, letting him feel the heat and the damp patch that's formed in your cotton panties so quickly, "You've done this to me already and you haven't even touched me yet."

"Really? Shit," Eddie looks up at you with wide brown eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. He's so eager, letting his fingers run over your clothed folds, dipping a finger in between experimentally and smiling a little when you moan, "Can I, uh, can I move your panties out of the way?"

"Go for it, handsome. Get a good feel." You're back to smirking again, but not for long when Eddie hooks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and pull them to the side, exposing your puffy little cunt to the cold air. You gasp when two hot fingers rub between your lips, catching on your clit just barely, "Okay, can you find where my clit is?"

Eddie nods eagerly, running his fingers back up and pressing on that little hard bundle of nerves, his cock twitching at the feeling of your slick in between his fingers, "There, right?" He asks, just to make sure, but it's obvious by the way you bite your lip and whine.

"Yes there, fuck, Eddie if you do good for me this really isn't gonna last long," You admit, throwing your head back a little, "just rub me there in small circles, I like it fast."

Eddie's fingers start to almost expertly rub you in circular motions, his calloused fingertips catching and dragging your clit in the most delicious way. You turn into a whining mess quite quickly, especially when his free hand comes up to grab at the meat of your thigh to hold you in place.

"God, handsome, you're really good at this, uh," You choke on your own tongue when he speeds up a little, "wanna use that free hand and slip your fingers in me?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, glossy eyes dancing a little, "you sure?"

You nod excitedly, knees buckling a little when you feel his hand come up under your skirt, the pads of two fingers swirling around your entrance. You can't believe he's never done this before, you half expected him to not even know where your hole was never mind anything else. He looks into your eyes, raising his brows a little in a silent question and you nod again.

Eddie sinks his fingers in all the way to the hilt immediately and it makes you gasp, the breach unexpected but certainly not unpleasant. A nice stretch, the cold of his thick rings on the rim of your cunt making you shiver, "Pump them in and out of me and try to find a, Jesus, a rhythm that matches your fingers on my clit."

"Does this feel good?" Eddie asks, and it's clearly meant to be in earnest but it sends hot flushes all up your spine, his long fingers beginning to pump in and out of you slowly.

"God, yeah, yeah it does, Eddie." You whine, hips having a mind of their own and helping him with the process, helping his fingers sink in and out, "Crook them a lil, you'll find a soft spot, kinda feels like a sponge."

Eddie's brows furrow together, his fingers starting to falter both inside of you and on your clit as he tries to find a rhythm. It comes back to him quickly, both of his fingers sunk deep in your cunt crooking ever so slightly and finding your gspot almost immediately.

You choke out a moan that sounds wet, like you're about to cry, "Fuck, right there, handsome. Keep doing that, m'gonna cum."

His fingers are heavenly dancing inside of you. His assault on your clit is hard and fast and soon enough you're so wet that you can feel it running out of you, probably slicking Eddie's hand, wrist and arm with creamy slick, "How does it feel for you, Eddie?"

You're looking at each other and the lust is apparent in Eddie's face, the way his brown doe eyes are hazily watching you, "Feels so good. Your pussy feels like heaven on my fingers, you're so tight."

"Fuck, dirty talking already are we?" You almost squeal, a hot flush taking over your whole body as you chase your orgasm, "Love hearing dirty words coming from your mouth about me, keep going."

Eddie leans forward, hot mouth kissing and sucking wetly at your tits, your collarbones, your neck, "Y'like that? Like my fingers in you? You're whining like a little slut."

You fucking lose it at being called a slut, the mixture of his hands, his mouth and the obscene slicking sounds coming from your cunt have your legs buckling, your stomach twisting as you reach your high, cumming so hard that your pussy constricts and grips at Eddie's fingers tightly, a loud moan slipping from your mouth, hands automatically coming up to grip at his curls as your hips fuck back and forth, riding out your orgasm.

You're sensitive, shivering a little as Eddie rubs you through the last of it, so you rest a gentle hand on his wrist to let him know to stop. He stops immediately, long fingers sliding out of your cunt slowly as not to startle you.

"Was - was that okay?" He asks, looking at you again with those gorgeous, stupid doe eyes, the nervousness back and apparent in his voice. You're all orgasm stupid, barely able to keep your eyes open, so you lean forward and smash your lips onto his, greedily lapping your way into his mouth with your tongue as a way of confirming it was good.

Eddie's big hands come to encircle around your waist, deepening the kiss. So, okay, he's not the best kisser just yet but you can show him that too. It's sloppy and wet and everything you need right this second.

Your hips begin to rub along the length of Eddie's still painfully hard cock straining in his pants, you put down enough weight to grind perfectly against him, your sensitive clit loving the friction of the thick denim running against it.

"Wha-" Eddie pulls away from your lips, confusion on his face turning to ecstasy, a moan escaping him. Fuck, he's so loud it's making you flutter.

"Was gonna try an' get a hand on your cock but that can be for another day," You hum, hips still gliding back and forth roughly, "wanna see you cum in your pants, though."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea what you're - uh, god - what you're doing to me," Eddie's whimpering, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, matting down his fringe, "m'gonna cum, shit, shit, I'm cumming."

You watch every bit of it, the way the veins in his neck pop, his eyes squeezing shut as he vibrates against you, fingers squeezing you so hard it'll bruise. Fuck, he's so pretty you want to die, you can't believe you're the first person to make him cum and you didn't even have to lay a hand on him.

When Eddie eventually opens his eyes, the blush is back on his cheeks, as if he's mortified by what he just did, "Damn, twenty years old and I just came in my pants like a teenager."

"It was hot, pretty boy," you sigh, leaning down to peck his lips, "I'll get a hand on you soon though, I need that thick cock everywhere on me."

He whines at that, hips bucking up of their own accord, "Fuck, you dunno what you're doing to me, sweetheart."

"Corrupting you, Eds. And you're gonna love every fucking minute."

[hoesformatt]

VACATION BAE

chris smut, i got this from the wenesday texas vlog (can you tell this is from a long time ago but I was just lazy) + WE ALMOST 100 AWAY FROM 2000?!?!

dom!chris • poc!reader friendly

contains: pet names, no use of y/n, touching/groping, making out, oral (m!receiving), semi-public sex, BACKSHOTS BABY, spanking

word count: 1k

I took myself into the random restaurant my best-friend decided to tumble in. I was hungrier than a bitch, and as we were being seated, I searched around the restaurant to see people getting plated food.

It’s our first day in Texas, and I was more than burnt out, and in the booth Alani was banging on the table in need of food. “I need food, I need food,” she chanted before a waiter came with water. We got impatient waiting to get our food taken, three boys waltzed into the return, then sat in a booth beside us.

They’re fine, I repeated in my head and my friend said aloud at the same time without hesitation, making me abruptly spin towards her as she spoke too loud.

“You can’t fucking lie." She never toned down her voice, and the brunette non-tattooed boy’s eyes paced to our table. Shit, he’s sexy as fuck I can’t deny that shit. He licked his lips with his eyes tracing my body, then smirked and looked up at the waiter approaching him. “I need him." Alani chuckled at my remark as the waitress finally came up to us.

Alani and I came up with the code name for him as ‘Booth boy’. Throughout the stay at the restaurant, I kept locking eyes with the blue-irised boy wearing jeans that resembled the colour of his eyes, and his rosy-tinted lips I desperately wanted on my pussy. To feel this way about a stranger that I just glanced at in a restaurant is crazy, but he was purposefully turning me on.

My panties became wet between my legs; the warm, soaking sensation felt on my heat after seeing him lift up his hips to manspread, and I couldn’t help but to peek at his crotch. I needed to take a walk. “I’m going to the washroom,” I said a bit loudly for her to hear me in the trance of her phone, and she acknowledged me while I got up to find the bathroom.

A waitress slid behind me. “Excuse me, where’s the washroom?” She pointed to doors opposite of each other, and I smiled at her with appreciation. I walked into the non-gendered bathroom as it was the closest, running in. Being faced with a mirror, I took the time to look at my appearance, applying lipgloss, until the door unexpectedly flung open.

Booth boy.

It was a one-room bathroom, so he must’ve seen me come in here. “I seen you in the booths— I’m Chris”

“Yeah, you're the fine one." He snickered at my comment, sauntering closer to me. “I could say the same about you." I flattered as Chris slipped his hands around my waist, pushing upon me without breaking eye-contact “What type of timing are you on though?" He deepened our contact.

“I’m in need of a vacation sneaky link." Chris’ lips curled into a smirk, lightly lifting me onto the sink, macking my shoulder, and pressing his bulge. “You’re a slut aren’t you? Coming out here wearing this small ass skirt”

Applying pressure toward my clit, making me moan loudly. “I’m a slut for you” He chewed on my lower lip, putting his hands under my shirt and un-clipping my bra. Chris sloppily kissed me and I tasted his plush lips “I want these beautiful lips around my cock” I nodded my head as I jumped off the sink to lower myself for my face to be lined up with the bulge in his jeans.

I tugged his boxers off making his cock slap my cheek and from there I spit on his throbbing tip, licking and teasing his slit “I can’t be anymore patient, mama” I forced my head to take in all of Chris’ inches in my mouth, jerking the base of cock in my hand.

Gaping up to see Chris’ face, he threw his head back, moving his hand to hold my head and push me further. “So good— mhmm just how I like it”.

Sloppily sucking his length, Chris’ dick was absolutely covered in his pre-cum and my saliva, the lubricant making it easier to cock to slide in and hit the back of my throat as he moaned loudly “fuck, just like that and I’ll cum” while he said that, he sent my pushed my head to fully swallow his dick.

He kept my head there in full control and I breathed from my nose as I was choked out by his cock “yes, yes, yes, I’m cumming” I saw Chis’ eyes roll back with parted lips and soft moans coming out.

Chris’ cum streamed into my mouth, only being able to swallow his natural salty liquids, he lightly slapped my cheek signalling that he was pulling out. “You’re head is so fucking good mama” He licked his lips helping me get off my knees “I wonder how that pussy feels” I smirked trying to make myself look proper “you wanna find out?” I looked at him from the reflection of the mirror.

He gripped my waist, pushing my back forward over the sink. Chris spanked me, causing me to yelp, he kneaded my ass with one hand then aligned his length to my hole with the other.

I moaned loudly while he inserted his cock, it felt like his cock was stretching me out, easily filling me up. He held on right shoulder positioning to thrust into me with speed “fuck yes-fuck”, Chris enjoyed the way I moaned when he smacked my ass repeatedly.

The claps of our skin got louder as his thrusts got stronger, Chris’ dick teared my insides apart—my wet pussy making it easier to ram his cock into me. Chris leaned forward kissing and sucking on neck, pausing for a bit catching his breath.

“Shit—I’m close” He heaved faster and deeper into me, hitting that spot that made me scream. Chris covered my mouth “you’re gonna get us caught baby” with that I finally released, coating his cock in my juices when he pulled out and came all over my back.

We were cleaning up the bathroom when we heard three urgent knocks on the door. I left first, seeing that the person at the door was a woman and her kid, slowing down when Chris came out after me awkwardly smiling at the mother, who rolled her eyes.

Finding myself back at the booth with Alani I sat back down at the table, full of food like the Last Supper. “You gon eat, or did booth boy feed you dick already?”

tags: @lunariaxzz @chrissturniolosbitch @leahsbussy @luv4kozume @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @idkwhosnyla @strniohoeee @iiheartstef @nonamegirlxsturniolo @ka1nani @1800chokedathoe @fuzzycupcakebeliever @mattgirly @love4chris @mattslutt @nicksmainbitch @luhsexcbihh @hearts4chriss @junnnilieee07

[cowboycoups]

What an odd request.

Pairing: fem!reader x Seungcheol

Wc. 1.8k

Summary: You ask Seungcheol if you can ride his thighs lol

Warnings: smut!, porn no plot, afab reader, pet names, gendered terms, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, squirting, teasing, reference to weight/size (but not actually), reference to Seungcheol teasingly being called “chubby” by members

Author note: First time writing like.. ever,, was just horny at three in the morning lol. Feel free to leave me some suggestions on what to improve on. I also am blind so lmk if there are any errors

—

“Really? Did I just hear that correctly?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. “You wanna try doing what..?” he repeats himself as he looks down at you in question with his arm still slung around your shoulder.

“…I want to… try riding your thigh…” you quietly respond, avoiding his eyes as you slouch down into the bed further. 

Riding Seungcheol’s thighs was something you've thought about for a while now. Every time you came home to him wearing that same pair of shorts that he always wears, you couldn't help but steal a glance at his bulky thighs. 

His friends always teased him for them, calling him chubby, but not you. You liked the fact that he's actually got meat on his bones. You knew that he worked hard in the gym every day to build up his muscles, and obviously, that included his thighs. 

“What? I couldn't hear you” Seungcheol says with a grin as he leans forward and turns his head to look you directly in the face.

“I wanna ride your thighs damn it!” you shout back in frustration from his teasing, shocking him a little and causing him to jerk himself back. 

“If you really want to then we can try it.” he kisses your cheek, leading into a deeper kiss. His arms shift from over your shoulder to around your waist as you slowly begin to feel up his shirt. You start to feel the bulge forming in his pants after you lower your hand and smile through your kiss. “Strip.”

He obediently listens and removes his tee in one go, pulling his shorts down quickly after. He watches you as you scan his body, slowly lowering your eyes. God, he's just so hot.

There they were. In all their glory. Your main objective. Just the sight of them alone with your constantly running mind was enough to get you wet. 

You pull down your panties as you watch him lean back into the bed, waiting patiently for you to mount him. 

You smile as you throw a leg over his and begin to move. As soon as you climb on top of him, he lets out a small breath of air. His body shuddered as he felt your weight on his lap. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting out soft moans as he enjoyed the feeling of you grinding against him.

You ground into his thigh slowly, holding yourself up with one hand on the bed. You could already feel how wet you were as you moved, how sensitive you were. I mean, come on. This was a dream come true. Literally. 

You run your other hand up your chest, squeezing yourself in pleasure before locking eyes with his bulge, widening your eyes as you reach down for him. 

The moment you grabbed his crotch, he immediately let out a gasp. A pure look of bliss came across his face as he arched his back off the bed, pushing himself closer toward you.

It looks like you weren't the only one wet. You could see the small stain of precum forming on his boxers. You shove your hand down them to grab his cock, leading it over his stained fabric. 

You watch as his cock rises and he begins to turn red. He felt so powerless with your eyes watching him closely like daggers. I mean, you were on top of him with his cock in hand. There was nothing he could do. He bit down on his lip at the thought of what you might do to him next.

“Flex your thighs for me so I can rub against them,” you instruct him. Instantly, he lifted his thighs to make it easier for you to rub your pussy onto him. He grunted as he felt your heat surrounding his cock, causing it to pulse with excitement. 

You continued humping him and grinding against his thighs, sending waves of pleasure throughout his body with every movement. You moaned as you glided your folds over the firmness of his muscles.

He let out another loud moan as he felt your hand begin jerking him off. The sound of your voice sent chills down his spine as he struggled to stay conscious. The view of you on top of him was just too much to handle. 

You jerked at him faster, the sudden increase in speed causing him to gasp loudly. You knew exactly which buttons to push to make him lose control completely. It seemed like every time he thought he had reached his peak, something new would happen that pushed him even further toward orgasmic bliss.

Your body shuttered from the sensation of running over his muscles, retracting your body in as you hit your parts of pleasure, gripping his cock tighter every time it happened. 

His breathing became heavier again as he looked up at you. His face displayed signs of embarrassment and shame yet also excitement and anticipation. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes tightly and let out a deep sigh. "Oh gosh…this is so weird...but please don't stop..."

You jerked at him even faster than before after a quick moment of slowing down. As soon as you began to move faster, he opened his eyes wide once more. The look of shock and surprise mixed with lustful desire on his face made him look incredibly vulnerable and helpless towards you right now. He didn't know if he should be happy or embarrassed by how turned on he was becoming.

“Do you wanna cum?” you ask with a grin, already knowing his answer. He eagerly nodded his head and plead “P-please help me cum.. Please let me cum.” 

He groaned loudly as your movements intensified. His entire body tensed up and his grip tightened around the bed even further. 

As he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, he could barely hold back anymore. "I'm… going to...cum!" he shouted desperately, hoping that you would allow him. 

“What about you do it inside me?” you asked him, taking a second for him to process what you had just said. He hesitated for just a moment longer. "...What are you saying? Would y-you really let me?” he asks with a shaking voice. 

He couldn't believe what he had just heard. While he found the act incredibly arousing, the two of you have only ever used protection in the past. 

As you got up and slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, he could feel his entire body tense up again. Despite being incredibly turned on, the fact that he was now inside you bare made his stomach drop. It was a new feeling he had never felt before. 

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, which only served to make him seem even more nervous. “…Is this really okay with you?" He asked quietly, unsure if he should continue or not. 

You begin to bounce up and down on him, responding to his question with your actions. He let out another long moan as you bounced. The sensation of being inside you was unbelievable and he could already tell that he wouldn't be able to last much longer without climaxing.

You fasten your pace, tightening your pussy around him, causing him to roll his eyes back as he continued to let out soft moans. “Cum for me,” you demand as you observe his state. 

Without hesitation, he let out a loud grunt as he came violently inside of you. The feeling of release was beyond belief and he couldn't help but release a quiet moan as he continued to pump his load inside of you.

You got off of him and laid beside him as you continued to play with yourself, rubbing his cum all over your filled pussy. 

His breathing slowed down as he looked at you. A small smile formed across his lips as he saw how eager you were. "Thank you..." he whispered softly into your ear, stroking your cheek gently as you twitched from the feeling of his breath on you. 

You smirk as you get back up and over him. You spread your folds apart and lower yourself into him once more, this time using his cum as lube. 

He watched silently as you rode him again, letting out a low chuckle as he saw how easily you slipped onto his shaft once more. "Oh? Again? You're enjoying yourself too much." He teased, smirking at you playfully as he ran his fingers through your hair.

His eyes widened as you moved faster, almost like you were trying to outrun him. He let out a soft moan before grabbing your hips, his face contorting as he brought you closer to him, feeling your pussy rubbing against his cock in perfect synchronization. "Mmm…just like that.”

“Aren’t you tired? You just came.” you raised your eyebrows, surprised by his actions. You could feel his cock reach even deeper inside you now since he pulled you down closer to him.

A slight smirk appeared on his face as he shook his head slowly. "I'm not done yet... Not until we both reach our peak together." He said calmly, looking deep into your eyes with confidence. "Just keep going, sweetheart…Keep riding me like this..."

Taken aback by his words, you began bouncing once more. Hearing him say that to you made you even hornier than before. Your heart beat faster and you began to gain more energy in your movements. 

As you moved on top of him, Seungcheol began moaning louder than before. It seemed like every time you would go up, he'd push himself deeper inside of you. Your breasts bounced wildly each time you went up, making sure they stayed covered by your shirt throughout the whole process.

The moment was finally here. With one final thrust, he slammed his cock fully inside of you, causing it to hit your womb hard. The two of you moaned loudly as you reached climax.

With a loud groan, he shot his second load deep into you. His entire body trembled as he released his warm seed in you, filling you with his hot cum.

Your legs shook as you squirted on him, letting a deep breath out as you made your final movements with your eyes closed and head thrown back, arching as you shook. 

After you both released, he pulled back slightly so only half of his length remained inside of you. As soon as he did this, he grabbed onto your waist firmly once again, pulling you closer toward him while still lying flat on the bed. "Good girl..."

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

’i know, sugar, i know.’

summary: finnick comforts reader after a nightmare

warnings: mentions of violence, death, pain, fear and forced prostitution (let me know if there’s more)

hot tears are running down your cheeks over already dry ones, like the adrenaline through your body. your hands are trembling as you hurry along the path that goes through victors village. it’s covered in sand. almost everything in your district is. sand from the beach, little stones and pieces of seashells, crushed under the peacekeepers’ boots. you’re running away. why? isn’t that obvious? you’re a victor, haunted by nightmares like every other one. where to? you don’t even know yourself. just away from your house, not your home. the house you got gifted in return for your cruel actions. actions that still haunt you and always will. you never wanted this. yes, before you did all of this you had to work hard to survive and still only barely made it. but was it really worth it? you know the answer. no.

definitely not.

when you win the hunger games, you can be free, live a happy life and the games are over for you. that’s what they say. well, guess what. that’s not true. the games never end, even if you won them. you can never really win. you aren’t free and president snow makes sure for you to know that.

your life had never been perfect but before you were thrown into an arena with 23 children that wanted to kill you, you were happier. the ones you killed yourself still haunt you, you see them in the scared, little kids at the reaping, your new mentees. the capitol is cruel. the four words repeat in your head. over and over again, the sand is hurting your feet but you don’t pay attention to that. you’re running through the village without stopping. you are just a kid. just a kid. 17 years old. you should be living your life instead of being sold to people at the capitol. but you can’t do anything about it. your family has no protection except you. you suddenly stop running. where’d muscle memory bring you? you’re standing at the end of the path in front of a house identical to yours. 

finnick. your mind clears up and you find your original intention. the one you had when you left your house. you just want to see him, know if he’s okay, want him to tell you that it’s not real, that he understands you, that he goes through the same things. you want him to hold you close, whisper sweet words to you and wait until you fall asleep. without thinking any longer, you knock on the door. one, two, three, four seconds go by before the door opens. surprisingly fast.

finnick is standing before you, his hair disheveled but perfect, as always, wearing a white shirt and sweatpants. he looks alarmed but sighs loudly when he sees you. his sea green eyes are tired but as piercing as always. he seems to stare directly into your soul but not in a way that makes you uncomfortable. 

‘y/n? what’re you doing here?’ 

‘i’m sorry i woke you,’ you murmur with a soft sniffle.

‘no,no, don’t be. are you okay?’ he asks with a worried frown. you weakly manage to shake your head before the adrenaline from earlier is completely gone. two muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest where you let out a choked sob. finnick’s heart breaks for you, seeing you like this. to him, it’s a miracle you’re not able to hear it shatter in your position.

without thinking much about it you wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his torso before he picks you up and carries you inside, closing the door behind the both of you. the next thing you know, you’re standing in the kitchen, feet now on the ground but still close to the young man’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing as your crying slowly stops and your breath calms. 

‘hey, it’s okay, i’m here. i’ll protect you, alright? promise,’ he softly mutters into your hair. you can feel his lips move against your scalp as guilt washes over you. you shouldn’t burden him with this. he goes through the same things and you don’t find him knocking at your door in the middle of the night. he’s been doing it for a year longer than you now and he’s never really talked about it to you and how he’s getting by.

‘i’m so, so sorry, finn’ 

‘there’s nothing to be sorry for, sugar’ 

‘but- but you don’t show up at my front door step in the middle of the night because of some-‘ 

he interrupts your ramble. 

‘maybe sometimes i want to.’ he gives you a soft, sad smile. ‘c’mon now. tomorrow’s the reaping, we gotta get some sleep,’ he states and without waiting for a reply, he picks you up again and carries you upstairs to his bedroom. finnick crawls into the bed next to you and pulls you close to his body again where you both lie in a comfortable silence until you start talking. 

‘i saw her again,’ you whisper. ‘the girl from 10. she was only 13 years old.’ your voice breaks. ‘she was just a kid. and i shot her, i killed her. i feel horrible. i’m a monster, finn.’

it’s true. you saw her again in your dream. almost every time your brain puts you back in the arena you see the little girl, your arrow in her chest, the clattering of your bow on the ground as you realise what you had done, the cannon that signals her death.

and then the booming voice that announces you as the winner of the 68th annual hunger games, the winner. 

what a lie. no one ever really wins. 

‘you were just a kid yourself. you didn’t want it, you were forced. it’s not your fault, sweetheart. you’re in district 4, safe,’ he  mutters as you let a few silent tears fall onto his chest, dampening his shirt but he doesn’t care. finnick just wants to hold you, make it stop, protect you from the capitol, snow. if he could take all of your pain and fear away, he would without hesitation. without even thinking about it. ‘but so were you,’ you whisper. ‘you were 14, finnick, 14 and then 16. and now 19. it’s not fair.’ he repositions himself to look at you. there it is again. the sad smile. it says more than a thousand words. and you return it.

‘i know, sugar, i know.’ 

you fall asleep soon after but finnick stays awake for now, unable to bring himself to sleep as well. he watches your facial expressions shift, watches a frown form on your face as you mumble quietly. all he does all night is whisper sweet things to you and hold you close in the hope to ease your mind and help with the nightmares. he silently thinks about the situation you’re both in; forced into prostitution by president snow. an object to buy. he knows that you’re only doing it because you want to protect him and he only does the same to protect you.

ironic, isn’t it? he chuckles softly at the thought before silently vowing to find a way for you out of this, away from the capitol, into a happy and free life. maybe with him. you’d want that. a life with him somewhere down by the coast. 

‘i love you, sweetheart, you don’t even know how much,’ he whispers and plants a soft kiss on your hairline before finally falling asleep with you in his arms. 

a/n: please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it <3 luv ya also I’m laughing at the gif rn because it’s literally finnick casually laughing about his own death i love him

edit: i just noticed that finnick being 19 in this and the sentence ’tomorrow’s the reaping’ means that annie is going to get reaped the next day

[babsisbakery]

A Lions fight (Leah Williamson x reader)

The end was kinda rushed uups

Christmas was her favourite time of the year, getting to eat chocolate, spending much time with her loved ones, going to the advent markt and playing in the snow. Her inner child always came out during this holiday season. Since you’ve spent three christmas seasons with her as her girlfriend you figured out how she behaves while being in the holiday spirit. Like a child. 

Everyone knew Leah couldn’t cook but she was eager to keep you company while baking. She even tries to help. Only giving her the responsibility of smaller tasks, as you don’t want to repeat the events of last week. Your dear girlfriend forgot to cover the mixer, dough everywhere. On the kitchen counter, the fricking kitchen door, the floor and walls. It definitely wasn’t amusing to clean the whole mess up. Some stains remained on the wall, which you had to repaint as Leah is still in recovery. 

Leah begged you to make a video of her opening the door of the advent calender. It was for an advertisement, which she loved to do. Your girlfriend and you received christmas sweaters and free chocolate. Who in their right mind says no to free chocolate? She got extremely excited opening the mini door for the first December. She savoured the taste of chocolate. Making funny faces in the process. After posting the video on her social media, it was your turn. Since your advent calendar wasn’t the same as hers, she was on her toes to find out what was hiding behind yours. A mini chocolate angel. As a true gooner, it reminded her of her Arsenal heritage. The defender began to sing “The Angel”. “As I walk these streets alone, through this borough I call home”, with a massive grin plastered on her face. You stare confused at her, not catching up on what your love is singing. “Liefje what are you singing?” you asked amused. Instead of answering she closed the distance between your bodies. Wrapping her arms around your waist, pulling you towards her. “Upon the baron fields of Highbury 'neath the stadiums of stone” she kept on singing. Your arms finding their place around her neck. You popped in your small treat. Letting the texture of the chocolate dissolve on your tongue, your receptors being hit by a combo of bitter and sweet. In the meantime, your eyes connected with Leah’s, staring into each other's souls. This intimate moment got better when your lover decided to kiss you. A sweet and tender kiss, igniting a fire in your heart, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Leah’s tongue swept across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. Granting her entrance with delight, her tongue explored your mouth. Slightly sucking on yours. “Mmm you taste delicious, like chocolate.” “Leah, you little shit.” Of course, her plan was to get some of your chocolate. Honestly you should have seen it coming. Smacking her head lightly. “What? I just love sweets. It’s not my fault.”, she responded with faux innocence. “Mhm keep telling yourself that schatje.”, you placed your right hand on her chest and pulled her in for a short kiss. After pulling away, your girlfriend chased your lips. A pout formed as she wanted to proceed with the minor make-out session in the kitchen. Hence why you pecked her lips a few more times. 

Getting ready for a game normally doesn't take long. Only this time a dispute arose. Leah wanted you to wear her England jersey but they are playing your home country. How could you betray the Netherlands? Additionally being Viv’s cousin, you’d made your mind up. With Miedema written on the back of your shirt, which was actually your last name, you were ready to leave. Usually you wore Leah’s shirt but you wanted to show Viv support, you hoped for her to be subbed on and

get some minutes. You promised Leah to wear her shirt to the next game, she reluctantly agreed. No doubt wanting you to always have her shirt on. She always loved seeing you with her stuff, her last name on your back was the cherry on top. She promised herself to make you hers for once and for all someday. Already searching for suitable rings to propose to you. Of course she wasn't aware of you doing the exact same. Only Amanda and Viv were aware that both of you were on the lookout for engagement rings. Having figured out each other's ring size through those two wonderful women.

Arriving at the stadium you were in awe. The atmosphere was extremely pleasant. Fans cheering loudly while the players are warming up. You were pretty early there due to Leah wanting to visit the girls before kickoff. You on the other hand went to the dutchies. They were quite fond of you, Viv had dragged you to some events where you’ve met most of the leeuwinnen. Exchanging hugs and good luck wishes were on your agenda. Subsequently, you had a quick chat with your cousin, reassuring her that she’d play well. Recently she hasn’t been the most confident about performance. “Anna Margaretha Marina Astrid Miedema you got this, i believe in you and so do your teammates. When you get out there I want you to destroy the English. You got me dear cousin? Afterwards I’ll be saying: she ate and left no crumbs.” Viv hugged you tightly and whispered “Thank you Y/n, you really are my favourite cousin.””I’d be shocked if I wasn’t, I am your only cousin.”, your face showed a non amused expression. “Alright, I’ll leave you to get ready, need to meet up with Leah to go to our seats” Waving goodbye to everyone and them shouting goodbye back as you left.

After finding Leah in one of the many hallways, you went to your seats. Of course they were in the family section. As the game started you both were extremely excited but also on edge. This game could cost England the qualification as well as the Netherlands. When Beerensteyn scored two times in the first half you were ecstatic but didn’t show it too much. Jumping off your seat two times was enough celebration, not wanting to rub it under Leah’s nose. Speaking of your girlfriend, she was fuming next to you. Criticising every mistake made on the pitch. You were sure some memes would be created of her expressions during the game.

As the added time was announced Leah stood up “Babe I’ll be back. Just need to have a likkle chat with the girls.” “Alright my love. Please don’t be too harsh on them.” She mumbled something under her breath as a reply. You continued to watch the game until it was halftime. Getting up to get your girlfriend some water and something to munch on during the second half. 

Leah entered the changing room. She leaned against the wall and waited for the girls to come. Shortly after her the girls entered. Some with heads hanging down, some had an unreadable expression. Everyone made their way to the cubbies, expecting Serena to yell at them but instead they found Leah. Now she stood in the middle of the room and looked around. Serena

watched from the door as the true captain of the team gave them a speech. It motivated every player, gave them feedback and told them to get their shit together. Serena herself couldn’t have done a better job, she certainly was proud of the injured player. “Kick some ass girls, I know you can do it. We won the Euros for Christ's sake. You have the ability to beat them, we’ve done it before. Get out there and show them who’s the boss. I believe in you.” and with that Leah left the changing room leaving the “stage” to Serena. 

Seeing them play in the second half was as if a switch had been turned. More ball control, more opportunities and some changes. The lionesses flipped the tables, the game now in their favour. Still with the narrow victory the chances of qualifying weren’t the greatest. The game against Scotland would have to be an epic one, with loads of goals. 

As soon as the match ended Leah and you went on the field. Even after the win some of the girls were in tears. They were disappointed in themself. Leah joined them in the circle, she was proud of the girls, even if the game could have been better. They managed a comeback, they still had a chance. Nothing was lost yet, that's what she told the girls and she was right. Nothing was carved into stone, everything was possible.

[tang3r1n]

for @hystixia cause i just had a beautiful brain fart idea 💡

18+, dub/non con, breaking n entering, oral (m->f), jeff being gross, fingering, specifically chubbier reader!!

jeff but with a cute lil shy, chubby GEEKY bitch who wears blue light glasses cause she constantly glued to her phone and laptop. so much so she doesn’t even notice him following her in broad daylight, too engrossed in her latest internet obsession to notice him softly busting open her window and slipping in, definitely not paying attention to him and he slowly walks towards her innocently sinful form splayed out comfortably on her bed, headphone blaring an obscure anime intro so loud he can head the lyrics.

he brandished his signature knife n rips her away from the hypnotic blue hue of her screen, big ol’ doe eyes shining from the glare of her glasses as he grins maniacally and stares down at her, all comfy in her loose, worn t-shirt and skimpy skimpy shorts. he groans as she instantly starts begging, cock already throbbing in his tight jeans at how adorable her sweet pleading sounds.

jeff with a cute chubby geek who promises she won’t tell anyone if he just leave— even when he’s ripping her obviously sentimental short in two and using his (most likely bloody) knife to slice her shorts dangerously close to the puffy little prize between her thick thighs. he feel his body practically vibrating with pleasure at the sight of her fat jiggling while she pathetically squirmed as sobbed, horrified and knowingly docile in the face of his terrible, terrible evil.

jeff who folds his lil cute geek in half and dives into her chubby pussy, nose clumsily bumping against her little gem as his impossibly long tongue barged its way past her tight hole. the sensations were too much for his geeky loser, she thrashes more harshly now, whining and trying to push him off. his scars, marred and mangled as they were, tickled her thighs and his blunt nails dig in so hard they left thin trails of blood that slowly slipped past his pale hands and onto her bedsheets as he devoured her.

the disgustingly salacious noises of him eating her cunt made his geek’s tummy flutter as she felt queasy and horny all at once, body betraying her mind as she fought not to come apart in his heinous hold.

jeff who finger fucks his chubby loner so hard the slap of his palm against her sore clit made her arch, a stripe of pain shooting up her slide alongside the traitorous feeling of pure pleasure. he cooed down at her softly, uncharacteristically gentle as he brushed the stray hairs out of her face and fixed her glasses on right. it didn’t last long, the soft touch, as soon he grabbed her jaw and forced her to kiss his bloody, slick covered lips, pulling away just to hock and spit in her mouth.

jeff who loves loves loves it when she finally ums around his slender fingers, three shoved deep in her plush pussy walls as she convulsed around them, her mind finally giving into the forceful pleasure. eye rolled back, back arched beautifully, heavy breasts, thick thighs, and soft tummy shaking with the power of her rushed orgasm as he slowed his hand, massaging the soft walls of her now sticky cunt as she calmed down.

in her post-nut haze, she failed to notice him slipping his fingers out, already dozing off as she disgustingly sucked them clean, using the same fingers to repeat the process a few more times, obsessed with how his chubby geek’s cunt tasted on his villainous tongue.

he grinned as she snores softly, quickly snapping a photo of her disheveled self before pocketing a random pair of dirty (he can only hope) panties and slips back out into the night, locking her window back and leaving his mark on her window frame so no one else can perv on his cute, shy lil chubby geek <33

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student pt. 1

Other parts on my Masterlist!

(Fem Reader, Both Matt and Chris, they’re both ur teachers, suggestive, set in school, nothing too much yet😉 not proofread so idk if there’s mistakes sorry! everyone is 18+!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

I hate this lecture, I sit almost at the front and the boys behind me always laugh at me every time I raise my hand or do anything. There’s only three girls in this whole lecture, including me. They’re all friends with eachother but I have nobody in here who likes me.

The only reason I’m not dropping the course is because my teacher, Professor Sturniolo is drop dead gorgeous. I’m not being dramatic, his bright blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glasses he keeps rested on his nose. His sharp cheekbones, the jawline which is sometimes prickled with stubble. His hair is a dark brown colour, slightly curly sometimes, depends if it’s been raining or not.

He wear either these button up shirts, the first 3 buttons undone and a vest underneath or tight shirts, long sleeved, short sleeved. You name it. He always pairs the outfit with a silver chain dangling from around his neck. To say he is hot is an understatement.

The main reason I like him, (except his perfect features.) is the fact that he listens to what I have to say, I think I’m the only one who takes this course seriously. I understand English is a pretty boring subject to some but I enjoy it.

“She’s not listening to the lecture for once.” I hear one of the boys whisper behind me, I turn slightly and look at them through the corner of my eye. Professor Sturniolo was slightly late today so some other teacher came in to teach while we waited for him, I just can’t focus if he’s not the one teaching me.

All of a sudden the door flies open, “sorry guys I had a flat tire.” He spoke breathlessly as he walked over to the desk, the stand in teacher says his goodbyes and walking out the class. His hair is messy from the wind and it’s slightly wet due to the rain, his button up shirt fully unbuttoned, revealing the white vest underneath, and the chain in the same place as usual.

His sleeves are rolled up slightly revealing the tattoos on his arm. “Where did Professor Michaels get up to in the book?” He asks the class, everyone shrugs and he looks to me, “y/n?” He asks me and I break out of my daydream, “hm?” I say. He chuckles softly, “where did he get to in the book? What page?” He repeats himself.

I wasn’t paying attention to anything he had said, I was too deep in thought. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention to him sorry.” I awkwardly laugh, luckily he laughed too, “that’s not like you at all,” he smiles, “but thanks for the honesty.” He nods, “you know what, there’s only 20 minutes left so just reread over notes or something. But first did you all do your homework?” Groans and sighs come from the class behind me, signalling that they didn’t.

“Come on guys it’s easy work I’m setting! Ok who has done it?” I raise my hand, his eyes flick to me quickly and I notice the corner of his mouth raise, two other boys raise their hands. He looks at them and his eyebrows raise before he smiles at the boys.

He walks up the lecture room steps slightly and picks up my homework from infront of me, he looks down at me and smiles, he briefly rests his hand on my shoulder slightly. “Good girl.” He whispers before patting my shoulder and walking up to the boys to collect theirs.

Butterfly’s erupt in my stomach from his words, he called me a good girl, that shouldn’t have caused me to subconsciously squeeze my thighs together. I stop myself and swallow harshly to try and brush off my reaction.

He walks back down to his desk and sets the small amount of homework down infront of him to mark. I pull out my notebook to check my notes and I look at him marking the homework, he’s smiling contently and his hand is gripping the pen gently, with the other hand his ring covered fingers flip over the page.

He looks up at me and nods at me before looking back down at the homework. The end of the lecture closes in as we only have 5 minutes left, he walks up to my desk and places my homework down infront of me, 99% is written at the top with a little smiley face next to it, I chuckle softly.

I flip over the page and there’s something written in the corner, speak to me after class, you aren’t in trouble. I look at it with confusion, “what the fuck I got 12%? I actually studied a bit for this stupid homework.” I hear one of the boys yell, “fuck this class man.” He adds. “If I didn’t have something to do after this lecture I’d tell you to stay behind, watch your mouth kid.” Professor Sturniolo spoke through gritted teeth.

What does he have to do? He told me to stay behind after class, but I’m not in trouble so what could it be?

The bell rings and everyone starts packing away and leaving.. except me, I neaten my notes since they’re scattered on the desk infront of me and I stay seated. After everyone left, Professor Sturniolo walked up to my desk and grabbed the chair from the desk infront and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the bit where you usually lean your back on.

“I know I’m not in trouble but why am I staying behind?” I nervously ask him, fidgeting with my nails. “You’re a great student, probably the best in my class y/n,” he starts to say, smiling softly. “I was wondering if you would help Thomas in some of the lessons. If he doesn’t pass this semester he’ll have to be dropped from the school.”

“Thomas? The quiet kid? I didn’t know he was failing this class.” I reply, “but I’ll help him in the lectures, he can come sit by me.” I smile back at him, “thank you, that’s not the only reason I wanted you to stay behind though.” He smirks slightly.

“Oh? What’s up Profe-” he shushes me, “Call me Matt, Professor Sturniolo is too formal.” He chuckles, I nod before also laughing. “Okay, Matt.. why do you want me to stay here?” I ask, leaning my cheek on my hand.

He swallows nervously and looks at the clock on the wall, “you got flustered.” He spoke. I tilt my head in confusion until I realise what he’s talking about and my cheeks flush red. “Uh..” I stutter. “It’s ok.” He nods at me smirking, I feel his hand on my knee from the other side of the desk. My leg tenses up by the sudden touch.

“I said what I said y/n, you are a good girl. You always listen and answer questions the others fail to answer, and you always pay attention to me.” I feel a shift in the air as a tension builds around us, I nod softly. “Thank you.” I speak, not knowing what to say entirely.

He chuckles, “your overall grade for this semester is gonna be an A.. don’t tell the other students I told you yours yet.. ok?” He leans in and looks into my eyes with a stare I don’t recognise. The sexual tension grows, “why an A? I thought I was A+ grade? I was last semester.” I say confused. “You just haven’t done as well as last semester, you’ve still done so well and I’m proud but you could improve.” He smiles.

“I’m really trying my hardest I don’t think I can improve, what could I do to bump my grade up just slightly, like extra credit?” I ask in a needy tone, I need to get an A+ I promised my mom I’d get all A+ in English since she knows I’m great at it.

“What are you willing to do?” He asks, this time in a lower tone and he leans in slightly. “Anything!” I nod, “I really need an A+ I promised my mom I would.” I lean in and smile innocently. “You’d do anything?” Matts eyes flick to my mouth and back up to my eyes.

The realisation hits me and I lean back quickly, not realising how close we actually got. I look at him with an eyebrow raised slightly, “were you implying that..” I breathe in nervously. “That I..” I stutter. “Hey y/n calm down it’s ok.” He grabs my hand and nods reassuringly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I thought that it was something you would want.. I know it’s wrong I’m sorry.” He studies my face.

I want to kiss him and touch him in places others haven’t even seen, but it’s wrong. He’s my professor, yes it’s wrong but not illegal. I’m 18. “I do want it.” I whisper, looking down at my lap. He lifts my chin with his finger, “do you?” He smirks, standing up from his seated position.

I nod, “yes.” I smile up at him. “Good girl.” He whispers, walking around to the side of my seat, “the next lecture is starting soon, but take this.” He grabs my pen from the desk and starts to scribble on a spare piece of paper. I look down at it to see he’s writing his number. After he wrote that he added, Text me :)

He pats my shoulder and starts to walk to the front of the class, I pack away my stuff, making sure to keep the little note safe. I can’t believe that something I’d been fantasising about is actually happening? I can’t let anyone know no matter how much I want to.

I walk down to the front of the class, giving a flirty wave to Professor Sturniolo before leaving the classroom. I pull out my phone and add in the number to a contact, “Matt” I named it. My next class is gym class. They always make us do gym with a male teacher, but today we have a new one apparently. “I’m telling you him and Professor Sturniolo are identical!” A boy says to his friend as he walks out of the gym class.

Identical? I remember Matt mentioning to the class that he’s a triplet but I didn’t know one of them was a teacher too. I walk into the locker room and change into my vest and very short booty shorts. It’s the only shorts I like and I haven’t been dresscoded for them, even though my ass is practically on show.

I walk into the gym class and sit down on the bench next to my only real friend, Lizzy. “Hey you okay?” She asks me as I walk over, “yeah why!” I say happily. “You just actually seem happy for once it’s strange but it’s also good!” She smiles at me. “Do you find Professor Sturniolo attractive?” I ask her randomly, I just wanna know if I’m the only one who’s so besotted with him.

“Meh, I don’t have him as a teacher, some girls like him but I don’t, he’s not my type though.” She shrugs, “who is your type?” I ask her, she shrugs again, “I don’t know but I just don’t find him hot.” She swallows harshly. My attention gets taken from her as the new teacher walks in.

He’s identical to Matt, but there’s a difference between them, this guy doesn’t have glasses or stubble. He scans the room, most the girls aren’t in gym class today I don’t know why. “Small class huh?” He chuckles, “it’s usually bigger some people just aren’t present.” I speak up. He instantly turns his head to face me.

We make eye contact, butterflies fill my stomach, he does look like Matt that’s why. “Oh okay thanks.” He smiles at me, “gather around y’all.” He calls to the class and we all oblige. “We’re gonna be doing dodgeball today, something simple.” He nods and again his eyes lock with mine briefly.

He clears his throat before we set up the two zones, it starts, me and Lizzy are on the same side. Mr Sturniolo starts to throw the dodgeballs to us, “what’s the betting she’s gonna be an A+ student in this class aswell.” A girl on my side whispers to her friend, “I think she fucks the teachers to get those grades!” The other one replies, they both laugh but I brush it off. As I’m throwing the dodgeballs at the other team one of the girls snatches the dodgeball out of my hand.

“Fuck off.” I say to her, “so scary..” She laughs back. I pick up a dodgeball and launch it at her, it smacks right into her nose and she falls to the ground. “Oh my god you bitch!” Her friend spoke to me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t expect it to hit her face!” I reply back, “Sir!” Her friend calls over Mr Sturniolo, I step back slightly and bump into someone, he turns me around by my shoulders and looks down at me. I had just walked back into Mr Sturniolo, “sorry.” I whisper, he pats my shoulders and let’s go of them, just how Matt does.

“What’s happened?” He looks down to Rachel lying on the ground holding her nose, “Rachel was be-” I go to speak but am cut off by her friend “y/n launched the dodgeball at Rachel’s face for no reason! She’s not even on the opposing team!” Her friend Jess leans down and helps Rachel up. “Take her to the nurse or something.” He spoke to Jess before shrugging. “I’ll talk with you after class okay?” He nodded to me.

I sigh, “okay.” I continue the game, less enthusiastic this time. The bell rings and we all go into the locker room to change back into our clothes, “I’ll talk to you later yeah?” Lizzy says to me and I nod, grabbing my bag and heading back into the gym class.

He’s sat on the bench on his phone, “hey Mr Sturniolo.” I say, his head flicks up to me and he smiles, putting his phone down next to him. “Call me Chris, please.” He pats the bench next to him for me to sit.

I sit down, “I’m sorry, she was being rude to me and assuming stuff, and I got mad I shouldn’t have done that.” I say sighing. “It’s okay, I heard her. She’s a bit dramatic if you ask me.” He laughs, “she’s taking the drama course I think.” I also laugh.

“I’m glad you actually understand and are apologetic for what you did though..” He smiles at me, I smile back and nod, our attention is drawn to the doors of the gym as they open and Matt walks through them, “Chris, Nick was wondering if you wanted to-” he pauses as he notices me sat there too.

“Hey..” he smiles at me, “hi.” I look at him and back at Chris, taking in their similarities but also their differences.

Chris pats my knee before standing up and walking to Matt, “one sec.” He whispers, smiling down at me. I see them talking but can’t hear. They laugh slightly before I make eye contact with Matt, my stomach filling with butterflies once more. “See you tomorrow or something y/n!” He calls to me and as Chris turns Matt does a slight wink, causing me to squeeze my thighs together lightly before relaxing them.

“Sorry for that interruption..” Chris laughs, “brothers am I right? Unless you don’t have any I’m not sure.” He slows down his sentence, I shrug. “I don’t have brothers, I had a step brother but his mom broke up with my dad, he’s a year younger than me so he really bugged me.” I chuckled lightly. “Matt said you’re a great student.” Chris spoke after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah I’m pretty good at some subjects, depends on who’s teaching me and if I find the subject interesting.” I smile at him, “well hopefully you get good grades in this class, if not there’s ways you can get higher grades anyway.” He smirks before standing up. “I gotta set up for the next class but feel free to stay if you want, it’s lunch now isn’t it?” He asks me, and I nod “I gotta get going to meet Lizzy but I’ll see you next lesson.” I smile and he nods back.

As I walk out the class I think to myself, what could he have meant by ‘ways for me to get higher grades anyway’? Was he implying a similar thing to what Matt was? I don’t know but I’m intrigued to find out more..

A/n: how is everyone liking the start for this series, I haven’t done a love triangle fic or series before so I hope it’s gonna be good for u!! I am sorry but idk if I’m gonna finish the Mine series rn bc I do wanna focus on this one more but my posting schedule is fucked bc I’m so busy w revision and stuff but I’ll try and post as frequently as I can!!

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosmind @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life

[kiarastromboli]

𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧:

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐱 𝐲/𝐧

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: Masturbation, smoker!reader.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Matt's life is going to be completely upheaved by an encounter he will have one day at work, leading him to discover a new feeling: obsession.

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: I'm glad to come back with this new series that I had in mind for a while. I hope you'll enjoy it. The first chapter is from Matt's point of view, but it's possible that in the days to come, the point of view will shift to that of the reader. Anyway, I'll inform you beforehand. Feel free to ask me in the comments if you want to be part of the taglist. Enjoy reading!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐫𝐞 𝟑

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏:

My life has always been a damn bottomless pit without interest. I grew up in a normal family, in a normal town surrounded by normal people; there was nothing special about me.

I've always had this feeling of discomfort, like something was missing from my life.

In high school, I tried to fill that void with sports like any other teenager, but nothing worked.

I was fortunate to be a triplet, so I started life with people to love and who loved me in return.

Naturally, people think that having siblings erases the loneliness of life, but it's false. I had my brothers, but I still felt that emptiness and loneliness.

As I grew older, I realized that I would never fill this void, that I was destined to have an uninteresting life and become Mr. Average.

I moved to New York, where I found a job in a bookstore, which seemed more than logical given my passion for books.

I lived five minutes away from my brother Chris, and Nick, my other brother, continued his studies in Boston.

My weeks repeated and resembled each other.

I worked on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Wednesday, I spent the day with Chris; most of the time, we just went out to eat and stroll. As for Sunday, I dedicated it to my motorcycle rides and various hobbies.

By various hobbies, I mean fleeting activities that I forced myself to practice to keep me from losing my mind from living the same days on repeat.

But all of that was before her.

When I saw her for the first time, I felt like I was waking up after an endless sleep.

It was a Thursday evening, we were about to close, I just had to put away the last books we had received, and I could finally close the shop and go home.

That was until I heard the sound of the little bells at the entrance jingling as the door opened.

I sighed when I heard the door open, thinking, 'Another bookworm waiting until the last moment to come get their fill of books.'

I went back to the counter to wait for the person who was there to bring me their book so I could quickly scan it and finally go home.

I honestly expected a student with glasses or some nonsense like that, so I was surprised to see this brown-haired girl a few meters away from me, browsing the shelves to find what she wanted.

I'm not the type to linger on pretty girls, but she had something extra.

She was wearing this navy blue sweater three sizes too big for her, which forced her to roll up her sleeves, and you could see the collar of her white shirt peeking out underneath.

With that, she wore a small brown pleated skirt that matched the bow she had in her hair.

An outfit that said a lot and so little at the same time.

I'm the type to analyze people on a daily basis; it's my thing when you work in a bookstore like this one in New York, you get bored very quickly.

I had a little game with myself where I enjoyed deciphering the people who entered this shop, first by their way of dressing, then by their mannerisms, and finally, I drew a conclusion based on the book they bought.

However, I was stuck on her way of dressing; I couldn't really figure it out. Her outfit was simple and casual, sure, but there was this complexity with her accessories that made me wonder if she did it on purpose or if she just randomly picked out clothes.

I mean, who pairs such a large sweater with such a small skirt? Maybe it's her boyfriend's sweater?

When I thought that, I felt anger rising within me, but why? I don't even know her; what does it matter to me whether she has a boyfriend or not?

I shook my head to try to think of something else and continued to observe her.

She had been wandering around the store for five minutes, stopping at each aisle without ever grabbing a book. Does she even read, or did she just come here thinking she'd find a fun book to read for once?

Even her behavior was indecipherable; the more I looked at her, the more intrigued I became.

She finally stopped at the romance section, where she picked up a book before walking towards me with a big smile.

Strangely, I felt a certain stress when her eyes landed on me; I hadn't realized how harmonious her face was.

"Good evening," she said warmly, placing the book in front of me.

"Good evening," I replied nervously.

"I hope I'm not bothering you by coming at this hour. I'm new in town, and I thought you closed later," she said politely.

"No worries; I didn't have anything planned after anyway," I replied without looking at her; I was far too intimidated for that.

I scanned her book, and of course, that's when the cash register decided not to work properly, leaving us face to face in an awkward silence while I tried to open the register.

She seemed amused, judging by the little chuckle she let out, and when I looked up at her, she simply said, "Sorry," timidly, unable to suppress the little smile on her lips.

I finally managed to unlock the cash register, then gave her the change and reached for a small bag to put her purchase in.

That's when I saw the book she had chosen.

"Pride and Prejudice, good choice," I said without thinking too much.

"I know, I've read it already," she said, chuckling, and I looked up at her to watch her.

"It's a gift," she added.

"For your boyfriend?" I said again without thinking, and this time I quickly added, "Sorry, that was very intrusive of me."

She looked at me with a smile before saying, "For a friend, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Good to know," I replied, handing her the book.

She took the bag with her book inside and turned to start walking towards the exit, and I was dying to catch up with her to continue talking, but I stood there frozen like an idiot.

She walked through the door, and I sighed.

My heart started beating normally again, and I felt a sense of longing in her absence.

My life, which until now had been flat and uninteresting, was unknowingly taking a whole new turn.

I finished tidying up the bookstore, trying to distract myself, but she continued to haunt my thoughts.

I kept asking myself hundreds and thousands of questions.

Will I see her again? What did she think of me? What's her name? What does she do for a living?

Fuck, what had she done to me? I thought as I pushed the door of the store to leave and locked it behind me.

Unintentionally, the key to my apartment detached from the keychain around my waist, and I hadn't noticed until a familiar voice informed me.

"Hey, you dropped this!" the girl from the bookstore said, catching my attention and tapping my shoulder.

I turned around and felt my heart race again when I found myself face to face with her; if she keeps this up, she'll give me a heart attack.

"Thanks," I said, taking my keys from her hand.

Unintentionally, my eyes roamed over her body, analyzing her.

I noticed the butt of a cigarette she held in her other hand, probably the reason she was still around.

"No problem," she said, smiling.

"Can I ask your name, if it's not too forward?" I asked, curious.

"Y/n," she said, extending her hand after finishing her cigarette and tossing it to the ground to crush it with her foot.

"I'm—" I started to say before she cut me off.

"Matt, yeah, I know," she said quickly, and I looked at her confused.

She knows my name?

"Oh, um, it was on your apron earlier, I promise I'm not a weirdo," she said, chuckling, and I chuckled too.

She seems observant too, interesting.

"You don't really seem like a weirdo, if that reassures you," I said, smiling.

"And you don't seem like a guy who reads romance novels; I guess we can all be surprising, maybe you should watch out," she said, shrugging with a smirk.

"Pride and Prejudice is a classic; I work in a bookstore, I have to know my classics," I replied.

"Fair enough," she said, smiling.

A moment of silence ensued, leaving us there in the middle of the street, staring into each other's eyes.

"Are you just passing through here?" I asked, to break the unbearable silence.

"Hm?" she simply hummed, confused.

"You said you were new here earlier," I clarified.

"Oh, um, no, let's just say I'm in the process of settling in," she said, nodding.

"Great, I hope to see you around here then," I said, smiling.

"There's a chance that could happen; this bookstore seems nice, and who knows, maybe I'll need a friend who knows their stuff to advise me," she said, smiling back.

"You already consider me your friend? Wasn't it you who said I should watch out?" I teased her.

"Oh, because you thought I was talking about you? No way, I was talking about my friend who works at the same bookstore as you!" she said, trying to justify herself.

"Oh, really? I probably know that friend then," I said with a smirk.

"Okay, you got me; I'm a big liar," she said, raising her hands, and I laughed.

"I already suspected that," I said, chuckling.

We stayed silent once again, staring into each other's eyes before she spoke again.

"Well, I have to go if I want to have a chance to catch a taxi before it's too late," she said, playing with the ends of her hair.

"I can drop you off if you live nearby," I offered.

"Whether by car or taxi, the journey is still long in the streets of New York, and I don't want to bother you with an extra 20-minute ride," she said timidly.

"I guess it's a good thing I have a motorcycle then," I said, pointing to my bike parked a few steps away.

"I don't know... um," she said, shaking her head hesitantly.

"If you don't trust me and prefer to go by taxi, I totally understand, I won't hold it against you," I said reassuringly.

"You know what? Fuck this; a little danger never hurt anyone, and anyways, if you try to kidnap me, know that I did boxing in middle school, so I won't go down without a fight," she said, pointing her finger at me, and I laughed.

"Alright, Mike Tyson, let me just grab my spare helmet from the bookstore," I said, chuckling before doing just that.

When I returned, I handed her the helmet, which she put on.

She got on behind me after indicating where she lived, and we hit the road directly.

We weaved through traffic, and I could feel her little arms tighten around my waist with each acceleration.

I couldn't help but slightly harden beneath my jeans because of the proximity between us; I could feel her chest pressing against my back.

This girl had something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I looked at her.

She smelled like vanilla and cigarettes.

She was destabilizing, and I felt like I was losing my balance with every word she uttered.

Once we arrived at her destination, I stopped my motorcycle in front of her apartment complex.

It was large and luxurious.

I wondered if she was a daddy's girl to live here, or if she simply had a good job. In either case, this girl clearly wasn't short on money.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, smiling, after taking off her helmet to hand it back to me.

"It was my pleasure," I said, removing my helmet and staying on the bike while she got off.

"That was really nice; I'm glad I made a new friend," she said, quickly fixing her hair.

"So, we're friends?" I said, smiling.

"Of course," she replied, smiling back.

"Great," I said timidly, and a new silence fell.

"Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," she said this time in a much softer voice.

Why the sudden change in tone?

"Good night, Y/n," I replied, and she turned to walk towards her apartment complex.

I couldn't help but watch her as she went inside. I should have immediately started my bike and left, but I was stuck in place.

She paused in front of her stairs for a moment before suddenly turning around and running back towards me.

I watched her return, a little confused, and when she reached me, she simply said, "Hi."

"Hi," I replied, a bit confused but smiling.

"Is it weird if I suggest we see each other again? It's a friendly offer, of course; you just seem really interesting, and I felt silly leaving like that without suggesting we meet again," she said quickly, and I chuckled at her tone.

"Of course. I finish early on Saturdays; just drop by the bookstore, and we'll go for another motorcycle ride if you want," I said, smiling.

"Sounds great!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, goodbye for real this time," she said, chuckling.

"Bye," I replied, watching her leave before putting my helmet back on and heading home on my motorcycle.

On the journey back, I had only one thing on my mind: her.

Arriving home, I was surprised to find that my erection hadn't subsided.

How could this girl make me so hard without even touching me?

I felt bad for getting hard like this over a girl who seemed as innocent as her. What was wrong with me that I'd do something like this?

I sighed and slumped onto my couch.

I took off my pants and slid my hand under my boxers to touch the bulge there.

I started to stroke myself, unable to stop myself from thinking about her at that moment.

Her sparkling eyes, her long brown hair, her full lips that I was dying to kiss...

Why was she affecting me like this?

Her curves vaguely hidden by her oversized sweater, her legs, and especially her thighs that looked nice and soft.

"Oh my god," I muttered in a low voice, speeding up my movements and throwing my head back.

Her laughter and her voice, yes, her soft and slightly husky voice, almost like she was sick.

I edged dangerously close to the edge, and that's when I remembered her change in tone when she said, "Um, I'm going to head in; it's getting late. Good night, Matt," almost as if she was inviting me to follow her home and do all the things I was dying to do to her.

Maybe she was just as eager as I was. For my hands on her body, my lips on hers, and my name coming out of her mouth.

I thought about what she would look like sitting on me without her clothes, screaming my name, and it pushed me over the edge.

"Y/n," I moaned before climaxing.

I can't deny it any longer, this girl is clearly becoming my obsession.

⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱✮♱⋆♱

Taglist: @mayhem-72 @tillies33ssss @junnniiieee07 @bernardenjoyer @whicked-hazlatwhore @nicksmainbitch

[nctsworld]

at your earliest convenience

✩‌ haechan x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | in which haechan is always your one (and annoying) late-night customer at the 24/7 convenience store you work at and one evening, he forgets his wallet. in lieu of payment, he asks if he can take you out on a date instead. // part of the connection series

WARNINGS | slightly insecure reader, none really!

RATING | teen+

AUTHOR'S NOTE | please check out (and maybe send in some prompt requests) @nctpromptmeme!

You ring him up, like clockwork. 

The scanner picks up a bag of the Korean brand onion rings, two Red Bulls, and an instant noodle cup.  

He’s the only consistent man in your life, ignoring the fact that the sole reason why he’s in your life is because he always comes into the 24/7 convenience store you work at during late, sometimes ungodly, hours. Tonight, it’s not that bad: 1:53am. 

Rarely, no one else strolls in during your shift (and you’re grateful it’s a safe neighbourhood). 

However, this young man lives to make your shift a painful one. 

Usually with ruffled hair, transparent-framed glasses, and a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, he saunters in as if he owns the store, often swinging his keys or obnoxiously whistling along to the song playing in the background. From the moment he steps into the store, his existence alone irks you. 

Unsurprisingly, he then takes a solid ten minutes on average (yes, you’ve timed it) to buy his items. Whistling evolves into screeches or emphatic oohs and aahs. Sometimes, he even narrates the entire process, as if he's the main character in a show. And yet, despite it all, he ends up buying the same rotation of his favourite items. 

If not the onion rings, the shrimp crackers. If not the Red Bulls, the bottles of Monster instead. He may be grabbing one cup of noodles tonight, but other times it’s three. Potentially even a completely different brand, if he’s feeling adventurous.   

On that note, predictability is in his nature. You plead internally for him to live a little, to maybe even spice up his night with a little change, for crying out loud. Heck, maybe even change the grey or black t-shirt he always wears to a shade that’s not a neutral tone or to put on a jacket for once. 

And the cherry on top is the constant annoying smirk he flashes when you tell him his total. 

You want to punch it off his face, smear it across the shiny floors with the dirty mop water you use at the beginning and end of shift.  

“How are you doing tonight, gorgeous?” he asks. Sometimes gorgeous is replaced with beautiful or cutie. It only adds to his annoyance of regularity and you have an itch he does this all the time with others, making you not take his typical endearing terms seriously.  

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m not gorgeous, but, as always, thank you for the compliment.” 

His smirk melts, and you catch yourself feeling a tinge of something as his features soften. 

“You are, though,” your regular says. You quickly glance up, wondering if that pout and look in his eyes are genuine. “You know that I call you gorgeous because I mean it, right?” 

You’re unsure how to react, so you give a small nod and repeat the total, softly this time.

There’s a beat when the man gets lost in thought, but the moment quickly fades. He reaches into his sweatpants. However, he stops abruptly, before he reaches in again and pats the outside of his other pockets. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. You realize two things: one, you’ve never heard him curse; and two, he doesn’t have his wallet.

Well, that surely is different than usual.

Instinctively, you pull the snacks toward you. 

“Don’t you dare think I’m letting you walk away with everything for free,” you say, half-jokingly. Even though you’re 80% certain you can trust him, you still don’t know what he’s like.  

He smiles sweetly, quite differently than his smirks, forcing you to admit he’s handsome (just a little). “How could you expect me to stoop that low?” he whine-asks, clutching his chest in pain. 

After a moment of staring up at the ceiling in thought with his tongue running against his lower teeth, a Cheshire grin spreads over his face and he raises an eyebrow.

You don’t like it one bit and regret the moment earlier, mentally punching yourself for finding him a tiny bit attractive. 

“How about…”—he pauses as he rhythmically taps his fingers onto the counter—“...you let me take you out on a date in exchange for these items?” 

A scoff releases into the air. “Are you really telling me I’m only worth $11.87?” 

“What—no! Of course not,” he flicks a wrist upward in annoyance, then gestures to himself. “A date with me is worth way more in value, so you’ll be getting a better bargain.” 

You could not believe this guy. “Is a date with you really going to be worth it?” 

“Look,” he leans in over the counter and you catch a whiff of a light, woody scent. You fight off the desire to deeply inhale it. “No matter where we go or what happens, I’ll make sure you’ll be happy by the end of it. Isn’t that worth taking the risk of losing $11.87?” 

Squinting your eyes at him, while still clutching the goods he wants, you start to warm-up to the idea since you don’t have anything to lose (but maybe that’s due to the influence of his slightly intoxicating aura). 

“Will you choose the date location?” you ask, guarded.

He shakes his head. “Everything will be up to you and I’ll try to accommodate my schedule as best as I can.” 

You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. “And what if I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town?”

Without hesitation, he nods. “Then we’ll go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” 

“If I wanted to order the $130 steak?” 

“$130 steak it is.” 

“If I—” 

The cute (you can’t deny it at this point) stranger cuts you off with a raise of his hand. God, you hate how cocky he is. 

Suddenly, he holds out a hand, sticking his pinky finger up. He waggles it, and you realize he’s waiting for you to do the same. You curl a pinky around his.

“There. I promise you—cross my heart and swear on my mother’s life—that I’ll uphold and adhere to whatever date conditions you ask of me.” He straightens, stepping away from the counter. “Now, can I please have my snacks and drinks?” 

The events of tonight took quite a turn. Never in a million years would you think Mr. Predictability would ask you out on a date, let alone be pretty sweet about it.  

Perhaps there’s more to him than you thought. 

You hand him your phone, and he does the same. 

When he gives it back, you shake your head at the text he sent and the name he gave himself.

“Hyuck?” you ask, unfamiliar with the name.  

“Short for Donghyuck, but yes, beautiful?”

You turn your phone towards him in disbelief. “What’s with the heart next to your name?” 

He shrugs, flashing you another smug smile. “What about it?”  

Glancing down at his phone, he beams. You wonder if it’s because you wrote the following in brackets after your name: You Owe Me a Date Worth More than $11.87. 

“And your name is just as beautiful as you are.” 

Again, another eye roll. You wonder if the date will be filled with more of it. You shove the stuff towards him. 

“I have to know: do those lines really work?”

“Well, I have a date lined up with you, so you tell me.” 

Before you have a chance to retort, he grabs something out from his pocket.

A wallet.

His motherfucking wallet, and he has the audacity to toss a $20 bill onto the counter with the same grin that you still want to wipe the floor with. Your jaw hangs. 

“Keep the change,” he says, along with your name and grants you a wink as he grabs his items. 

“I’ll be seeing you on our date soon, gorgeous.” 

AUTHOR'S ENDING NOTE

thank you for reading! i've been getting so much love for this - y'all are amazing. if you would like to read an informal continuation, see here!

[mushies-stories]

Little succubus- prolog

Demon!Ghost X succubus!Reader

(Read the next full fic here!)

More specifically shy virgin female succubus reader

Summary: this is just leading to some smut. maybe more? i like the dynamic sooo...

You have always been shy.

Growing up around the other succubus and incubus was tormenting. You found it hard to make friends and later found it hard to find a lover. Somehow you managed to stay a virgin into maturity. It wasn't because you had wanted too, you just could never find the courage to ask someone, or even approach someone. 

That's how you found yourself in the streets of some crowded human city, walking around and looking for someone to feed from at least. You might not touch them but you have played with a few peoples dreams and it was… enough. There was no real satisfaction and they never tempt you enough to reach out beyond the shadows. 

That was until you saw him.

You walked around aimlessly, not worried about bumping into anyone because no one could see you feel you. Like this you were a part of the shadows. No human could spot you. It was when he walked past you. Dark jeans, black hoodie and a skull mask. He was walking with three other males when he crossed you on the street. He was talk, and bulky, towering as he passed. 

Once you made it across you stopped and looked back. He was facing you now, saying goodbye to his friends before they all split ways. Your tail swayed back and forth while you admired him, not even noticing how you were turning into a school girl over a simple human passing you on the street. His back turned to you and he walked in the opposite direction. Your heart sank as you watched his massive body get smaller as he got farther away.

The pool of wetness in your panties urging you to follow him.

So you do. You follow him through the streets and back to his flat. Inside wasn’t that big but it was more on the luxurious side of decor. Black leather couch and appliances, Grey walls. You trail after him to his room. Black sheets and the overall same style as the rest of the place. 

You turned and saw him raising the hoodie of his shirt along with the shirt he had under it. His muscles and hard chest causing a wash of pink to grace your cheeks. You became fluttered the more he became exposed to you. Thick arms that could snap you in half and the tattoos adorned his arms. 

As soon as he reaches to undo his jeans you scurry out of the room, too embarrassed to stand there and just watch him. You sat on the couch that faced away from his open bedroom door. The sound of running water filled the space while you waited. Your ears perk up when the shower turns off and a few moments later you hear him stepping out of the bathroom.

Couarasuity took a hold of you. Turning around and peering over the back of the couch you see him throwing his mask back on without even catching a glimpse of his face. You felt a little disappointed, for a moment that is. Once you saw that the only thing he was wearing was a pair of black sweatpants you could feel the heat from your cheeks in a second. Your pussy almost ached at the sight of his body. You wanted so bad to be under him, have him fucking you seneless until the only thing in your head was him. 

Your eyes trail down and wonder if the rest of him was just as big… I mean he has to have a big dick right?

Just as your eyes travel back up to his face, finding his eyes, they snap to you. You let out a squeak and sink down and out of sight. 

He couldn't have seen your right? He just happened to look in your direction, right? Your heart was racing and you closed your eyes to try and stay calm. “I'm being dramatic, a human can't see me.” you softly say to yourself, calming down a little. 

“No, but a demon can.” a voice growled above you. 

Your heart sank to your stomach and your breathing stopped completely. Slowly you tilted your head up to see the man standing right above you behind the couch. 

“A… demon.” you repeat, voice shaky and quiet. “You can see me.”

He nods and places both hands on the back of the couch before leaning down to be closer to your level, face only a few inches from yours. “Seen ya back on the street, didn't think you'd follow me back.” he says, tone condescending.

Your face burned, you were already embarrassed about being so drawn to him, wanting to see his filthy dreams and now… well now he was really a demon and he knew exactly what you were going to do. You couldn't speak, words didn't seem to be able to explain a way out of the hole you had quickly dug yourself into.

“Well little succubus, just what were you planning on doing?”

[celiastjamesoscar]

Umbrella Paradox

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: When visiting a local cafe shop late one night, you meet the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but you get off on the wrong foot.

Warnings: murder accusations, mention of drug use, light swearing, slight dark humor (my first time writing something ever)

Word count: 5.5k

Read pt 2 here

The streets of New York City were desolate at this hour: few and far patrons wandered into the small coffee shop. A faint chill was in the air, but not enough to make one wear a jacket. The type of chill someone can breathe in and feel in their bones. The kind of chill that anyone from the Midwest would recognize, the tell-tale signs that a storm was coming. From the way the trees rustled to the smell of the air and even to how the local dogs, who were ordinarily quiet, began to bark and growl, all signs pointed towards that of a storm.

Even though it's known as “The City That Never Sleeps,” the city seemed peaceful to the woman who worked the shop. Today had been one of the busiest days; the order for cappuccinos never ended, and Sam was ready for it to end. For the past hour and a half, however, the coffee shop had been a ghost town, the only souls that haunted the shop were Sam and one of her coworkers who just sat in the back, waiting for their shift to end. Within the four walls of solitude, a quietness quickly disappeared as Sam heard the loud cracks of thunder. As if Mother Nature had flipped a switch, a downpour of rain seemed to swallow the small shop.

As dusk hours dragged on, the little hand on the clock crawled towards 1, and the bell above the door dinged. The words “What can I get for you?” were already leaving her lips before she looked up, but she felt like the world had shifted when she saw the woman before her.

The woman in front of Sam was close to her height; maybe even taller-it was hard for Sam to tell-and she had a scar on her left eye. It went an inch or two above her eyebrow and was three inches below her eye. She wore a black uniform resembling an EMT: buttoned-up collared shirt with two chest pockets, military creases, and tactical pants. As she approached the counter, Sam took in the top of her uniform: she had a small badge on her left collarbone that said ‘emergency medical technician’ with the symbol of Caduceus on it. On her right, read the name ‘Y/N.’ Across her shoulder, she carried a red bag that had a white Caduceus symbol stitched on it. She also had a walkie-talkie hooked onto her belt and held an umbrella.

“Espresso and potato soup.” The woman said as she stood before Sam. She had a dry tone, almost as if she was irritated that Sam had asked her what she wanted.

“Hot or cold?” Sam gently asked as she studied the woman: she had bags under her eyes and wore a stressed expression.

“What?” The woman responded with the same dry tone.

“Your drink. Do you want it hot or cold?” Sam repeated herself, losing the gentle tone and speaking with a slightly irritated one instead.

The woman asked irritatedly, “Why would I want a cold coffee? That defeats the purpose.” Sam had to fight herself not to roll her eyes at the comment and instead added up the total.

“Okay, that will be $8.75,” Sam said as she watched Y/N dig around her pockets for her wallet. Eventually, the woman pulled out her money along with three quarters and paid Sam before walking off to sit in the corner of the shop, taking off her bag and placing her umbrella on the floor. Sam placed the order for the woman and went to count the money but soon found out she was two dollars short.

“Miss, you are short two dollars,” Sam spoke with gentleness in her voice even though she could not understand why but quickly regarded it once the woman mumbled something under her breath and threw the two dollars onto the counter. Sam scoffed at the woman’s actions but began making her coffee.

As Sam finished making the coffee, her coworker brought up the soup and placed it by Sam, sparing a glance at the woman in the corner, “Just think, a little over an hour to go,” they said with a smile as they disappeared quickly into the kitchen. "It’s going to be the longest hour of my life,” Sam thought as she grabbed the soup and coffee and walked toward the woman.

“Here’s your soup and coffee. Enjoy,” Sam said as she placed the items in front of the woman, who said nothing in return. Minutes seemed like hours as the woman ate her soup and drank her coffee, and Sam was bored. The only thing on her mind was the downpour outside and the woman in the corner, though she would never admit that to herself. Y/N had been the only customer in the past–Sam quickly glanced at the clock–two hours. Out of boredom, Sam began wiping down tables, preparing for closing even though the shop closed in thirty minutes.

As if snapping out of a daydream, the woman quickly noted Sam’s action and finished her meal and drink. She got up, placed the bowl on the counter, and discarded her coffee cup. She set three dollars on the counter, spared Sam a smile–if one could call it–grabbed her umbrella, and quickly left the shop. As Y/N left the shop, a small group of teenage girls walked in, all a bit drunk, but Y/N wouldn’t tell on them.

She began walking down the street, holding the umbrella close to her as the rain continued its assault on the city. “It hasn’t rained in a month, and of course, it decides to piss it down the night I work 12 hours.” Y/N mumbler under her breath, walking a quarter of a mile back to the station. As she approached the station, she noticed something was missing. “Fuck me; I left my bag.” She grumbled as she began her saunter back to the coffee shop.

Just as she began her walk, she started thinking about the woman in the cafe. Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t find the woman attractive. She had tan skin that was undoubtedly smooth and beautiful brown eyes that one could get lost in if they weren’t careful, but she also had a guarded nature. She felt terrible for how she treated the woman; Y/N had had a rough day at work, the calls for emergencies never seemed to end, and she let it affect her mood. She was usually delightful, but the long shift had gotten to her, and she seemed to have taken it out on the poor woman. The alluring woman plagued Y/N’s mind; she subconsciously quickened her pace, hoping to make it back in time before closing to apologize to the woman.

After Y/N had left the shop, Sam stopped cleaning the tables and walked over to the counter. She smiled at the tip and happily collected it as the doorbell rang again. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Sam said as she made eye contact with one of the girls in the group before grabbing the bowl and taking it into the kitchen. As she left, however, she heard the faintest of a whisper, but it was there, “murderer.”

Sam has not been a stranger to the accusations from strangers since the Woodsboro murders. It seems once a week; the shop gets a patron who throws around the word “murderer” while Sam is working. At first, it bothered Sam, she would cry on her breaks and smoke more cigarettes than usual, but after a while, she became immune to it all. She acted like nothing bothered her when she was with Tara, as she didn’t want her baby sister to worry about her. But that’s all Tara did.

Tara noticed the subtle details: Sam would have puffy eyes and smudged mascara, things that would go unnoticed by the average eye but not to Tara. Then more significant things began to happen; Sam’s mood would change on a dime, she started to smell like cigarettes more often, and she had bags under her eyes. Of course, Tara rebelled against her sister, just like any typical freshman in college would do against their parents. Tara only acted out as a way to push Sam away from her. Tara’s entire life, people have left her: her dad, her sister, and her mom, who has been absent most of her life. She wanted to prove she was the problem: Tara was why everyone she loved left her. In her mind, Tara believed she didn’t deserve love and was too much to deal with, so she pushed Sam away.

But once Sam started coming home with her work clothes covered in coffee or cherry coke, Tara began to behave herself. She would order pizza before Sam’s shift would end and have a movie ready to play when she got home. Sometimes, if she felt adventurous and brave enough, she would cook a meal for the two of them. Once, she tried cooking one of Sam’s favorite meals but almost burnt down the apartment. Neither talked about it; instead just laughed over their Chinese takeout about the disaster. Tara never asked Sam about her job, as she figured it would only add to her sister’s guilt: having her little sister worry about her when she was already struggling enough to get over the trauma of Woodsboro. Instead, Tara simply showed her care for Sam through little acts they preferred. Asking each other if they were okay without words was how close they were. Sam might have gone for five years, but their bond will always be everlasting: no amount of time will ever shake their love for each other.

Sam prepared to face the inevitable and walked towards the counter, “what can I get you girls?” she asked with a polite tone and forced smile.

The girls gave Sam an unimpressed look as they pretended to look at the menu. “Let’s see here, ummmm…can I please get a latte? No, actually, how about an americano? Wait! No, I would like a mocha, please!” One of the girls stated as she twirled her hand around her finger, pretending to play dumb just to irritate Sam. Sam knew that this was going to end badly for herself, but the best she could do was force a smile, not like she’s been doing that her whole life.

After getting all their orders—which took a millennium—Sam eventually got to make their coffees. With complaints and loud sighs, the girls sat down at one of the tables Sam had just finished clearing, as the cleaning supplies were still on it. In one single motion, the girl who played dumb backhanded all the supplies off the table, crying out an “oops” as she sat down while the other girls laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up in a minute,” Sam uttered with a clenched jaw. As Sam finished talking, the doorbell chimed, but she didn’t have it in her to turn around, afraid that the girls were stalking her movements and they would see the frustration on her face, knowing they were getting to her.

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on worrying about it. I know that you know how to clean up a stain or two,” the Karen Smith wanna-be stated with an all-too-knowing smirk while twirling her hair. “How’d you do it anyway? Get away with all those murders?” She asked as she outstretched her arms when she said ‘All those murders.’

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sam voiced through gritted teeth-she didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now.

“Oh, okay then!” The girl exclaimed with a jeering expression as she bounced around in her seat before speaking more seriously, “I just thought you were that Loomis girl who murdered six of her friends and tried to kill her sister.”

Sam spoke in a tired but hardened tone, “Look, girl, I have no idea what you are trying to get at, but-” “Excuse me, may I get a pot of coffee, please?” A gentle voice interrupted Sam. She had half a mind to give the person a piece of her mind for interrupting her, but when she turned around, and the words died on her tongue. It was the woman from earlier, but this time she wore a radiant expression, and a cheeky smile rested upon her face. She rested her elbows on the countertop, leaning forward a bit.

“Yeah, just a minute,” responded Sam as she brought the coffees over to the girls. When she handed Karen wannabe her coffee, her hand “accidentally” bumped Sam’s, causing the piping hot liquid to land all over Sam, ruining her top. “Omg, I am sorry!” Even though she did not attempt to help, the girl exclaimed, “Please don’t murder Ms. Ghostface; it was seriously an accident!” At this, the girls laughed, and Sam even heard a snicker come from behind her. And sure enough, Y/N had a mischief smirk even though her eyes were choleric.

“I’m getting your cup of coffee now,” Sam sighed as she took off her apron and threw it on the counter.

“A pot of coffee, not a cup,” the woman stated as Sam gave her a puzzled look, “preferably your hottest pot as well.” Sam rolled her eyes at the statement but went and got the fresh pot of coffee her coworker had made for themselves.

Sam returned and handed the woman the pot; she didn’t bother questioning what she needed an entire pot for; as long as Sam was left alone, she didn’t care.

“Thank you-” Y/N glanced at the nametag on the coffee-stained apron, “-Sam.” She gently smiled as she spoke before swiftly approaching the group of girls.

Watching in amusement and pure curiosity, Sam stared with bewilderment as the woman threw the coffee onto the group of girls, their shrieks and screams echoing throughout the cafe. “Omg, I didn’t mean to do that!” Y/N expressed with a cheerful laugh as one of the girls started crying because her ‘perfect hair was ruined!’

“I’m going to sue your ass!” Karen wannabe shouted, standing up to wipe the coffee off her clothing.

“On what grounds? You are trespassing on private property!” Y/N laughed as she pointed towards the clock; it was fifteen past two. “Now leave before I call the cops and say that you’re refusing to leave,” with that, the girls quickly left the shop, but not without Karen wannabe scoffing at Y/N and flipping Sam off.

Y/N had placed the coffee pot on the counter and was preparing to ask Sam a question before Sam interrupted her by laughing. It wasn’t a tiny laugh; no, it was the type of laughter that has one doubled over holding their stomach type. Caught off guard by Sam’s laughter, Y/N quickly joined in.

Consequently, the coworker came up to see what the laughter was about but quickly disregarded it, said goodbye, and left. Drying the tears from her eyes as her laughter died, Sam looked around before speaking, “Thank you for that. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was no problem, and besides, I kinda had fun doing it. Is that bad?” Y/N questioned with a worrisome look as she made eye contact with Sam.

“No, it’s not. They deserved it.” Sam joked as she looked around the shop. “I need to close up, but seriously, thank you.”

Y/N nodded as Sam walked off to the supply closet. When she returned, she found that Y/N had already begun cleaning up the mess she had made and the spilled cleaning supplies the girls had knocked over. “You don’t have to do that. I’m not holding you hostage here,” Sam joked as she walked over to the table Y/N was cleaning.

“I know, I just feel bad about this,” Y/N voiced with a sigh and waved her arm around the messy table. “I should have handled it better.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam explained, “those girls were assholes, and they deserved a lot worse,” she finished with a laugh.

Y/N smiled at Sam, “I know. I’m Y/N, by the way,” she said as she extended her hand. Sam smiles as her eyes crinkle and accepts her hand.

“I’m Sam, but you already know that,” she replies as she slides her hand into hers. The sparks that Y/N feels when their palms connect causes her to flinch and take a deep breath momentarily. Y/N notices how Sam’s eyes snap up at hers, telling Y/N that maybe she felt it too. If Sam saw how Y/N’s eyes smiled for her and her palms began to sweat, she didn’t say it. And if Y/N noticed how Sam’s spine got the faintest chill causing her to stand up straighter, Sam was glad she didn’t say anything.

Sam pulled her hand back out of shock, her eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but Y/N’s radiant smile. “Well then,” Sam coughed out, “we should finish up closing.” Y/N nodded in agreement, tapping her foot as she cleaned off the tables.

Occasionally, her eyes drift over to Sam, who was also cleaning tables on the other side of the cafe. It felt as though Sam was trying to put distance between herself and the EMT. It felt like she was suffocating just being near the woman; it drove her mad with anger and happiness simultaneously.

Fifteen minutes had passed before they finally finished cleaning up and preparing to lock the front doors when they realized it was still raining. “It is pissing it down out there,” Y/N stated, looking out the window. She had her umbrella in hand and her long-forgotten medical bag over her shoulder, getting ready to leave the shop before she turned to Sam, “Would you like me to walk you home?” She asked with the gentlest tone Sam had ever heard, and it almost brought a tear to her eyes. A stranger she had just met was willingly being friendly to her after hearing accusations of her being a “murderer.” She had half a mind to run in the other direction; ordinary people were never this nice to her.

“I would like that, if you don’t mind,” Sam uttered, afraid her voice would break if she spoke any louder. She was used to the cruel ways of the world now-she expected the worst but never prayed for the best. Even after all the harsh years she has dealt with, this moment with Y/N seemed to compensate for her torture.

“Let us begin our adventure then.” Y/N proclaimed as she stepped outside the door and opened her umbrella. She held the umbrella over both of them as Sam locked up the front door and pulled Sam into her side, “I don’t want you to get soaked,” Y/N expressed with a cheeky grin and loving eyes. If Sam noticed the red tint on the other woman’s face, she kept it to herself.

Sam informed her that it’s about a half-mile walk. It would take Y/N almost a mile out of her way, but she just nodded and said that’s fine. She didn’t care how long she had to walk, as she couldn’t muster a complaint with Sam by her side.

They walked the first block in complete silence; the only sound they could hear was the rain pelting down on the umbrella before Y/N spoke up, “Why were those girls accusing you of murder?” She felt Sam automatically tense up and suck in a deep breath, and it sent a dagger into her own heart.

“It’s complicated, and I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam sighed, looking down at the ground as she spoke, “Not right now, at least.”

“Okay,” Y/N said with a loving tone; it made Sam want to strangle her. Sam hated how one word made heat creep up her neck and warm her body despite the cold weather. She hated the way one stranger made her feel more loved and appreciated than anyone in her entire life ever had. And above all else, she hated how Y/N smiled at her like she was the only person in the world. Like her life meant something other than being the daughter of a serial killer.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam asked after a few beats of silence.

“Mhm? Do what?” Y/N questioned as she looked at Sam.

“Throw the coffee on those girls.”

“Oh, I did it for the shiggles,” Y/N admitted with a shrug of her shoulders and a cheeky smile.

“‘Shiggles? What does that mean?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh as the question left her lips.

“Shits and giggles, my dear Watson,” Y/N said with the same cheeky grin plastered on her face, and it took everything in Sam to look away for fear of doing something she might come to regret.

“So, were you an asshole to me earlier for the shiggles? Or was that all an act?” Sam asked as she bumped her shoulders into Y/N, slightly causing the woman to fall out from under the umbrella shelter.

“Hey! Watch it, lady! This is a vintage Prada shirt that the devil himself wore when he fought Meryl Streep!” Y/N exclaimed as she wiped the rain off of the left side of her face when she returned under the umbrella. She then wiped her hand off Sam’s clothes, earning herself a small elbow to the side.

Sam laughed at the woman’s words and actions, “have you ever seen that movie?” Sam questioned.

“No, I have not,” Y/N stated with a very serious expression but a playful manner in her eyes. Sam could not believe that this was the same woman she met earlier. “Is it bad that I think she’s kinda hot?”

“Who? Anne Hathaway, Meryl Streep, or Emily Blunt?”

“Ummm, yes?” Y/N said with her eyebrow raised like she could not believe Sam had asked her that question.

Sam’s head fell back with laughter at Y/N’s response, and Y/N swore it sounded like angels were singing. “I hate you.” Sam joked with the kindest tone Y/N had ever heard.

“Nothing about my response is funny, Sam!” Y/N exclaimed with a smile followed by frantic hand movements, “Yes to all three women, no matter the context, it's just yes!”

“Hey, I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“Mhmm, you better not be,” Y/N replied as she nudged her shoulder against Sam’s, but not hard enough to knock Sam out from under the umbrella.

“But seriously though, why were you being an asshole earlier?” Sam questioned, hoping to get an actual response out of the woman this time.

“I had a bad day at work. Too many kids shooting fireworks at each other leaving them with not enough fingers,” Y/N said as she brought her hand close to Sam’s face and began wiggling them in front of her. Sam laughed and gently pushed the EMT’s hand down, letting her hand linger for a few seconds too long before she dropped it back down by her side.

“People are still shooting off fireworks? July 4th was a couple of weeks ago,” Sam stated, shaking her head as she hoped it would get rid of warm cheeks.

“Dude, crackheads are crazy. They will blow each other’s fingers off with fireworks until mid-November.” Y/N laughed, “The first call I got today was some dude who was high on PCP, for your information, who had tried to use a firework to launch himself onto the moon!”

Sam couldn’t help but join Y/N’s laughter; she found it somewhat morbid that the woman handled such a scene with mild humor. “How do you find this stuff funny?” Sam questioned with a look of amusement.

“Perks of the job; cool uniforms followed suit by dark humor,” Y/N stated as she sent a wink Sam’s way along with some playful finger guns. If Sam noticed Y/N’s eyes peaking at her lips, she didn’t mention it. “I do want to apologize for the way I treated you earlier. I was being an asshole. Is there any way I could make it up to you?”

“Yeah, you kinda were, but you’ve made up for it,” Sam said with a lighthearted smile.

Y/N just smiled at Sam in return but quickly felt her heart flutter at Sam’s smile. She had seen Sam smile their entire walk, but for the first time, Y/N had seen her smile.

It wasn’t like the forced smile she saw when she had first met the woman; no, it was a different smile. Y/N wouldn’t even classify it as a smile if the laws of nature would allow her to; she’d call it something completely different. Something that has no negative aspect, something that has no flaws, something that the evils of man can never touch. The only words that came to mind were ‘unblemished’ and ‘pure,’ but she felt shame and embarrassment as she tried to put a word to Sam’s smile. There are no words in the English language that Y/N could scream to match that smile.

Y/N was going to say something, but all the words slipped her mind. It was as if someone had flashed her with a neuralyzer, and she only remembered the captivating woman in front of her. With what little words she could muster, she simply uttered, “I’m sorry,” followed by an awkward laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck before looking down at the rain-soaked sidewalk.

Caught off guard by the sudden change in mood, Sam tried to look at Y/N’s face, but the woman refused to meet her challenging gaze. So, Sam did what any sane person would do. She slowly brushed her fingers against Y/N’s, praying to all the gods in the world, hoping one would answer her prayer. And to her luck, a God did.

Y/N slowly bumped her hand against Sam’s and gently locked her pinky finger with Sam’s. She waited for Sam to pull back, but Y/N let go of Sam’s finger after a few seconds.

At first, Sam’s heart sank into her stomach; she was getting ready to usher out a plethora of apologies before she felt Y/N’s palm against her own. It felt as if the entire world stopped for both women, but at the same time, everything was moving faster: their breathing, their eyes, their walking pace, and their heart rates. At the same time, as if their minds were on the same wave link and they shared a telepathic ability, they both looked at each other, subtly shifting their bodies to be closer while continuing their walk.

Y/N’s eyes never left Sam’s. All she could do was stare into the woman’s eyes. The kind of eyes that made thieves wonder why they even bothered to steal pieces of art. The type of eyes that Y/N longed to call home.

On the other hand, Sam did everything she could to avoid Y/N’s piercing gaze. She studied how the scar on her eye moved with her facial expressions, noted how the earlier stress lines were gone, and wondered if her lips tasted as good as they looked. She wondered if they were as soft as they looked, if she could get lost in her kisses and forget about everything else. She wondered if they would fit perfectly with her own.

Subconsciously, both women stopped walking and slowly began leaning in. They were so close they could feel each other’s breath on their lips. And if God had decided he hadn't made Sam’s life hard enough, a car flew down the road, driving through a puddle of water, causing it to soak both women. Out of instinct, Y/N dropped the umbrella to her side, causing Sam to send her a murderous glance. Sam cursed under her breath as she stared down the quickly disappearing car while Y/N tried to slow down her heartbeats. Y/N was quick to make a joke out of the situation, hoping it wasn’t too awkward between them, “well, at least your clothes were already ruined.” She said as she quickly closed the umbrella and shook herself off like a dog.

“Umm, what the hell are you doing?” Sam questioned as she gestured towards the closed umbrella.

“What? Our clothes are already soaked; we no longer need to use this thing.” Y/N stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Sam huffed at Y/N’s words, mentally slapping herself for agreeing with the woman, then she reached out and linked her arm with Y/N’s. Y/N gave Sam that same gentle smile from earlier and gestured to the sidewalk with her free hand, “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Sam laughed, bumping her shoulders against Y/N’s. Neither woman complained about the downpour of rain they were walking through, but when the loud cracks of thunder started again, they dislinked their arms and instead linked their hands together, quickly running through the rain. Between the occasional thunder, the only thing that could be heard were the sounds of laughter and playful banter between the two.

Out of breath but full of life, they quickly reached the apartment complex doors and ran inside. Neither said anything at first, but when they looked at each other, they burst out laughing. “You look like a drowned rat.” Sam joked between laughs.

“Thank you, that is exactly what I was going for this morning,” Y/N said as she lightly pushed Sam. However, when Y/N’s hands touched Sam’s torso, she gently grasped Y/N’s hands and slowly placed them on her waist, moving into Y/N’s personal space. The atmosphere around them quickly changed into one full of desire and longing.

Y/N looked down at Sam’s eye, then her other one, and down at her lips before looking back up at Sam. The only thing she saw in Sam’s eyes was the same burning passion she felt, and she needed to feel something, anything from Sam. Leaning down, Y/N let her lips linger on Sam’s but never kissed her; it was her version of asking if this was okay. Y/N’s grip on Sam’s waist tightened as Sam removed her hands from hers and slowly brought them up to cup Y/N’s face. With a gentle stroke of her thumb against her cheek, Sam finally closed the distance.

The kiss is soft and gentle, unlike anything Sam has ever experienced in her entire life. She softly sighed into the EMT’s lips, releasing tension she didn’t know she had. She felt her whole body react to the kiss as if her soul told her that this was her last first kiss.

Y/N delicately kissed Sam back, worried that if she tried too hard or moved quickly, everything around her would disappear, including Sam. Y/N is so lost in Sam that she can’t even hear the loud thumping of her own heartbeat against her rib cage and ringing throughout her eardrums. The only thing on her mind was the soft stroke of Sam’s thumb against her cheek and the tender lips against her own. Slowly and reluctantly, the two separated but rested their foreheads together.

Out of breath, Y/N whispered against Sam’s lips, “When can I see you again?”

Sam let out a laugh before slightly pulling back, just far enough where she could look Y/N in the eyes and still be in her arms. “You know where I work. Figure it out.” She said as she leaned up to kiss Y/N’s cheek while gently stroking her other cheek before slowly making her way up the stairs to her apartment.

Y/N was so lost in thought that her mind only began to register what had happened when she lost the warmth of Sam. She watched as Sam slowly walked up the first few steps before calling out, “You are really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”

Sam smiled as she leaned against the railing, looking down at Y/N, “If I remember correctly, you asked me how you could compensate me for being an asshole.”

Y/N scoffed at Sam’s words but spoke with a smile on her face, “I thought you said I had already made it up to you?”

“Well, I lied. See you at the coffee shop sometime!” Sam called out with a wave of her hand as she quickly walked up the stairs. She didn’t want Y/N to see the giant smile on her place that accompanied a faint blush on her tan skin.

Y/N couldn’t help the grin that overtook her face at Sam’s words. ‘At least she wants to see me again!’ She thought as she practically skipped out of the apartment complex, leaving her umbrella behind.

This is my first time writing anything, so I apologize if this was bad. If anyone has any requests, let me know!

[xiaq]

AO3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Pt. 3 I combined the prompts: Outsider POV, Steve Harrington is an Idiot (affectionate), Everyone is Queer Because I Said So, and @c0olness's hyper-specific Wayne's Boyfriend Owns a Gay Bar in Indianapolis and Introduces Steve to a Drag Queen. :)

Angel Reyes has loved Wayne Munson about as long as he’s loved himself. The timing is not coincidental.

Which is why he’s willing to wait for him, even when Angel’s patience is worn thin like the shirt he stole from Wayne three years ago and wears like a prayer to bed.

Some nights, when Wayne calls at the end of his shift and Angel is wiping down his own bar at closing, he’s tempted to say: we might not have much time left—shouldn’t we spend what we do have together?

But he doesn’t.

Because he already knows the answer.

Because the same reason he fell in love with Wayne is the reason Wayne won’t move to Indy. The man is loyal to a fault and when he gives himself to people he gives all of himself and there’s no force in the world that would convince Wayne to leave Hawkins if he thought Eddie still needed him there. Because Wayne loves Angel. But Wayne loved Eddie first. And Angel can hardly begrudge him of that.

So he repeats a well-worn mantra, only slightly comforting: not today, but someday. And he hangs up the phone and he checks the calendar and he looks forward to the time he is allowed. If there’s one thing he learned over the years, it’s that he can’t get greedy when he already has a good thing.

Wayne is worth the quiet agony of patience.

So when he’s locking up for the night and the phone rings, he expects the conversation to take a familiar path. 

“Evening, handsome,” he says, canting his hip against the counter. “You tell him yet?”

It’s been his standard greeting for close to a year. Why the man won’t just tell his gay nephew that he is, conveniently, also gay, is beyond Angel. But then, listening has always been Wayne’s strong suit. Talking, not so much.

“Well,” Wayne says. And that’s new.

“Well?”

“I did, actually. After I walked in on him and Steve kissin’ last night—“

“Finally!” Angel crows. The saga of Eddie and Steve and their will-they-won’t-they relationship had quickly surpassed even his favorite telenovela’s dramatic storylines. The pretty jock with hidden depths and the nerdy metalhead falling in love? Hospital vigils? Protracted pining while sharing a bed? Impeccable. 

“They’re together now,” Wayne finishes.

“Darling,” Angel says, not for the first time, “I’d like to remind you that you are not paying per word for this call.”

Wayne huffs at him, also not for the first time.

“Steve didn’t know liking both boys and girls meant he was bisexual. He thought there was some sort of…threshold he needed to pass to be queer enough to date a man. I suppose Robin set him straight––or, not so straight as the case may be––” he chuckles a little at his own joke, “And he came over to declare his love as soon as his shift ended.”

Angel takes a moment to digest that. “...Maybe they use Eddie as the sperm donor if they want kids,”  he suggests.

“Ease up, it’s not like they teach this shit in school. Bet I’d been a lot more confused too if I had the luxury of liking both.”

“Alright, I won’t pick on your future son-in-law, promise.”

“ Speaking of school,” Wayne says, sidestepping his implication. “Eddie got his diploma in the mail yesterday.”

“You going to do something to celebrate?”

“Actually, we thought we’d take a trip to Indy this weekend.”

Angel twists the phone’s cord around his finger. “…you’re supposed to come next weekend.”

“So you’d have to see me two weeks in a row, if you can bear it.”

“A trial, to be sure. When you say…” he pauses, trying to figure out how to clarify without breaking his own heart. “When you come this weekend. Would you want us—would you want me. To meet them?”

He closes his eyes and bangs a fist against his forehead because that is not the safe way to ask that question. 

“It'd be pretty weird if they didn’t meet the person hosting them.”

“Oh, I see. You’re just using me for my five star accommodations,” he says, because he’s apparently determined to dig his own grave.

“No. Wayne says, “those are nice. But mostly I just want to introduce them to my boyfriend.”

“Ah.”

“And saying shit like that makes me think you’re trying to compete with Steve in the stupid Olympics.”

Angel makes an outraged noise but Wayne talks over him which is unique enough an occurrence that Angel lets him get away with it.

“See,” Wayne says. “The boys have decided they don’t want to stay in Hawkins long-term. They figure they’ll stay another year. Save some money. Make sure the kids are settled. And then Eddie’s set on New York or California and I think Steve’s just set on Eddie, wherever he is. I thought we could at least make a case for Indy, though. ‘Cause if Eddie isn’t staying in Hawkins, I’ve got no reason to.”

“Ah,” Angel says again. “And you don’t have any interest in New York or California?”

“I sure don’t,” Wayne says levelly.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “I’ll mop the floors and clean the windows. Give them the best showing I can. Should we plan to take them to one of the…heavier… music venues? I can probably have Frank cover for me, I’d just need to ask him now.”

“Nah. I figure I’ll help you out Saturday night and let them explore on their own. Eddie’s already making a list of options. But Friday is drag night at your place, right?”

“It is.”

“We should start them with that, I think.”

Angel grins. “Their debut in queer society shall be heralded by Dolly Parton and glitter.”

“Mm.” 

Angel is familiar enough with Wayne’s thoughtful noises to know that he’s smiling.

“Enough about my boys,” Wayne says. “Tell me about your day.”

Angel does.

When Angel hangs up ten minutes later, for once, he’s grinning. He thinks, as usual, not today but someday. Only ‘someday’ suddenly feels tangible in a way it never has before.

***

Eddie Munson is exactly what Angel expected him to be when he comes tumbling out the driver’s side door of the van parked half on Angel’s driveway and half on his lawn. Angel has been hearing about him through the rosy lens of Wayne’s affection for close to five years and as a result, Angel loves him immediately upon first sight. 

Then again, he’d be difficult not to love. Eddie is a bright, frenetic, presence, all hair and chains and affected airs, who shares Wayne's smile, though he dispenses smiles much more freely than his uncle. He is unashamedly himself as he shakes Angel’s hand, tells his uncle he approves, and then asks for a tour of the house.

Steve Harrington is somehow simultaneously exactly and nothing like Angel expected.

Exactly, because he looks the part: a cropped Hawkins Varsity Basketball sweatshirt, tiny athletic shorts, and the well-built frame of someone who regularly works out. His hair is verging on ridiculous. His face is…well-suited to the body, he’ll say.

But the kid also has a hyper-awareness to him, a quick-eyed, assessing, vigilant posture, that Angel has only ever seen in war vets twice the kid’s age. He puts his back to a room’s farthest corner. He keeps doorways in sight. And he constantly, constantly, orbits Eddie like the world's most unsubtle protective detail. 

There are also the scars. Terrible, still-healing, scars. On one exposed thigh, the side of his neck, and his right forearm. On the slice of skin between his waistband and the frayed cut-off hem of his sweater. He wears them unapologetically, with the composure of someone who is neither proud nor embarrassed by them.  

Angel suspects, only a few minutes into their first meeting, that Eddie may have similar scars beneath his torn jeans and bleach-speckled band shirt. One of his arms has some sort of medical sleeve on it—the pale fabric covered in black bleed-fuzzy Sharpie drawings of bats. Angel considers the mangled half-moon-shaped lines decorating Steve’s thigh. Unless earthquakes have suddenly developed teeth, Wayne has clearly been editing his stories. 

But despite their significant aesthetic differences, the two boys are well-suited, if painfully young and unpracticed in the art of subtlety. They touch each other constantly; unthinkingly. Hands. Hips. Shoulders. Elbows. And the way they look at each other—well. They’ll need to work on that if they don’t want to accumulate more scars. Granted, they hardly have to hide their relationship in the sanctuary of his home, but he gets the feeling they don’t know how to be any other way with each other. 

It’s both sweet and more than a little heartbreaking.

“So,” he says, “ I need to get back to the bar before the opening act at 8. It’s drag night.”

“Robin is going to be furious she didn’t come,” Steve says.

“We’ll bring her next time,” Eddie says. 

They go.

***

Angel’s bar is called Innuendo. 

He can’t take credit for the name, but he can take credit for the atmosphere. It’d been a dark, sticky, hole-in-the-wall when he started working there at 21. When he’d bought it from the former owner a decade later, he’d cleaned it up, regulated the jukebox hours, and started live music, drag, and deejay nights. A few years after that, in 1984, when the mayor issued a proclamation declaring the new city policy to no longer discriminate against queers, he’d taken the boards down from all the windows. 

It’s still dark in the back where the stage and dance floor are tucked away, but the front windows with a clear view of the street are big and unashamed. He keeps the windows clean.

There’s a copy of the proclamation framed above them, along with pictures of Angel and noteworthy patrons of the establishment over the years: Wakefield Poole; Tom Higgins; Bayard Rustin; Freddie Mercury, and Jim Hutton. 

A lot has changed in the last two decades that he’s worked there, but some things, like the old oak-wood bar where all the pictures were taken, stay the same.

He brings Wayne and the boys in through the back to scattered shouts of hello from regulars. He and Wayne slide behind the bar to start helping Frank, and the boys sit on stools with wide eyes.

It’s nice, to see the place from their perspective. The magic of it is never lost on him, but sometimes he does forget exactly how magic it is: a bar that looks like most other bars but where men look and touch and kiss without concern, where there’s art and magazines and conversations that wouldn’t be permitted by common society a scant few feet outside the door.

After fifteen minutes, they get brave enough to explore—admiring the posters on the opposite wall: Bijou and Boys in the Sand; Passing Strangers, Forbidden Letters, and A Night at the Adonis.

They play a round of darts near the front windows, the boards covered in shitty black-and-white copies of Anita Bryant’s face.

They sit at a table near the stage when the show starts. They pull their chairs together. They hold hands on the tabletop. They laugh and shout and sing along and kiss when invited.

After, when they’re back at the bar, flushed with alcohol and the subtle worldview shift that Angel remembers well from his first visit to a gay bar, a few of the queens come over to introduce themselves. Leslie, currently in her Cher era, steps up to the bar, accepts her drink from Wayne with a wink, and gives Steve a clear once-over.

“Aren't you out a little late for a school night, baby?" she says in her customary baritone.

“Uh, no ma’am. I graduated last year. Sorry. Sir?”

"Sugar, do I look like a ‘sir’ to you?"

“Take it easy on him, Les,” Angel calls. “He’s new.”

“No kidding.” She purses her lips at him. “Ma’am is fine unless you meet me on the street. But here I’d prefer ‘honey. Or ‘darling.”

Steve swallows. “I promised I’d reserve pet names for my boyfriend. So. I’ll stick with Ma’am.”

“Well aren’t you a charmer. And where is this boyfriend?”

“Hi,” Eddie says.

She gives him an equally critical once-over.

“Do you know what that color bandana means in that pocket?”

Eddie glances down at his back left pocket; at the black bandana hanging against his thigh.

“Ah...that I’m into S&M but that I like to be the  submission one? Like the one getting tied up?”

“You what?” Steve says.

Angel notices that Wayne has made a hasty exit to the bathroom, which is probably for the best.

“Oh my sweet summer child,” Leslie says, “it means the opposite on that side, so maybe switch pockets.” She considers Steve’s pink face. “And also maybe talk to your boyfriend. The whole point of flagging is to find someone to meet your needs and you've got a pretty one right here who seems like he’s awfully willing.”

Steve pulls the bandana out of Eddie’s pocket and, using his teeth, tidily rips it into two. He tucks one half in Eddie’s right back pocket. He tucks the other in his left. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow like he's expecting Eddie to argue. Eddie does not argue. Eddie doesn't do much of anything except stare at him with wide, hungry eyes.

“Well,” Leslie says, sounding pleased, “My work here is done. Honestly, kids these days.”

She gives Steve a little pat on the shoulder as she pushes back into the crowd. “I’d dance while you have the chance, boys. Life is short and sometimes so is love. Capitalize on that shit!”

“Do you want to dance?” Steve asks.

Eddie is still watching Leslie with a bemused smile. “I don’t know how to dance to this music.”

“Well I won’t know how to dance to yours tomorrow, but I’m planning to let you show me.”

“Fair enough, King Steve." Eddie affects a curtsy, offering Steve his hand. “I suppose I can allow you to take me for a turn about the dance floor, good sir.”

Steve bows low over Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to his knuckles, looking up at him with a grin. “An honor,” he says solemnly, and then drags Eddie, laughing, into the throng of moving bodies.

***

The next morning, Angel wakes up early for no reason he can determine. He’s not good at sitting idle, and he doesn’t want his fidgeting to wake Wayne, so he elects to take his book to the garden. Only, as he slips into the hall, careful with the door behind him, he can hear the quiet, indistinct lull of voices in the kitchen.

Angel moves down the hall on sock feet, avoiding the creaky bit of flooring where the original foundation meets the master addition he added four years back. 

The boys have opened the double doors to the patio and Steve is leaning against the jam on one side, coffee cup in hand, looking out at the garden. He’s shirtless, wearing only the shorts from the day before. Warm, tree-diluted, sunrise rays cast him in sepia, making the scars that traverse his flank to his thigh look less gruesome and more artistic. Poetic. He knows more than one photographer who would kill for a shot like this. Something about the coexistence of beauty and pain. Something about a commentary on perceptions of strength; the allure of imperfection resulting from battles survived.

Eddie joins Steve, sliding under his open arm like a habit, dragging a hand down Steve’s side to cup the puckered line of recently-stitched skin at Steve’s hip. 

Eddie is also shirtless—wearing jeans and a riot of bed head that Steve presses his face into, murmuring something low and clearly funny by the stifled laughter it produces. 

Angel wasn't wrong with his initial assumption: Eddie’s back is littered with shallow scars as well, but he also has a fair amount of tattoos, which makes the other marks less incongruous. There’s something about Steve’s otherwise flawless skin and sculpted muscles that make his injuries feel more visceral.

Or, at least, that’s what he thinks until Steve suddenly looks behind him, like he has a preternatural awareness that he’s being watched.

“Oh,” he says, “Good morning.”

Both boys turn to face him. 

And Angel realizes that Steve’s injuries pale in comparison to Eddie’s.

Because Eddie’s chest and belly is a brutal mess of scar tissue.

It looks like something tried to gut him.

It looks like whatever it was probably succeeded.

He knows he’s staring but he can’t seem to stop himself until Steve slides a proprietary hand over the worst of it, spread fingers against what has to still be an agony of healing skin.

He meets Angel's eyes and all but dares him to say anything.

“I think,” Angel says, turning abruptly to enter the kitchen, “the occasion calls for french toast. Thoughts?”

“The occasion?” Eddie asks.

His hand covers Steve’s and presses, not a dismissal but an invitation to linger. 

“Your diploma,” Angel says, “Steve’s first time making a fool of himself in front of a drag queen. Whatever excuse is sufficient for the making of said french toast.”

“See, we’re sort of trying out this new thing lately,” Eddie murmurs, looking at Steve, “where we don’t need excuses for things that make us happy.”

“No guilt in our pleasures,” Steve agrees, voice soft, expression reverent. He tucks an errant curl behind Eddie’s ear.

Angel resists the urge to sigh at them. Instead, he toasts them with a carton of eggs. “French toast for the pleasure of french toast, then. You two go sit on the bench in the garden. The sun should be hitting it right about now and that is surely a pleasurable experience. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

Steve meets his eyes again, this time less challenging, more thankful. 

His hand slides from Eddie’s belly to the small of his back, pushing him out onto the patio.

“That sounds nice,” he says.

And they go.

When Wayne shuffles out to join Angel at the stove ten minutes later, the bread is sizzling in the skillet. 

They take their time washing the egg bowl and whisk in the sink, elbow to elbow, two men sharing space for a one-man job.

They lean into each other, considering Eddie and Steve, similarly leaned into each other, on the bench under the oak tree outside.

“You think I should talk to them?” Wayne murmurs. “About the way they look at each other. And touch each other. And how they need to cut that shit out if they’re in public?”

“Probably,” Angel sighs. “But not today.”

“No,” Wayne agrees after a moment of silence. He presses a kiss to Angel’s temple. “Not today.”

Pt. 4 (Will's POV)