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jo-harrington · 7 months

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The Boy Is Mine (Jo's Edition)

Summary: A romantic night in at the trailer. And a first date.

Word Count: 1.7k

Themes: First Date, Fluff, First Kiss, Teasing, Banter, Geekery

Notes: My submission for @carolmunson's The Boy Is Mine Writing Excercise. This was a fun one, and I know the idea was for it not to be an AU...I guess technically it isn't (although I definitely thought of my STFF Eddie who...well...it's fanfiction *wink* especially since we're not gonna see their first date in the story). Thank you for putting together a fun game Carol.

Tagging a few friends who I think would have some great additions to this prompt: @eddiemunsonbignaturals @undead-supernova @storiesbyrhi

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Pizza? Delivered.

Twinkies? Vanilla frosting. Not Banana.

Trailer? Tidied.

Sheets? Changed.

There was a knock at the door and Eddie took a breath and held it as he stared at his bed.

"You're not gonna end up in here," he muttered to himself.

Ok but maybe you would. He could be hopeful. Maybe a kiss would lead to something else.

"No idiot. It's just a study date."

There was another knock and he turned on his heel and rushed for the door.

He paused at the last second--glanced around, ran his hands over the front of his t-shirt, and put the most casual smile on his face--before he opened the door.

And then there you were.

A backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of Dr. Pepper hanging from your fingers, looking...hot effortlessly gorgeous...or at least he thought so.

"Hey," you greeted. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

Eddie clenched his fist in victory as he shut the door and then stood back and watched indulgently as you took in the wonders of the place he called home. He committed it all to memory; the way your eyes lingered on Wayne's collection of mugs and hats from over the years, or your nose scrunched up cutely at the sight of family pictures on a shelf--

Please god, don't see the picture of him missing his two front teeth.

--or the way it scrunched further, more in annoyance than fondness, and your eyebrow quirked at the stack of video tapes beside the television.

Shit.

"Uh," he cleared his throat and swooped in, arm hovering around your shoulders as he led you to the couch where the pizza and his history homework waited. His hand drifted to yours so he could grab the sodas. "Lemme put this in the fridge so it gets cold. I have Mountain Dew...or beer, if you want one."

"Mountain Dew's fine."

"As you wish," he bowed and you giggled. He cursed himself as he headed to the kitchen.

What a fucking nerd--

"So you read the Princess Bride?" you called out to him.

"Y-yes."

"It's one of my favorite books! A story within a story and all of that. And it can be critical of itself. It's perfect!"

Eddie's heart soared.

The two of you went back and forth for a few minutes discussing the merits of the book and the way it provided so much suspense and adventure and escapism; something it seemed, and Eddie wasn't surprised to find, you both had needed throughout your relatively-young lives.

Before long, he shuffled out of the kitchen with two cans and two solo cups to find you comfortably settled on the couch with your legs criss-crossed and a throw pillow settled in your lap. You looked right at home, at ease with him, and he had to say...he liked that sight quite a bit.

"I ran out of like, nice cups," he changed the subject so he wouldn't focus too much on how much he enjoyed the sight. "Hope this is okay."

"Ok, well what are the nice cups?" you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. "Because I see plenty of nice cups right in front of us, Mister."

You gestured at the shelves lined with mugs and Eddie couldn't help but roll his eyes at you.

"Those aren't nice cups Madam," he scoffed. "Those are family heirlooms. The nice cups are the Star Wars: Return of the Jedi glasses I got from Burger King. Obviously."

"Well excuse me," you straightened in your seat and rocked your shoulders back and forth haughtily. "The fine crystal."

"And don't you forget it."

"And here you are, presenting me with...plastic. Like a peasant."

"If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

He held out the red solo cup filled with fluorescent green liquid and you snatched it from him with a quick flash of your tongue.

Then the two of you got right down to business: homework.

You pulled a small notebook from your backpack and then asked to see his notes from class so you could help him get a better idea of what was important for an upcoming quiz that he'd mentioned the day prior. He was ashamed to say he wasn't the best notetaker, but you pivoted easily as you flipped through a few pages and went from sparse notes about Civics and the US Constitution to long drawn out paragraphs about the Riders of Rohan and graphic descriptions of the Meduseld.

"Don't be like that," you scolded him. "That's not even true. What is this?"

"This?" He waved dismissively. "It's just...notes for Hellfire. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff."

Eddie sniffed and thought back to the many times that he'd been cut short trying to explain his ideas to others; even Ronnie got on his case when he got too into it.

How many times had she heard him get into an argument with himself over the benefits of Mithril vs. Adamantium?

"Excuse me," you looked at him expectantly, breaking through his thoughts. "Nerd stuff?"

"Yeah," he shrugged and let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Nerd stuff. We're supposed to be focusing on History."

"Ok, yes but..." you reached out and poked him in the the dimple in his cheek. "You didn't say in a 'we should just focus on history instead' way. You said it in a 'you don't want to hear about this' way."

"Well do you? Do you actually like that?""

"Did I not just tell you that Inigo Montoya is the real hero of Princess Bride and not Westley or Buttercup not five minutes ago?"

Eddie stared at you like a deer in the headlights.

Ok. You got him there.

But...but...God...old habits died hard.

How many times had people not given him the time of day when it came to silly little stories and make believe worlds? How many times had the people closest to him not even taken the time to listen?

He'd already been sold on the fact that you weren't just a dream; how could you be real and actually be his dream girl too?

God, it was too good to be true.

Eddie swallowed hard and centered himself back in reality. He was gonna have to salvage this moment before he made a real fool out of himself and asked you to marry him or something. That would be a little too strong for a first date...and a study date, at that.

He grumbled something under his breath.

"'Scuse me? What was that?" you leaned in closer to him.

"It was 10 minutes ago," he spoke up, staring at you matter-of-factly, a fiery challenge in his eyes to hide the fact that he was actively falling for you. "Actually."

You threw your head back in a laugh and slapped the back of your hand against his shoulder.

"You shithead," you cackled. "Ok fine. 10 minutes. Now. How about we actually study for 10 more minutes, and then you can tell me about this...Dungeons and Dragons while we eat ok?"

He happily agreed.

Towards the end of the night, pizza and sodas had been devoured, homework demolished, and Eddie actually felt like he had a shot at getting a decent grade on his next History quiz.

"Alright," he sighed and leaned against the back of the couch. "I think we're done here. A success if I do say so myself. I guess I'll keep you around."

"Keep me?" you quirked an eyebrow at him. "Uh huh, more like, will you please come back and help me study again?"

"Are..." Eddie scoffed. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah."

"You volunteered!"

"I volunteered for one study date."

"What, so a second one is out of the question?" he asked as he leaned forward and edged into your space.

"Well," you began with an expression that oozed contemplation in an exaggerated fashion. God, you were almost as dramatic as he was.

You were perfect.

"Well, if you're asking me for a second date, Edward? Then the answer is yes."

He clapped his hands together and laughed.

"Haha, see I knew that you couldn't get enough of--"

"But," you stopped him, and he stared, open-mouthed with words half-falling from his lips. "If you're asking me to come back to study? Well, then the second session is gonna cost you."

And he fell for it for a second. Just a split second. He thought that yeah it made sense if he wanted your help, he was gonna have to give something in return.

But then he saw the sly little smile that you were fighting to keep off your lips, saw the adorable little scrunch in your nose that he'd memorized earlier in the night, and the way your fingers fiddled on the couch cushion, as you slowly inched closer to him.

And he understood.

Oh...

"Oh yeah?" He narrowed his eyes at you in faux-suspicion. "Alright...name your price."

"It's not gonna be cheap," you insisted.

"I can pay anything."

"You sure about that?"

"Oh," he leaned closer to you now, volume and timber getting lower the closer he got. "I'm absolutely sure sweetheart."

You bit your lip slyly.

"I think fair market price...is a kiss."

"Just one?" he teased, lips absolutely within smooching distance from yours now.

"Maybe two."

You bit your lip to keep your smile at bay and Eddie had to stop himself from kissing you right then and there.

"Two?! Well," he sighed. "You drive a hard bargain. And who am I to pass up such a once-in-a-lifetime deal?"

"Just a nerd," you whispered against his lips.

"Just a nerd," he repeated, and then slotted his lips right against yours, ending your perfect first date with the perfect first kiss.

Just like on TV.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #prompt game #the boy is mine #stff updates #stranger than (fan)fiction #carol <3

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sereh624 · 1 month

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asher x reader , david x reader highschool sweethearts headcanons :3

afab reader

david shaw who comes to "pick you up" from every class, even if it was on the way to another one. no matter how fast you try to be, he's always faster, never failing to take his place leaned up against your locker, arms crossed as he watches you get held behind and scolded by your teacher. was it so hard to just turn your damn work? apparently for you, it was.

"alright, let's go. if you keep getting held behind after your classes i'm gonna start being late to mine. at least try to stay in school, dumbass."

asher talbot who before he started dating you, kept next to nothing in his bag. all he needed was his phone, a banana from two months ago, and a couple books from that day's classes. when you two got together, his bag was suddenly full of all your things. period stuff, painkillers, chapstick, jewellry, shorts for p.e because you keep forgetting to put them in your bag, basically everything. asher didn't mind it one bit. it made him feel important, like by carrying your stuff it made up for his all dickheadery during your classes together (it did not).

"hmm?- do i still have your gum? noo, nope, all gone. yes, i'm telling the truth- okay fine. yes, you have ONE piece of gum left butit'sthestrawberryflavorandyouknowthatsmyfavoriteandagoodpartnerwouldletmehaveitbecauseyoureagoodpartnerandyoulovemeandandand- thank you babe :3"

david shaw who after an argument with you, wakes you up at 11pm to soft knocking at your window. he has a key to your front door, but he wasn't planning on staying long anyway. you force yourself out of bed to let him in, but don't dare to look at him as he pulls himself up into your room. for a while, you two just stand there, letting the night pass before he breaks the silence.

"uh.. about before. i uhm .. didn't meant to say that. it'd just been a long day i guess and i kind of. blew up on you. i'm sorry. really, i am. i hate seeing you get sad and .. shit. uh- i'll go. it's late, and you probably- hm? you.. want me to stay? uhh, yeah, yeah sure. i can do that. let's .. go sit."

asher talbot who lets you do his makeup. he doesn't have that visceral shame a lot of people your age seem to share, which is both a blessing and a curse. tonight though, as you jab little rhinestones onto his pink eyelid with the precison of a preschooler, it's definitely a blessing.

"oh babe, look. at. me. i am stunning- what? what are you doing? taking a- no, nononononononoo babe. please. milo will never let me live this down. if you send that to him i swear to god he'll rock up to school tomorrow with my face on a shirt. babe? where are you going? BAABE!!"

@definetelynuwonhere @skunkox @huxleaf

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted shaw pack #redacted headcanons #redacted fandom #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted asher #Redacted babe #redacted milo #david shaw

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fastboatsmojito · 28 days

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And they were ROOMMATES - Luca x reader one-shot

|AN; basically influenced by the entire short n’ sweet album 💋

|WC;4k ish

|CW; smut BTC, roommate trope obviously, some annoyance and frustration in general and also sexually lmao, vibrator + masturbation + getting caught sorta kinda, uh ruined orgasm just for a moment + general desperation, touch-starved characters, fingering SORRY im obsessed with his hands, annoying horny mfs, brief pnv eventually but I got lazy at the end, soft dom?? Luca <3 🙂‍↕️

You groaned and shoved a pillow over your face as you were subjected to listening to the blender at 7 am. Your roommate was currently in the kitchen overworking himself once again, blissfully unaware of your annoyance.

You took the pillow off of your face as soon as it stopped, opting to stay in bed to complain instead of walking all the way into the kitchen.

“Luca! Can you please be insane a little quieter? I don’t have a class for two more hours.”

“Oh shit, my bad!” He called back, focusing on something else for just a few moments before moving back to the blender, pressing the button for the softest option this time.

You just got comfortable before the distant whirring started again. perfect.

You fell asleep eventually, holding the pillow over your ears. The muffled buzzing of your alarm barely enough to wake you up just over an hour later. You moved the pillow away from you, alarm now blaring in your ears as you quickly leaned over to turn it off.

Yawning before you looked at the time; 8:45. You had just five minutes to make it out the door before you’d be really late. Later than your usual ‘just make sure to eat before class’ late.

“Fuck.” You groaned as you rushed out of bed, grabbing whatever clothes were cleanest and closest to your bed. You hastily moved through your typical morning routine, grabbing your bag before dashing to the door.

“No breakfast?” Luca was still in the kitchen, covered in sugar and glancing at you as he was making your apartment smell mouthwateringly delicious.

“No time. Your fault by the way.” You pointed at him, shaking your head as he put a hand to his heart.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, just had to fix up a recipe I’ve been working on.” He wiped his hands off before grabbing a banana and tossing it to you.

“Just don’t let it happen again, chef.” He nodded and smiled at the name.

“I won’t.. probably.” He whispered the last part, looking down as you rolled your eyes and walked out.

————

You walked back into your apartment after your class was over and shrugged your bag off by the door, rubbing your sore neck as you walked into the kitchen for some lunch. It was quiet and cleaned up so you assumed Luca was at work.

You had homework to do but figured some food and a nap was more pressing, quietly making yourself a sandwich and grabbing a drink before moving to your room.

You put on your usual comfort show and sat in bed after throwing on some comfier clothes, enjoying the peace that came with having an apartment off campus.

That morning wasn’t the first time Luca had gotten a little too into his work and disturbed your sleep but his work schedule and cleaning habits made up for it.

He takes up space in the kitchen a lot but he always cleans up after himself, oftentimes sharing some food he brought home from work as a wordless thank you for putting up with his early morning chaos.

You weren’t perfect either, procrastinating long enough to cause plenty of late nights reading, writing; and pacing in the living room that bled into his said early mornings.

You had a few arguments about both of your faults, usually ending in both of you apologizing and trying to figure out a plan to fix it for the future. Clearly they haven’t worked very well but you were still getting used to him. Used to each other, including your weird, occasionally annoying habits.

You finished your lunch and tried to take a nap before your next class, closing your eyes and sighing into your pillows as you tried and failed to get comfortable.

Usually you had no problem falling asleep; Imagining some faceless entity in whatever romantic scenario you could think of lulling you off, but now you were getting increasingly frustrated as you couldn’t turn your brain off.

Anxious thoughts racing through your brain were making it impossible to relax; Are you doing enough? Do your friends really like you?

The repetition was making you second guess yourself and stress out too much to sleep. You felt exhausted, eyes heavy and drooped but you still couldn’t fall asleep.

You rolled around on the bed, irritated sighs falling from you as you finally accepted the defeat. You were tense, stressed out and frustrated, racking your brain for solutions.

You reached into your nightstand for a hair tie when you found just what you needed; your vibrator. Duh. It’s been a while since you used it so it hadn’t crossed your mind, getting caught up in your work and forgetting to take some time for yourself.

You took it out, placing it on the bed beside you before you put your hair up and laid back down.

Similar to how you slept you usually imagined some faceless figure moving their warm hands over you instead of your own, sometimes dreaming up the face of whatever celebrity had caught your eye recently.

As you moved under the covers, hands slowly making their way down your body to tease yourself, you closed your eyes and found yourself thinking of someone you hadn’t anticipated.

Hands rougher and bigger than your own moving over you as you imagined him lying behind you, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as you sighed into him.

“Luca,” You gasped, your hands paused and you opened your eyes quickly, surprising yourself by saying it out loud. Oh. You sat up for a moment to think.

Okay weird, but it didn’t mean anything, really. You were just desperate and he’s a familiar face. People have thoughts like this about people they’re just friends with all the time. It’s normal. There was no reason to punish yourself for something you couldn’t control.

You shook it off, taking a moment to relax again as you grabbed the toy next to you.

————

You were so close. Soft breaths and sighs leaving your mouth as the muffled buzzing sound filled your ears. Your body relaxing as you got closer and closer - until you heard your name followed by a knock at your bedroom door. The sudden sound surprising you and pulling you off of the edge you were about to fall over.

You moved quickly, turning your vibrator off and tossing it on the bed somewhere before fixing your pants and standing up.

You opened the door, warm face accompanied by a clear look of annoyance.

“Hey! I just uh,” He stopped himself to look at you, taking in your disheveled, tense figure.

“You just what?” Your voice was full of irritation, crossing your arms as he leaned in the doorway.

“Right. I just- I was about to go to the store for a few things if you need anything?” He asked, eyes looking into your own as he focused on not staring at the thin line of black peeking over your sweats.

“Oh I don’t need anything, thanks.”

“Of course. Did your uh, class get cancelled?”

“The one at 1? No, why?”

You leaned over, glancing at your alarm clock, you were about to be late for the second time partly because of him.

“Shit.” You mimicked your morning with a few less steps, throwing on your shoes and grabbing your bag before walking to the door when you realized you forgot your phone in your room.

Luca was already on it - walking into your room and reaching over your bed to grab it, where it had been lying right next to the vibrator you just put down a few moments before.

You walked in to him glancing at it for just a second, grabbing your phone and walking it to you with a grin he was trying to hide behind his hand.

“What?” You took your phone from his hand and rolled your eyes.

“I didn’t say anything.”

You walked back to the door as he followed you, pulling your tote up to your shoulder when you got there.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He laughed softly as you turned to glare at him.

“I’m sorry I just didn’t realize I was interrupting something-“

You stopped him with a shake of your head, biting your tongue to hide your smile as you opened the door.

“Shut the fuck up.”

————

By the time you got out of your final class of the day it was almost 5, you were still tense, and stressed out. The pestering heat between your legs driving you even crazier after the man flooding your thoughts had unknowingly ruined your form of stress relief.

You stopped by a cafe on the walk home, ordering a sandwich and an iced tea. While you waited you texted a friend of yours, wanting a second opinion.

Elena; I don’t think that’s weird, is he hot?

:I mean YEAH, but that’s not the point?

Elena; Okay so he’s hot, single, and he cooks for you? I’d be dreaming about fucking him too

You giggled when their message came through, fidgeting with a straw wrapper in between texts.

;But what if it’s weird? We live together and I’d like to continue having a place to live

Not to mention the lack of sleep I’m already getting because of him.

Elena; Noise complaints aside, if he’s as nice as you say he is I really doubt he’d kick you out for that Plus if he did you could always move in with me !

;Then we’d both be losing sleep. I think I just need to talk to him about it

Elena; well I think you should just fuck and get it out of your system

You left them on read as your order was called, grabbing your food and walking back to your apartment.

————

You walked in and put your bag down, sighing when you saw Luca in the kitchen.

He looked up from whatever he was making as you glanced at him before grabbing a glass.

“Woah, what’d I do now?”

“I didn’t say anything.” You mocked his sentence from a few hours before, pouring yourself some water before walking around and pulling out a chair from the island he was working on.

He was chopping some vegetables while a pot of water on the stove was simmering. “Pasta?”

He just nodded as he continued, the smell of onion and garlic filling your nose as you decided to start working on a research paper you had due soon.

You got up to grab your laptop before sitting back down. You could never work in your room without falling asleep and the calming sounds of the kitchen were enough to keep you focused.

You stretched your arms after opening your laptop, rubbing over where your neck meets your shoulder before getting to work.

“Tense?” He was standing over the island as he started on a sauce, glancing up at you with a smirk as you worked.

“You’re such a dick.” You replied, eyes focused on the words in front of you, not looking at him until he was turned away from you.

He went to grab something from the spice cabinet, your eyes falling to the hem of his shirt as he reached up, giving you just a peek at his happy trail. Your eyes followed him as he moved back in front of you, mind stuck on the thought of your hand moving under his shirt.

It was no more than a few seconds but he caught you staring, smiling as he ‘stretched his arms’ to give you a better view. His shirt moved up just above his stomach, giving you a direct view of his abs, successfully distracting you from your work.

He moved his arms down, shaking his head when you sighed and looked back at your laptop, placing his hands on either side of it to look at you.

“What?” You leaned back in your chair, glancing at him before looking down at your hands.

“I didn’t say-“

You shut your laptop and stood up, moving your hands as you suddenly went on a tangent. You planned on just talking to him about it but the exhaustion was getting to you, your words rushing out one after the other.

“You’re so fucking frustrating, Luca. You’re distracting and you use the fucking blender at seven in the morning and you’re used to it so it doesn’t bother you but it bothers me,” He was just looking at you in surprise as you started pacing around.

“you apologize and cook me food and clean and that should all make up for it but it can’t because you’re also really hot. And I can’t even do anything about it because you’re my roommate and you’re usually here when I’m here so it’s not like I can just deal with it myself or fuck someone else.”

Your hand moved to your head as you continued, avoiding his eyes until you were done.

“You know, I’m trying to actually graduate but if I’m not sleeping and I can’t even get off around here without you interrupting me I’m going to fail my classes and get kicked out-” You took a deep breath as he walked closer to you, taking your laptop out from under your arm and placing it on the table beside you and looking into your eyes.

“What-“

He spoke before you could finish,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was upsetting you that much, the last thing I want is to add stress to your life. I’ll go to work earlier and work on it there so I don’t wake you up. I’ll figure it out, I promise.”

He sounded the most sincere you’ve heard him since you moved in. You nodded and he grabbed your hands to pull you into a hug, your heartbeat getting faster when he put his arms around you. He smelled faintly of pasta dough, reminding you of the food that was probably burning now.

“I think your pastas fucked.” You said, pulling away from him. He looked at his watch and walked back into the kitchen.

“Nah, its still got a minute or two. Hungry?”

————

The way he was looking at you as you ate was making you nervous and desperate. You always hated when people watched you eat, but you assumed he just wanted to know if you were enjoying his food.

You gave your ‘compliments to the chef’ to no avail, he continued to look up at you between bites like he’d miss something if he didn’t.

He reached for his glass and you stared at his watch, silver sparkling on his wrist. There was an energy you couldn’t place as both of you finished, eyes on your plate as you could feel his gaze over you.

“Done?” His voice brought you out of your head, soft tone he reserved just for you echoing in your head as you nodded, handing your plate to his outstretched hand.

He brought your plates to the sink as you sat, wondering if you should get back to your paper.

“You want some cake?” There was that tone again.

“Duh.”

You got up and walked into the kitchen, sitting on the counter in front of him as he grabbed the cake he put aside before you got home, icing it in silence as you watched him. His controlled, steady movements in the kitchen were making you dizzy.

“Try this for me?” A common request, he usually let you try whatever new dessert he was working on; he liked your honesty. So you did, opening your mouth for a spoon, when you got an icing dipped finger in your mouth.

You looked at him in surprise for a moment before grabbing his wrist and obscenely licking the icing off while you looked into his eyes. You let his finger drag over your teeth as you pulled it out, licking your lips as you let go of his wrist. He was looking at you so intensely, you wanted to know what he was thinking.

“So you think I’m really hot, do you?” He grabbed one of your hands, putting it to his mouth as he kissed over your knuckles. You could feel your heartbeat speeding up once again as he moved his mouth up your arm, open mouthed kisses placed over your skin as he went, stopping when he got to your shoulder.

“Yeah I mean, I also mentioned you were really fucking frustrating, if you remember.”

He laughed softly at that, thumb stroking over your hand as you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of relief.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, kissing your shoulder between each word. The hand that wasn’t in his own was gripping the counter you were sat on, restraining yourself from jumping onto him like a dog.

His other hand moved to push your hair away from your face, exposing your neck to him. The back of his hand rested right over your pulse point as he leaned back to take you in.

“You really are tense, d’you want some help with that?” You didn’t trust your voice to be stable at this point, nodding under him as he moved both of his hands to your shoulders. The hand you weren’t using to steady yourself moved to his forearm as he started gently massaging your muscles.

Your eyes were closed as you leaned into him, focusing on breathing through your nose so you didn’t moan at the soft touch.

“Does that feel okay?” He was closer now, smooth, deep, voice close to your ear as his hands continued easing the tension out of you.

“Mhm.” His hands felt so warm over you, for the first time in a while you didn’t feel like you were carrying weights on your shoulders.

He moved one of his hands to your jaw, thumb moving to let out the lip you were absentmindedly holding between your teeth.

“It’s okay, darling, if it feels good I want to hear it.” He places a soft kiss to your jaw before moving his hand back, making you close your eyes again at the sweet gesture.

You leaned your head back when his hands moved to the back of your neck, letting out a soft sigh as you melted into him.

Your mouth was open then, stress and quick breaths leaving your body with every stroke of his hands.

You were adjusting your hips to gain some friction when one of his hands moved to support your head as the other moved to the outside of your thigh.

He lifted your head, resting it under your ear when you looked at him. His grip on your thigh tightened as he smirked at the desperation on your face.

“Luca, please.” You wrapped a hand over the wrist on your thigh while the other moved to the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer to you.

“Now who’s being loud in the kitchen?”

“Fuck you.” Your voice fell short of the bite you anticipated, desperately breathing over his mouth.

“I think you’d like that.” Your hand moved to his back, pushing his lips into your own. The kiss felt hungry, messy, exactly what you needed. Both of your hands moved to his face, deepening the kiss as his hand on your thigh moved to slot between your legs so he could stand between them.

You couldn’t get him as close as you wanted, wrapping your legs around his hips to sloppily grind into him as you moaned into his mouth, letting go of any promise you made to yourself to stay calm.

His hand moved up your thigh while the other moved to your waist, keeping you in place. Your whole body felt hot, trying to keep your mouths connected as his hand rested on your inner thigh right under where you could feel your pulse.

“You okay? Do you still want this?” His reassuring nature still present as you’d basically beg him to fuck you at this point.

“I still want this.” Your voice almost sounded like someone else’s, whiney and desperate as you tried to move towards his hand.

“Good.” He punctuated with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. He lifted you up, wrapping his arms around you as he carried you to your room, trying to keep his eyes open as you started to kiss his neck.

He laid you down on your bed, hands moving over the soft sheets under you.

“Soft bed.”

“Thank you.” You laughed softly before he moved his hands over your body, from your shoulders to the waistband of your pants, pausing for a second to look at you.

“Luca - please touch me already.”

“Okay, okay. I got you, I’ll make you feel better, promise.”

He pulled your pants and underwear down at the same time, goosebumps showing up on your skin as the cool air hit you.

“Have you been this wet all day? Poor thing.”

One of his fingers moved between your lips, collecting some of the wetness there and bringing it to his mouth as you gasped at the sudden action.

He cleaned off his finger as you’d done to the same one earlier, dragging the wet digit up your inner thigh and pushing it into your soaked cunt.

You moaned at the intrusion as he added a second one, slowly dragging them in and out, separating them to let you feel the stretch of his fingers.

He pressed into your clit with his palm as his fingers moved, kissing over your stomach and softly biting at the skin over your ribs. He kept moving up, nose and mouth pressing into your skin as he continued to draw moans and praises out of you.

The vibrator you were using what felt like forever ago was still on the bed next to you, he leaned over to your ear as he grabbed it,

“Think I should use this on you, love? Finish what you started earlier?” He stopped his fingers for a moment so you could answer

“Please.” You whined, moving your hips up into his hand.

“I know, I know. You want it so bad don’t you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together as you nodded, closing your eyes and letting your head hit the pillow under you as he turned the toy onto the lowest setting and placed it onto your clit.

Easing the tension out of you as he began to move his fingers again, curling them up and making you gasp at the sensations. You felt insane. He was all you could feel, see, hear, he was everywhere.

“Luca- Luca I’m so close, please-“ you were murmuring between moans, begging for permission you didn’t know you needed.

His face was right over yours, kissing along your hairline as the hand that wasn’t inside of you rested on the side of your neck, thumb stroking over your throat lightly.

He was kissing your face, your temple, your cheeks, your nose, and your lips, capturing the breaths falling from your lips. “You’re doing so good, darling. Let go for me. I got you, you can take it.”

You came soon after, his fingers mixed with the vibrations from the toy assaulting your clit sending you over the edge. Tension you didn’t know you were holding leaving your body as he worked you through it, your brain finally turning off.

Once you were shaking and grabbing his wrist he removed his fingers and turned the toy off, tossing it back in its original place on the bed.

“Feel better?” He asked, face still close to your own as he placed soft kisses all over you. You hummed, hand moving to his hair to lightly scratch his head.

“Almost.”

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him into you and helping him out of his pants. You slowly moved your hand over his hard dick through his boxers, granting you the sound of him moaning into your open mouth.

You pulled him out and stroked his leaking cock over your sensitive before slowly pushing him into you, both of you groaning into each others mouths as he stretched you open.

“Now I feel better.”

————

COME RIGHT ON ME - I MEAN CAMARADERIE

I’ve been looking at this too long and I can’t tell if I love it or hate it

#chef luca #the bear #chef luca x reader #will poulter #hot chef summer #🌑 blurbs #WOOF WOOF WOOF

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public-slaughterhouse · 4 months

Text

vigilance

Patrick Zweig x M. Reader

656 words

anyone can read, just b respectful

"cameronday1010 asked:

ok it could be dumb but I had an idea of PATRICK ZWEIG x male photographer reader.Patrick just keeps messing up his photos so his eyes and camera are just on him"

thank you for the request @cameronday1010 😼 i realize it might be a tiny bit different than the og. request but i hope you like it!! short and sweet lol

There were a few different people going up against each other, but the memory of your camera seemed to be mostly occupied by one player particularly, Patrick Zweig. Whether he was sitting down or running across the court, or eating a banana, you had a picture of it. Not to mention the instances where took off his sweaty sleeveless shirt and leaned back in his chair between sets, left in that stupid checkered pair of shorts that you couldn't help but think looked like something you'd wear to sleep... it didn't change the fact that you couldn't take your eyes off his thighs with the way it rode up with legs wide apart. Even better with the zoom your camera had.

Yeah, you had taken way too many pictures of this guy, even you knew that. You couldn't even excuse it as enthusiasm for the sport, you didn't know shit about tennis. You were just here to take some pictures, and that you did. In abundance. For a bit of money.

You were back at the small lounge in the registration area, looking through the photos, hunched over at one of the tables when Patrick entered, too deep in your staring-at-pictures to notice.

An amused smirk took over Patrick's face as he spotted you. Your camera didn't escape his notice throughout the sets, seeing as whenever his eyes strayed to comb through the audience, it was looking right back at him. You also seemed rrreally focused on those pictures. So much so that he easily walked up behind you, hands in his shorts' pockets as he watched as you pressed the arrow button on your laptop over and over again. There was no shortage of photos of Patrick looking right back at the camera too, clearly. It amused him to no end.

"Good eyes out there man. Definitely got my best angles... like, all of them." he said as he stood behind you with a smile on his face, which only widened when he saw your shoulders jump the slightest bit at noticing him.

Unable to help tensing up, you purse your mouth before your shoulders lower again, slowly turning around in your seat to see the tennis player stare you down with a self-satisfied grin.

"A-ah... well, 's my job, you know how it is..."

"Oh, I definitely do." he nodded as he looked back at the photo you stopped at. It was another one of him, looking right back at you as he sat shirtless with his bottle in his mouth.

"Are those gonna be in the news too?"

"Uh, I mean... n-no, but... who knows what the reporters want, right? I gotta have a bit of variety..."

"Riiight, right, I get it..." he nodded.

With how lame his stay here promised to be at the start of the day, this was a way more entertaining use of his time, and an opportunity even if he played his cards right. Plus, you seemed pretty fun so far, it might be even something more.

"You're gonna be here for the rest of the matches too, right?"

"...Yeah, of course, Donaldson is gonna be here too, that's like the only reason everyone's here." That was one name even you knew.

Ouch.

"Yeah, right..."

"-Shit, sorry, I didn't mean it like that! It was uh, just, unexpected is all..."

He waved it off, smile back on his face again as quick as it went away.

"Hey, don't sweat it, I get that... that's gonna be uh, fun, for sure."

His eyes went up and down over you as you sat, just like yours did throughout the event, and you could feel yourself getting a bit hot under the collar. He must've just left the locker room after a shower, but you could still sense the slightest trace of sweat on him. You barely just met the guy and you were already on the brink of making a fool of yourself.

And Patrick absolutely reveled in it, he was no fool. This was fun.

"...So-"

"You wanna come back to my place?" you blurted out, snapping your laptop shut.

"Yes, absolutely."

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x male reader #male reader #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #male reader insert #writing #patrick zweig #josh o'connor #challengers fic #challengers #challengers 2024

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cyraclove · 4 months

Text

posting my wips that I’ll probably never get around to writing to free myself of them part 1

untitled high school musical (not the movie) au

“I got it! I got it!”

Eddie turns his head to see Dustin bounding into the black box, a delirious smile on his face. He skids to a stop right in front of the table, chest heaving as he rests his hands on his knees.

“I got it,” he wheezes. “I got…I got it.”

Crossing toward Dustin, Eddie grins as he crouches down to look up at him.

“Breathe, dickhead. You got what? The clap? Heard that’s making the rounds.”

Dustin snorts, coughing out a laugh.

“No, asshole,” he says. “I got the part. I’m Seymour.”

Eddie stands to hook an arm around Dustin’s neck, tugging him into his side as he pulls the brim of his cap over his eyes. Dustin cackles wildly.

“Fuck yeah, you are,” Eddie beams, holding Dustin in a headlock while he tries to wriggle free. “That’s fucking amazing, man.”

Dustin’s hat falls to the floor as he manages to slip out of Eddie’s grip. He shoots him another toothy smile before pulling him into a hug.

“Congrats, kid,” Eddie says as he claps him on the back. “And you thought you bombed that audition.”

“Shit, I really did,” Dustin says, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe it. Freshmen never get cast in lead roles.”

A familiar voice comes from the other side of the room.

“They do if they’re right for the part.”

Ms. Shapiro stands in the doorway leading into her office, leaning against the doorframe. A willowy woman fond of flowy scarves and big banana clips, she’s hard to miss.

She peers at Eddie through her green-rimmed glasses as he stares down at his feet, silently hoping that she hasn’t graded his tech theatre exam yet.

The look that she’s giving him tells him that she probably has.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Shapiro,” Dustin grins. “This is, like, a dream role for me. Oh, man. I just…you have no idea.”

“Don’t thank me,” Ms. Shapiro replies with a soft smile. “You gave a great audition. We’re lucky to have you.”

Dustin grins even wider, still flushed and starry-eyed.

There’s a warm tug inside of Eddie’s chest. Precious little bastard. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him this happy, not even after winning a campaign.

“You can come by and pick up your script and libretto whenever you want,” Ms. Shapiro tells Dustin. “First rehearsal is Monday right after last period.”

Nodding, Dustin hoists his backpack onto his shoulder.

“I gotta go call Steve,” he says, turning to Eddie, “but then I’ll be right back to play.”

“Hey, no rush,” Eddie assures him with a lazy wave. “I’m still settin’ up. Go bask in it, Streisand.”

Eddie crosses his arms as he leans against the table, chuckling to himself as Dustin all but sprints out into the hallway.

He and Ms. Shapiro exchange glances.

Expecting her to disappear back into her office, Eddie goes back to busying himself with getting ready for that afternoon’s game. He dares a peek in her direction out of the corner of his eyes.

She’s still there. Just staring at him.

“Sorry for the, uh, noise,” Eddie says with a sheepish chuckle. “Kid just got excited. Dreams coming true and all that.”

Ms. Shapiro hums in agreement but stays right where she is.

“You won’t hear another peep out of me,” Eddie continues, pulling an invisible zipper across his lips. “I mean, uh, until everyone else gets here.”

“I was hoping to have a word with you, actually,” Ms. Shapiro says. “Got a minute?”

Panic crawls down the nape of Eddie’s neck.

“Uh, sure,” he answers, nothing in his head but Fuck Fuck Fuckity Fuck. “What’s up?”

Ms. Shapiro walks briefly back into her office to take something off of her desk before making her way over to Eddie. She pulls out a chair and takes a seat, placing a crumpled sheet of paper on the table in front of her.

“I have your last exam right here,” she says calmly, sliding it towards him. “I have to say I’m surprised that you even showed up to take it, considering that I’ve marked you absent for almost every class this year.”

Eddie’s heart drops into his stomach as he looks down at the exam, a big, fat 27 glaring up at him in red pen. He huffs a laugh, running a hand across the back of his neck.

“I really tanked that one, huh?”

Ms. Shapiro cuts her eyes in his direction.

“Yes. You did.”

She sighs, sitting back against her chair.

“Look, I know that my class is the last period of your day. You’re a senior. And it’s a class that you don’t really care about.”

Guilt sticks in Eddie’s gut like a knife.

“I never said that I don’t—“

“But unless you’d like to be a senior again,” Ms. Shapiro interrupts pointedly, “you have to pass.”

He’d been busting his ass cramming for O’Donnell’s exam that he completely forgot about Shapiro’s. Eddie had walked into her class that day without so much as a pencil.

Eddie’s shoulders slump as he flops into the chair across from her, his face buried into his hands.

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles. “Fuck.”

Ms. Shapiro clears her throat.

“Sorry. Shit.”

“Listen, Eddie. I like you. You’re a bright kid and I don’t want to see you stuck here another year,” Ms. Shapiro starts. “But we just don’t have a lot of time left in the school year, so you don’t have very many opportunities left to make this up.”

She absentmindedly toys with one of the figurines on the table. Eddie clenches his jaw as he resists the urge to snatch it from her hand.

“That’s why I have another option for you,” Ms. Shapiro starts. “Something you can do to fix your grade.”

Eddie studies her closely, eyes narrowing. “Like…extra credit?”

“Sure.”

“What exactly are we taking about, here?”

“I only had three men show up to audition for Little Shop of Horrors,” she explains. “Three. The only one worth listening to was Dustin.”

Ms. Shapiro pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose before tenting her fingers in front of her.

“I had no choice but to cast the other two, but there are four male roles. I’m short one.”

They stare at each other. Eddie’s stomach drops.

“No. No. Nope, not me,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You’ve got the wrong guy. There’s no way in hell I’m doing a musical. I don’t sing.”

“You’re in a band, right?”

“I play guitar!”

“Oh. Well, it’s really just talk-singing, anyway.”

“I don’t act!”

“Give me a break,” Ms. Shapiro laughs. “I hear you in here, Eddie.”

“This is dif—“

“This,” Ms. Shapiro cuts in, sweeping her hand over the table, “is acting. And you’re good at it.”

Eddie rakes an anxious hand through his hair.

“Ms. Shapiro, I will do anything,” Eddie pleads, “anything else. You don’t…you don’t want me in your show. Trust me. I’ll f—muck it up.”

“I doubt that.”

Groaning, Eddie runs a hand over his face.

“Please. Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not,” Ms. Shapiro clarifies. “I’m simply giving you an option. It’s this—a guaranteed A in my class—or a failing grade.”

“Are you even allowed to do this? Is this illegal? It feels a little illegal.”

“Like you said, it’s just like extra credit. A lot of extra credit. I’m perfectly within my right to give my students opportunities to improve their grades.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. The last thing he wants is to rot in this pit-stained cesspool for another year because of his grade in an elective.

A fucking musical, though. A singing, dancing, jazz hands-ing onstage spectacle. What better way to draw the unwanted attention of a bunch of brain dead meatheads than to step into a literal spotlight and make an idiot out of himself?

“Ms. Shapiro—“

“Hang on a second,” she says, cutting Eddie off as she goes to stand.

Eddie watches as she rummages around on her desk for something before walking back over to the table. She holds out another sheet of paper, thankfully not a second failed exam.

“What’s this?”

“I thought you might like to look at the cast list before you make your decision,” Ms. Shapiro answers, an unsettlingly pleased smile on her face.

Cocking a brow, Eddie takes it from her.

“I don’t know who else I’d know besides Henderson, but o—“

Eddie chokes on a breath as he stares down at the list, an all too familiar name typed out right beneath Dustin’s. His pulse pounds at his temples, the paper shaking a bit in his hands as he reads it over and over again.

Chrissy Cunningham.

Looking up at Ms. Shapiro, Eddie opens his mouth but no words come out, his tongue like a wet piece of cardboard. He swallows hard.

“I was surprised to see her at auditions,” Ms. Shapiro says as she takes the cast list back from Eddie. “I knew she’d be perfect for Audrey the second she walked in, though.”

Eddie’s blood rushes in his ears, his brain a useless pile of goo. He suddenly finds himself looking down at a thick libretto with the name Orin Scrivello scribbled across the top in black sharpie.

“Totally up to you,” Ms. Shapiro chirps, offering him the book.

After a beat, he takes it from her. It’s like being handed a hammer so that he can pound the final nail into his own coffin.

God, he’s so fucked.

“When’d did you say the first rehearsal is?”

#hellcheer #cyraclove writes #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #chrissy cunningham #little shop of horrors #I’ll never write this but it lives in my head

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rentumblsstuff · 6 months

Text

Lex: Now when you go in there, you don’t miss any classes, you don’t talk back to any teachers, and if someone says some shit to you, you kick their asses okay?

Hannah: I dunno if I can…

Ethan: Banana, we totally get you’re nervous. We were nervous our first days of high school too, right babe??

Lex: *nods*

Ethan: You’ll be terrific. Everyone will love you just as much as we do. Make some good friends and some good choices, okay? And Lex is mistaken, if anyone says some shit to you, you come to me. I’ll kick their asses.

Hannah: You definitely could.

Ethan: Exactly, and I will… Especially that Jagerman kid, ugh, Lex, do you remember that snot-nosed sophomore??

Lex: I dropped out that year but even I can’t forget him. Absolute fuckin’ punk; ran around bullying the other sophomores and freshman. Hopefully he got transferred to Sycamore.

Hannah: A-and if he didn’t?

Ethan: Then I’ll beat him up if he goes near you!

Lex: *nods in agreement* Get going, you’re gonna be late if you can’t find your class.

Hannah: *nods* Bye… I’ll be home by 4…

Meanwhile,

Ruth: First day of SENIOR YEAR!!! We’re gonna LEARN and we’re gonna HAVE FUN AND IT’S GONNA BE- FUCK! *bumps into Hannah and sends both their stacks of books to the ground* Oh no!! I am so sorry!

Hannah: I-it’s okay… *crouches down to start sorting through their books*

Pete: Let us help you with that!

*Pete, Ruth, and Richie all lean down at the same time and bump their heads together like the three stooges. Profanity ensues. Hannah tries not to smile at their joint bumbling.*

Ruth: Oh god there’s a spider on my book!!! Help! Richieeee!!!

Hannah: *carefully scoops up the spider and places it out of the way with a smile to it*

Pete: … You’re not scared of that thing?

Hannah: It’s just part of nature. They don’t deserve to be squashed same as any of us do…

Ruth: Boy, can we get behind that! I am so sorry for bumping into you! I shoulda been watching where I was going, but we’re all excited, and oh… Hehe, that’s definitely my book, I’m assuming… *picks up the most shitty looking smutty romance novel you could ever think of* I’m Ruth, these are my boyfriends Pete and Richie.

Pete: Boy-space-friends.

Ruth: And I’m still working on closing that gap.

Hannah: *okay… okay. Okay, okay* I’m… Hannah… Freshman.

Richie: Oh, then you got bumped into by the right people. We’ll show you the ropes, don’t worry, Hannah.

Hannah: *looks back to Lex and Ethan, who still haven’t left*

*Lex looks apprehensive and Ethan looks hesitant and the Three Stooges notice them.*

Ruth: DON’T WORRY! WE GOT HER!!! *two thumbs up high in the air*

*Pete and Richie wave*

Lex: *smiles softly and holds up a thumbs up*

Ethan: *waves back*

Ruth: *to Hannah* Are those your siblings?? I can’t see ‘em completely from here but they’re both hot…

Hannah: My sister and her boyfriend… He’s like a big brother though.

Richie: Pete has a big brother!

Pete: Oh, yeah… Ted’s way older though. He wouldn’t uh… So, where’s your first class? We’ll show you which hallways you’re allowed to use to get there.

Hannah: There are incorrect hallways?

Richie: YES.

Ruth: It’s the least we can do after spilling your books. C’mon, bestie, you’re ours now.

Hannah: *nods in acceptance and begins to follow them with a wave to her siblings, STILL WAITING UNTIL SHE’S OUT OF SIGHT, and one more smile at the spider*

#hatchetfield #starkid #npmd #yellow jacket #hannah foster #lex foster #ethan green #lexthan #yellow jacket ethan supremacy #ruth fleming #peter spankoffski #richie lipschitz #they’d make the worst and best influences on poor freshie Hannah

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Tougher Than the Rest

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

wordcount | 5.5K

warnings | smut, angst, the usual

a/n | we have reached the last chapter of this story. thank you to everyone who has followed along with this one, it has truly been a treat working with these characters, so your love for them means a lot. as always i'd love to hear what you think, drop me a line!

...................................

“Ellie, school in thirty! You better be up if you’re catching the train! Sorry about that, my daughter is– well, you know how kids can be. What was the question again?” She hates these things. These fluffy little interviews that her agent forces her into whenever she has a new book coming out. Good publicity and all that. Bullshit, if you ask her. Why can’t the book just speak for itself?

“No worries at all, I was wondering if you could tell me a little about your writing process for this last book, did you have a set routine or any rituals that propelled your work forward?” Rituals, gag her. She tries not to let out a dejected sigh over the phone, settling instead for an eye roll as she attempts to get Ellie’s lunch put together with one and a half hands, her phone settled precariously between her cheek and her shoulder as she puts together a pb and j, except not because Ellie’s school has a thing about peanut butter. So, sunflower butter and organic apricot jam from the co-op down the block that she somehow got wrangled into as a member.

“You know, I try not to be too precious about routines. I write as much as I can whenever I can. And as a mom, I have to take whatever time I can get.” The interviewer most certainly didn’t like that answer, a long right, okay crackling over the line. But what did he expect? Some sort of meticulous, meditative bullshit no doubt. Sorry, not her style.

“So, last question here, you have certainly established yourself over the last decade as a prolific writer. What is it that keeps you writing?” Well, that’s simple, isn’t it? If she keeps writing, she keeps herself from thinking about the past, about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. But her agent would probably throttle her for saying that, so something else in its place instead.

“I always wanted to be a writer growing up. It’s just– instinct, maybe impulse, frankly. I write because it’s what I know how to do, it’s how I figure out this world.” She tacks on that last bit hoping it will make up for the entirely unsexy rest of her responses, and judging by the hmm the interviewer lets out over the phone, it will suffice. All the usual niceties and a long sigh when she finally hangs up.

“Ellie, if you aren’t up I’m–”

“Jesus, I’m up, woman.” Her eleven-year-old has developed a new habit of calling her woman like a despondent husband in a loveless marriage, marching out of her bedroom and into the kitchen as she shoves papers into her backpack.

“Lunch for you, and I will be outside of the school at 3:30 to walk home with you, okay? Do you– I can walk with you this morning too if–”

“No, mom, I got it.” It stings, just a little, smarting, and then a small swell of pride that her girl is so independent.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some breakfast in you, huh? Smoothie, that sound good?” Ellie’s face scrunches up, but she doesn’t give her an abject no, and that’s enough for Cherry to get out the blender.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s in Texas?” Cherry freezes, her hand holding half a banana (non-GMO, whatever the fuck that means) suspended over the blender.

“What– where’s that question coming from?”

“On the computer last night, you had left it open to some construction company in Texas.” Shit, her smart girl. That was how Ellie found out that Santa wasn’t real two years ago, hopping on the desktop and finding the order confirmation for the pair of glow-in-the-dark Converse she had asked for in her letter addressed to the North Pole.

“Oh, um, that– I have a friend who is, uh, moving there and I’m helping her find someone to do work on her new house, yeah.” Ellie doesn’t seem to buy that answer, brow pinched up, but before she can question it, Cherry flips on the blender, letting it whir just a little longer than it needs to.

“Alright, breakfast of champions, you can drink it on the train, yeah? You’re gonna be late if you don’t get a move on.” A quick flurry to pour the smoothie into a to-go cup and then out the door, love you, be safe, bye. A big sigh when she slumps back against the shut door, close one.

Yes, maybe, a moment of weakness yesterday. A moment of weakness while she was working over edits for her next book. Somehow, up until yesterday, she had managed to not let a moment of weakness creep in. But before she knew what she was doing, she was googling his name and Austin, Texas. And there he was, with his own business no less.

Yes, maybe, she had left a tab open on the Miller’s Construction website’s About Us page. And yes, maybe, she had left the page zoomed in on the picture of Joel in the top corner. And yes, maybe, none of her edits had gotten done because she was a little busy looking at said picture for the better portion of the afternoon.

So the first thing that she does after cleaning up the small cyclone in the kitchen is log onto the computer to delete that tab, not letting herself linger on the photo any longer. But he looks good, she thinks. Doing good for himself, she thinks. Not letting that thought get any bigger, that want crack open any more than it already has, right back to work on her edits.

But her mind is fickle this morning, still stuck on that photo, still stuck on him in a way she hasn’t been in a while. Maybe it’s because of the appointment she has at noon. An impulsive choice she made and, for some reason, has kept. A way to hold onto something she should have let go a long time ago. But she can’t.

And yes, maybe, her morning is spent in a constant toggle between the open tab of her word doc, and that damn About Us page on the Miller’s Construction website.

…

He’s nervous. And he’s not sure why, because it’s her, right? It’s them. Except this is new. Not something they ever got to do in the past. Not like this at least.

“Hey there.” She’s in a dress when she opens the door, and his mind has to quickly configure around the fact that this is the first time he has seen her in a dress in two decades, though he probably should have expected that, right? Because people dress up for these things, something that Sarah said to him very slowly like he was an invalid, prompting him into a button-down before he left.

“Hey, Cherry, you look, uh, yeah– look real good.” She smiles, still leaning in the doorframe, but before she can speak, someone else beats her to it.

“Wow, real smooth, man.”

“Ellie.” Cherry hisses it over her shoulder, but Joel never sees the kid, just hears her lowly murmured what? I’m just saying, geez. Already off to a great start.

“Sorry about the peanut gallery, but I’m ready if you are.”

No more sneaking around, no more questioning if this is real or not. They’re doing the thing that normal people do, normal people in a normal relationship. They’re going on a date.

“I like this.” She hums it, reaching across the console from the passenger seat to thumb at the collar of his shirt, her palm smoothing down over his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you clean up very pretty, Miller.” Just a little snark tinging the end of her words, making him huff as she keeps rubbing distracting circles into his chest.

“Well, you’re in fine form, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With that, her hand trails up, palm slipping behind the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through the errant curls there while he fights the urge for his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Sure, Cher, at this rate we’re not even gonna make it to the restaurant.” He regrets saying it instantly, because just as soon as the words leave his mouth, she’s taking her hand away, sitting prim and perfect in the passenger seat where she had been completely turned toward him before.

“Right, sorry, best behavior.” Her words slant with the simper of her smile, and he has to remind himself that they’re doing this normal thing now. No need to hurry, no need to hide, no need to steal time. Because she’s staying, and so is he.

By some stroke of luck, they do make it to the restaurant, and it’s right about then that Joel realizes it has been a woefully long time since he has been on a date. He has to stutter himself into all the motions, trying to remember the right moves, opening the door for her, a bit flustered when he pulls her chair out for her and she snorts.

“Well you don’t get this kind of treatment in New York.” To make the matter of his quick creeping flush worse, she presses a kiss to his cheek before she sits down. He gets to have that now, totally normal. He’s still getting used to totally normal.

“So how is the book coming along?” He’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask that, what might still be a sore subject. For a moment, her face falls, fear flickering in his chest that he has fucked up, though she smooths it out, something like a smile still at the edges of her eyes.

“Do you really want to hear me talk about that?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Can I ask you something first?” He nods, of course, taking a cursory sip of his wine as she does the same.

“Did you– what did you think? About the other ones?” She asks it shy, her cheek propped in her hand, smile crumpled to one side. His mind reels with what he could say, though he’s not sure if any of it’s right. It’s not like he has some dazzlingly intellectual thing to say. But she’s asking him, she wants to know what he thinks, and he muses to himself that she’s been wanting to know what he thinks for a while.

“I was amazed by every single one, Cher. And I was proud of you too, even though I had no business feeling that way. It was– I thought about you, a lot, over the years. And getting to read your books, it felt like I could be a little closer to you that way.” He surprises himself with the stark honesty of his words, but how could he offer her anything else when she’s looking at him like that? Smile softening in the dim light of the restaurant, cheeks brimming up with the praise.

“I always wondered, you know, if you were reading them. I– I guess that’s a little ridiculous.” He’s still getting used to this too, being able to reach out for her, taking her hand in his across the table.

“Not ridiculous, and I’m looking forward to reading the new one.”

“I sent the second draft in two days ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm, my editor fucking destroyed my first one, so we’ll see how this draft goes over.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering, Cher, when the hell did you get that trucker’s mouth of yours?” She laughs big and bright, shoulders shrugging up to her ears, a little flail to her hands that makes him laugh too.

“I mean, it’s definitely a New York thing. That, and people just started pissing me off a lot more, so I kinda had to.”

“I tried to cut back on it when Sarah got old enough to start picking stuff up. She still managed to slip a few fucks into her vocabulary in the first grade.”

“Oh god, I actually got called into the school when Ellie was in the first grade because she told a boy at recess to leave her the fuck alone. Honestly, I was more proud than anything else, is that bad?”

“Fuck no, it’s not bad. I’d probably take Sarah for ice cream if she did the same.” She sighs around a smile, and he finds himself doing the same, settling into this ease. Yes, he thinks, it’s going to take some getting used to. But he’s more than happy to be getting used to it with her.

…

“I’d like to get it on my right shoulder, if that works okay.” If her mother could see her now. She doesn’t look in the mirror until the tattoo artist has stamped the stencil into place, a satisfied hum in her throat when she gets a look at the design.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure if she was going to keep this appointment. She had made it under the pleasant flush of two glasses of wine late one night about a month ago, surprised to receive an email from the artist saying that they loved her idea and wanted to get her on the books. And for some reason, she didn’t say no, didn’t cancel, and is now laying out on a tattoo table and bracing for the first pass of the needle.

It’s not too bad, a little cringey when the artist is working right over the cap of her shoulder, but otherwise it passes quickly, and before she knows it, she’s standing back in front of the mirror on shaky legs, looking at the twining cherry branch now wrapping around her upper arm.

“It’s perfect, thank you. I love it.” Ellie has rather different feelings about it, her jaw dropping loose when Cherry meets her outside of her school, still warm enough that she’s only in a t-shirt, showing off part of her still-wrapped ink.

“What is that?” There’s no playing it off, Ellie refusing to move until Cherry gives her an answer.

“That is a tattoo, and before you ask, no, not until you’re eighteen.” Ellie balks at that, though Cherry is quick to sling her arm around her girl’s shoulders to set them both walking toward the subway.

“Is it– what is it?” Ellie takes the one leftover seat in the train and Cherry hooks her elbow around the rail in front of her, a perfect opportunity for her kid to get a better look at her new tattoo.

“It’s a cherry tree.”

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo.” She says it with a sigh, like somehow, this is the worst news ever. Cherry has to hold back a laugh, knowing that it will only put Ellie in even worse of a tiff.

“What’s wrong with tattoos?”

“Nothing, but you’re my mom, you’re not supposed to get tattoos.” Ellie grumbles out the last words, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff, perfectly petulant. Cherry gives her little episode about twenty more minutes before she forgets all about it and asks what’s for dinner.

When they do get back to their apartment, Cherry just barely catches the ringing phone, surprised, though pleasantly, when she hears Will on the other end.

“Hey, what’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Hey, yeah, I just thought I’d give you a call.” She knows exactly what that means. It’s only been recently that she and Will can talk like this, call like this. She got out, and he did too, and for a while that had to be enough for the both of them, slinking around the past like they could somehow forget it. It was Will that reached out to her first, and she was relieved for it, not sure if he resented her, or even hated her for the way she left. He didn’t, he understood, and he wanted to know how his big sister was doing.

“Mom?” He sighs over the phone, exactly what she thought. For some reason, their mother still reaches out to him, an errant phone call that he somehow can’t seem to dodge.

“She called to tell me that they’re moving to Arizona.”

“Oh, lovely.”

“Yeah, so I guess that means Austin has finally been fumigated.” Cherry snorts, trying to let that be funny, though all it really feels is bitter.

“You’re not thinking about going back, are you?” Because suddenly, she is. An impossibility for so long, now a little more possible.

“Hell no, Portland has been good to me. I only just managed to lose the accent.”

“I liked your accent, Will. I’m afraid mine has started sounding a little too Brooklyn lately.”

“Yeah, you have that kinda eternally angry thing going on in your voice now.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my eternally angry voice is what gets me book deals.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, miss New York Times bestseller.” She scoffs, a flustered murmur of yeah, yeah, whatever, always quick to change the subject from anything like that.

“You’re still coming for Christmas though, right? I’d– we’d really love to have you. I’ve been telling Ellie about you.” Something new, she never thought Ellie would get any kind of extended family. Definitely no grandparents, but an uncle would be nice.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” He has something else to say, she can tell by the way his words fizzle out. She doesn’t push though, just waits.

“You don’t think about going back, do you? To Texas?” Her throat tightens, a quick glance down the hall to check that Ellie’s bedroom door is still closed.

“No, why would I want to?”

“Oh come on, out of the two of us I’d say you’d have an actual reason to.”

“What are you talking about?” Like maybe she could bullshit her way out of this, but he is her brother, after all. He always liked Joel, definitely looked up to him. And he was also one of the only people that knew about their relationship, always willing to cover for her sneaking around, for the flat rate price of a new comic book.

“Not what, who.”

“Will, that’s ancient history. That’s– that’s even past ancient history. It was another life.”

“I know, I just– I always thought you two were gonna be it, you know? Even before that summer, y’all were always something else.”

“Careful, they’ll throw you out of Portland for saying y’all like that.” That gets half a laugh out of him, just enough to drop the subject.

“All this talk of Texas must be getting to me. Anyways, just wanted to call and tell you the big news or whatever.”

“Alright, well, big news aside, it’s always good to hear from you. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sis, love you.”

“Love you too.” That’s new, she’s glad for it.

Afternoons, after school, but before dinner, this is her favorite time. Sometimes, Ellie will still let her help with her homework, or at least allow her presence on the edge of her bed while she works, might even answer a few questions about her day or her friends. Eleven going on thirty, or something like that. By the time dinner rolls around, her girl has warmed up to her enough to sit at the kitchen counter while she chops vegetables.

“So, why a cherry tree?”

“Oh, it’s an old story, a friend of mine from a long time ago, not interesting. Hey, I saw the email from the school about career day next week, were you gonna tell me about that?” A quick change of subject, two birds with one stone, really. Ellie’s face scrunches up at her question.

“Yeah, but like, you’re too busy for it anyways.” She barely looks up from her math worksheet as she says it, like no big deal, though Cherry’s stomach immediately sinks.

“Woah, woah, babe, I am absolutely not too busy for that. I’m never too busy for you, what– why do you think that?” Ellie just shrugs, still intent on her fractions.

“Because of the new book and stuff. You’re very preoccupied.” One of her new vocab words for the week, preoccupied, right.

“Els, will you look at me, please? I am never too busy for you, okay? None of that shi–stuff matters more than you do. And I’d really love to go to career day, if you want me to be there.” Ellie seems to consider that proposition, a big burst of relief when she nods.

“Yeah, you’re cooler than a lot of the other parents anyways. They all do boring stuff for work.” She’ll take it, trying to temper her grin at her girl’s small praise as she gets back to prepping dinner. She’ll have to remember to wear long sleeves for career day, not wanting to give the PTA moms any more gossip fodder than they already have about her. Single mom, single writer mom with no family to be heard of. Not a very good look to all those upper-crust types, not that she could give a shit about it. But she doesn’t want her black sheepness to rub off on Ellie, play dates and hang outs to be scheduled and all that, so, definitely long sleeves for career day.

Much later, Ellie in bed reading, and no impending emails or phone calls, Cherry finally takes another look at the tattoo before getting in the shower.

If nothing else, ever, at least this.

…

“So.” She says it all long and drawn out, her hands clasped behind her back as she sways a little in front of his truck, sooooo. It’s dark out by the time they leave the restaurant, both of them a little loose, a little languid from a few glasses of wine, though he’s still sober enough to feel a lick of nerves run up his spine as he tries to figure out what’s the right next move, what normal people do on a date like this.

“Sarah is at Tommy’s for the night, if you don’t have to be home just yet?” No, probably not what normal people do on a first date. But no, not their first date either, not really. And nothing normal about this either, not really. Cherry, smiles, all crooked shadows in the faint glow coming from the restaurant. She really is a sight. He’s been stealing sweeping glances all night, collecting her up in pieces in his mind. The bare skin of her thighs, just a suggestion of it with the slip of her dress. Her dress, he thinks she knows that it’s just a little cruel that she’s wearing that dress judging by the way she moves, shoulders rolled back, always a ghost of a grin like she’s getting away with something. Instinct or just plain impulse to reach out for her, to let his knuckles graze along the neckline of her dress, the smallest shiver when he trails from the sweet plunge up along the slope of her shoulder.

“Ellie was going to a sleepover, so I don’t have to be anywhere until my chauffeur services are needed tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

He is trying, all of his effort, really, to focus on the road when they start driving back to his house. But Cherry isn’t exactly making it easy with the way her hand is splayed on his thigh, and he has to clear his throat when her nails graze along the inseam of his pants.

“Everything alright?” He only glances away for a beat, though it’s enough time to see the smug curl of her smile.

“You– you’re–” His breath hitches before he can finish that thought, Cherry’s knuckles grazing against his already aching cock through his pants, though her hand is gone just as soon, settling lower, just above his knee.

“What am I, baby?”

“I think you know what you are.” Her laugh comes in bells, chirping high as she tips her head back, the shock-white flash of her teeth in the corner of his eye.

“I think you like it.” High, like wings fluttering each word she says. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still on the road while he reaches across the console for her, his palm slipping from her shoulder up the slope of her neck, fingers curling around her nape and his thumb stroking the hinge of her jaw, his own silent answer, his.

They’re both quiet stepping inside his house, lights off so the rooms are washed down in dark swaths of shadow. Up the stairs and into his room, she doesn’t look at the books this time, all her attention on him.

No need to rush, no need to hide, no need to lie about what this really is. A first for two decades later, they can take their time with each other, because there will be plenty more of it to offer, to receive.

“I thought about you, you know.” He knows that she’s talking about a particular kind of thinking about him, her eyes heavy with it.

“Show me, Cher.” Broken thoughts that somehow still get pieced together, the easy slip of her dress falling around her feet, stepping out of fabric and laying back on his bed. Perfect like this, her knees bent and falling open to the sides. He finds himself sitting down on the edge of the bed, his palm cupping the slope of her calf before sliding down, fingers curling loosely around her ankle. Something to tether him, to convince him that this is real, that all her want is for him. From the start, she was always surprising him, always finding some fresh way to make his head spin. She still is. Propped up on one elbow, her other palm trailing down the center of her chest, pausing there to let her fingers graze against her nipple, the smallest hitch of her breath making his cock pulse. And then lower, his eyes going heavy watching her hand move over the soft clench of her stomach before settling just over her pelvis. Forefinger and middle spreading herself open for him to see, swollen and pearling pleasure, obscene and a little world-ending.

And it’s his name. His name that she whispers when she dips two of her fingers into her cunt, his hand curling a little closer around her ankle at the sight and sound. A slick smear of heat, the way the tendons in her hips jump with the effort of staying splayed for him, slack and then tense all over when the pads of her fingers catch against her clit.

Please, not enough, please, want you. But he wants to see, her preening pleas falling on deaf ears. Because he wants to see how she thought about him all those miles away, years away, and aching for him. And he was aching for her too. Go on, Cher, just like that. She huffs, brow pulling down in a pinch of frustration, but she still allows, the small jump of her wrist, the veins in her hand jittering as two fingers find a stuttered rhythm, her hips tilting into each thrust. And he’s mean for doing this, cruel even, slipping sorry beneath his palm as it skates up her shin, smoothing and soothing. I know, I know, it’s not enough, is it? Never enough he thinks, it was never enough.

“Stop teasing, come here.” Never saying no to her, and he already knows it, making as quick work as he can of the buttons of his shirt, the warm flush of bare skin against bare skin when he finally settles between her legs, one palm splayed next to her temple and the other bunched in the sheets beside her hip. All brilliant machinery, two bodies moving together like they never stopped, her knee hitching up along his hip as his palm slides down along the soft skin of the inside of her thigh. He rests his thumb over her clit, presence more than anything else, though Cherry doesn’t allow that for long, another huff, another don’t tease that he chases after with a hard stamp of a kiss.

And when he finally spreads her open with one shuddering snap of his hips, his breath gets caught in his chest, pleasure finally catching up to him and crackling down his spine. His mouth rests open and wanting below the dip of her clavicle, the slight press of skin that comes with each of her inhales, like a bird beating around in her ribs, short and stuttered and certain.

Quiet whispers, need you to move, baby, that word never failing to snare his mind, all he can do to give her what she wants with a slow roll of his hips that’s already turning greedy in the way he grinds into the plush of her ass at the end, a high sound stopping itself in the back of her throat.

And no, not taking their time, both of them growing desperate for that tight furl of pleasure settling between them. Just a little obscene in the way the bed scrapes against the floor with every thrust, the sound melding and mixing with the breathy little moans Cherry can’t seem to stop, not that he would want her to. He groans when he reaches between them to thumb at her clit, her cunt dripping around him, a dizzying flutter of heat that he wants more of. And when Cherry says more, right there something snaps in him, animal, incessant in the way he slips his palms under the swell of her ass, lifting her hips up so her thighs rest over his, fucking up into her from his haunches, strong enough that he can do that now, move and make her with his hands like this. Pulled taut, her body one long line of pleasure, he watches the perfect tendons in her throat jump with a whine of his name.

It’s a devastating heat when she does come, spine arching before she slumps down in his grasp. He stills inside her, a whimper in her throat when his hips absent-mindedly shift against hers. C’mere, c’mere, pulling him down, her palms running up his sides before slipping over his shoulders, mapping him out as she catches her breath.

“I love you so much, Joel.” The sound he makes is pathetic at best, a little broken battering in his ribs. And he should ask if she’s good, if he can, if it’s okay for him to, but he needs it so bad, needs her so bad that he’s already finding that rhythm again, harsh breaths with each thrust. Not far behind her, not with the way she’s murmuring all her want into his ear, something that sounds like love when that pleasure finally snaps and shimmers under his skin.

Perfect like this in the after, holding onto each other, mouths finding whatever slip of skin they can, kissing it better.

“It’s you and me, Cher. I love you.” Her fingers still in their gentle sweep through his hair, a little tug to get his eyes up to hers.

“Plus two.” Confused at first, he has to laugh when his brain catches up to what she’s saying.

“Right, you and me, plus two.”

…

Her least favorite time of the day, or night, really. Ellie asleep, just her and the blinking cursor in her word document. It’s about this time every night that it settles back in under her skin. She doesn’t know what to call it. Loneliness feels pitiful, and patently untrue because she has her girl, and that’s all she needs. It’s like an ache, like a physical lack that she manages to forget about in all the fret and fuss of the day, still there, still sore.

Tonight, something particular to soothe that ache. That damn web page, and that damn photo of him. Different, older, but still him. A small part of her, a young part, wonders if he has read her books, if he’s seen her photo on the dust jackets and traced all the small nicks and nips of time the same way that she does now, her face pressed close to the screen of her computer to collect up any new detail.

She quits while she’s ahead, sigh, shut the whole thing off, rubbing the heels of her palms into her eyes to try to stamp out the picture of him.

An ache, a want, that has been there for nearly two decades. When Will had told her about their parents moving out of Austin, hope had been quick to flicker up and around her ribs, a silly thing. Silly to ache like this, to want like this, to presume that he’s been waiting around for her.

She’s been waiting for him though, she realizes. Wanting for him. So would it be so crazy to think that, maybe, he’s been wanting for her too?

........................................

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montrealmadison · 7 months

Note

Congratulations on 400 followers! I’m newish to the fandom and your blog was one of the first I followed!

Pair: Nursey/Dex

Song: 28

Vibes: first date (can include smut if it fits in)

Congratulations again!!!!

thank you so much and welcome to the fandom!! this is only the second time i've written nurseydex and it's an honor to do so for you ❤️ i did not manage to squeeze the smut in but i did provide the lead-up so i hope that's acceptable. please enjoy these banana nut muffins being dorky and awkward on their two first dates

28. nurseydex + first date + I Love You More Than You Think by Rizzie Kicks for @hrtstppr95

I think that we know that we know each other really well I know I wanna know you for the rest of my life Because no matter the length of time that’s gone by When I see you, it’s fine It’s like I just saw you last night

Dex is thinking about why fancy restaurants invest in stupid shit when Nursey says, “Poindexter, I don’t think this is working.”

Their table is a good one, tucked into a private corner and partially hidden by a big potted plant. The downside to this is that apparently nobody thought to install overhead lighting in this swanky Boston seafood bar, and the candle holder—which, for some reason, is shaped like a miniature lobster wearing a chef’s coat—is doing a terrible job at casting light on the worried expression that Nursey is wearing. Dex looks down at his clenched hands in his lap and can’t help but mirror what he can see of the frown.

read more below or on ao3 | request a fic here

God, he knew he was going to fuck this up. Dex doesn’t do a lot of standing on ceremony, but even he can admit that first dates are a big deal, that they deserve care. When Nursey had come to him with this grand plan for a fancy, candlelit dinner, his treat, he’d known it might be uncomfortable, that he might have to pretend to get it. This kind of thing isn’t him, not at all.

But it is Nursey. He looks right here, casually elegant in a blazer he doesn’t wear to games, half-empty glass in his hand with the ice clinking soft at the bottom. He’s been so excited for this, talking it up all week to anyone who’d listen. Of course it’s Dex who doesn’t fit in. Four years in this weird parallel world to the one he’s used to and he still can’t make himself take the shape of someone who belongs in both.

“No,” he agrees, eyes dropping back to his hands. There’s a long fresh scar along the base of his thumb, the brightest thing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Shit—Dex, no.”

Nursey’s hand appears in his field of view, warm and brown and stark against the tablecloth. Dex looks up, surprised, and finds Nursey’s face much better lit and clearly concerned.

“I just meant, like—you look uncomfy, dude.” He bounces the outstretched hand lightly on the table until Dex reaches up to still it with his own. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh.” He feels wrongfooted by how much Nursey notices. “Uh, yeah, I guess… not really.”

The thought’s only out there for half a second before he scrambles after how wrong it sounds in the air between them. “I mean, with you, yeah. But it’s, um, fancy here. Didn’t wanna… ugh, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Nursey considers the watery Coke in the bottom of his glass, then drains it in one. “That’s not on you, ‘kay? I should have thought of that.”

The ensuing silent discussion, born of many years of finely honed skill at arguing silently on the ice, leads to an agreement that they need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Nursey flags down the server for the check; Dex lets go of Nursey’s hand on the table and spends the next ten minutes cussing out the stupid lobster, who, thankfully, does not respond.

They don’t speak again until they’re back in Nursey’s (asshole) Jeep. The parking lot is packed; the only space they’d been able to find is out in the farthest row from the restaurant, looking down the hill that faces Route 9. The air is freezing in the way that precedes a blizzard. Every leaf is crackling with frost, and even with the doors closed and the engine shuddering to life, Dex can see his breath.

He can see Nursey’s, too, when he says, “Dude, I’m really sorry.”

“S’okay.” Dex shivers. “Really. Not your fault I can’t hang.”

“Poindexter, come on.” The collar of Nursey’s sweater is folded funny over the top of his coat. Dex’s eyes stick on it. “That’s not it. I should have picked somewhere we would both have fun.”

Asshole Dex says in his head, Oh, you think?

Civilized Human Dex, perched on his other mental shoulder, says, Hey, you agreed to this. Be an adult.

Dex the Walking Basket Case tips his head back into the seat and wonders how long the chirps would last if he fessed up to talking to himself like this. Out loud he says, “It’s really okay, Nurse. ‘Sides, night’s young.”

Nursey turns the heat up as high as it’ll go, makes that noise that means okay, I’ll bite. He reaches over and folds Dex's fingers into the warmth of his palm, a conciliatory gesture that Dex can never admit makes him feel all soft in the middle like a homemade Bittle pie. “That’s true,” he says. “Any ideas?”

Dex leans on the cold window, lets it chill his overheated skin. Without really thinking about it, he says, “We could go skate.”

It’s more to break the silence that’s fallen than anything else. When he turns back around, though, it’s to find Nursey looking at him with interest.

“What, at Faber?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it locked?”

Against all odds, Dex finds himself smirking. “Come on, Nurse, I’m the captain. You think I don’t have keys to our own rink?”

Nursey’s grinning too, now. This is what Dex loves and hates about him, the way it comes so easily. He never wants that to change, no matter how much he used to tell himself otherwise. Despite this failure of a night, he thinks, he’s happy.

“Well,” Nursey drawls. “‘Swawesome.”

He pulls their hands apart and squeezes Dex’s thigh twice. Dex bats him away, smile stretching despite himself, and says, “Just drive.”

---

Faber is cold and quiet, no signs of life but the hum of the heating vents far above. Dex hits the ice first, sketches a long, curving line towards the box and then back toward the bench. He can’t really see Nursey, but hears him follow through the dark just the same.

The air between them is suddenly charged, heavy. They don’t speak. They don’t even really skate together, each carving their own loops at opposite ends of the ice, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. Dex feels oddly naked. It’s a weird combination of silk tie and suit pants and his grimy skates, marked up by the years.

He stops on the blue line, bracketed by a big white square of moonlight. The windows are gorgeous, especially without the fluorescents to compete, framing the sky and the spreading branches of the linden tree that Shitty always told the story about getting stuck in. In three or four months they’ll play their last game here, a thought that settles leaden and cold in Dex’s stomach. He watches a cloud pass over the moon. If there’s someone out there to hear him, he thinks, then let them hear him wish, desperately, for five more minutes.

Someone does hear, because there’s sudden warmth at his back. Nursey’s chin settles heavy on his shoulder, and his hands curl around Dex’s bare forearms. Dex leans back and lets Nursey hold him for no reason other than that he likes to, and Dex likes it when Nursey likes the things he does.

“Feel better?”

It’s a whisper. Dex’s whole body goes cold, then hot.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” says Nursey, nosing into the side of Dex’s neck. “Nice save.”

Dex shrugs and feels Nursey’s head move with him. He has the weirdest sense that the two of them have become the same being, moving in tandem, breathing as one. “I wouldn’t mind doing dinner again,” he says. “Don’t want you to think it wasn’t a good date.”

Nursey frees his thumbs from where they’re tucked under his fingers and runs his hands lightly up and down Dex’s arms. “Well, I’m flattered,” he says. “Still. We’re just two college idiots, man, no need for fine dining just yet. Sorry.”

Annoyance sparks in Dex’s gut. He was starting to enjoy this, feels like he doesn't need to be reminded every five minutes of how sorry they both are about the whole thing. “Will you stop apologizing,” he groans, and goes to turn around, but Nursey’s massive hands clamp down swiftly on his arms, and he freezes in place.

“No,” Nursey says.

Dex’s heart is suddenly slamming against his ribs, just like that. Huh. Mood officially un-killed.

“As a matter of fact,” he continues, “I was thinking about how to make it up to you.”

Oh—oh.

Dex is not the poetry guy of the two of them, but Nursey makes him feel like that last long look before a kiss. Maybe they don’t make sense together. Maybe they’re only going to belong in each other’s lives for a little while. College relationships can be like that. But here, now, Dex is in the place where he and Nursey became a team twice, and that means something. Dex knows it does.

“Yes,” he says.

Nursey finally releases him and spins him around so they’re facing each other. He quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling, and the moon in his eyes is huge and bright.

“You didn’t even hear my proposition, Poindexter. I had this whole—”

Dex cuts him off with a kiss. The two of them together might not be logical or satisfying, but they’re a damn good twist ending, and besides. The night is young, and he knows what he wants.

When he says yes again, Nursey just shakes his head, laughs, and pulls him towards the tunnel to the locker room.

#will poindexter #derek nurse #nurseydex #omgcp #omgcheckplease #my writing #efickegster 2024 #this was such a fun one #i would really like to write the smut this was just getting too long #would def come back to this one #anyway ENJOY

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oinkinpigprince · 5 months

Note

Please PLEEAAASE more Charlie stuff…he’s my favorite banana man.

summ where the reader is an artist and likes to draw a lot, and usually keeps to themself? And maybe in terms of personality, they’re a comfortable in-between of Charlie and Pim. Definitely more grounded in reality and practical, but also prefers to expect only good outcomes in most situations. Sorry if this is a lot 💀 I get carried away

Why is he shaped that way?? He reminds me of like, an elephant seals. Giant nose, I kinda just want to grab it and wiggle it violently.

Charlie x reader

Realistic optimist! You two often debate I feel. Like pondering big questions like space, time, and the universe. Not in the spiritual way more of the logical way.

He really appreciates your perspective, he likes Pim and all but sometimes he can be a bit too, idealist. He’s happy you’re more grounded in reality

It makes conversations easier since you two can find more mutual grounding stuff he can’t believe in like destiny or spiritual stuff.

It took you two a while to actually start talking since you both keep to yourselves, you two probably met by chance or have been friends for a long time. Maybe a mutual friend introduced you two.

Finding out more about each other is probably what sparks your relationship, cause there’s so much you two can find out about each other

He can understanding wanting space and respects that, you two can keep your secrets and not know every little thing about each other. Although he can read you really good, seemingly being able to understand your feelings as well as his own

Charlie isn’t big on art, he enjoys it and all. depending on what type you make he’d think it’s really cool! If you show him your drawings he’ll just be like “oh that’s really cool” and as much as he likes it he can’t give better compliments cause he doesn’t know shit about art

If he tried he’s scared he’ll say something stupid and it doesn’t make sense, although he’ll try, you can’t just say “oh cool” to your partners cool art. “Oh I uh really like the,,,, lines?” “Oh thank you!” Oh he’s so glad he got it right

If you draw him he’s so flattered, he’ll keep it with him forever. Probably just forgot it in a drawer somewhere.

#smiling friends #smiling friends x reader #smiling friends headcanons #smiling friends x reader headcanons #charlie dompler #charlie dompler headcanons #charlie dompler x reader #charlie dompler x reader headcanons #smiling friends charlie x reader #smiling friends Charlie headcanons #smiling friends Charlie x reader headcanons #smiling friends Charlie dompler #smiling friends Charlie dompler x reader #smiling friends Charlie dompler headcanons #smiling friends Charlie dompler x reader headcanons

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nowoyas · 11 months

Text

Boiling Point 4: Finale - Miguel O'Hara x Reader (NSFW)

First - Prev - M.list - Ao3

A/N: by the power of banana pudding rum we got there. thanks for waiting and please enjoy!

Summary: We reach the part where you get what you want.

Notes: smut. this is the part with actual sex for real. uh biting mentions, blood drawn, etc.

Word Count: 2800

None of this has exactly been how you expected this night to go.

At any turn, you were expecting something else. Not eating sandwiches atop the Empire State building and sipping fountain drinks while you floated, quite frankly thinking you were out of your damn mind and dreaming some truly deranged shit, as Miguel acted exactly like normal in response to having discovered that your sex drive is basically controlled by whether or not he breathes in the same room as you on a given day.

By the time you've nearly finished your drink and near pulling off the lid to crunch the ice, mostly to have something to do with your mouth other than fuck up, Miguel lets out a heavy sigh.

Honestly, you're still stuck on the part where he knows. Clearly he's somewhere miles past you, speaking frankly, as though this is a normal conversation to be having. Just a Spiderman and the Spider belonging to this version of New York, far above the ground. You stare at the stars while he stares at the streets below.

"Are you understanding anything I've said to you? I'm starting to think you're not."

The ice cube cracks in your teeth. You spit it back into your cup to respond. "It's more like I think I'm being punked right now."

"Punked?" he repeats back. You wonder if that's because that's not a thing in Nueva York, or if it's because the idea is so stupid that he can't believe you've put it into the world in the first place. (It is, in fact, a little bit of both.)

You double down, because that is your best quality. "Yeah. Like, tricked? Pranked? You're sitting here having taken me out for chicken sandwiches in response to—hell, I don't think I can make myself say it out loud, but anyways you are Miguel O'Hara and it takes all the work in the world to not think of you by your full name every time because you're just that fucking amazing."

He lets you go on, watches you as you watch the stars. You pause to crunch another ice cube before continuing. "Like, I'm not sorry for thinking you're the hottest thing to walk any Earth. I am sorry you found out, because I can see how that would be uncomfortable to discover, but like. You are hot. I could go into excruciating detail, if you'd like, but I think that's a bit too much, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to be, like, normal?"

"You're not any less normal than anyone else we’ve brought into the multiverse," he says. "I am now completely convinced that you haven't been listening to anything I've said, though."

“I haven’t… not been listening?”

“Okay. Then, what have I been telling you?”

You thoughtfully crunch another ice cube.

“…shit.”

He sighs. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. I was hoping you would figure out you were being an idiot before you sent yourself spiraling directly into sub drop, but that clearly didn’t happen. As fun as it’s been watching you drive yourself insane, this isn’t how I wanted to see you fall apart.”

“…okay.” He’s watching your every movement, and you, in turn, are trying to control each one, down to whatever microexpressions you can. Part of you wants to cry from the embarrassment of it all. But dammit, you are not sitting at the top of this building to cry for once. “So… how did you want to see me fall apart?”

“I can show you.”

Please hold. Buffering.

“Okay!” It comes out a squeak, but this is not a man who has the time to let you cringe, apparently, because you’re suddenly being bodily lifted from your perch, your trash nearly forgotten except your quick thinking to web it to you. Responsible superheroes don’t leave their trash on skyscrapers.

“Limits?” he says as he carries you, so easily for a man only using one hand.

“What?”

“What are your limits? Dirty talk, biting…”

Oh. Your face flares hot. I think you’re finally starting to get it. Good for you. “Um. I don’t… like… assplay?”

He nods, not even looking down at you. That’s fair. He’s a little occupied with the web-swinging right now. Actually, it’s kind of fun to be carried like this, rather than being the one doing all the work. You should find some way to con him into carrying you around like this again sometime.

“I can work with that. Anything else?”

“Um… normally I like degradation, but maybe not right now?”

“Makes sense. Safeword?”

You’ve suddenly forgotten every semblance of a safeword you’ve ever known. Good going. 10/10.

“Pumpkin,” you blurt.

“Pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin.”

“You didn’t just make that up on the spot, did you?”

“Not that you can prove.”

He lets out a soft huff, more felt than heard, and lands on the roof of your building. “Not sure I want your neighbor listening in.”

Ah. Yeah. That… huh.

(You are so fucking eloquent.)

You flash a grin. “Yeah, uh, I think he’s been doing that for a while. I might move, actually. When I can afford it. Do you think this is… better?”

He sighs. “No. But I need a moment.”

“Oh, okay, I can—“

His lips crash down on yours, and fuck it, this clearly isn’t real, so of course you’re going to moan against his lips and kiss him right back. He’s so much bigger than you—all muscles and hard lines and, when he pulls back and you open your eyes, deep red eyes and sharp teeth.

He must like something he sees in the way his eyes roam over you, because he groans and drops his head a bit. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to not think about taking you like this?”

“Like what?” You do your best to sound innocent. It does something, a fact you’re proud to state you know from the way his clawed fingertips suddenly flex into your flesh.

…he is going to completely destroy you.

You, for one, are fully prepared for that outcome.

…probably.

Making out on the rooftop becomes making out in your bedroom becomes Miguel getting you out of your Spider suit in record time. (Maybe you’ll ask him for pointers after this, all things considered.) At least you’re not the only one getting surprised today—when he gets your top half bare and finds your tits bouncing free, not a bra in sight, there’s a growl passing his lips that leaves you shuddering.

“No bra?” His hand hovers over your breasts, as though waiting for permission.

You press your chest forward, right into his waiting hands. “Built into the suit.”

“That’s… dangerous.” His eyes are dark as they fixate on you, on the way your soft curves squish in his hands. “Have you ever worn a bra under the suit?”

You laugh, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No, sir, I haven’t. You find me a stretchy spandex that doesn’t show every line underneath and then we’ll talk about bras and underwear.”

Without another word, he grabs at the rest of the suit bunched around your waist and yanks down. You yelp as you move with the suit, as you go from “superhero” to “ass-naked” in one fell swoop. That’s just unfair.

Dark eyes search your face, just a moment, just long enough for him to take in wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever he’s looking for, clearly it satisfies him, because his next step is to jerk your hips up and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about why you thought a contract like that was a good idea?”

You refuse to meet his eyes. Large hands dig into the flesh of your thighs—not painful, not enough to bruise, but enough that you feel the tiniest pricks of his claws threatening to press in.

“Come on, cariño. I wasn’t asking.”

You throw your arms over your face, hide your eyes so you don’t have to look at him when you admit it. “…I kept overheating the motors in my vibrators.”

He startles you with a real, genuine laugh. “Really.”

“Yes!” You jerk to try to face him, which leaves you in a weird half-crunch position. “You’re… a lot, okay? And I’m not, like, constantly constantly thinking about sex, with you or anyone else, but you do shit that gets me started and then I can’t stop and—“

“There you go,” he purrs. “That’s a good girl.”

Your rambling cuts off into a low moan as he buries his face between your thighs at last. His tongue enters your core, his fingers toy with your clit, and he works you up just to the point that you actually contemplate murder when he pulls away.

“Miguel, I can’t keep doing this,” you whine, tears already springing to your eyes in response to yet another denial.

He shushes you, gentle. You do not want gentle.

If we’re being completely honest, if this man does not break you tonight, your body is going to completely atomize itself on the spot.

“Please,” you whine.

He quirks a brow you-ways. Tilts his head. “What are you asking me for?”

“Anything. Need to cum. Please.”

A soft laugh. “You need it?”

“Need it.”

His fingers brush against your core, and you whine out.

“Okay.”

You nearly cry—first at the feeling of his fingers entering you, the promise that this is finally over, you’re finally done breaking toys and breaking yourself just to do something right, now someone else gets to break you—then at how expertly he manages to bring you back to the brim with two thick fingers pumping into your heat.

“There you go. You’re doing so well. So, so well, cariño.”

You smile through your moans, meet his blazing eyes as he works your walls and your clit. You cum hard and fast, writhing around him until he has to put a firm hand down on your stomach to keep you still, and this time, you do cry—from release, from overstimulation, from the fact that you got here and you did it and you did so well.

He doesn’t stop when you stop to catch your breath. The swift removal of his fingers is replaced once again by his mouth, and you cry as he laps up the fluttering remains of your first orgasm in so, so long. A jerk of your hips from the contact has just the barest brush of his fangs teasing against your pussy, just enough to remind you that they’re there and you’re finally, finally getting what you need.

“miguel,” you breathe out in lowercase.

He groans against you, grips your thighs again, and this time he does leave thin red lines behind as he loses himself in your pussy.

The second time you cum, you haven’t quite stopped with the tears from the first. It’s almost everything you’ve dreamed of. You’ve dreamed of some weird shit, though, so basically it’s everything worth dreaming of.

And again he barely stops. He pulls away, yes, when your walls stop spasming around his tongue and your whining drops to low keens, and he repositions himself to fondle your flesh, to smooth a large hand over the plush of your tits and thumb lazily at a single nipple, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips. But he isn’t done, and he makes quite clear he isn’t done quite quickly.

Lips trail from yours to your neck, and when you reach down in hopes of finding the truth of his cock, he grabs your wrist and nips at your throat.

You do not bother trying to repress the shudder as his teeth graze you.

He sighs, nearly laughs. “You’re seriously turned on by these?” he asks, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“M-mhm. All of you.” Oh dear. You didn’t think you could get stupider, but somewhere between edges, you must have found a shovel and started digging. Poor you. “But I really like teeth. Used to be so into vampires. Werewolves. Anything with big teeth that could wreck me.” Okay, that’s enough. You can stop talking now.

Oh, thank fuck, he took his turn in the conversation. That was getting bad. “Guess you’re lucky, then.”

“So lucky.” You nod.

Another graze of his teeth, and then again he pulls away. Bastard. Like you haven’t been edged enough these past few weeks, through no fault or decision of your own. “You know I can’t bite you, right? Paralytic venom?”

“Like I can move after what you just did to me anyway?”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“I can tell.” He leaves you there on the bed, a bit limp from the double orgasm action, and removes his own suit, slow and careful. “Lucky for you, I wasn’t done yet. That was just the prep work.”

“Prep?”

Ah. He’s big. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Maybe you should have trained for this. He climbs right back on top of you, cock weighty where it rests on your stomach, and kisses you slowly. Almost loving, if you hadn’t known any better.

When he presses into you, it’s a stretch, big and sore and dragging out yet another whine from you. He shushes you gently, like this is something you’re supposed to be able to just push through, but he does and you do and when he bottoms out you’re honestly surprised he fits.

“There you go. There’s a good girl. Still doing good?”

No one here is completely sure whether you’re whimpering because his cock is finally inside of you or because of the pet name, but we’ll just say it was overstimulation and call it a day. You manage a nod, which has him arching his brow and holding very carefully still.

“I need a verbal answer, [name].”

“Still… still doing good. You’re good.”

“Okay.”

One slow, careful thrust turns into two turns into three turns into another, and you have to cling to him and claw just to find some sort of purchase before very long at all. By the time you’ve lost count, it’s more because you’ve lost your mind than anything. The overstim-sore gives way to a delicious stretch, and you’re sure you’re babbling something, though you’re pretty sure it’s just his name. That’s all that’s in your head, anyway.

What you know is this: his grip and his pace become bruising, at your enthusiastic pleading, and he fucks you until you don’t remember whether you came once or twice or stopped until he was done. You know that he pulls out, that he cums across your stomach in thick ropes. You know that he cleans you with a warm, damp cloth, tends carefully to the cuts on your thighs where his claws dug just a touch too deep. When you can sit up, you blearily take the kit from him and dab at the bits on his back where you managed to draw blood. Marks of your own left on his skin.

“You did good. Better than I was expecting, honestly.”

“You’re rude,” you shoot back with a sleepy-sounding laugh. “And big. And good.”

You’re not sure the etiquette here. In the light of no longer being mid-fuck, you cringe at the dance that socialization inevitably becomes. He’ll go back to his universe, and leave you here, and probably send Lyla to let you know of new assignments, but what do you do now except begrudgingly accept the chocolate he shoves in your mouth and make sure the cuts on his back are disinfected?

“Sorry about your thighs. That’ll sting for a while,” he says as you’re busily trying to memorize the muscles on his back.

“I’ll be fine. Quick healing and all that. Um…”

“I’ll do some work to figure out the venom thing, if you were serious about wanting me to bite you.”

“Of course I’m serious!” You squeak. “Your damned fangs were at least two of my casualties that started this whole thing!”

“Casualties?”

You fluster, turn away. “Yeah. Casualties.” A brief pause where it sinks in. “Wait. So you want to… do this again…?”

“Was that not clear? You’re a bright spot in the multiverse. If you’d just stop throwing yourself into stupid shit…”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m already perfect.”

“You are. I’m still not biting you without being absolutely sure I won’t kill you in the process.”

“Aw, that’s half the fun!”

He gives you a sharp look, and you cringe.

“Right. Yeah, I get it. Feel free to surprise me when you figure it out, though.”

He pulls you into his arms, and in his warmth you feel yourself finally relax a little bit.

“I think I’ll take you up on that one.”

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe @ambientcryptidsounds @roxannarichie @vegas-writing-den @cooch1ecruncher @bluepeanutharmony @instanttragedyfire @thesilenthill @topreice @rhae-blackqueen

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As always, thanks for reading! <3

#my fics #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara/reader #reader inserts

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