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cacoetheswriting · 2 years

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movie nights

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 3.3k warnings: the beginning of friends to lovers, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, kinda angsty, very fluffy, adult language, use of pet names (sweetheart), mild jealousy, mentions of food consumption, mentions of violence (in the movies they watch) - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything! summary: an unspecified amount of time in the lives of eddie munson and you, his best friend, as you watch various movies together

a/n: i wrote a similar concept fic for bucky barnes almost a year ago now - you can read it here if interested - and thought it was a cute idea to recreate with eddie .. enjoy!

edit: part two

“Hope you’re dressed, Munson, cause I’m coming in!”, you announce and without waiting for a response, you push Eddie’s bedroom door open using your side and step inside.

The curly haired teen is sat cross legged on his bed, nose buried in the latest issue of Hot Press magazine. He flicks the booklet closed when you appear, a hearty smile gracing his features.

“Mark my words, one of these days I will actually be naked,” Eddie titters, carefully placing the magazine on his nightstand before looking back at you, “What are you gonna do then, hmm?”

You laugh. “Maybe that’s what I’m counting on. Did you ever consider that, hmm?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at your mocking tone. “You couldn’t handle me, sweetheart.”

“Cocky.”

Your best friend smirks. He lifts his arms in an over-exaggerated strongman motion, buffing up his chest as he pretends to place a kiss to each of his biceps.

It was your turn to roll your eyes. Taking out the pencil you had placed behind your ear earlier at work, you chuck it at him.

Eddie catches it (of course), which only boosts his ego.

Proceeding to do a theatrical bow, the dark-eyed boy then hops off the bed and takes a step in your direction. Smiling like an idiot, he places the semi-sharp object back where you took it from, his thumb caressing your cheek in the process.

“You could have taken out my eye with that thing,” he dramatised, his hands now cupping your face.

“Good thing you’re so alert, Munson,” you tease back sarcastically.

Eddie smirks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. One of his arms travels around your neck, pulling you in for a hug, while the other drops down to your side. He then went on to squeeze you tight, shaking you a little from left to right.

“You’re insufferable,” Eddie mutters into your hair.

“Oh because being your best friend is such a piece of cake,” you reply while returning his embrace.

Laughing, he gently pinches your side before eventually letting his arms fall. He leans against the edge of his bed, fiddling with the rings on his fingers.

“So, what’s new?”

“I got it,” you announce in response, the smile circling your lips growing wider by an inch.

“You got it?” Eddie’s eyes light up.

Nodding excitedly, you reach into your backpack and carefully withdraw a VHS player.

“Ta-da!”

“Yes!” Eddie exclaims, hands reaching for the item in your grip, “Thank youuu Harrington!”

He ran his fingers across the faded black plastic and manoeuvres around you to head for the trailer’s living room. You follow closely behind.

“Harrington? Seriously?! Do you know what I had to do to get this?!”

Eddie shruggs, entirely focused on the player itself and not really caring about how you came to have it in your possession. He kneels down in front of the TV and begins scouring through the cables to set everything up.

You drop your bag, eyes glued to the back of Eddie’s head.

“You mean to tell me you don’t want to know how Steve would only agree to lend me the VHS if I went on a date with him?”

That regained his attention. Uhm, what the fuck did you just say?

Delicately, he places the player down next to the television and focuses his gaze back on your frame. He follows you around the room until you reach the couch and plop down with a little bounce.

“Harrington asked you out?”

You nod, making yourself comfortable.

Eddie arched a brow while standing back up. “And what did you say?”

Slightly confused by the point of his question, you point to the VHS. “Well, we have the thing so what do you think I said?”

He crossed his arms then quickly uncrossed them. He seemed uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable.

“You said yes?” A hint of disdain is detectable in the teens voice, even though he tried to mask it as best he could.

You nod again. “This Friday, whenever he gets out of work.”

Eddie’s fist now mimicking a dagger, he jabs his heart. Twice.

A giggle escapes your lips as you watch him stumble dramatically towards you. He drops, burying his face in one of the cushions.

“I can’t believe it,” he exhales and turns, placing one hand on his stomach while the other tangles itself in his brown locks.

“What? Is he out of my league or something?”

“No, no, no…” Eddie shakes his head, not daring to look at you right now because how in the hell could he explain why exactly he had a problem with you going on a date with Steve. “He’s just… Harrington, and you’re—”

“Tread carefully,” you interrupt with a moderate tease, earning yourself an amiable nudge to the side.

There was a brief moment of silence. Everything felt really tense all of a sudden. The laughter dies down. All you could hear was Eddie’s deep breaths and your own beating heart.

Eventually, the doe-eyed boy nudges you again.

“Just be careful to not catch any cooties,” Eddie pokes fun while standing back up, but before you get a chance to respond with your own witty remark, he lifts two tapes he had sourced earlier. “So, what do we feel like tonight, ‘Valley of the Dolls’ or ‘Rosemary’s Baby’?”

THE SHINING

The room was pitch black, the only flicker of light came from the screen your eyes were currently fixated on.

You were scared, creeped out more so, but you didn’t want to admit it. Nope. Not after you spent the entire week boasting about how you’ve already seen ‘The Shining’ and it wasn’t as bad as everyone always made it out to be.

In your defence however, and in hindsight probably something you should have mentioned to Eddie when he made plans to watch this particular film, the first and last time you put on ‘The Shining’ you skipped through all the parts that made you uncomfortable.

‘Wendy? Darling? Light of my life.’

Holding your breath, you shuffle closer to Eddie and snake one arm through his. With your free hand, you pull the blanket up higher and rest your face against your best friend.

‘I’m not gonna hurt ya.’

The curly haired teen sneaks a peek at you, fighting back a smirk since he knew you were full of shit. “Pleaseee, ‘The Shining’ is barely a horror.”, says the girl who just about made it through ‘The Birds’.

‘You didn’t let me finish my sentence. I said, I’m not gonna hurt ya.’

Although he had to be honest (at least with himself). He usually picks out horrors or thrillers or anything with jump scares because he knows you will act all high and mighty before eventually cuddling up to him. Even though he would never admit it out loud, Eddie liked when you held onto him as if he was your protector.

‘I’m just going to bash your brains in.’

“Jesus Christ,” you exhale sharply.

Eddie lets out a quiet laugh. “We can turn it off,” he offers, “Just say the word, sweetheart.”

He can feel you shake your head against him. “It’s not that bad.”

Rolling his eyes at your response — because he knew you were lying through your teeth — Eddie sinks deeper into the sofa so that he would be on your face level. Turning to look at you, and getting slightly mesmerised by how the glimmer from the television illuminates your features perfectly, he taps your nose to grab your attention.

“You never told me about your date with Harrington.”

You string your brows together. “You really want to talk about this now?” The question came out in a mere whisper, your voice almost over powered by the screaming coming from the film.

“Colour me curious,” Eddie replies.

Using the hand that currently wasn’t intertwined with his, you gently brush through his curly fringe. Slowly, you loop a single dark strand around your finger and let it go straight away. You repeat the action again, feeling his curious eyes burn into you, patiently waiting for an answer.

You smile eventually.

“He’s no Eddie Munson.”

And with that, you let your hand fall and your focus shifts to the television once again. You place your head on his shoulder, just below his chin, and wrap your free arm around his chest.

Eddie on the other hand was completely frozen because WHAT THE FUCK DID THAT MEAN.

GREMLINS

“Think I know what to get you for your birthday, sweetheart.”

“Munson, I swear—”

“What?” Eddie interrupts, playing dumb, “You don’t think a little Gremlin plushie would be cute? Just sitting on the edge of your bed?”

You shudder. “Gross… No!”

He laughs. “That’s too bad.”

THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW

Eddie was sitting on the floor, his back resting against the sofa, legs spread out in front, while his heart was in his fucking throat because you were currently settled comfortably in his lap.

To be fair, the position was not intended as anything more than friendly. After all, that’s all the two of you were: friends. Plus it’s not like he could really complain. He found himself in this predicament by his own accord when he agreed, like many times before, to let you do his makeup.

“You’re gonna look so fucking hot as Frank N. Furter.”, were your exact words and Eddie couldn’t argue with hot. He couldn’t argue with anything you said. Or rather he didn’t want to.

The film was playing quietly in the background, the scene with Janet and Rocky in the tank renders on the television screen, as you work your magic.

“Do you think this will increase my chances in the dating pool or will people think I’m even more of a freak?”

Eddie tries to crack a joke, but the question came out a little too quiet. A hint of concern is detectable in his voice.

Stopping in your tracks, you place three fingers to his temple, careful as to not poke his eye with the end of the brush, and force him to look at you.

“You’re not a freak, Eddie.”

With the way you were looking at him right now, your expression is soft and kind, he almost believes it.

“Yeah, in your eyes.”

“Does anybody else matter?”

The answer is no. You both knew it but neither dares to say it out loud.

“Tell that to your ex-boyfriend,” he scoffs instead.

“Who? Andy?”

Eddie bops his head and you roll your eyes.

“You really shouldn’t listen to a word he says. Andy is nothing but a huge dick, ” you ramble, one hand on the edge of his neck, fidgeting with the collar of his Hellfire t-shirt. “Which is ironic considering—”

You bite your tongue, albeit a little too slowly because your always alert best friend catches onto exactly what you wanted to say. His eyes instantly light up just like a little kids’ during Christmas morning.

“You mean?” Eddie lifts one hand and uses two fingers to indicate a probable size. The corners of your lips twitch upwards into a goofy smile.

“More like…” You reach for his index finger and push it closer to his thumb.

Eddie tries to suppress his giggles but is more than unsuccessful and loud chuckles laced with amusement at the matter carry throughout the trailer. The sound was honestly infectious and it doesn’t take long for you to join in, ‘Rose Tint My World’ playing in harmony.

As the song concludes, so do the giggles.

Still grinning from ear to ear, and a little lost in the comfort of the moment, Eddie intertwines his fingers with yours unintentionally, although very naturally. The cool from one of the metal rings he was wearing sent a modest shiver down your spine in the process.

Glancing at your hands together, you feel a flutter in your stomach. You hadn’t really noticed, until this moment, how perfectly they fit together, like two puzzle pieces. Was that odd? It had to be, right? He was your best friend, nothing else—

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice soft yet elated, breaking you away from your thoughts instantly, “God, you don’t know just how badly I needed that information in my life.”

You lean in a little closer. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

His gaze shifts to your lips momentarily and he swallows.

Now this was odd.

Doing your best to ignore whatever it was you were currently feeling, you let go of his hand and use one finger to tilt his chin up towards the light.

“If you like how you look, I think we have your Halloween costume sorted out.”

Eddie smirks. “Only if you go as Janet.”

“Deal.”

CRUISING

“This is terrible,” Eddie mutters halfway through, hand sinking into the bag of Jelly Babies you are holding between the two of you.

Shrugging against him, you pop a sweet into your mouth. “True but at least Al Pacino looks good,” you state, causing the curly haired teen to roll his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I think I’m arguably better looking than Al Pacino,” he states confidently and tilts his head to gauge your reaction.

You meet his gaze. “I never said you weren’t.”

ROMAN HOLIDAY

The chosen film plays on low volume, shedding some light throughout the otherwise dull trailer living area. A sudden increase in brightness causes Eddie to stir in his spot on the sofa, eyes fluttering open. Shit, how long was he asleep for?

‘Mr. Bradley, if you don’t mind my saying so, I think you are a ringer.’

‘Oh- wha-? Oh. Thanks very much.’

Eddie tries to sit up, the first thought is to apologise to you for dozing off, but something is weighing him down. His vision adjusts to his surroundings and he looks down at his lap to determine the cause behind his restricted movement.

‘You spent the whole day doing things I've always wanted to. Why?’

In that moment, Eddie’s heart skips a beat.

Your eyes were shut. Your head is resting just above his knees and you have one arm draped over both his legs, holding onto him.

‘I don't know. Seemed the thing to do.’

A smile tugs at Eddie’s lips. God, you looked so peaceful and so fucking beautiful. The flickers from the TV bounce off, what he truly believes, are your already perfect features. He loses himself momentarily, like so many times before.

‘I never heard of anybody so kind.’

He sighs, would you ever believe him if he told you just how beautiful he thought you were?

‘Wasn't any trouble.’

With his gaze still fixated on you, Eddie reaches for his jacket and carefully, so as not to wake you, he drapes it over your shoulders.

‘Also completely unselfish.’

You hum soundly, although still sleeping, and when Eddie is sure you aren’t about to wake up, he places one hand on arm before closing his eyes once again.

THE NEVERENDING STORY

As the credits roll across the screen, Eddie hops off the sofa and walks towards the refrigerator.

“I cannot believe this is Henderson’s favourite film,” he states, leaning on the open door and scrummaging in search of something to eat.

You roll your eyes. “It’s something he shares with his girlfriend. I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you would say that.” Eddie counters before adding, “Do you want to order a pizza?”

Stringing your brows together, you ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He closes the fridge and shifts to lean against the counter before looking at you. “Nothing bad, sweetheart.” Eddie affirms, “Just that your judgement is easily clouded by the aspect of love.”

A scoff escapes your lips as you stand and head for the landline, first skimming through the Yellow Pages in search for the number of the local pizzeria.

“Why is that such a bad thing? Love is perhaps the most magnificent feeling a person can experience.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. Rather, he hangs his head low and begins to fidget with the hem of his denim vest. Would this be a completely terrible time to admit he’s only ever been in love with—

Entirely too focused on dialling the number and ordering a large margherita pizza for the two of you to share, you don’t notice the sudden change in his demeanour, not at first anyway. Only when you hang up the phone and focus your attention on the doe-eyed teen once again, you realise you must have said something wrong.

But what?

So you move to stand in front of him, ducking in order to find yourself in his field of vision. “Everything alright, Munson?”

He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even meet your gaze.

Perplexed, you straighten and change position to lean against the counter next to him, your arm pressing into his ever so slightly.

A heavy and overbearing silence settles in the air.

For an unpleasant amount of time, everything seems awkward and ominous. Even though your bodies are touching, he’s oddly distant, as if he was aching to be anywhere but here. During all this time that you’ve been friends with Eddie, you’ve never felt these things around him. What the hell was going on?

There’s a knock on the door. The sound breaks Eddie out of his trance and he leaves his spot beside you to answer it.

While he pays and thanks the delivery guy, you’re glancing at your feet, your mind racing in search of an explanation for this weird atmosphere because you really didn’t think you said anything to warrant his unusual behaviour.

After shutting the door, Eddie strides back to his previous spot and places the box on the counter. He doesn’t open it though. Instead, he reaches for your wrist and gently pulls you towards him.

His arms make their way around your frame, making home on the small of your back as he gives you a light squeeze. The sudden show of affection confuses you, but you don’t dwell on it for too long as your muscles loosen and you let yourself completely sag into his surprisingly affectionate embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie eventually mutters into your hair before pulling back slightly to take a peek at your face.

“I feel like I should be the one to apologise,” you say quietly but he shakes his head against yours.

The two of you stand like that for a minute, embracing one another. Both are slightly afraid to let go because with every passing second, little by little, the situation becomes slightly more clear: there is so much still to say yet no courage on either part to do so.

As his fingers rub circles into your back, yours mess with the ends of his brown curls. Then his name escapes your lips quietly, almost as if it wasn’t supposed to. “Eddie?”

“Mhm?”

“The food is going to get cold,” you murmur and he lets out a giggle, letting his arms fall to his side.

Leaning forwards, he delicately places a kiss to your forehead before shifting in his spot to open the pizza box. The feeling of his lips against your skin lingers and even though he’s done that action many times before - kiss your forehead - you can’t help but feel like this time it was different.

“I think we need to pick our own movie,” Eddie suggests, advertently changing the topic, “Just like Dustin and his girlfriend, only something far less cheesy and dumb.”

You watch him take a slice and a smile tugs at your lips. He meets your elated gaze while taking a bite and raises a brow.

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, mouth full of food.

You nod. “I like that idea.”

He returns your blissful expression and pushes the pizza box slightly towards you. “The food is going to get cold,” he repeats and you grab a slice.

A warm feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. Perhaps different was okay. Perhaps it was more than okay.

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shigure · 2 years

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we've gone a decade without any major technological revolutions. we've had big changes, lots of refinement, fancier cartridges, newer programs. but the most impactful changes have been big companies deciding to switch to subscription service, with all of us powerless to stop them.

in the meantime, every day is the newest tech revolution. someone's started a new a.i. program. someone's designed an app to communicate with your team called teekup. it doesn't work. samsung has released a new phone, apple has released a new statement that they will be further taking away user privacy protections. we're oversaturated with ideas. not thinking ideas, just desperate vying for marketability. and the sick part is, even though all these people being interviewed about their new revolutionary product may as well have been built in a lab, they probably will starve if it doesn't go viral. they don't even have the creative freedom to give up on their idea. their best bet is delusion that they're offering a public service.

it's really not a surprise that nfts have taken off on the more corporate side of social media. techies need a new messiah. crypto saps need to believe some new shiny thing will somehow resuscitate their wallets. facebook's marketing team can't help but pray that they'll be able to sell something with the equivalent pull of bitmojis but for people under 40. and it's so easy to make them. you can just make a bunch of them. maybe one of them will sell, maybe not, but then you can give them away for free and lie to your boss that this counts as engagement. after the past few decades of the tech sector loudly trying to find a way to euthanize artists on the whole, this could be their big break.

everyone knows art doesn't pay. did you know law doesn't either? it used to be that companies would just hire hundreds of lawyers just in case, and you wouldn't have to do much of anything to get a fat paycheck. after the 2008 crash, these companies started downsizing, and asked if they really needed all these lawyers. so they fired them. haha! sucks to be them, these corporate lawyers leeching, now without a job and nobody is hiring. serves them right for hating art. for looking down on everyone else. if you were in law school in 2008, going in because your parents wanted you to make something of yourself, you left with no prospects. you worked at the apple store for a year, with a law degree. maybe someone came in that said all lawyers are liars, and maybe he's right, and maybe you would have looked down on him if you'd graduated five years earlier. but right now you're replacing his charging cable.

the crash didn't un-crash. nothing fixed itself. moderately well off people found new ways of not working, poor people got sick and died. uber started up, telling everyone they could be trendy and make money. airbnb started up, and the demand for housing just increased - not to live in, just to sell again and make money off of. we're still in the pit, and companies are starting to ask if they really need that many programmers. you went into tech because it would make money, and your parents wanted you to make something of yourself, and you're grappling with the despair of being a perfectly normal person in a world where only sterile talent seems to matter. of course you need ai art. of course you need nfts. tech was your path to literally just living comfortably. in 8 months you're going to be out of a job.

the apple store is still hiring.

#AVERAGE DOG OPINION

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oreoambitions · 1 year

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The thing about Lena, Kara thinks to herself as she strolls down Main Street with her hands shoved in her pockets, is that she wants to seem tough. That's the problem in a nutshell. And anyone else here in Midvale would tell you that it's just a city thing, that all the city kids want to seem tough, that Lena is no exception, but Kara doesn't think that's true. Well, okay, she knows it's true. But with Lena, it's something else. Something deeper. Something maybe related to the way that Lena has withdrawn into herself day by day as Midvale has begun to dress itself up for the holidays.

But Kara can do I'm-so-tough. She can do I-hate-Christmas, and she can do I-don't-believe-in-fun because at this time of the year she can do anything and get through to anyone. A little bit of light, a little bit of magic... maybe a little bit of love. That's how Christmas goes, right? Especially in a place like Midvale.

Kara likes to think of Midvale as a postcard town: the kind of town folks are only ever passing through on their way up and down the coast, a scenic detour, a cozy place to spend the night or just the afternoon before you move along. It's a place where time seems to have come to a standstill or at least a crawl, where it was a big deal when the first (and only) Starbucks opened, where nothing at all is open after 8pm, and you'd be hard pressed to run any errands on a Sunday, and you'd better not let Mrs. Nal catch you doing anything untoward or you can expect you'll be the topic of every conversation in or out of church for the next week or so at least. Kara would know; she's been the talk of the town on more than one occasion.

But these last several weeks the talk of the town has been the young woman who pulled up one evening in a car worth probably more than every vehicle on Main Street put together and strolled into the aforementioned Starbucks in a beat up hoodie sporting red rimmed eyes and trembling hands to ask the barista whether possibly anyone had a spare phone cable. She didn't want to bother anyone, only she'd left Metropolis in a hurry and forgotten hers and without GPS she didn't have any idea where she might stop to purchase one. She'd slid a hundred dollar bill across the counter as payment for the manager's beat up old charger and rolled right back out of town before anyone could tell her just how far from home she was.

Only then she'd rolled back into town some six hours later and booked herself into the bed and breakfast. And then she hadn't left.

The Danvers have assured Kara that in all the years Eliza and Jeremiah have run the bed and breakfast, and all the years Jeremiah's parents ran it before that, stretching back all the dusty decades since Midvale was founded, they have never had a longterm guest, no sir. It has simply never happened before. Kara doubts the veracity of such a statement but it has been delivered to her with all the solemn weight of sacred fact, and so she's taken it in stride - something which Alex seems to have found suspicious. And, true, on another occasion Kara might have been found elbow deep in records on a personal mission to prove that Jeremiah has pulled this particular historical "factoid" from some place the sun don't shine, but, well, she's been a little distracted these past weeks. Distracted by sad green eyes and coy smiles and the overwhelmingly mysterious circumstances that have delivered Lena directly into Kara's home.

Unfortunately Eliza has strictly forbidden Kara from asking the hundred and one questions perpetually on the tip of her tongue, and Kara's objections that she's twenty four now and she'll ask her questions if she so pleases haven't actually outweighed the sense that, at least where Eliza is concerned, she ought to do as she's told. So she's restrained herself. And as the weeks have gone by, she and Lena have fallen into an amicable, if not entirely comfortable, routine.

Kara serves Lena breakfast in the dining room with the other guests at precisely 8:15 every morning: two poached eggs with avocado on a thick slice of Winn's sourdough bread, a cup of coffee (black, diluted with hot water), and a side of roasted vegetables (no potatoes). Every morning Lena invites Kara to join her at the table, though Kara only does so when there are no other guests around to serve. They eat - together or not - in a silence broken only by small talk and the occasional lingering gaze when one catches the other looking until, at precisely 9:15, Lena excuses herself to seek out Eliza and enquire after the availability of another night's lodging. She pays in cash, one day at a time, without fail. She and Kara see one another again on the stairs, Kara on her way out to work a shift at the library and Lena on her way back up to her room. A small smile passes between them, affectionate and familiar, and Kara thinks perhaps... But no, the moment has passed and they've gone their separate ways for another day.

Kara has resolved that this pattern will not repeat itself again. Not now, not when Midvale is draped in heavy golds and greens, when the smell of Christmas pastry is wafting through the streets, when the trickle of seasonal tourists is threatening to become a thunder which will by necessity pry Kara's attention away. Not now when Lena is withdrawing further and further, when those lingering glances at breakfast seem to be few and far between, and it seems the onslaught of Christmas cheer is threatening to drive Lena out of Midvale altogether. If Kara is going to get through to her, today is the day.

She swings into J'onn's diner with a determined expression, sidestepping the younger Arias who has eyes these days only for her iphone and not so much for where she's going. J'onn is predictably behind the counter; Kara isn't sure he's taken a day away from the diner in all the time she's known him.

"I need two to go mugs of Bad Day Danvers Brew," she tells him. "It's urgent."

He plops two large paper cups down onto the counter almost before she's done asking. "I thought your sister was on duty tonight."

"She was. Is. It's not- It's for me."

"I don't suppose this has anything to do with a certain green eyed young lady from out of town."

It's not really a question the way J'onn says it but Kara somehow still feels pressured to answer. She flushes, turns away, scans the room. The dinner rush hasn't quite arrived. J'onn bustles about behind the counter without further comment, though he does arch an accusatory brow when Kara meets his eyes again.

"You do know," he says as he slides the drinks across the counter, "She's going to leave this place. She may not be ready yet, but the day is coming."

Kara frowns at him. "Leave is a four letter word."

"L - e - a -"

"You know what I mean."

"Maybe you should consider it too. Whole world out there waiting for you, Little Danvers. Seems a shame not to go out and see it."

Kara thinks for a moment of this world as she saw it first: a little marble hanging in a black sea, so fragile and small, so far away from home. Midvale is home now, and she'll be damned if she's going to leave it behind. She forces a smile for J'onn's sake.

"I'm right where I'm supposed to be," she says. She tries to pay him for the drinks. As he has a hundred times before, he turns her money away. Kara slips the cash into the tip jar on her way out the door.

When she gets home it's to the smell of apple pies bubbling in the oven and the sound of some old 50's Christmas record playing almost too loud for Jeremiah's battered old bluetooth speaker and hardly loud enough to compete with Jeremiah himself. Kara creeps up the stairs two at a time, one Bad Day Danvers Brew clutched in either hand, quiet quiet quiet. If Eliza catches her she'll try to put her to work and Kara isn't sure she can explain exactly what she means when she says she's too "busy" right now to help out.

She occupies herself with that thought, thinking up excuses for Eliza, each one more improbable than the last, and then she finds herself standing in front of Lena's door. She feels suddenly grimy, foolish, clumsy. What she hasn't considered in all her planning for this moment is that with both hands occupied she can hardly knock on Lena's door, and with her heart pounding an urgent rhythm in her chest and her body trembling with something that is distinctly not fatigue Kara doesn't trust herself to tuck one of the drinks into the crook of her arm.

So she does what any sane person would do: she kicks the door. Gently. As gently as she possibly can, but it still feels brutish and Kara winces as the sound of it tumbles down the hall to clash with Jeremiah's crooning and the roar of the vacuum cleaner in the foyer. Grimy, foolish, clumsy. But then the door swings open and all such thoughts fall from Kara's mind.

She has words picked out for this moment but they don't come to her. Lena stands in the doorway in jeans and a cardigan and socks that have bumble bees on them and Kara feels like she needs just a moment but the moment is already passing. Green eyes search hers, curious, bemused. Kara wants to reach out and tuck that stray lock of hair away, but-

The drinks. Right. "I brought refreshments," she says, proferring the paper cups. "For us," she adds, in case it isn't clear.

Lena reaches out for one of the cups, hesitant, then pries the lid off to take a whiff. "Hot chocolate?"

Kara wants to melt on the spot but she sticks to her guns. "It's special hot chocolate," she clarifies. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go. She had this exchange all planned out, there were contingencies, it was all perfect and here she is muddying it all up. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight."

"Like on a date?"

Oh, Rao. Kara's eyes drops to Lena's mouth without her say so and then they travel a little further south to the line of that cardigan and she swallows. "No," she forces out, "like on a walk?"

There's a long pause and then Lena laughs. "You're really very charming, Danvers," she says, and Kara feels an unexpected thrill at the sound of her last name in Lena's mouth. "Let me just get my sweater."

"You're already-" Kara starts, but the door clicks shut before she can finish. "Wearing a sweater," she mumbles to herself.

Lena emerges some minutes later, just when Kara is beginning to get fidgety. She's thrown on a hoodie which is perhaps a size too big and a pair of converse rather the worse for wear and Kara isn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this. Which is not to say that she doesn't like it. Lena licks her lips and fixes Kara with a pointed look.

"There is whisky in that hot chocolate," she says.

Kara shrugs. "I did say it was special."

They make it down the stairs and out of the bed and breakfast without Eliza noticing, though Kara is all but certain Jeremiah saw them leave together and will have Questions with a capital Q about it later. The sun is just now sinking below the horizon as the two of them turn down Main Street, ducking around Mr. Schott who is occupying most of the sidewalk with a rickety old ladder in an attempt to install another strand of lights above the toy store window. Already the street lamps bear oversized red bows and long, heavy pine garlands, and it will be only a matter of days now before every storefront from here to the edge of town is bright and warm and magical. Kara takes it all in with a growing smile. Lena takes it in with an expression that borders on an outright scowl.

"So are we going anywhere in particular?" Lena asks. They duck around a knot of visitors asking after a table at the brewery and for an instant Kara is almost certain she feels Lena's fingers brush hers.

"We are," Kara admits. And then, because she doesn't want to give away their destination, she adds, "You don't like Christmas."

Lena grimaces and takes a long sip of the Bad Day Danvers Brew. "I wouldn't say that I don't like Christmas."

"But?"

"But I've never been festive. And this year..."

Kara's mind fills in the words that Lena doesn't say: This year it's hard. Hard to see the joy and the magic and the laughter all around when you're alone and far from home. Well, Kara knows a thing or two about that. She takes a sip of her own drink and, resolutely, carefully, looking straight ahead, she reaches out to touch Lena's hand, so gentle it could have been an accident.

"This year you have me," Kara says. She's shocked the line comes out of her mouth as smoothly as it does. Her heart is so far up her throat she almost fears she'll choke on it.

Lena steps in closer until Kara swears she can feel the heat radiating between them even through both of Lena's sweaters and her own Christmas flannel. They walk in silence for a block or so, shoulders bumping once in a while, before Lena asks, "Do you have any favorite holiday traditions?"

Kara shrugs. "I like the carols. Jeremiah and I always go out caroling on Christmas eve. Oh! And the cookies. Pie for breakfast on Christmas morning."

Lena laughs at that. "Pie for breakfast? Lilian - my step mother - she'd have a fit."

"Well you can have pie with us this year if you want; I promise not to tell Lilian a thing. If you're still hanging around."

Lena looks at her sharply and then looks away, leaving Kara to feel silent and small and a little rejected. But Lena touches Kara's wrist as they move through the crowd and then, when Kara doesn't pull away, she takes her hand.

"Christmas is always an important social event for my family," Lena says. She glances at Kara as if to check that she's listening and then away again so quickly that Kara almost wonders if she imagined it. "Everything has to be perfect. The food, the decorations, the music. The family. And it's beautiful, really. Imagine a pine tree towering up to the very rafters, all the ornaments carefully curated and arranged, and a cellist flown in from Italy perches in the corner playing O Come Emmanuel while the city's elite pass through pretending to enjoy bite sized Christmas pastries prepared overnight by a team flown in from France. I suspect it would feel magical if it weren't so much work. It's hard to enjoy the magic when you're a part of it. Especially as a child."

Kara frowns. Her fingers tighten around Lena's, tugging her ever forward towards the Christmas tree in the center of town. She's thinking of Krpyton, of a perfect family, a perfect people, and a perfect world crumbling under the veneer. But she can't say that to Lena, so she flashes her a bright smile instead and says, "In Midvale, everyone who wants to gets to put an ornament on the town tree."

"Everyone? That doesn't seem practical. There have to be, what, at least a thousand people living here."

Kara nods. "Yeah. Not everyone participates, but most people. And of course that means the tree isn't curated like your family's, but it's got a special kind of magic to it. The kind you get when you aren't trying to make magic follow the rules."

There is a sort of comedic timing, as this is the moment Kara steps over the low fence with the sign that reads "do not walk on the grass" and tugs a protesting Lena after into the shade - or, in this case, the light - of the Midvale tree.

"Rules," Lena is saying, "Generally exist for a reason, and when you break them willy nilly you don't get magic, you get chaos. It's important to- Wait, is this your Christmas tree?"

"Yep," Kara says. She reaches out to press a hand to the trunk and then stares up at the tiny golden lights wound among the branches with care, ornaments dangling here and there, some homemade and some not. She's definitely not supposed to get this close to it but, well, it's Alex on duty tonight and she doubts her sister is about to arrest her for trying to make a move on a pretty girl. "This is the one."

"But it's an oak tree," Lena observes. She steps up beside Kara to touch the trunk.

"Couple hundred years old, or so they told us in middle school," Kara says. "She's a gorgeous tree, isn't she? Not a pine and not perfect, but. Our own kind of magic." Then she grimaces. "Sorry; I'm being terribly cheesy right-"

"Did you know that mistletoe often grows in the California oak?" Lena interrupts.

Kara falters. She did know that, but this tree is carefully tended. No mistletoe here. She opens her mouth to say so when Lena holds up a finger to stop her again.

"To be perfectly clear I'm suggesting that we kiss here under this tree. Because you're charming and a little over the top and I hate that I love your Christmas flannel and I would very much like to have pie with you on Christmas morning. So if you'd like we can pretend there's mistletoe in the Midvale Christmas tree. It would be a very reasonable mistake; mistletoe really does grow on-"

Kara kisses her. The surprised gasp that falls from Lena's lips almost makes her laugh, but this is a serious moment so she tries to keep it in. She's got only one hand to work with - the other is still holding her Bad Day Danvers Brew - so she slides it around Lena's waist to pull her closer, and it's her turn to gasp when Lena tilts her head to slide her tongue along Kara's bottom lip.

Someone on the sidewalk cheers, and that is when Lena drops her drink. And then they do laugh together there under the tree, spiked hot chocolate splattered over the bottom of Lena's pants, Kara pressing her own drink into Lena's hands, and the sound of Mrs. Nal nearby screeching about public indecency while James tells her to go suck an egg. The two of them will be the talk of the town for weeks. Certainly through New Years. Kara doesn't think she minds.

#this is a repost #but I can't find my original post to repost it #so #here you go #xmas #ficlet #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #xmas au

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Text

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: I have girlies helping me out, telling me what LFF is like, telling me what parts of being a PA are realistic - it's amazing! Thank you so much for reaching out, it helps a lot! Here's part two!

Wordcount: 2.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Um, oh my God?”

Your eyes were pulled up towards the high ceilings in Joe’s hallway, peering up the stairs that curled ‘round at the top. Down the hall you could see into the kitchen, and you assumed that the door on the side lead into the living room.

Joe placed your suitcase down at the bottom of the stairs and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yea, I know,” he looked almost guilty for how nice this house was.

“Is this all Stranger Things money?”

Joe bit both his lips into his mouth, made big eyes and didn’t answer. Though, he did, because those eyes spoke volumes. This was all Stranger Things money.

“Holy fuck,”

“Wait ‘til you see upstairs,”

Joe was right. The upstairs was insane, because that’s where the newly redone bathrooms were. They had deep tubs, and shower heads the size of pizzas that stuck out from the ceiling. Joe showed you around, and although you marveled at every room, Joe had been right about the mess and lack of furniture too. Most rooms were empty, just had boxes in, and it kind of looked like no one really lived there at all.

Except for the guest room. Your room.

“I’ve got to stop saying oh my God, but, oh my God?”

It kind of felt like you walked into a very fancy hotel suite. Tall headboard, wide dresser, lush curtains and big doors to an inbuilt wardrobe that Joe walked towards to open.

“Look,”

They’d redone it to have a desk inside. A little office nook, so you could hide all of the work mess by closing the doors before you’d go to bed. The room was large enough to have its own little seating area too, without it looking silly or overcrowded.

On the dresser they’d left you what could only be described as a care-package, except it spanned the whole surface area of it. Packets of crisps laid next to bottles of water, and perfume samples laid next to make-up wipes, and skin care laid next to spare phone chargers.

“If there’s anything else you need, just let me know,” Joe said, and you scoffed at him.

“I think you’ll find it’s the other way around for the next five days,”

“Oh, yea, you’re right,” Joe laughed at himself. He’d never really had someone new as a personal assistant before. Not like this, anyway.

You took another look around, walked around to see the ensuite and sighed.

“Could I not move in permanently? Shit, this is gorgeous,”

Also, Joe was gorgeous. But, you know, you were a professional. Kept the compliments for the inanimate objects rather than, you know, his ass.

“I know,” Joe laughed. “Come see my bedroom, it’s ridiculous compared to this,”

Up another flight of stairs, you stepped into a comically large space that made one of the larger pieces of furniture – his bed – look absolutely tiny.

“What the fuck,”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Joe scrunched his face, and you would've laughed at it, but the room really eyed kind of... sad.

The space itself? Beautiful.

Pretty much the size of your full flat. But this reached Airbnb levels of bad. Zero personality. No curtains on the windows. One bedside table, on the left. Two big, opened suitcases on the floor with clothes spilling out. Not even proper bedding on the bed. A small skinny table was placed in the middle of the room, and on it stood a flatscreen TV. And Joe had zero cable management. Extension cords, phone charger, laptop charger, the TV cables – it was a jumbled-up mess on the floor and made the place look untidy.

“I'm sorry but, yes. This is terrible. You can't bring girls up here, not with it looking like this,” you gestured a wild arm around, knowing very well that the comment was edgy. But you were in his bedroom. In his house. Just the two of you. The entire situation was a bit edgy overall to begin with.

“Oh shit, quick, close your eyes,” and like you'd been friends for years, Joe moved both his hands over your face, not touching, but definitely close enough for your eyelashes to tickle his palms if you were to blink and you were reminded that, oh, yea, you were in fact a girl.

It was a short little joke, his hands backed away just as quickly as they'd been shoved into your face, and when your laughter died out, you wondered how long Joe had been living like this.

“When did you move in?”

Because this looked like Joe was 17 and had just moved out of his parents’ house, priorities being the TV he could now watch from the bed and um, nothing else, really.

“A month ago,”

“You’ve been living like this for a month?” the words were out of you before you realised how offensive they sounded, but they just made Joe laugh.

“Technically, yes. But I’ve only spent the night here maybe... four times?”

Joe’d been off to The States for a few weeks. Very cool, made him instantly sound more impressive than he already was. He pointed at the suitcases for proof, which honestly didn’t mean anything to you – you’d gone on holiday and left suitcases out for weeks upon returning. But, all right, you’d believe him on his word.

On your way back down, you asked if Joe needed help furnishing the place, and he said, yes, he absolutely did, but not to worry about it.

“Are you sure? The things I could do with this place,” your minds-eye was already decorating the spaces that weren’t yours, but God, would this place not look fantastic in soft neutrals with strong black accents all throughout? Warm, but high contrast? Contemporary with some vintage thrown in for the vibes?

“Be my guest, but please don’t feel obligated, we’ve got a lot going already,”

And Joe was right, because you checked the time, and realised you had 20 minutes until you’d have to leave for a studio in East London somewhere for a photoshoot for a magazine and Joe had to bring an outfit – or wear one, which was easier – that he could wear after, because it was straight from there to a film screening and even if he wasn’t going to get his picture taken, he was probably going to get his picture taken.

In Joe’s living room there was one large armchair. And there were two paintings on the floor that leant against the walls they had to be put up on. But that was it. Yes, boxes, they were there too, but there were boxes everywhere.

His dining room, however, wasn’t a dining room at all, because there was no table to sit at. Instead, there were two clothing racks, the wheelie kind, that had Joe’s good stuff on, and Joe said, “Please, help, I like all of it, but if no one tells me what to wear, I tend to pick the exact things that don’t go together.”

Men.

“Can I ask what you would pick? Just to get a gist?” you asked Joe, and he looked, pulled a few things out and you said, “Actually, that’s nice,” but you thought that, actually, Joe would look fucking stunning in just about anything. Or nothing. You'd have him either way. But then Joe pointed at a pair of shoes, and you went, “Maybe not,” and suggested perhaps he could go with the less flashy black boots. He didn’t fight you on it, picked them up and handed them to you.

You thought you'd selected a pair of shoes that weren’t designer, but learned quickly that actually, all of the clothes down here were very much designer. Even the items that absolutely didn't look it. You were staring at an absolute fortune on black velvet hangers and felt stupidly underdressed in your outfit that was one hundred per cent black H&M items that were no longer black, but instead had been washed into a sad state of charcoal grey.

“I promise I have normal stuff too,” it was as if he read your mind.

“Balled up in the suitcases upstairs?” you joked, and Joe was about to reply, but the doorbell interrupted you. You both looked at where the sound came from, and because you were in Joe’s house, you expected him to make his way over to answer the door. But he didn’t, and you realised then that, oh yes, you were an assistant now, and you could open the door to his house like you’d lived there for years.

Better get used to this fast, bestie, you thought to yourself as you made your way to the door and greeted a delivery driver with two smallish boxes at his feet.

Behind him, you noticed that the car you’d gotten out of a little while ago was still there, driver still in the drivers’ seat, waiting. What a life; huge house, designer clothes, drivers waiting, a personal assistant... a very good personal assistant, mind you. One that admittedly, yes, wanted to stare into Joe's eyes for hours on end if she could, but also was going to furnish his whole house in a few days.

How? No clue. But you didn't have problems - you carried solutions. You were convinced that if you kept telling yourself that, it would somehow be true. And if it wasn't, at least you could fool yourself and feel better about it.

You signed for the delivery and learned quickly that the small boxes were heavy. Of course, they were. Joe called out, “Are those the photos?” and you remembered. You ripped one open to check and were greeted by shiny large photos of Eddie Munson’s face, tongue out, fingers up as horns beside his head. Five thousand of them. “Yep. Which reminds me... until what time do you mind working?”

During the photoshoot, you hung back a little. Afraid to be in the way, because, shit, how many people were actually involved in a fucking photoshoot, Jesus. And half of them looked like they weren't really even doing anything. But then, you kind of belonged to that group a little - girl sat on her phone, tapping her feet to the music, looking up to scan the room every now and then to see if you were needed.

You kept an eye on the time, made sure Joe had water nearby, babysat Joe's phone and his cigarettes, crossed things off the schedule, fiddled with your engagement ring that was no longer an engagement ring, double checked the rest of the day and googled interior design styles to show Joe later. To see what he liked.

You liked that Joe seemed human. Had humour. Eased situations that could've very easily been awkward because, how long had you known each other? And you already had access to pretty much all of him?

You tried imagining what this morning would've been like had it been any other celebrity you'd be working for, and you honestly couldn't think of someone better. Wait, Ryan and Blake, maybe.

When Joe was asked to change outfits, you saw his eyes search the room. He located you, nodded the tiniest of nods to himself, and followed the stylist to the racks of clothing waiting for him.

That almost felt like he was checking to make sure you were still there. As if he needed to be reassured of your presence, and you felt something in your chest that you didn't really like.

Keep him company. He's used to having someone with him.

You made your way over, with no real goal in mind other than to just be a bit closer.

Joe and the stylist were quietly talking, going through several colourful clothing items, and when you stepped into earshot, the stylist smiled at you.

“What do you think, pink, or blue?”

And it was very kind, too kind, almost a bit patronizing, because obviously you had no real say or any influence here, but you still said pink, and then Joe said, “Then pink it is,” and minutes later you were watching Joe pose in a pink suit and it all felt a bit surreal.

He looked so good, so hot.

You were only like, what, five hours into this job? And now you just got to stare at this and be paid for it?

Stupid.

But then it got bad, and it got bad fast. Because after the shoot, you were both sat in the backseat of a car, your car, on the way to a film screening – one Joe was actually excited to see – and you went through the rest of the day together.

Screening first. Drinks in the lobby after. Not quite industry happy hour yet, but important to stick around for a little while none the less. Then you'd fit in dinner somewhere and then, there was the proper networking event. Joe nodded, said yep throughout, said he fancied seafood for dinner, and oh, yes, his fridge at home was empty. You added a Tesco order and delivery to your to do list, and then, whilst stuck in London traffic, asked Joe if he wanted to do the phone interview that needed doing, the number already typed in, ready to go.

“You're asking me if I want to?” Joe challenged. “Or are you telling me I have to?”

Beginners mistake.

The interview was in Joe's schedule. He'd just done the shoot. He had to do the interview now. Joe had his head cocked to the side, looking up at you with raised eyebrows and that smile. Fuck, that smile. It was going to get you in trouble if you weren't careful.

You chuckled in defeat, and Joe was already holding out his hand to take the phone from you as you pressed the green call button.

“No, it's nice you asked, really,” Joe said sarcastically, teasingly, trying to deepen the blush you had going just before they picked up on the other end, “Hey!”

And you made a face at him, mocked anger, shock and sheer frustration because now you couldn't make the snarky comment you wanted to make and as a response. Joe squeezed your knee for a few seconds in recognition.

Just placed his full palm over your knee.

Used his fingers to squeeze into your flesh.

You felt your stomach muscles tense up.

For what?

Joe talked on the phone and squeezed your knee.

For that.

It only lasted a mere second, but then, when Joe had safely made it into the screening and you'd found a coffee place to sit and order Joe some groceries, you still felt his hand there. Firey skin, just tingling away freely under the table.

And you were going to have to sleep at his house?

Oh man.

You checked the time. Did mental math. One hundred and ten and a half hours left, still.

Fuck.

You were so screwed.

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfic #joseph quinn fanfic #fluff #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #in 120 hours #part 2

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snoozepotato · 1 year

Text

We’ll Be Fine -10- (Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader)

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the original source material or any of its characters.

she/her pronouns

Category: slice of life, slow burn, mutual pining

Warnings: eye contact, embarrassment, fluff, tattoos, scars

Masterlist

Summary: Ghost shows up to visit and finds you wearing less than usual, and finally gets a nice view of your tattoo.

Part 10

~HEAT~

These days you’ve been getting used to the idea that you're in a relatively safe environment. You didn’t have to be in a constant state of high alert in the fear that someone from your past might be waiting outside the door. Not just anyone could get on this base, you suppose working here has its perks.

It’s becoming normal for Ghost to visit you during his uncommon downtime. Though you were often busy working it's usually in one of the older data storage rooms, one without special protective gear requirements. This allows him to casually visit, whether that be with tea or just a chat. It wasn't a quiet space, the loud hum of old cooling fans driving away the silence. You seemed to prefer it to the chatter of the break area, during mid-day you wouldn't step foot into that place. Always giving the same excuse of ‘Too many people’ and shooting him a dejected look. But it's not like he minded having you all to himself.

He'll be heading out on a mission in the next few days. It's not something he directly tells you, but makes a point to visit before leaving… Admittedly it started as his way of getting some sort of peace of mind that you would be here once he returned. But these days he wasn't too worried about you just up and vanishing. He trusted your words, they gave him something to hold on to.

The door was left unlocked, something you'd started doing when you were sure he was on base. A clear sign of your presence in the room, he makes his way over past your desk. Scanning the area before spotting a pair of legs sticking out from one of the many racks of equipment. Making his way over to stand beside you, gently nudging you with the side of his boot. Startling you was unavoidable but you've been getting used to his interruptions.

Small hands emerge to part the unruly waterfall of cables enclosing your form. Gripping the edge of the sturdy shelf above, pulling yourself from the small compartment to sit on the floor in front of him. Looking up to Ghost's looming figure reaching out to you with a gloved hand.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, very grateful for the assistance.

Reaching up to catch his grasp, he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. Letting out a short huff as you brush the dust from your bare arms. His heavy gaze traveled up the exposed appendage to rest on your naked collar. What a sight you are, standing there in a sports bra. He's not being very subtle, it's not like he hasn't seen a woman before… But this is different, he's never seen this much of you before.

Taking his silence as a cue, you quickly start to explain your current state of underdress. Taking a step back, afraid to catch his dark stare. Suddenly feeling very exposed, your body chilled in a cold sweat.

“The room itself might be cool but these bad boys put off some serious heat, working under them is hot,” you mutter awkwardly, eyeing the machines beside you. Anything to keep yourself from meeting his predatory stare.

‘You're telling me,’ he thinks, internally frothing at the mouth. You're such a tease without realizing it and he's drunk on it.

“Did you need something?” You ask, turning to walk past him and over to your cluttered desk, snatching your sweatshirt off the chair. Quickly pulling the material over your head, but not before flashing Ghost a rare view of your tattoo.

It's larger than he expected, the white ink that snakes down your back, as if bones have risen through the surface of your skin. Spine that emerges at your hairline extending down the entire length of your back, before disappearing into the waistband of your pants.

“Just seeing what you're up to,” he murmurs, but his eyes are glued to you, scanning over your exposed form.

Upon his inspection something else is revealed as well, the plethora of scars that marred your flesh. It’s gone in an instant, safely hidden under your sweatshirt and out of sight. He's curious but doesn't dare press the subject, your reservation is clear.

Even so, his question from some time ago has finally been answered. Your tattoo, it does go all the way down. The image now lives rent-free in his mind.

Thank you very much for reading <3 <3 <3

@tallrock35 @violet-19999 @hypernovaxx @k4marina

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x female reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty mw2 #x reader #female reader #cod x reader #no beta read #angst #death #slow burn #slow build

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angy-mouse · 1 year

Text

Puck Bunny Part 2

10.7k words jfc im going to shove my head in a hole for a week and die. in lieu of flowers, donations can be made to my gummy worm funds /j

Hockey was aggressive. It was a full-contact sport with so frequent rule breaking, the penalty box was invented. Hockey players, by proxy, couldn’t afford to be hesitant, shy people.

HOOOONK

“Oh my god,” Niki cackled, looking over your shoulder.

You shook your head, taking a long sip of your Starbucks. “There better be a goddamn car crash behind me. With casualties.”

“Darlin’!”

“I’m gonna leave you alone with your valley boy,” Niki declared, clapping you on the shoulder. “Text me if you’re gonna stay or if you need a ride, use protection, pee after, yadda yadda-”

“I told you, I’m not fucking the VAL-U hockey team!”

“You don’t have to be ashamed with me, puddin’, I think the rivalry makes it romantic. You’re like a BBW Juliet and her harem of meathead Romeos.”

An arm thicker than a steel cable wrapped around your shoulders from behind, and a scruffy chin settled into the crown of your head. “I’m not a meathead,” Sapnap insisted, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Hi, bunny!”

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks as he nuzzled against your temple, Niki waving her fingers with a knowing smirk as she left. “Hi, Sap,” you greeted, voice cracking as he captured the shell of your ear between his teeth and made playful noises like he was devouring you. “Wha- Sapnap, please-”

“Please what, darlin’,” he muttered with a grin. “I’ll give you anything if you ask as pretty as that, sugar, you know that.” His hands came down to your waist, unashamedly groping at your chub and using his hold to manhandle you back against him. A gasp pulled itself past your lips as you felt the imprint of something against your ass through his shorts and your skirt- god, you hoped he was hard. If his cock was that big flaccid, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from dropping to your knees right then and there.

You didn’t want him to let go of you. His body heat was soaking into you like a furnace, and his firm chest against your back made you feel so safe. You wanted his arms around you always, a promise to protect you from everything.

“You’re gonna fuck a valley right in our fucking courtyard?!”

Sapnap’s head snapped up, grip tightening on you as he glared daggers across the field. “Don’t talk to my fucking girl, techie! You wanna fucking go, I’ll tear you apart-”

“Shut the fuck up and get in the truck, Sap! Gas is too expensive for your bullshit!” Sam waved at you through the window when you whipped around, then returned Sapnap’s middle finger.

“Sapnap,” you finally managed to say, reaching back to tug on his shirt. Your mouth went dry as his attention instantly flicked back to you, expression going soft as his hands rubbed your hips. “Why are you guys here?”

He lit up as if he’d forgotten and started tugging you along. “We’re taking you out for pizza and a movie, sug’! We got a projector set up, and a bunch of blankets and pillows in the truck bed- it’ll be fun, promise!”

You shouldn’t have been surprised. After that first time you let them buy you dinner and cocoa, they’ve texted you nearly every day in the group chat Sam made. Sometimes it was cute, asking if you’d eaten and letting you know they’d door dashed you a treat. Sometimes it was videos of them being dumb in the locker room in nothing but towels that looked ready to fall off, skin still wet from the showers. And every once in a while, when it was just two of you still awake in the early hours of the mornings, you’d get messages about how they missed you. Paragraphs about the way you fill their minds as they try to sleep, both memories and new fantasies keeping them awake. They’d ask to show you what you did to them. Sometimes you said yes and got sent a video, watching them rub themselves over their boxers, as if they only wanted enough to calm down- as if they didn’t care to come without you. Sometimes you told them to just keep talking and received a voice message, listening to them groan between words about all the different ways they wanted you.

“So, do you wanna come?”

Your face heated up at the phrasing combined with your thoughts, but Sapnap simply smiled down at you as if he didn’t notice how his tank-top-exposed arms trapped your eyes.

“Ye- yeah, I wanna come.” He let out the cutest little cheer as he opened the passenger door, and you tore your eyes off him to wonder how you were supposed to climb in such a tall truck. “I’m in a skirt, so how do I- oh god, fuck!”

“I gotcha,” Sapnap laughed, hands on your hips lifting you into the truck as if you weighed absolutely nothing. “There you go,” he hummed as he set you into the seat, nodding as if he was about to impart some great wisdom. “Passenger princesses don’t have to lift themselves into the truck.”

“Or,” was hummed into your ear as another set of broad hands on your waist pulled you to the middle seat. “Buckle themselves up,” Sam finished as he strapped you in with a light kiss to the tip of your nose. “Hi, bunny. Missed you.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” teasingly slipped out as Sapnap climbed in, sandwiching you perfectly between two beefy Texans who were now laughing so prettily. “I missed you guys, too,”

Sam’s hand landed on your knee the second he was done shifting gears, long fingers spread wide so his pinky could just barely dip under the fabric of your skirt. Sapnap stretched a long arm over the back of the seats, letting you rest your head on his firm bicep as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You want some sweets, bunny,” he hummed, smiling against you as you simply hummed, preoccupied memorizing the shapes Sam drew on your inner thigh. He pulled a convenience store bag off the floor and started searching through it.

“Y’know, that’d probably be easier with two hands.”

He gasped, looking at you with feigned hurt before leaning forward to speak around you. “Bunny doesn’t want my arm around her.”

“I didn’t say-”

“It’s a damn shame,” Sam chimed with a shake of his head, squeezing your thigh. “Don’t take long for a cute lil’ thing to forget who fucked her dumb,”

“That’s it,” Sapnap decided, finally pulling out a candy bar and ripping it open with his teeth. “I make you go a little too dumb on my tongue last week, bunny? Guess I can’t hold that against you, can I? Come on, have some chocolate.”

“I hate you both,” you managed through grit teeth, resisting as he poked at your lips with the candy bar. It was your favorite, but that didn’t matter: you couldn’t give in. The only thing worse than two cocky hockey players was two cocky hockey players who had a reason to be cocky.

“She hates us,” Sapnap relayed over your head.

“Funny way of showing it.”

“I think she actually kinda likes us.”

“Oh, she really likes us. You don’t let three guys you hate fuck you raw- even if you are a puck bunny.”

Your face burned more than it ever had, but not because you were angry. You couldn’t make yourself angry when their voices dripped with adoration like that, as if you were a kitten and no matter how much you hissed and scratched, they’d continue to coo over you and feed you. “... I’m not a puck bunny,” you finally muttered out, taking a vicious bite from the candy to make Sapnap yelp as you grazed his fingers.

“Nineteen,” Sam mused, ticking up a finger, “Sappy, Punzy, and me. I think four in a row and three at the same time makes you a puck bunny, darlin’.”

Your senior year boyfriend was a goalie for the J.V. team, but you would rather die than bring that up now. “Where’s Punz? At least when he’s here, you’re too busy killing each other to make fun of me.”

“We’re not making fun of you,” came from your right alongside another poke of chocolatey goodness. “Being a puck bunny is a good thing- and being our puck bunny is a great thing.”

“Coach kept him behind to go over the new strats you brought us,” Sam told you with a squeeze to your leg. “You’re gonna be there when we crush the techies, right?”

You huffed as Sapnap managed to get you to take another bite. “If I’m not, this was all for nothing- Sap, are you trying to fatten me up?”

“You said you had a salad for lunch!” You were taken aback by his accusatory tone and narrowed eyes as he poked the remaining candy into your mouth, letting you hold it between your teeth while he dug through his bag. “You didn’t even have soup or breadsticks with it!”

“It’s a cafeteria, not Olive Garden!”

“Let us feed you! We fucked you, now we feed you! That’s how this works!”

“You bought me Subway, cocoa, and gummy worms while my legs were still shaking!”

“Well, now we’re feeding you before we fuck you, we’re switching it up!”

You scoffed, crossing your arms under your chest and drawing his eyes to your tits- as if they ever left. “What makes you think either of you get to fuck me again?”

“Might have something to do with the fact that Sam’s almost reached your panties, and you haven’t slapped him yet.”

You stared directly into Sapnap’s smug smirk and delivered a harsh smack to Sam’s knuckles, but he only pulled his hand back down to your knee. “Hey now, don’t let chuckle fuck here goad you into anything you don’t wanna do, darlin’. I know you just wanna brat a little, an’ that’s just fine.”

God, you wanted to slap that understanding look off his handsome face. “I,” you grit out, red-faced, “am not a brat.”

His expression didn’t change as he nodded with a hum, eyes sternly on the road. “If you’re not a brat,” he mused, “you must actually want my hand off your leg, then.” You had to clench your fists to stop yourself from grabbing his wrist as he put both hands on the wheel, leaving your thigh to be attacked by the A.C. You wanted his hands on you- Sapnap’s, too- and you wanted them so badly you were tempted to slip off your skirt just to get some attention.

The truck came to a smooth stop at a red light, and Sam looked over at you, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

You unfastened your seatbelt and sat heavy on Sapnap’s lap, thunking your sneakers down on Sam’s thigh.

“There’s my sugar,” Sapnap cheered, thick arms wrapping around you and holding you tight to his chest until you could feel his heartbeat through your shoulder. His hand found your hip like a magnet, fingertips digging into the meat of your ass with an eager squeeze. “God, I love this gorgeous ass.”

“I can deal with bratting, but if you don’t put a fucking seatbelt on-”

“I’ve got her, Sammy!”

“You fumbled the easiest shot ever last week, I don’t trust you for shit!” A blaring honk made you realize the light had turned green, but Sam simply threw open the back window and stuck his hand out to flip the bird, eyes still locked on yours. “Sit your fine ass down properly and put your seatbelt back on, bunny.”

You actually would have if he hadn’t chosen that nickname. Instead, you purposefully wiggled your hips as if settling in and leaned further into Sapnap’s chest, making it rumble under you with a chuckle as you felt a twitch against your ass. “You’re not fucking winning this, man, she’s in for the long haul.” You might’ve felt like you’d won as Sam turned away, if it hadn’t been for the way he set his jaw before slamming on the gas. The force sent you deeper into Sapnap, an unintentional yelp falling from your lips as his arms tightened around you, hands groping your ass and breast as if hoping you wouldn’t notice while your life flashed in front of your eyes. “Fuck, I gotcha, sug- Jesus, Sam, you drive like you shoot!”

“This,” Sam hummed as he wrenched the wheel to make his turn in time, Sapnap’s hand snapping to the back of your head as you were sent into the door, “is why we wear our seatbelts.”

Something about his smug voice tripped something in you. You knew the request was perfectly reasonable, but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head from screaming that he can’t tell you what to do. You wanted to do anything that would piss him off, to make that calm, collected exterior crack. You wanted to know that you affected him.

You slammed your lips over Sapnap’s.

He gave a grunt of surprise against you, lips curling into a grin as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, tasting that sweet mint and strawberry pairing that you loved hanging on his tongue. You felt his hand protecting your head slide down to the back of your neck, holding you gently in place to curl his tongue around yours, pushing into your mouth as he fought you to take control.

Your heart raced as Sam took another sharp turn, bouncing in Sapnap’s lap as the paved road turned to gravel, but by the way he ground up against you, he didn’t mind the rough ride. His teeth sank into your bottom lip as he pulled away, chuckling as he brought you with him a few inches before letting go. “I think sugar likes a little danger,” he purred, pulling your head back to trail his lips over your neck. “You like the adrenaline, bunny?”

You gasped as his lips latched onto your pulse, feeling with his tongue the way your heart thudded. “Keep calling me that,” you pushed out, “and you’ll be in danger.”

He hummed against the tender skin, nipping gently as he pulled away. “You really mean that, sweetheart?”

You didn’t. It made you feel small and sexy. Maybe you were a puck bunny, but you were the puck bunny. The one who only needed to show up to get three brutes, usually eager to maim each other for the fun of it, all cooperating and falling over each other for the chance to take care of you- not just fuck you, but treat you to good food and ask about your day, too. But the day you give up your bratty streak and let these bucket heads have their way without a fight is the day you die. “Maybe,” you said instead. You cupped his scruffy cheek and scratched a single nail along his jaw, guiding his lips back to yours. “You wanna peek under my skirt and see for yourself?”

Sam’s hand landed on your ankle, shoving your leg up, knee pressed into your chest, skirt falling into a pile around your waist with a gasp from your pretty pink lips. He didn’t even lift his foot from the gas as he fixed his eyes on your core, letting out a low whistle. You picked a good day to wear your lace. “It’s a damn shame you soaked through such a pretty pair of panties, sugar. You gonna let me keep these ones?”

You scoffed, wiggling your foot on his lap until you found his cock straining against the front of his sweats. “You’ve hardly done anything to deserve it.”

He clutched his heart with a dramatic groan that made you giggle as Sapnap nosed the soft skin in front of your ear. “Aw, come on now, bunny, there’s no need to be so mean to him. He’s the one who offered up his truck for date night, after all.” He crooked his finger under your chin, lips pulling into a dazed smile as he got your full attention back. “Tell you what, sug’,” he whispered, as if sharing a tender secret, breath fanning across your lips. “If you can use that smart mouth on Sam instead of just terrorizing him, I promise to make you come on my fingers before we even get there. Whaddya say to that, hm?”

You leaned forward to give him a soft kiss. “Bet’cha another bag of candy I make him come before you make me.”

A laugh burst from his lips against yours, hand coming down on your ass with a slap as you shifted your position. “Bunny’s cocky, Sam. You better not cream your pants and let her win.”

“You mean like you did from a little pussy in your face?”

“You’re just jealous she won’t sit on you.”

“Damn right I am, I’d pay to have that ass on me twenty-four, seven.”

You got comfortable on your hands and knees across the bench seat, Sam’s hand nestling into your hair while both Sap’s rubbed your hips. “Would’ja settle for my mouth,” you asked with a small smirk as his bulge jumped at the mere mention, fingers playing with his waistband.

“Fuck, bunny, I’d settle for a black and white picture if it was you,” he groaned, foot hitting the floor as you palmed his cock, engine roaring under the hood like a lion as he zipped through back roads. “Careful there, sugar,” he warned, but still lifted his hips for you as you tugged at his sweats. “Get distracting me too much, and we’ll end up in a ditch.”

A smirk pulled at your lips as you revealed he wasn’t even wearing underwear, cock springing out the second you got his sweats down to his knees. “You’re telling me this beast can’t even climb out of a ditch.”

He chuckled, cutting off with a low hiss as you wrapped your hand around him. “Oh, my baby can get us anywhere, but if we go off the road, we’re staying there until that smart mouth gets fucked out of you.”

“I’m doing my best,” Sapnap chirped, grin thick in his voice as he rubbed two fingers over your clothed clit just to watch your hips twitch, trying to follow as he pulled away. “Go on, bunny- I’m a fair man, I start when you do.”

“Not my fault,” you hissed, rubbing over Sam’s fat tip, collecting his precum on your thumb to spread over his head. “I can’t exactly unhinge my jaw.”

Sam let a breathy laugh fall from his lips, dull nails scratching softly at your scalp. “Don’t listen to him, sugar, that feels real good. You keep takin’ care of me like that, and I’ll make up for Sappy neglecting your sweet pussy, alright?”

“Neglecting?” You let a small laugh fall out of your lips at the pure horror in Sapnap’s tone, thumbs rubbing circles just above the crease where your ass met your thighs. “How come I’m the one tryna get my fingers in her guts, but you’re turning her against me?”

“Listen to him whine- what a baby, huh, sug’?”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t shut him up I will, and I don’t wanna get blood on your pretty face.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d like to see you fucking-” You took Sam’s blushing red tip into your mouth and licked up the single pearly drop clinging to his slit, putting more of your weight on the hand on his knee as it tried to jerk up. “Fuck, fuck- ‘m sorry, bun, I- fuck, her mouth’s so hot.”

A startled breath came out of your nose as Sapnap pulled your panties to one side with his thumb, broad hand gripping your ass hard to keep the fabric in place as the pad of his finger found your clit again. “Isn’t it fun to make him eat his words,” he purred, drawing soft circles on your bud. “And see how nice you get treated when you stop being a little brat?” He pressed hard against you, pulling a moan from your throat that vibrated all the way down Sam’s cock, making his hips twitch in his seat. “Yeah, we’re gon’ take care of you so good you won’t need to brat. Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

“Sapnap, I’m about to crash this damn truck if I have to focus on anything else-” his voice cracked, turning into a deep growl as you sucked your cheeks in and sank further down on him, starting a gentle bob of your head just to hear him moan into the hot air- just to feel those thick fingers in your hair scratch at your scalp. “If you running that fucking mouth distracts me from coming down bunny’s tight throat, I’ll leave your ass in a ditch.”

There was a truly obscene wet sound as you pulled off Sam’s thick cock, hand moving in lazy strokes as you pressed your lips to the little bit of tummy peeking out from his ridden-up shirt. “Sammy,” you hummed, grinning against his skin as another moan tumbled from his lips. “If you kill him before I come, I’ll make you wear a condom if you so much as hold my hand.”

Sam’s groan made his stomach rumble under your lips as Sapnap laughed victoriously, popping his fingers in his mouth before they returned to your cunt, the middle one diving past your folds like a reward. “You tell him, sugar! See, bunny likes my mouth.”

Your fingers rubbed up Sam’s side, revealing more and more skin for you to kiss up. He had such a perfect body, his strong abs hiding under just a bit of pudge that made him perfect for holding, giving just the slightest resistance as you pressed your lips hard against him. “I’d like it a hell of a lot more-” you nipped a light mark into Sam’s soft skin “-if it was on me.”

Sapnap’s scoff barely reached your ears as you decided your jaw had recovered enough to sink back down over Sam’s thick cock, letting it reach as deep in your throat as you could manage with strained breaths. He stretched your throat like it was made for him, made to be just tight enough to make curses spill from his pretty lips and make him drive fast enough to make your walls clench down on Sapnap’s finger as it found the perfect spot inside you to rub at.

Sam’s seatbelt snapped open the same second he slammed on the brakes, Sapnap’s grip on your ass tightening to keep you in place so he could push a second finger inside you. You heard the click of the gearshift just before Sam’s other hand threaded into your hair, pulling you off him. “Deep breaths, okay, bunny?” The words came out rushed and with a sigh as he shifted in his seat until he was facing you. God, he looked so pretty. He didn’t bother to pull his shirt back down, letting his flushed cock leak against his bare stomach as he leaned back against the door, gently pulling you closer until he could lay his lips over yours. He didn’t let it get too deep, tongue just grazing your lip as he forced himself off you, one hand leaving your hair to wrap around the base of his cock with a groan. “You hit me if you want me to stop, alright, bunny? Hit me real hard wherever you can reach to make sure I notice- you won’t hurt me. Promise me, bun.”

You both knew it was more like ‘can’t hurt me’ but you nodded anyway, turning your head to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I promise to hit you if I suddenly lose my mind and decide I don’t want you to fuck my throat.” His stern expression broke as he huffed out a laugh, petting your hair with a soft ‘good girl’ falling from his lips as he guided you to his cock. You did as you were told, taking deep breaths as you let him control your movements, despite how much you wanted to take him to the hilt and let him fill your stomach. Instead, he took your mouth slowly and gently, pulling you back and forth along just the first half as he studied your face. You clenched down on Sapnap’s fingers as you caught sight of his expression- he was looking at you, spit-soaked lips and gnarled hair, like pure art. A deep sigh escaped his lips and his hand left his cock to join the other in your hair, cupping your head gently as you relaxed your throat as much as you could and gripped his hips.

The first thrust into your throat made you choke.

The second one knocked all those careful breaths out of your lungs.

You weren’t embarrassed to say the third one made your eyes roll back as you went limp in his hold.

“Aw, hell,” Sapnap hissed as your legs started to fail, pulling his fingers out of you to grip your other hip. “We good,” he reported, lifting you completely off the seat and up to his mouth, sealing his lips over yours without a missed beat. Your moan pulled one from Sam and spurred his hips faster, Sapnap’s lips curling into a smug grin against you as he ate you as eagerly as he did before- as if this was all he needed to be not just content, but ecstatic.

Your hands on Sam’s hips wandered- up his sides and over his stomach, flexed tight as he chased his high, thick muscle on full display as he fucked your throat open, making a home for his cock in it. You’d love that, you decided. You imagined Sam laying in bed after a hard practice, fat cock nestled in your throat casually as he watched tapes of the old games to prepare. You knew he’d take such good care of you- that was just the kind of sweetheart he was. He’d never let you go hungry or thirsty, always keeping snacks and water on hand for you. He’d treat his cock sleeve like a princess.

Sapnap’s tongue curled inside you just as Sam’s hips started to stutter, almost as if both were trying to carve you open to better suit their needs- only difference being Sap’s need was to make you the last thing he ever tastes and Sam’s was to paint your throat white. You did your very best to relax your throat, to become a willing cum slut for your handsome defense man to use. Your hips rocked against Sapnap’s mouth almost absent-mindedly, more focused on Sam’s pleasure than your own- though, if you weren’t so committed to dying before you stroked their egos, you would admit the possibility of coming from sucking him off was bigger than his double-d pecs.

“I’m gonna come down your throat, bunny,” fell from his lips with a strained breath as one arm snapped to grip the steering column for leverage to lift his hips completely off the seat, fucking his cock along your tongue like he couldn’t get deep enough, no matter how many times he buried your nose in his happy trail. “Fuck, you take dick like a champ, baby. Look like such a little pillow princess, but you give head like a perfect whore. Bet you’d be so happy to stay in my truck forever, huh? Get your pretty cunt ate out while you suck me off every day?” You couldn’t nod around his cock, but Sapnap’s moan as you clenched on his tongue said it all and made Sam grin wide. “Yeah,” he hummed, thrusts turning slower but harder as the hand in your hair caressed your scalp. “We’d be so fuckin’ good to you.”

The promise shot straight to your clit like lightning and spurred you to sink your nails into Sam’s hips to draw him down your throat until your nose was smothered against him, spasming around his cock as your gag reflex protested. His head thunked back against the window, tip battering your throat as his hips jerked against your face. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Put ‘er down, Sap, give ‘er some room.”

A handful of curses were mumbled against your pussy lips, but he obliged, broad hand rubbing up and down your back as he laid you across his lap. “I gotcha, sweet girl, deep breaths for me, alright?”

“I’d like to see you breathe with this monster down your throat,” you thought spitefully, but it died as a husky moan spilled from Sam’s lips, cock jumping in your throat as his orgasm came down on him like a crashing wave. His hand went limp in your hair, nothing more than a soft, sweet caress, not wanting to force you to take more than you wanted. So sweet, always worrying for nothing: your hold on his hips kept him pressed deep inside your mouth, throat pulsing around him as you struggled to swallow mouthful after mouthful of sweet cum, taking as much as he’d give you.

“Fuck, bunny,” he wheezed, voice hoarse as he gently pulled you off his spent cock. You whined as his tip leaked against his stomach, twitching as his own body insisted on giving you more to drink, but it was quickly cut short as you had to snap your lips shut to avoid a mouthful of thick cum falling from them. “Shit,” Sam hissed, already fumbling for the window button, “you wanna spit, sug’?”

Your brat came back. How fucking dare he? Spitters are quitters. Did you suck dick like some common whore who needed to spit after? I don’t think so.

You inhaled deep through your nose and swallowed the entire load in one go, letting your white-streaked tongue loll out as proof. A soft ‘oh, hell’ slipped as he brought your lips to his, inviting your tongue in to tangle with his, licking your mouth clean of him. He groaned when you pulled back, but the hand in your hair didn’t impede your movement as you leaned close, taking his earlobe between your teeth for just a moment.

“Never fucking doubt me again.”

“Never fucking again,” he mumbled out, chasing your lips. “Does that mean you wanna take care of Sap before Punzy finds us?”

Your hand reached back on its own, Sapnap’s fingers finding yours and lips pressing against your palm. His beard scratched gently at the surrounding skin, leaving a trail as he crawled up your body, lips caressing until he was hovered over you and they found your neck. His hips pressed against yours and a gasp fell from your throat like it was pulled.

“God, why are all three of you built like fucking bulls?”

Their chests rumbled against you, a subtle reminder that two broad Texan country boys who loved to throw down their gloves had you trapped between them. It made you feel small, something you didn’t get to experience often. They could easily throw you around, bend you this way and that however they wanted for their own pleasure.

Then Sam’s lips caressed your cheek and Sapnap’s calloused hands kneaded your soft hips. “Made for your pleasure, sweet thing,” Sap murmured against your neck, finding the tender spot behind your ear. He didn’t nip or even suck, just kissed the skin softly: a reminder how soft these boys were on you. They’ve shown more tender care for you in a week of texts and two ‘dates’ than your ex did in almost a year. They would easily throw you around, but they’d do it with a hand protecting your head and soft kisses pressed wherever they could reach. They’d fold you into any position they wanted until you gave the slightest sign of discomfort and they’d pull back without a breath of hesitation.

“Flip me,” you muttered out when your own muscles refused to obey, letting out a soft purr as four broad hands scattered across your body, gently lifting and turning you to lay you back against Sam’s firm chest. You felt a smile tug at your lips as you watched Sapnap get lost in your body, fingers brushing up your waist to reveal the soft skin of your stomach as your shirt got pushed up, trailing touches along the bottom of your bra. “Hey,”

He grinned back, leaning down to brush his lips over yours. “Hey, sugar. Can I get your bra off for ya?” You gave a hum against him and his fingers walked around the band until he found the clasp. He pulled you up just a bit, just enough to press you more against him than Sam, and fumbled with the hooks for a moment- just long enough for you to start grinning against his lips and for him to curse against yours. You wrapped an arm around his neck to hold you up and reached the other back, flicking the hooks apart. “Fuckin’ witchcraft,” he huffed, but helped you pull it out of your shirt anyways.

Sapnap turned the lace over in his hands as if contemplating before reaching over your head.

“There ya go, buddy,” he chirped with a grin as he draped it over Sam’s head. “Add that to your fuckin’ spank bank.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” Sam tossed back as his hands rubbed down your hips, grabbing two thick handfuls of your thighs and pulling them apart. You bit your lip to hold back a moan as your lacy panties pulled tight against your clit. “Get to work or I’ll fuck her myself and leave you to cream your pants again.”

Sap rolled his eyes, leaning down to bunny kiss you. “He’s so dramatic,” he whispered in your ear, just to hear the breathy giggle you gave as his lips skimmed your cheek. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t’cha bunny?” His lips curled into a grin as you nodded, stretching your neck to try and sneak a kiss from him. Thick fingers pulled aside your panties to run his thumb over the seam of your folds, spreading your slick. “Oh, you’re just a sweet thing for me, huh?” He shoved his shorts down his thighs as he asked, grin stretched wider than his face at the weak noise the sight pulled from you.

Punz was packing. You were going to feel Sam in your throat for weeks. Sapnap was smuggling a monster. You were absolutely positive being fucked by a literal bull would be easier. You were expecting something big, of course- you’d even predicted the girth-to-length correctly based on his height and build. You weren’t expecting his long fingers to barely wrap around the base or for the tip to nearly reach his knees.

“It’s always the fucking shy ones.”

“If you want to kill me, just run me over,” you wheezed. The muscles in your neck gave out, seemingly accepting your approaching end, and your head thudded back against Sam’s sternum, but you still watched down your nose as Sapnap stroked himself- god help you, it got bigger.

“You can tap out, sugar,” he promised, even as his thumb swiped over the leaking head. “I’d be more than happy to jerk off with you on my face again.”

“Absolutely not. I just need a safe word.”

That got their attention- and concern. Sam let your thighs fall together and Sap let go of his cock, letting it bob against his stomach as he leaned over you.

“What’s wrong, sugar?”

“What do you need, bun?”

“You know this doesn’t go anywhere you don’t want, right?”

A huff of laughter spilled from your lips as you reached up to cup Sapnap’s cheek. “You’re both big softies,” you cooed, trying to shoo away his worried gaze with a few soft kisses across his cheekbones. “I need a safe word because I know myself too well. I don’t wanna stroke your ego, but you’re fucking huge, Sappy.” He perked up, worry falling away to pure adoration as his hockey name fell from your lips. You rubbed your other hand down his body until you could curl your fingers around his shaft, a grin curling on your face at the soft whimper you pulled from him. “I know I’m going to scream, and cry, and brat my fool head off, even though I want nothing more right now than to die from some monster dick.” You grazed your lips over his. “So we’re going to establish a safe word, and unless I use it, you’re going to fuck my brains out. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” slipped out without hesitation and you couldn’t admit what it did to you. “Fuck, yes, please. Uh- pineapple?”

You gave him a firm but short kiss. “Perfect. Safe word is pineapple. Sam, if someone calls and we don’t notice-”

“Yank you apart and give the offender a good hit- on it.” He pulled your thighs up again, helping Sapnap hook your calves over his hips. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “I gotcha, baby,” he promised softly, making your heart squeeze as you knew he didn’t just mean that he was holding you.

Sapnap’s thick fingers wrapped around the grab handle on the roof to keep his weight off you as he scooched close enough to press his fat tip against you. He parted your folds around him and laid his cock between them, grinding the wet tip against your clit as he passed. “Fuck, sugar,” he sighed in time with your moan as he sized you up. “It’s gonna be fuckin’ tight.”

You knew that was a not-so-subtle offer to back out, to make sure you knew what you were in for.

“Promise?”

He looked like you just gave him the world. Based on the way he practically worships your cunt, you may as well have.

He pressed against your entrance hard, using one hand to try to ease his way inside without just shoving himself into your pussy. When he finally managed the head inside, it pushed a whiny moan out of you as just the tip spread your entrance more than his fingers could ever hope.

“Sapnap,” you rasped out, watching your voice send a shiver down his spine and snap his eyes shut, desperate not to get ahead of himself. He was being smart: taking things nice and slow to make absolutely sure you felt more pleasure than pain. You reached out and raked your nails down his tensed abs. “Take me,”

His hips snapped without a thought as his body took your command as law, suddenly filling you with a good four inches that spread your walls to their limit. His tip leaked precum inside you as if even his cock knew you needed lube and was eager to supply. The hot, sticky feeling as it seeped into you just made you all the more eager to get filled with cum.

Another sharp thrust got him halfway in.

The third slammed your cervix like a truck.

“Oh, hell,” you wheezed, letting yourself fall limp in Sam’s secure hold. Your hips rocked against Sapnap’s, desperate to fit that last bit of him inside you, despite what your body said. “I want it, Sappy, please. Don’t stop.”

Another curse fell from his lips as his cock jerked inside of you, desperate to obey. “Careful, sug’,” he grit out, plastic creaking under his grip as he tried to resist. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You stretched your neck, brushing your lips along his jaw.

“Hurt me.”

It hurt like hell when he slammed your cervix with intent, but you would’ve walked on hot coals to have him buried in your guts. One of Sam’s hands left your thigh to trace light shapes over your clit- whether to get your body to relax or to soothe the pain, you didn’t know, you just knew it was working. Your walls shook as you came, begging Sapnap deeper until finally your cervix gave in.

The coarse hair above his cock pressed against your clit after Sam yanked his hand away, giving a perfect sensation as Sapnap ground his hips against yours as if making sure he’d really given you every inch. “Oh hell- fuck me, sugar- bunny.” His stuttered praises created a new nickname that spread a fuzzy feeling all the way through your stomach and into your chest. Your cunt made your approval known as it tried to suck him in deeper, begging him to fill every empty space inside you and pulling a deep groan all the way from the depths of his stomach. “You like that? You my sweet sugar-bunny? Fuck, your pussy wants me, sug’. Haven’t even started fuckin’ you and it’s tryna milk me. You really want me to come inside you that bad?”

So badly you wanted to cry, yes you did. You’ve never wanted to be filled before these boys, but something about them made you want to be straight-up bred. You wanted them to take turns fucking you full of their cum just to keep your cunt warm and wet and full.

“Please, Sap,” you managed, feeling the way your strained voice made his cock jump inside you. “Want you to fill me up ‘til your cum is leaking out of me for days.”

Evidently, that was the final reassurance your sweet Texas gentleman needed to leave the building. In his place was the broad enforcer who barreled through people like they were nothing but snowflakes in the wind. Without another second Sapnap was jackhammering into you with the same force he used to lay out opponents, that thick cock head never leaving your womb as he speared you open. You only knew you were screaming when your throat began to hurt, unable to hear anything over the blood rushing through your ears as his cock hit every nerve in your pussy, thick shaft rubbing against your g-spot from how stretched you were around him.

Sam let your legs snap closed around Sapnap’s hips so he could cup your tits in either hand, fingers lazily strumming your nipples as if he knew you only needed the slightest touch to bring you over the edge again. Soft praises filled the cab as you came on Sapnap’s cock, Sam’s lips pressing hard on your temple, knowing you’d need something to ground you as you floated. Sapnap didn’t- couldn’t help as he got lost in the heavenly feeling of your pussy gushing around him, the sound of his thrusts becoming so much wetter as he pounded right through your orgasm.

“Remember your safe word, bun,” Sam murmured against you. “We just lost Sappy.”

Sapnap fucked you like a machine, hips pounding an even, fast pace against yours, as if all your orgasm did was energize him. His cock rocked into you like it was his mission to fuck you open. Like he needed to make sure he left you so stretched out that you could only come to him to satisfy you. He was a man completely committed, and his only goal was to fuck your literal brains out and fill you with his cum.

“Beautiful.” The word escaped his lips as part growl and part prayer as he traced the shape of your jaw. He sucked the skin into his mouth just enough to leave a light mark- so tender and gentle with you, completely opposite to the way he abused your cunt. “Fuck, I love when you come for me, sugar. Get this gorgeous look on your face. Look like an absolute goddess, baby.”

You wanted to tell him how much you loved the things he said, how much they filled you with a warmth that pure sex didn’t. You wanted to tell him that he was the picture of a Greek Adonis: stretched out above you with the muscles in his thick arms bulging from the effort of keeping his weight off of you, shaggy brown locks hung over his melted chocolate eyes and that scruffy beard that made you want to trace your fingers down his jaw. You wanted to say it all, but none of it came from your lips.

“Fuck, fuck,” spilled out instead as he fucked you straight through your sensitivity and into a pleasure-induced partial numbness. “Fuck, can’t- I can’t! God, fuck me!”

“God, you really do run your mouth.” Sam’s tone was absolutely reverential, despite the breathless chuckle that came with his words. His fingers traveled all over your torso, rubbing tender shapes into your hips, breasts, and every stretch of skin in between. His lips caressed your cheek, a soft touch among the debauchery of a threesome in a pickup parked in a field. “What’s your safe word, bunny?”

“Pine- fuck! It’s pineapple! That’s not calling it! If you fucking stop, Sapnap, I’ll cut your dick off!”

Sapnap’s lips curled into a smile against you as he eagerly obeyed, hips not so much as stuttering against yours as he kept up his animalistic pace. “She wasn’t kidding: bunny gets bratty after her second, Sam.”

“Duly noted,” was muttered into the hot air, thick fingers crooking under your chin to guide you to his lips. “I think,” Sam mused against your soft lips as he kissed his way into your mouth, “another two would make her a good girl again.”

“Or make her pass out.”

Sam shrugged as he pulled back to let you pant against him, teeth teasing the swollen red skin of your bottom lip. “Either way.”

Your breath hitched as Sapnap’s thick fingers wrapped completely around your ankle and started testing how he could arrange you. He tried to put it over his shoulder first, but when he was blanketed over you so tightly, your hips just couldn’t do it. “I gotcha, sug’,” he promised when you winced, immediately changing tactics. He hooked your knee over his elbow, then wrapped his arm over the steering column. “There you go, just opening you up a bit, that’s all.”

Fuck, you’d never had to be spread open so much just to take a guy. It occurred to you that you still hadn’t. You took Sap just fine- your walls were like a vice around him, the slightest stinging stretch still remaining- but you were taking it in stride. Not that Sapnap’s hammering left any room to do anything but. Still, he tried to take care of you, tried to ease his rough battering on your insides into something easier to walk with tomorrow. Even when he had you spread across the front seat, bruising your folds, he was still so sweet.

He straightened up and yanked the bottom of his shirt between his teeth, eyes as dark as warm molasses trained on where your cunt swallowed him. His cock dragged against your walls as he pulled his hips back, hand snapping back to the grab handle as soon as his shirt was out of the way: he needed to see you. Needed to see the pretty pink lips that wrapped around his cock so well.

Not leaning over you gave him leverage. Now when his hips drove into yours, cock diving deep inside you, he did it faster and harder than he could before. Now when he thrust into you, he pressed his balls tight against your ass, practically begging to empty them into your tight heat.

Scratch what you said before: not sweet. Your legs were just preventing him from absolutely destroying your pussy.

“Y’killing me,”

Sam chuckled, but Sapnap didn’t falter- didn’t even look up from where your cum had soaked the dark hairs at the base of his cock. “You’re okay, sweetheart,” Sam promised. His fingers threaded with yours, bringing your joined hands to rest on the swell of your stomach. You’d swear you could feel Sapnap’s thick cock pressing back- thought that if you were any thinner, you would see the column where he pushed your body aside to make room for himself. “You’re doing so good- such a perfect little bunny,” Sam praised against your cheek as he slathered it in soft caresses of his lips. “Like you were made for us.”

A short laugh fell from his lips before he choked on it. It came back, though, and just as you worried what could possibly make anyone laugh with their cock out and their friend spreading you in half, he let the thought fly.

“Made sharing size.”

Your head fell back into the cradle of his collarbone and a short, breathless laugh spilled from your lips. “I hate you,” you managed, but it caught in your throat as Sapnap fucked you like he hadn’t heard a word. “Fuck, hate you, too, Goliath!”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” Sam muttered, caressing your tit in his free hand- didn’t grope it, didn’t play with your nipple. He held it like a precious gem- pet over the skin like it was the softest he’d ever felt. Sapnap growled out something around his shirt, but even if you could understand it, you weren’t certain it was anything coherent. “Sappy’s a little obsessed with you, bun. Now that he’s got a turn with your pussy, he’s not thinkin’ ‘bout nothing but fucking you open and filling you.”

Well, fuck, now that was all you could think about, either. You’d never admit to these boys how much you fantasized about letting them fill you up whenever they wanted. How many nights since your impromptu rendezvous were spent with your fingers in your cunt, mourning the lack of a thick cock to satisfy you. The lack of a strong, warm body holding you from behind, feeding himself into your needy pussy just to be closer while you slept.

You could never tell them. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind they’d comply to every increasingly perverted thought, and you quite enjoyed your ability to walk- and think- straight. Both of which were quickly melting away as Sapnap carved out a permanent home for himself deep in your guts.

He fell forward when you came around him, gummy walls sucking his cock deeper as he mouthed at the column of your neck. Your arms snapped around his head as his hips resorted to rolling against yours, nails carving into his scalp through shaggy hair as the coarse hair at his base scraped against your clit. “S’fuckin’ good, sugar,” he groaned against the pulsing vein in your neck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect. Fuck, ‘m gonna fill this sweet pussy with my cum. Stuff you so fuckin’ full-” He choked as you rolled your hips in time with his, falling to his forearms braced on the driver’s window.

“Promises,” you panted out with a smile, “promises,”

Curses spilled from his lips like he couldn’t control himself, chest hair rubbing against your raw nipples where his shirt was still bunched up, sending you dangerously closer to overstimulation, but nowhere near calling your safe word. “She’s so sweet,” he muttered under his breath, as if it was a realization he hadn't meant to share.

“Just the sweetest, ain’t she,” Sam hummed back anyway, lips pressed tenderly against your temple. “She don’t even know how gorgeous she is- else she wouldn’t let a couple bucket heads split her open.”

“Maybe we’re special.” The words were barely breathed into your neck, a shy question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

You pulled hard on his soft hair, yanking his lips up to yours. He still tasted like your cunt, but his strawberry chapstick peaked through, just like you were learning it always did. When you let him pull back, it was only enough for your breath to wash over each other's sore lips. “So special,” you promised, and you meant it. You might have a major thing for jocks with anger issues, but you sure as hell didn’t let them all raw you. In a truck. At the same time. But then again, they didn’t all drive an hour to pick you up for a spur of the moment date after a week of blowing up your phone.

“You’re more special,” spilled from his lips into yours without a thought, pressing closer and closer until there wasn’t an inch of your body not touching them. “Want you to come with me, sugar. Please? Wanna make you come one more time.” You were nodding from the first word, finally driving your tongue past his lips to make him shut up because god, you wouldn’t be able to wait for him if he kept talking.

Sam’s broad, calloused hands rubbed over your bare stomach, a soft, “y’two look so cute together,” pulling a whine from deep in your chest. He held you tight as Sapnap’s hips bucked into yours, throwing you over the edge one more time as your pussy milked him for his cum, begging for it to fill you up. “Atta girl, letting Sappy come. So good for us,” he cooed, giving you a squeeze while you were still a million miles away, his voice foggy and distant. You didn’t know how long it took you to come back down to Earth, but Sapnap’s cock was still leaking into your used hole when you did, his nose buried where your neck met your shoulder, nuzzling into the skin as if he was going to fall asleep. Honestly, you had half a mind to join him.

The cold air hit first. Then Sapnap hit your chest and knocked every painfully reclaimed breath back out of your lungs as all three of you fell like a set of dominoes without the driver’s door propping you up.

“This is the fucking thanks I get for buying the pizza?” The sudden bright light of the overhead impeded your view, but after a few frantic blinks, you could make out an upside-down Punz glaring at you. No, not you: only the guys. Pretty privileges. Awesome. “Sam, put your dick away.”

“Cock looker,” Sam called with a flip of the bird, but yanked his boxers back into place anyway. “We’re not neglecting our girl just because you’re late to the party. Right, Sap?” Sapnap let out a sound against your neck that was either, ‘fuck you,’ or ‘puck boo.’ Toss of the coin, really. Either way, Punz reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“Get off her so I can take my bunny.”

A shrill yelp escaped you as Sapnap suddenly came back to life, fingers sinking into your love handles to hold you steady as he shot up. You moaned as the new position had you basically sitting on his lap, cock head spearing something deep inside you that’s never been reached before, but if he noticed he didn’t show it. “You can’t take her!” The decree was paired with him falling back on the passenger’s door, sending you crashing into his firm chest. “She’s mine now,” he decided with a kiss to your crown. After a moment of contemplation, you decided that you were pretty cool with any result from this conversation and settled in. “You decided to be a bitch and not show. Too bad, so sad- oh, fuck!”

Another panicked noise left your lips as Sapnap fell, his entire torso dangling out of the truck with Sam’s frantic grab of his ankles the only thing keeping him from tumbling out onto the grass with you still attached. After a beat to confirm you weren’t about to crack your head open and be found naked and full of cum, you braced yourself on Sapnap’s chest and pushed yourself up.

Punz grinned like he hadn’t just tried to murder his right wing. “Hey, bunny,” he purred, opening his arms for you. “‘M sorry I didn’t come to pick you up. You wanna have a cuddle while Tweedledee and Tweedledipshit pull the truck the right way around?”

“I’m sorry my parking skills aren’t on point when I’m balls deep, god!”

“He’s not sorry,” you pretended to whisper, stern facade breaking into a grin when Sapnap snorted out a laugh under you. You rubbed a flat palm across his chest, feeling it rumble as he practically purred at the feeling. “You ready to let me go, Sappy? Or you need a snuggle?”

You could watch in his eyes like a movie as he slowly thought through your question and realized what you were really asking. He leaned up to press a peck against the corner of your mouth before flopping back down across the seat with a soft pat to your waist. “I’m good,” he promised with one of those lazy grins you were starting to crave. “Make sure to save some for me, though, yeah?”

“Oh, of course: everyone gets their cuddle rations,” you agreed, choosing to ignore Sam’s snort of, “rations- like we’re in the cuddle war.” You reached for Punz and tried to make yourself as cute as possible with a soft pout. “I can’t stand, you’ll have to carry me.”

“I think I can live with that,” he decided, pulling you off Sapnap and into his arms with a small noise of sympathy as the drag against your sensitive cunt made you ache. “I know, poor bunny,” he gushed, pulling down your shirt for you. “Alright, fuckers, turn the truck around so we can actually watch the movie!”

“I’d forgotten about the movie,” you mused, legs wrapped around Punz’s waist hesitantly. “I’m leaking on your shirt.”

“It’s seen worse.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Ew,”

“I don’t think you get to talk shit after a Texas Eiffel Tower.”

“... alright, fair,” you decided, settling into his chest. His hands on your hips hoisted you up his body easily, letting you relax and trust him to arrange you however it was easiest to hold. “So what brought on this surprise date? I mean, I’m obviously not complaining, but you three seem to have a TMI issue when we text, so why didn’t any of you tell me?”

For what might’ve been the first time in his life, Punz’s mouth stayed shut. Call the fuckin’ presses. You pushed down your instinct to say something snarky (or maybe just bratty) and pulled your chin out of his shoulder to look at him properly. And oh what a pretty pink he was.

He finally caved to your unintentional puppy eyes, stubbornly looking away. “We were kinda worried you’d say no… and we thought it’d be better to hear it in person than over text.”

The truck doors clanked open then shut again, and the two were now pulling the tarp off the bed, but your eyes were stuck on Punz. “You all drove an hour and bought pizza… while thinking I might not agree?”

“... Look, I never claimed we were smart-”

“That is the sweetest thing a guy’s ever done for me,” gushed out of you before you could think of the ramifications of admitting that. You slammed your lips over his in an effort to keep him from thinking too hard on it, kissing your way into his mouth. “You guys,” you breathed between kisses as you started peppering them all across his face, “are the absolute-” mwah mwah mwah, “best ever! Gotta be careful-” mwah, “if you ever wanna get rid of me-”

“Never,” he declared without hesitation, chasing after your lips. “Today was your chance to tell us to get lost. You get another in eleven to twelve business days.”

“Oh? Which days are business days?”

“Every third Groundhog’s Day.”

Giggles burst from your lips just as another set of hands snatched your waist. “What are you two talking about over here,” Sam hummed against your ear. You could feel his lips curl into a grin as his fingers ran light circles over your sensitive skin, turning a slight laugh into an absolute fit. “Come here, you, let’s get you into the bed. Hup!” He lifted you out of Punz’s arms and right into Sapnap’s waiting ones from where he stood in the truck bed.

“Hey, sugar,” he sang. The truck rocked as all your boys clambered in, but Sap did his best to keep you steady as he laid you in an absolute nest of pillows they’d prepared. Couch cushions, bed pillows, and even a body pillow with a hockey player posing like a Playboy bunny. “There you go,” he muttered to himself, tucking into your side like he hadn’t just been stuck on you like superglue. His lips ghosted over your cheek. “You gonna let us feed you now?”

“How the hell do you come that hard and walk around like nothing?”

He blinked. “Why do you sound mad about it?”

“I am mad about it! You practically killed me, and now you’re carrying me!”

“Well, it’s not like you’re heavy.”

You gave a pointed look down at your thick thighs and thicker stomach. “Hon, I weigh like-”

“Mushrooms or no?” The truck suspension strained as Sam threw himself down next to you, two pizza boxes bouncing on his lap. “We’ll need you to eat at least one slice, since someone interrupted before we could do any other aftercare-”

“Oh, fuck off! You can fuckin’ Venmo me for the pizza if you keep bitching.”

“I paid for gas! Make Sapnap pitch in for once!”

“Excuse you,” Sapnap huffed, wrestling with a two-liter of coke, “I’m baby, bitch.”

You found yourself chuckling and shaking your head as they argued, blooming warmth filling your chest.

Contrasting with the wet cold between your thighs.

“Punz-” He stopped swiping at Sapnap to give you his full attention, and for a moment you thought you should be an adult. Tell him to find you something to clean yourself with, and tell Sam or Sapnap or whoever stole your panties to give them back. You should act like a mature woman who knows how to handle a two-night stand, but instead you find yourself pouting at him, knowing it would make him cave to anything you asked. “They left me empty and cold.”

Sam and Sap burst into protests.

“Left you?!”

“The audacity-”

“Oh, you poor little bunny,” Punz laughed, scooping you right up and taking your place. He squeezed you tight, dotting his lips across your neck to hear you giggle as his breath tickled the sensitive skin. “Bastards been neglecting you?”

Sapnap had produced a handful of shot glasses that he filled with soda and passed around. “Oh, yeah, she was real fuckin’ neglected when she was coming on my cock.”

“She needs all three of us to be happy,” Sam agreed, taking the shot. “Why did you bring shot glasses?”

“Why didn’t you bring alcohol?”

“Lift your hips for me, bunny,” Punz muttered, squeezing your waist. “I’ll pull down my shorts for you and we can have a nice warm cuddle while we watch the movie.”

You pushed up to your knees, hands from either side snapping to hold you steady. “You’re all such worry warts,” you laughed, accepting a shot of coke and passing it back for a refill.

“Oh, forgive us, sugar: we’re not eager to watch the gorgeous babe who puts up with all three of our dumb asses crack her head open.”

You felt Punz run his smooth tip through your folds, letting Sapnap’s cum slick up his shaft before he led you to ease your hips back. You managed to choke your moan as he spread you back open, biting your tongue until you were seated all the way back on his lap. “Fuck- I’m good, I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

You sighed as the stretch quickly faded from being fucked open so recently, leaving only the blissful feeling of being perfectly filled. “I’m so good.” Sam offered you a slice and you took it, downing a testing nibble and then three big bites of melty cheese as you realized maybe their fuck-then-feed method held some water after all. “What are we watching?”

Sam presented a remote with a flourish, pointing it at the white sheet strung up in the treeline and pushing a button. “We are watching- fuck.” He flipped the remote around to point it at the projector on the roof of the cab. You weren’t sure how much of this was set up before or how much you were oblivious to while Punz coddled you, but either way something squeezed in your chest. “We’re watching Die Hard, because it’s a goddamn masterpiece.”

You nodded. “You got the second one for after?”

“Of course,”

“And the third?”

“You’re cute. Don’t push it.”

#angymouse #puckbunny #sapsqueaks #punnysqueaks #awesamsqueaks #minors dni #chubby reader #mcyt smut

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nanaoise08squad · 1 year

Text

Winter date with Kyojuro

Author's note: a friend of mine posted a lovely picture of Kyojuro, all bundled up for the winter and waiting for someone in the snow. This gave me terrible brainrot to make a fluffy fic where you go on a first date with Kyojuro. I don't post to Tumblr a lot, so forgive the formatting and errors as its 2am and I lack the brain power to edit haha. Enjoy!

Of course the train would run late today if all days, he's probably standing out there freezing to death. what a way to start a first date

You grumbled to yourself as you crossed the road to the entrance of the park. Though it had snowed the night before, mercifully the sun was shining brightly today and the wind was calm. It was still cold enough, however, for guilt about your tardiness to weigh on your mind as you rushed to the meeting spot to find your date.

It didn't take long for you to find him among the snowy backdrop, his golden hair and brilliant smile greeting you warmly as you approached the observation deck of the lake.

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting in the cold, of course the train just *had* to be delayed today" you laughed lightly, playing off the inconvenience and your nerves with a joke as he shook his head and walked to meet you halfway.

"It's no trouble, promise! I got your text, and it's actually not too bad out at all today!" He beamed, you could see that the tip of his nose was blushed red from the cold, nearly the same color as the cable knit scarf draped loosely around his neck. He seemed utterly unphased with the cold, his brown winter jacket unbuttoned as he made his way to greet you. Your stomach did a small flip as you both stood in an awkward silence for a moment, first date jitters taking over before he mercifully filled the silence.

"There is a great coffee and tea stand on the other side of the lake, if you'd like we can take a walk around the trails for a bit and then grab something to drink? My treat of course" He smiled warmly, offering his arm to you as you nodded and hooked your arm with his. The sun felt nice across your face as you walked along the snow laden path, talking of the work week at first before going on one of many branching tangents. The scenery was picturesque, the lake itself seeming to shimmer as cristiline flurries of powderly snow danced over it's icy surface with the slight breeze. He excitedly pointed to the far bank, noting how it was beginning to thaw and his joy that spring would be coming soon. It seemed like no time had passed at all before you made it to the other side of the lake, a small clearing with benches and a few food vendors for visitors to peruse even in the wintertime.

"Let's get you some coffee, or tea if you'd prefer. They actually have a good variety of both" He smiled, gently tapping the back of your hand with his as a look of worry passed over his face. He'd been so captivated by your beauty and so happy to see you again, he'd failed to notice your lack of gloves and a scarf. He was too busy getting lost in hearing about your latest book discovery and memorizing how you liked your eggs to think about how cold it was today.

"Goodness, your hands are freezing, im so sorry for just now noticing you are without gloves and a scarf my dear" His brow furrowed lightly, acting strictly on instinct as he clasped both of his hands over your own and began rubbing them lightly. A rush of heat flooded your face, your cheeks flushing light pink as you stood stunned for a moment. In terms of physical contact, taking his arm to walk together was as close as you'd ventured so far. Now, both of his hands were clasped over your own as he tried to keep you warm.

His hands are so warm and soft….and caring. He's so thoughtful and kind. I'm not upset in the slightest at this. In fact...he can keep holding them if he wants to

A moment passes before he realizes how bold he'd been, a small blush creeping across his cheeks as his grip on your hands loosened, allowing you to pull back if you wanted to. He'd acted on impulse, his only concern was to keep you warm without thinking of it possibly being too soon to hold your hand…or if you even wanted to.

"I apologize, that was brash of me. I wanted to make sure you were warm and I should have asked-"

"It's ok, I'm uhm..thankful actually." You smile sweetly, not moving your hands from his but taking a small step closer. "The truth is,I did forget my gloves and scarf in a rush out the door today.I was...I was just so excited to see you again and it slipped my mind. And…i'm glad you are here to keep me warm." You said softly, the light blush in your cheeks intensifying as he smiled in a way that made your heart melt on the spot.The adoration in his eyes as he looked at you made you weak in the knees already, butterflies jumping in your stomach as he brought your hands up to his lips to blow his warm breath across your knuckles to heat up your hands. You could tell you were falling for him fast, replaying the way he said "dear" over and over on loop as you tried to play it cool.

After all, You'd only met a few weeks before today. A mixup of your orders at your local coffee shop turned into friendly chit chat as you worked on your writings, quickly morphing into 6 drinks later and hours of effortless talking before either of you realized the shop was closing soon. You left that evening simply thinking about how wonderful it was to finally talk to someone as passionate about things as you were, only to start to kick yourself days later for not getting his number as you found that his smile and voice were never far from your mind. You denied it at first, a silly thing to have a crush on someone you talked to for a few hours. Yet, his laughter echoed through your mind and you found yourself hoping. Hoping that by some miracle that somehow, in this massive city, you'd waltz into that coffee shop and see him again.

You weren't prepared for the day it happened though, nerves hitting your stomach like a tidal wave as you saw him through the window. The tall blonde sat near the large window, the sun hitting his golden locks in an almost ethereal glow as he thumbed through a large novel. It took all your courage to walk into the shop and start to order, your body wanting simultaneously to run away and towards him. Your mind whirled on what you would say if he actually did talk to you again, torn between a casual nod and "Hi, how are you" on the way to your table.

His focus on his novel was broken immediately as he recognized your voice across the small cafe, placing his book down and making a split second decision as his body moved on its own. Just as quickly as you'd turned to find a place to sit, Kyojuro was standing a short distance ahead of you. You smiled warmly, a bit of panic washing over you as you tried to figure out what to say. He reciprocated with the smile that you had been daydreaming about constantly before speaking."I know this is very sudden, but if you're not busy would you do me the honor of joining me for coffee and a date later?" He asked gently, thanking every god he knew that you'd agreed on both parts of his question and joined him for a snowy date in the park.

A small hum rumbled in his chest as he brought your hands closer, stamping a small kiss along the back of your hand. "Shall we get something hot to keep your hands warm? I admit, i usually don't wear gloves or i'd give you mine. But, coffee should help for a bit at least." He cooed, gently releasing your hands. He lead you to an open bench at the edge of the clearing, the sun having long melted off the snow off of it as he sat you down. He took the scarf from around his neck, twirling it loosely around yours as he smiled. "please, wear this for now to keep warm and i'll be right back with our beverages. Caramel, 2 creamers and 2 sugars right?" He asked, hoping that his memory was correct on how you liked your coffee.

"You remembered that?" You smiled, adjusting the scarf for a snugger fit.

"I did, you ordered the same thing every time you needed a refill as we talked at the shop. I wanted to memorize it. i'll be right back" He smiled brightly, nodding as he walked over to the food stand to get drinks. You nestled your face into the borrowed scarf, the scent of cinnamon and his cologne flooding your senses as you hummed contently to yourself. Your face almost hurt from smiling so wide, a giddy feeling overcoming you as you sat alone for a moment with your thoughts. Your eyes transfixed on watching his every move, smirking as he made small talk with the clerk and your stomach fluttering as his addictive laugh echoed through the courtyard. You wondered if he was feeling the same way, free falling head over heels for him by the moment with every little thing he did. You watched him in quiet adoration, making a little squeaking sound into the scarf as his gaze fixed back on you and he gave a little wave as he waited.

"Here you are, it's still a little warm so i'd let it cool slightly" He smiled, handing you the coffee as he popped the lid from his beverage open. A spicy aroma clung in the air as steam rolled off the top of his cup, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he placed his hands around the warm coffee cup.

"Spiced Chai?" You inquired, taking the top off your own cofee to let it cool just a bit.

"Mhmm! it's my favorite blend of tea! I love all the different spices in it, especially cinnamon!" He confirmed, breathing in a bit of the aroma with a delighted hum.

"It's actually my favorite too" You smiled, finding just another reason to fall in love with him as he smiled brightly.

A small breeze passed throught the tree branches above you, sending a small silvery snow shower down upon you both as you chatted about tea preferences.

"well, that's one way to cool them down a little quicker!" He chuckled, reaching over to tuck in your scarf a little closer.

"all the same, are you staying warm enough?" He asked gently, his hand lingering on the long part of the scarf for a moment before meeting your eyes.

"I am, thanks to you. I appreciate the coffee and lending me your scarf" You cooed gently, taking a small sip of your coffee. It wasn't nearly as good as what the cafe makes, but for vendor coffee it was exactly how you like it.

"What about you though, aren't you cold at all?"

"Actually, it's very rare that i get cold. My body has always run on the warmer side, it's almost like i'm running a low grade fever most of the time. Doctor's have told me that it's not harming me, still it does worry the nurses every time" He laughed lightly, nodding as he took a sip of the spicy tea"

"See, I'm the complete opposite. I'm almost always cold but i hardly feel it on my skin. I've just become accustomed to it, I start to feel 'feverish' if hit 99.0, my body just tends to run cold" You explained as you walked and talked down the snowy path back towards the park entrance. Your free hands had naturally drifted towards holding the other as you walked, a smile permanently etched into your expression as you felt nothing short of joy in the moment.

"Even if that's so, I'm sure you still feel cold sometimes" he mused, lacing his fingers within yours as he looked up at the pair of cardinals singing in the tree above.

"I do….but luckily I have someone here to keep me warm today" your murmur softly, pressing yourself closer to his side as you noticed the tips of his ears flush crimson and his grip on your hand tightened just slightly.

His gaze moved from watching the birds in the distance to take in the beautiful sight at his side. The setting sun bathed your features in a soft orange glow, the feeling of your body huddled close to his own making his heart race in a way he'd not felt in a very long time. He'd never thought about someone this much, from the moment he woke up to the last thought at night, you were always on his mind ever since that day. He wondered silently if you felt the same way, if the connection he felt so strongly was reciprocated and this could turn into the first of many many dates to come. He didn't want the sun to set, the dying of the light taking the warmth of the sun and your calming presence at his side along with it as he would have let you go. He couldn't let this be the end, he wanted so many more days like this with you.

Even just one more date…one more and I'd be the luckiest man on earth

"I'd be happy to be here to keep you warm not just for today, but any day you feel cold. I'd be happy to warm you up...i-if that would be agreeable" He ventured, an uncharacteristic bashfulness in his tone as you smiled widely. First date jitters were normal, but in the time you'd known him he seemed like he oozed confidence in every aspect of his life. You would have never guessed someone so forward as Kyojuro would be stuttering over his words, let alone asking you informally for a second date.

"I-I'm always cold so….you might be in for a lot of work to keep me warm" you laugh lightly, squeezing his hand as you cuddled closer to his arm and stepped onto the subway platform.

"I'll gladly accept that position" he cooed, smiling sweetly as you both stopped in front of the kiosk to check the train times.

7 minutes, that's enough time to say goodbye I think

"I suppose… that I should get going soon" you mutter softly, a twinge of pain in your tone as you begin to slowly pull away from his side.

"Would it be ok to call you later, to make sure you made it home ok?" He asked, fighting against the sudden urge to wrap you in his arms and not let go.

"I would like that, I can text you when I get home." You smile sweetly, trying to prolong holding his hand as long as possible as the announcement indicated your train was coming in 5 minutes.

"This was…really really nice Kyojuro. I really enjoyed our time together, thank you for everything. I'll talk to you soon then?" You cooed gently,giving his hand another squeeze before starting to walk away. You were stopped as you realized his hand had not let go of your own. You turned back to face him, his eyes glinting with a spark of determination as his cheeks flushed bright red.

"I... have question for you" he said softly, closing the distance between you in an instant as his other hand cupped your face gently.Your heart thumped wildly in your chest as his amber eyes lock with yours, the warmth of his body permeating through his jacket as he smiled lovingly.

He pauses for a moment, taking time to sense any hesitation within your stance as his thumb caressed lightly over your cheek. Any fear he had dissolved as you brought your hand up to cover his own cradling your face, passing your thumb over the back of his hand with a smile.

"yes?"

"May I?" He whispered softly, his warm breath ghosting over your lips for a moment before you give him your answer in the best way you knew how.Your lips connected softly at first, gently testing the waters as your body ignited in a rush of sparks. His hand lets go of yours at his side, wrapping around the small of your back as he slowly deepened the kiss. The world stopped at that moment, all noise fading to the background as he held you close. The bitter cold wind felt like nothing against your skin, repelled by the warmth of his embrace and his kiss that set your soul on fire. You were bewitched instantly, so much so that it was only because he pulled away that you came back down to earth long enough to know why he stopped. Your train rattled into the station, its doors opening with small hiss to let passengers off and take you to your home.

"I can…walk you to the train car" He offered, the look on his face saying everything his tone did not. His head felt like it was still swimming, overcome by the intoxicating feeling of your lips against his own and the feeling of you in his arms. He didn't want to let you go, he wanted to spend the rest of his waking hours by your side if possible, but he knew that this was your train and you had to go.

"I..uhm..w-would you like to come home with me for a while? I don't have any dinner plans yet, but I can cook for us? I-if you have plans that's ok, it's Saturday after all and I know work keeps you busy and-" the words flew out of your mouth quicker than you knew what you were saying, seemingly desperate to prolong your time together as you wished you didn't have to leave his warm embrace again. His lips connected with yours mid sentence, dissolving all other thoughts you had in an instant as he pulled back and nodded "I would be honored to join you, please lead the way~" he smiled lovingly, squeezing your hand lightly as you both headed for the train uptown.

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro fluff #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku x y/n #im just very soft for this ball of sunshine

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spikezonebby · 5 months

Note

Can I request a song fic? TFP Shockwave with a human fem reader, Monster by Starset. Genre: your choice really. Song lends itself well to several things depending on how you want to play it (angst, comfort, romance).

Monster - TFP!Shockwave/Human!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,849

Shockwave could not think of a single instance where he would ever describe a human as truly capable. However, their application of energon-based tech was getting close. Energon crackles through what would normally be frail fiber optic cables surrounding him, turning into truly formidable bonds.

The cables wind around his back, anchoring him by the neck into an arch with his hips tilted forward to hold his balance. More cables bound up his thighs to his calves, leaving the struts tight and close, without a single millimeter of give. And the final pièce de résistance was, of course, his hand and his canon folded tight against the small of his back, forcing his chassis up and flat. LIke a massive heaving table, imbobile and exposed.

They even unhooked the latching cord of his canon, letting it lay limp and useless on the ground next to him.

There’s a click, and then a whoosh of doors opening somewhere in front of him that he couldn’t see. But he knew the sound of your steps.

“Good morning, Doctor Shockwave.” You greet him in the same blasie manner you had a hundred times before. Complete with the strained whirl of hydraulics. The mechanical arm of the traction belt lift fashioned in the center of the room beside him came to life.

He says your name, complete with title of doctor yourself, as a simple and even acknowledgement that you were in the room. Ire burned in his chassis but he learned long ago that his imprisonment here was not your specific doing. No, you were just the pair of hands tasked with studying him. You were accompanied by two other human guards, dressed to the nines in carbon fiber and armed with prods, also powered with energon.

“Where do you find all of the energon to power your contraptions?”

You make a soft hum, then finally he can see you out of the corner of his optic. The lift rises up level with his chassis, and there, you pull sterile medical gloves with a quick latex snap.

“Doctor, you know I cannot answer that. You’re smart enough to figure it out anyways.”

It was your simple way of saying that his hypothesis was probably close. Cybertronians weren’t the only ones capable of harvesting the powerful blue crystals.

“Hmph. How disappointing. Normally you at least appease me with some mildly stimulating conversation while you poke around in my spark chamber.”

“Well, I have received some very disappointing news today.” You begin, and he feels the itching sting of your fingers dragging over the access ports over the side of his neck, then plug in an alien line that feeds prompts directly into his processor. No matter how many times he tries to deny the incoming commands, his HUD view floods with them again. He knows what you want, but Shockwave wasn’t known to be an easy subject to study.

Even for you, she who had worked her dexterous fingers into circuits countless times before. Violated the sanctuary of his body. Painless as your examinations had been, they still left him with no less ire and humiliation.

He shuts down another dozen prompts, you simply send them again.

“I hardly care for your turmoil.” He hisses. You don’t seem surprised.

“I thought you would be interested, since it involves you.”

Shockwave curses when his surprise gives you a window to bypass his consent commands, flicking his chassis plating open and exposing the outer covering of his spark chamber. With the glass pane coverage and purple plating dripped down, the roiling magenta and cobalt shades shone through the glass outer covering. Not fully exposed yet, but getting there, slowly.

Like the world's slowest and least sexy strip tease.

“What, has opening me up like a toy and playing with my internals not yielding fascinating enough answers for you?”

“I’m afraid not.” You agree, gravely, and he’s surprised yet again that you’re not sending more codes to open him up further like he’s some kind of clam and his spark a pearl. Instead, he’s able to barely turn his helm enough to watch as you take something out of your coat.

The housing of his spark itself didn’t carry any sensors, but he could feel the proximity of you close enough to his essence. He can feel the energon cables biting into his throat as he tries to look down. There’s pressure and something heavy laid atop it. Then the cable is yanked from his port and he instinctively snaps his plating back over.

…What had you affixed to him?

“You see, something has become very clear to me. The work I do here is unappreciated.”

There’s an electric pulse over his spark, like a pacemaker buzzing tight and hard against him and forcing his spark to echo back the electricity. It momentarily steals the breath from his vents. The guards behind you seem confused, their grip tightening on their prods.

“My work is being stolen from me beneath my nose and my name erased from it. I didn’t start working for Silas so I could build weapons. I wanted change. Real change that having power and knowledge brought.”

That’s when he notices the heavy welding glove you pulled on over your dominant hand. It slides up over his neck, hooking under the edge of the energon cables with something cool and sharp he didn’t remember seeing you pick up. A human-sized scalpel.

You lean over him, rising up above his view, your reflection cast in the glowing red glass of his single optic.

“Why build a weapon when the perfect one already exists right here?”

“Hey! What are you doing?” One of the guards finally cries in outrage, snagging you by the back of your coat. They haul you away from him with an outraged shriek– his spark pulses again with painful electricity that he doesn’t understand– and ripping the barrier of your glove out of place from the scalpel against his neck.

Energon electricity crackles against the scalpel, defusing it and sending energy rippling through Shockwave’s body with a roar. His entire body tenses, snapping delicate unpowered fiber optic in the brief nanoseconds between waves of power. He snarls, flexing his shoulders and snapping the cables off of him in a storm of crackling wires.

In a cloud of fried wires and nostril-burning smoke, the guards scream and call for help, damning your name. The crazy scientist! The mad doctor finally lost her marbles! Shockwave can feel his tanks churning as aftershocks of pain make his protoform and artificial muscles cramp.

“CALL THE BREAKOUT TEAM! CODE PURPLE! I REPEAT: CODE PURPLE!”

“Quiet, you!” Shockwave hears you hiss, the crackling of an energon prod ripping through the air. Your silhouette fights through the smoke, ripping a prod from one of the guard’s hands by the mace head before you turn it back on the guard and smash them across the head with it.

Shockwave finds the end of his power cable and jams it back into his gun with a satisfying click then low whirrrrrr that has the whole room going silent. A jolt of electricity jostles his spark again and a half-charged bolt of pure blaster energy crashes into the ceiling, carving through alloy and wires, drywall and fiberglass insulation, like it’s paper.

When the smoke clears, Shockwave cycles his vents against and again, trying to dismiss the overloading heat and pain. His struts quiver and he catches himself on the hydraulic lift. Finally tall enough to rise above it, the vents along his ribs draw in another breath of stuffy air that does little to clear his processor.

And then he sees you. Stumbled back over the lift’s safety rails with an energon prod clasped in your gloved hand and an unconscious guard laid out behind on the ground down below where you’d thrown them.

“Doctor.” Shockwave says, as he lifts his cannon level with your whole little body. “I must commend you. Letting your test subject destroy the facility that used you does seem like fitting revenge.”

“Not so fast, Shockwave.” You pant, hooking a finger in the collar of your shirt, “Did you really think I’d set the monster free without a backup plan?”

Then you pull it down, revealing a heart monitor strapped over your chest. As you take careful, measured breaths your heart rate slows and the dull thrum against his spark does too. Shockwave’s grip on the lift tightens, bending the metal beneath his fingers like a dry leaf.

“...A dead man’s switch.”

“Not exactly, but close enough.” You say, leaving him with more rage-induced questions than answers. “You know the drill. It can’t be removed unless it’s bypassed, and if my heart rate drops to zero…”

“The only thing that could kill me that close range without being directly on my spark… would be an EMP pulse.”

“Bingo. Now, let’s strike a deal.” You push yourself up fully, finding your pace and your footing before your legs can turn to jelly. “I set you free, so you get us both out of here. Because if you leave me here, I’ll just remotely set off the pulse.”

“It’s not much of a deal if I’m not getting anything extra out of it.” He says, his cannon still shoved in your face. But your heart rate stays the same. You weren’t scared of him. No.

You had him right in the palm of your hand.

“You’re not dead and you’re not tied down. That’s what you get out of this.”

“...And I get to be your monster. Rampaging through the remains of MECH, tearing through your colleagues.”

A smirk crosses your lips, and he wants to blast you just to wipe it off your face. It might even be worth dying, if it wasn’t completely illogical.

“When you put it like that, it almost sounds like you’re getting some stress relief out of it too.” You chuckle, and then… you’re offering him your hand. Your tiny, human hand that he could crush without a second thought. Yet it was those hands that outsmarted him, bound him up, tied him to you by blood and energon.

It was clever. He hated it. He hated you. He wanted you dead. It was commendable.

“That is… logical.” He admits, begrudgingly. “But mark my words, Doctor…”

Shockwave feels another pulse of electricity rattle his spark and make it skip as he lifts his cannon to the wall behind you. Then he lets loose a blast of sheer power that blows a hole in the wall behind you, hitting you with a wave of heat that billows your hair and your coat.

“I will find a way to remove it. Then I will kill you. For now,” He drops his cannon and turns his attention instead to the newly blown hole in the wall. “We have a deal.”

Your heart monitor buzzes, breath leaving you in a single punched out wheeze. For now, you had the tyrant in a new kind of chain. For now long, you didn’t know.

But it would be long enough.

#transformers #transformers prime #request fill #thank you for requesting!!#song fic #Shockwave #tfp shockwave #shockwave/reader #reader insert #tfp shockwave/reader #plot??? plot

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webslingingslasher · 2 years

Text

My request:

NWH! Peters! x Venom! reader!

Plot takes place during No way home.

Reader is known by every Peter just in different forms.

Ex.

Peter 1: Mentor turned villain

Peter 2: Cousin

Peter 3: Fiance

Each Peter had lost the reader in different ways but all knew her.

The spell brings a different version of her into Peter 1s universe. This version arrived with Eddie Brock, her father, who she's trying to get back too. She decides to help them even though so she and her father can return home quickly. There she bonds with each Peter a bit and though she isn't their y/n she still grows attached to them.

This was fun to write- I felt like it was a little hard bc its hard to write for 3 Peters at one time. Each one has a different personality. (I think I favored Peter 3 in this one.)

“Do you ever shut the fuck up? Because at this point i’d rather have my brains on the sidewalk from this fucking green guy than hear you say that again.”

“We Are Venom. They need to know.”

“We?!”

“Pretty sure I was just me but then you hijacked my meat suit.”

“You’re our precious meat suit.” the harsh whisper echoed in your head.

“How can a girl be so lucky,”

“You would be dead without us. We would be dead. Start thanking us or we will leave.”

The tone was harsh, it always was.

But, Venom was right. And you hated when they were right. Venom had hijacked your meat suit and saved you. When your dad changed realities his body wasn’t able to handle Venom anymore. You had taken a blow from some electricity after Peter 3 had stopped short, one thwip away from smacking lighting guy in the face but stopped to stare at you.

You looked him in the eyes and frowned as the bolt entered your body and you dropped, Venom’s scream overtook the entire scene, everyone coming to a halt at the piercing howl, a guttural growl.

“You did this! You will pay!”

They entered your body, its snake-like trail circled itself around your body and wormed its way through your ear. While you jumped awake in panic, like a dream where you catch yourself falling, your body stayed unmoving. This was a war in your mental state.

“No. No, no, no, no.” You cried looking at the black in front of you.

“You said you wouldn’t, you promised my dad!” You were backing up but had nowhere to go. You were stuck.

“Daddy isn’t well, darling. We need to survive. They killed you, he killed you. They’re supposed to be the heros, they are supposed to help.” The creature hissed at you.

“No, no. He didn’t-”

“He did!” They roared, you flinched.

“He hurt us. They hurt us. They have to pay.”

“No, please Venom. No, They don’t-” You were pleading, tears springing to your eyes. They promised they wouldn’t, they promised Dad. They said if dad would let them stay I'd be safe.

“I did tell your father I would keep you safe, this is us doing that.” They sneered, this was a nuisance to them.

“I didn’t say-”

“You did. I’m in your mind darling, you can’t hide from me.” The figure slinked closer, you tucked yourself in the small room you pictured yourself in. “And,” The black covered your shoulder like it was a hand in a comforting moment, “You can’t stop me.”

The creature swallowed you and when you were able to open your eyes again you were eye level with twelve story buildings. It felt like your body was stuck in black, slimey vines. You realized you were Venom.

“We Are Venom!” They roared and grabbed at the green hoverboard pulling it out from under the masked villain and slamming it into a building shattering it into pieces.

“Is this why we were called here? Forced from our home?” Venom stopped, Electro was throwing bolts at them. They looked at the shocks, like they were cute. “To play games with these-” They grabbed at the light bolts attached to their chest, “Stupid” Venom ripped them off and held them in a hand. “Human” They turned the cables towards Electro and held them against his head and watched him start to convulse as they wrapped their black around his throat, his feet kicking looking for the floor to ground him, they lifted him higher. “Games?”

The body dropped.

A claw hooked into a leg, Doc Ock was trying to pull himself up. Venom bent at the waist.

“How cute. You remind us of a little spider.” They reached to pat at his head and chuckled when another claw came to clamp a grasp of their body. “We don’t like spiders. They don’t make good meat.” Venom shook their leg, the body tumbled off them. “That’s enough of that.” A foot raised, and slammed down. When they moved away there was no body, just broken metal.

“Where is the green one?”

They spoke to Peter 3. The one that killed you.

“Peter 1 is beating his ass, Peter 2 is trying to talk him down from the ledge.” He pointed his thumb behinds him, he was looking in the center of their chest.

“We will go help the puny one.” Venom tried to pass Peter 3, it wasn’t their time yet.

“How about the sky one first?” Peter 3 held his hands up towards the creature trying to block their path. It was almost comical.

“He is no threat.”

Peter 3 guffawed.

“You- You don’t know that.”

“We do. We are an alien symbiote. We have been everything, We are everything.” They continued to walk, Peter 3 tried to stop them again.

“If you know everything then why is my fiance in you right now?” Peter breathed deeply in and out his mouth.

Venom stopped. Is that why this human let her die? It’s such a dumb human moment, it’s recklessness. If they weren’t there she wouldn’t be.

“She is not yours. She is no ones. We Are Venom.”

Venom continued to walk forward. The green one had to die so the rest could.

Peter 3 threw his hands up, “Okay, that explained so much. Thank you so much for doing that for me, totally didn’t give me more questions than answers.”

“We like quiet when we kill. Stop the boy.”

Peter 3 shot his eyes to where Peter 1 had his fists wailing on the green goblin, Peter 2 was trying to pull him off. “He seems pretty focused.” Peter 3 did not want any part of that. He wanted his fiance to be back at home with him.

“Stop the boy or We stop him.” Venom hissed their requests.

Peter 3 held his hands up, “Okay, okay.” He ran over to the other Peter’s.

“Peter! It doesn’t change anything! She’ll still be gone and you would've killed someone. It doesn’t make it better, it makes it worse. She wouldn’t want you to do it.”

His beating came to a halt, his breaths tired. The body below him was gurling, he had to snap back to reality. He lost all control in a moment of rage and grief. He leaned against his counter-parts, and they surrounded him in a hug. Venom stepped over them, “Humans,” They mumbled.

Venom picked up the goblins body, they tossed it in their hand.

“Humans, they are the only species I've known to do this. It’s a fun hobby I guess, a subtle game. The subtle competitiveness, seeing who can do it farther, faster, better, and seem the most nonchalant, like they weren’t silently begging to win all along.”

The Peters looked to Venom, they were holding the green body in a tight hold. They waited for them to finish.

“But Humans. Humans are weak. Even the strongest,” They turned to look at the Peters.

“Are weak. They don’t know what true strength is.”

Venom squeezed, a cry and a crack of a hundred bones broke.

“No one has beat me at this game yet.”

Venom held up their hand and tossed the Green Goblin across the lake, his body was a pawn in a game of rock tossing. His body skidded and cut across the water like glass, he went further than you could hear, no telling when he finally stopped.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Your questions were rapid fire. One second you were begging Venom to not take control and was forced to sleep after Venom had enough of your protesting.

“Venom, I’m freaking out here!”

The figure paused, they didn’t mean to let you wake yet.

“We had to protect you. It is safe.”

The Peters looked at eachother. It was a one way conversation.

The figure started to slink, in one moment it was a single band around your forearm. You looked at the boys and smiled. Each in a similar suit, each slightly similar in looks. They all looked at a loss when they saw you, it was clear they knew you but you had no idea who they were.

“Hi. I’m-” You tried to introduce yourself.

“Y/N.” The chorus of your name set you back some.

‘How do they know me?’ The thought was to yourself but they answered. “We are someone in their lives, but We are not them. They think We are.”

‘So, an alternate version of me exists for each of them?’ You waited for their voice, ‘Yes, darling. Smart like your daddy.’

“I’m not your Y/N though, am I?”

All 3 shook their heads.

“Who am I to you?” If you were in a reality where you could learn about your 3 other persons wouldn’t you?

“You’re my fiance.” Peter 3 had a sad smile.

“My cousin. You died 6 years ago.” Peter 2 laughed, you weren't you. But you were, and he never thought he would get to see you again.

“You were my 5th grade science teacher.” Peter 1 added, clutching his side breathing hard.

“When was that? Last year?” Peter 3 shared a look with Peter 2 and both started laughing while Peter 1 rolled his eyes.

“What about you?” Peter 2 asked.

“ Where are you from?” Peter 3 followed up.

Peter 1 was focusing on being alive.

“I am here with my dad. My dad is with Venom but when we got here his body started to reject them. I was killed and Venom went with me so I could live and they could live.” You blinked at them. You had a connection to Peter 2 but he wasn’t your cousin.

“I know you though.” You pointed towards the oldest one.

His eyes widened, you were his dead cousin from not this dimension and now you’re saying you knew him.

“How?”

Venom raised as a head next to yours, they wanted to say the words.

“You set us free, you made us who We are.” Their tongue was sticking out, drool in a long string.

“You were Spider-Man in my world. You got attached to Venom and in a fight threw them off you and they attached to my dad. You made my dad Venom.” You furrowed your brow at him, “And you stole his girlfriend! So, fuck you!.” You pointed at him and huffed.

Peter 1 looked towards Peter 3 for a reaction, he raised his hands in a surrender motion.

“I’m on the alien's side. Dude stole his girlfriend.”

“Venom killed you in my world. You don’t exist. You haven’t in 20 years.”

Peter 3 let out an “Oh.” and leaned into whisper to Peter 1, “Not on the alien’s side anymore.”

Peter 2 couldn’t speak. He was Venom, he passed Venom on to a random person and stole his girlfriend?

“It sounds like I wasn’t a good Spider-Man.”

“You weren’t.” You and Venom spoke at the same time.

Venom stopped the conversation. It’s gone on too long.

“We killed that one once before. We can kill the rest.”

Venom started to grow on your shoulder, wrapping an arm entirely.

“No! Venom, no!” They kept growing.

“They aren’t ours! We had our vengeance. I was good to them.”

“So? They steal Us from our home and have Us fight their silly Human games and win then let them live like they deserved it?” Venom was hissing their words.

“I said no!”

Venom didn’t listen. They grew over you again, you were slinking back into the abyss in your own mind. The Peter’s looked at eachother. Peter 2 spoke to the group, “How are we supposed to fight that? Apparently I tried and died. They killed everyone tonight with no help.”

“Don’t fight. Make this easier. I’d make you a meal but smart people don’t taste good. We can taste the try hard.” Venom stalked towards them but you exploded with an idea.

“Venom, wait.”

The alien paused.

“What if they can help us?”

“Help us?” Venom rolled the words around.

“The Humans help us?” They laughed.

“Get us home. Get you back in dad.”

“Back in dad?” Venom sounded, hopeful?

The Peters watched. The creature was stopped and was having a conversation with the girl inside.

“Yes! They brought us here, they can get us back. The sooner the better, dad needs you to survive.” You bartered with the symbiote

“We are Venom. We want to be Venom again with dad.” The black fell from your body, no longer visible. They were dormant in the system.

Peter 1 stepped forward after Venom disappeared. “Are we going to die or not? I don’t have much fight left.”

“No death. Not yet.”

“Yet?!” Peter 3 echoed.

“Get Us home. No death.”

The Peter’s took you to a lab, it was underground but high tech. It was hiding in plain sight, every piece of technology one could think of would be found in this room.

“Is this yours?” You asked Peter 1

“No, It was my mentors. Tony Stark.” He sounded depleted.

“Who?”

“Iron Man?”

“Who?”

“The guy that founded The Avengers?”

“The what?”

Peter’s 2 and 3 were watching this back and forth. They were both also lost in what the world was like here, only a few things were in common.

“Oh my God! Who was the all mighty powerful person in your world?” Peter was exasperated.

“Norman Osborn.” You and Peter 2 and 3 spoke at the same time.

“My version of him. But, like actually a good guy.”

Peter 1 was glad when the rapid fire questions eased. He had directed them all in a role to help get Venom and you out of this world as soon as possible. You were at the station next to Peter 1, you stepped over to talk to him a little, learn more about your other self.

“Tell me about your teacher.”

You watched Peter tense and relax, he side eyed you and started to speak.

“She was you. She was the age you are now, and I thought she was the coolest ever. She wore different socks everyday, never the same pair twice. They were always some random design, mostly science stuff. And she loved Star Wars!”

You loved how happy he looked right now. He was reminiscing on his childhood with his teacher, well the person he thought was his teacher.

“She had all these Star Wars posters, and she gave me extra love. I don’t know if she just liked me a little more than the other kids or if she just knew I needed someone to care about me but she helped make me into who I am. It sounds dumb but I would always tell myself ‘When I get a Nobel Piece Prize I’ll thank her’”

“She sounds amazing. Is she still teaching now?” Maybe Peter could pay her a visit, maybe seeing you will give him the push he needs.

He shook his head.

“When I was in 7th grade she got sick. Lung cancer, she never smoked a day in her life. She died before I was in 8th grade.”

You paused, not sure what to say but he spoke for you.

“When I was in her class I lost the science fair. I was ready to give up forever, but she told me that science was my thing. That no one could take that from me, that the time I have studying and guessing and processing was mine alone. She told me that as long as I had that, I’d be okay. When she died I forced myself to memorize the periodic table. Not just the placements, but the uses, the definitions, the PH levels. I grounded myself in science.”

“And now, when I use science I think of her. She will never be forgotten or missed as long as I'm here.”

“I’m sorry if it hurts seeing me. I’m sure Peter 2 is freaking out because his cousin that died is sitting here.” Peter laughed, “No, if anything it’s really nice. I got to see her one last time how I remembered her.” He paused and looked towards Peter 2, “Maybe go say hi to him. You made me feel better about the person I miss.”

You nodded at Peter 1 and went around some tables to Peter 2. He kept his gaze locked on the table, maybe it was better if you ignored each other.

“You were 3 when you died. In my world I mean, I know you're not him and I don’t know what happened that night but I don't hate you.”

His eyes looked into yours, “I was 26 when you died. You looked like you did now.”

“Tell me about her.”

And he did.

“We were best friends growing up. We were each other's safety buddies, where I went she did and vice versa. We parted a little in middle school but we were always close, I don’t know when it changed. I think she dated this guy in college that was a real dickhead and I told her I wasn’t going to watch her get treated that way and she told me I wouldn’t have to and we stopped talking.” His eyes got watery and he blinked it away.

“We had saw each other at Christmas that year and she had dumped the guy and said she was stupid and she missed me and we had plans to hang out the next week.”

He looked at you and looked down. He squeezed his eyes, and clenched a fist.

“She died on her way there.”

You had no words. You pulled his shoulder and wrapped him in a hug. Some tragedies need no words, sometimes they just need to be heard and felt and seen. Sometimes they just need someone to listen.

You held each other in a tight hug, both squeezing. You got to go home and forget about this, he has to go back to where he can never see you again. Never see his cousin again. Never mend that bridge with his best friend. You allowed him all the time he needed in your shoulder, if you were able you’d give himself a piece of you to take home.

He pulled away and smiled at you. “Thank you. I really, really needed that. I just want to tell her what I wanted to this whole time”

“You can. I’ll listen.” You nodded at him. If this would help him, you would allow it.

“I miss you. I missed you. I’m sorry I cut you off, but I’m also mad you never told me you ended it with him. And i’m mad because you wanted to come over that tuesday because you had plans thursday with Becca and I’m really fucking mad you died.” His eyes burned into yours, “Why did you have to die?”

“You don’t have to answer that, you can’t answer that. I just needed to say it. I’m good now, promise.”

You looked him over, he did seem okay. He looked lighter, a weight was off his chest. He looked like he was able to breathe better, you hoped he was okay as he was promising.

Peter 3 looked over at the commotion and spoke up.

“You don’t need to ask me about her. She’s waiting at home for me now.” He smiled thinking about his love, a few worlds over missing him.

“Oh? You mean she’s alive?” You had to press that currently she was the only living alternante you.

‘Mhm’ He hummed.

“At least I hope she is. That would be a real bummer to go home to.” He never raised his head to meet yours.

“How did you meet?” You whispered the words, both Peters resuming their tasks.

“I got a job bartending and she trained me, she said I was the best barback she’d ever had. Obviously, that was her saying she was in love with me so I had to ask her on a date.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes, “Obviously.”

“Been together since. It will be 5 years in February. I proposed 4 months ago.” He added.

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re going home to someone.” You were sincere.

“Me too.” So was he.

“Uh, Guys. I don’t want to stop anyone short but I have it. Y/N’s going home.”

Your head spun to Peter 1. He just spoke the words you were looking for the whole time.

Home.

With dad and Venom and no Spider-Man.

You did feel a little upset, these were some nice guys that helped you out. Whether they wanted to or felt forced they still did it. You would miss them. Maybe Peter 3 the most, he was the cutest and maybe you felt the most drawn to him because another version of you was in love with him.

Venom sprung from your body.

“Home? Get us home.”

Peter 1 just nodded at the black creature.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You helped your dad stand with his arm over your shoulder. He wasn’t doing well.

“Here. Take this,” You held the mixture to your dad’s mouth. Peter 1 told you it would stabilize his body enough to handle Venom on the way home.

“Venom you can come out now.”

The black leaked from your ear, it curled around your shoulders skimming up your dad’s arm and into his ear. He shuddered then stood tall.

“God I missed you.” He hugged himself.

“Thanks Dad, missed you too.” You rolled your eyes.

“Of course I missed you. I’m sure Venom made sure you were okay.”

You ‘mhmed’ him and nodded.

You looked towards the Peters. Peter 2 was holding a box, he told you before that when it’s hit you'll be sent home. You were ready. You came, you saw, you fought and killed, and you conquered.

“You guys were cool. If you ever need an alien symbiote from an alternate reality you know where to find us.” You nodded at the boys and stepped to each one.

You spoke to each, one by one. Giving a hug at the end.

“Peter, keep doing science. You’re the best scientist here.”

“Peter, keep mending broken bridges.”

"Peter, keep loving her.”

You stood back by your dad and wrapped an arm around him.

“Ready to go home?” Peter 1 shouted.

You looked at your dad and hugged him tighter.

“Ready.”

#peter parker fluff #peter parker blurb #peter parker mcu #tasm!peter imagine #peter parker drabble #peter parker angst #tasm 2 #peter parker x reader #tasm andrew garfield #my writing

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murdrdocs · 2 years

Text

anybody, everybody, scream! teaser

You get the first call on a Monday, around 2 in the afternoon.

You only remember because you’d just gotten back from your noon Econ class. It was a drag, and you always needed some sort of pick me up once you finished, usually in the form of whatever overpriced, extremely sweet drink you were using your food points on for the day.

The worn down toe of your dirtied converse had just stepped foot onto the creaky hardwood floors of your apartment when the phone rang. Your suitemates weren’t home, either in a class, out studying, or basking in the remnants of the sun that came with the beginning of Autumn.

Which left you to answer the phone.

Your bag was dropped by the door, which was where it usually ended up either way, and you rushed to the phone. You always did, running to answer the call, even though it usually wasn’t for you, or was just a telemarketer.

But the only reason you did so was because you were expecting someone. You were expecting Steve. Always.

It was 2 PM, on a Monday, therefore Steve would have known to not call you for another few hours, but you were expecting him either way. You couldn’t help it.

Your hand wrapped around the beige phone and lifted it to press the plastic to your ear.

“Hello?”

Silence.

So you tried again.

“Hello?...” you drug out the end, then waited for the other person to speak. You thought you heard breathing, but it was too faint to really tell. So you sighed and placed the phone back onto the hook, turning away to place your shoes by the door.

You and the other girls were mostly sure that something was wrong with your phone. This was a recurring problem; someone calling and no sound comes out on your end. You’d been meaning to contact someone about this, but truthfully you all were too busy––and a little lazy––to do anything about it. Besides, the problem seemed to fix itself by the next call.

You’re halfway across the empty living room when the phone rings again.

You sigh softly, a little upset about being interrupted once again, but there’s a pep in your step since you’re gonna be able to actually have a conversation this time around.

“Hello?”

“Hello?” The person on the other end asks. You smile a little, happy that your theory was proven.

The phone always fixed itself sooner or later.

“Hi. Did you just call? There’s a problem with our receiver.”

“Yeah, I did. I was wondering what was up with that. For a second I thought I was gonna have to get another phone,” the person––a man, you’re gonna deduce––laughs and you do too, instinctively twirling your finger around the cable cord.

“No, no. It’s just our problem,” another friendly laugh. “Who are you trying to reach?”

“Uh, a Heather Holloway. Is she there?”

“No, I’m sorry. You have the wrong number. Heather doesn’t live here.”

The person winces. “Yeah, I must have the wrong number. I’m sorry for wasting your time.” He laughs bashfully.

“It’s okay, happens all the time. You take care.”

“You too.”

And the receiver is back on the hook. Simple as that. You don’t think much of it at all, finally placing your shoes where they belonged and you’re pulling out a book with the intent of curling up on the armchair and reading for a while.

At the time, it was just a call, a human mistake made by someone looking for Heather.

But looking back on it just a week later, you realize that it’s nothing of the sort. It’s very sinister. And you can’t think about it too long without feeling like you’re gonna barf.

everybody scream, a stranger things Scream au, will be coming soon

#yeah it’s steve but guess what #….#it’s eddie too #GASPS #everybodyscream!#scream au #stranger things au #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson x you #steve harrington smut #eddie munson smut

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halloweenhoneylover · 2 years

Text

dark and stormy

summary: steve's enamored with the guitarist in eddie's band who is much cooler than him (steve harrington x fem!reader)

word count: 5.4k

warnings: almost entirely fluff, steve and his parents

author's note: indiana underground music scene my beloved

Gravel crunches under the tires of Steve’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the Red Key Tavern, a dingy bar in Indianapolis. After an hour and a half of being crammed into the backseat, his slew of kids wasted no time in pouring out of the car, moaning and groaning and lamenting limbs that had fallen asleep. Ducking out of the driver’s seat, Steve props an elbow on the roof and surveys the joint bathed in red neon. “Dude, are you even old enough to get in here?”

“No, but Eddie said he could get us in anyway.” Dustin readjusts the hat on his head, his nearly unshakeable confidence thrown just a little at the thought of being in a real bar with real adults. (The ones he hung out with didn’t really count.)

A few days prior, Hellfire Club had been ablaze with the news that Corroded Coffin had finally booked a gig in a real venue in the big city, and as soon as he’d heard, Dustin had begged Steve to drive them up to see the performance. After some minor debate, he had agreed to shuttle the kids there, but upon seeing the building, Steve was beginning to doubt whether or not this was a good idea. “I’m sure we could find somewhere to get dinner that’s a little more…family friendly.”

“No way are you backing out on us, dude, you promised!”

“I know, dipshit, but I’m just not sure—”

“My disciples!” From the alley beside the bar emerges Eddie Munson in all his glory, peacockish tendencies peeking through as he greets the group with wide arms and a gleaming smile. “Glad you could make it.” Crooking his finger, he motions while stepping back into the alley. “Follow me.” The boys flock towards him, Max drifting behind them all unimpressed, while Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie’s antics. He locks the car and saunters behind the group.

Reaching the back door, Eddie corralls the herd of teens through the maze that made up the backstage while Steve strolls behind, sizing up the place. Sharpie stains the crumbling red brick walls with the signatures of performers long forgotten. The hallway is illuminated by a flickering fluorescent on its last leg, and it smells like someone had been spraying cologne indiscriminately.

Suddenly, the group comes up on a door which Eddie opens with exaggerated chivalry, ushering them into the bar itself and then excusing himself to make final preparations for the performance. In the densely populated hall, Steve isn’t worried about the kids being seen and kicked out, but upon further inspection, an unfamiliar itch of anxiety creeps up his neck as he sees a mass of people his age who all don black and leather and look like rejected members of Depeche Mode, and he begins to feel sorely out of place with his light-wash jeans and boy-next-door sweater. Where was Robin when you needed her. The one time she wasn’t glued to his side, and he was immersed in a crowd much more her speed without a crutch.

He is drawn from his thoughts when he sees his own crew nervously eyeing the sea of people and sets aside his own fears to put them at ease. “Hey, why don’t we stake out spots close to the stage?”

He’s met with a chorus of nods. Up at the front of the group, Max grabs Lucas’s hand and begins leading them towards the stage, which sits empty aside from the drum kit, a keyboard, a couple mic stands, and a labyrinth of cables connected to imposing amplifiers. Laying a protective hand on Dustin’s shoulder, Steve holds up the back of the pack and makes sure no one gets lost in the crowd.

Once they reached the stage, the nerves ebb, replaced by the excitement of doing something very grown-up and a little rebellious. Mike nudges Dustin with a knobby elbow. “Do you think they’ll open with Starcrusher or Valley of the Beast?”

Dustin scoffs. “Dude, there is no way they wrote the utter masterpiece that is Steel & Iron, and they’re not gonna open with it?”

This comment opens the floodgates for an intense but familiar round of bickering that leaves any nervousness long forgotten.

Without any warning, the stage is bathed in a molten red light, and behind them, chatter subsides, everyone’s attention directed at the stage. From the speaker mounted right beside Steve’s head, feedback squeals, and he cringes, rubbing a hand over his ringing ear. “Ladieeeees and gentlemen,” a deep, theatrical voice booms out of the soundsystem. The boys in Hellfire immediately recognize their DM’s voice, the put-on low sound a staple in many of their campaigns, and they batted at each other’s arms excitedly. Max watches unamused. “We know you’ve been dying to hear some real music tonight, so be prepared to be laid to rest by Corroded Coffin!!!!”

From an open doorway at the back of the stage, Eddie emerges to the applause with all of the pomp and circumstance of a real James Hetfield, stomping in a pair of black boots and his trusty guitar slung at his side. With significantly less practiced showmanship, the other members of the band trail out in Eddie’s wake. Steve recognizes the other guys from times he’s picked up Dustin from Hellfire: Gareth twirling a drumstick in his fingers, Jeff fiddling with the buttons on the keyboard, and Grant fumbling with a quarter-inch cable connected to a massive bass amp. Eddie is adjusting the mic stand to his height and working the crowd when movement at the stage door caught Steve’s eye. Out from the darkness comes a fifth member of the band he’d never seen before.

She’s cool, that’s indisputable. Doused mostly in black, she sports dark liner smudged effortlessly around her attentive, watchful eyes, and her lips are curled in a supremely confident half-smirk like she knows she’s blowing all the other dorks on stage out of the water. All aloof and beautiful, she reminds Steve of Debbie Harry (whom he was deeply familiar with after being shown a whole magazine spread about her by an obsessive Robin). Guitar in hand, she waltzes up to the mic stand slightly behind Eddie and pulls the strap over her head, grabbing a nearby cable to plug into her guitar’s jack. Nudging Dustin with his elbow, Steve jerks his chin in her direction. “Who’s that?”

A knowing grin on his face when he sees who Steve is motioning to, he says, “That’s [Y/N].”

Steve nods, trying to seem uninterested and removed.

“She’s too cool for you.”

Steve gives him a betrayed look. “Dude.”

“I’m just saying!”

And before Steve has a chance to retort, Eddie is slashing a huge, resonant chord that riles the crowd. Gareth hits his sticks together in a four-count above his head, and the band is off to the races. With a sick sneer, Eddie is spitting a quick riff on the upper frets, and the kids seem to recognize it because Mike hits Dustin with a triumphant I told you!

While Steve was never a big fan of the heavier rock stuff, he had to admit the band was pretty good. Eddie is scream-singing into the microphone in that distinctly metal way, something about treading carefully in the valley of the beast, and Steve watches as you grin at your frontman and strum rhythmic power chords to back up his frilly licks. Shouting into the mic as backup, you echo Eddie’s lyrics in the gaps between phrases, and at the chorus, you both sing in unison, playing off each other with shared glances and mirrored smiles.

Another verse and chorus go by, and Steve finds himself enjoying the show more than he ever thought he would. He supposes it doesn’t hurt that there is a hot girl shredding the guitar four feet in front of him. Soon, you’re stepping out from behind the mic stand to face Eddie who turns to you. Underscored by the consistency of the keys and bass, you launch into a melodic solo with your fingers flying over the fretboard, and soon, Eddie offers a twin harmony. All together, it can only really be described as face-melting, and the kids next to Steve are reaching out towards you and Eddie with wiggling fingers. You let the final note ring, and while Eddie turns to finish out the last chorus, you drop to your knees at the edge of the stage to spit out a couple more accenting licks. The kids are simply losing their minds, and Steve is a little breathless with you having landed right in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch you. After a few more hammer-ons and bended strings, you strike one final chord to end the song.

Focus finally pulled from your guitar, you look up only to meet Steve’s eyes where he’s already staring, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. You squint at him bewildered for the slightest second before you recover your rockstar coolness to send him a wink that leaves him reeling.

—

People are filtering out after the set, and Steve’s at the bar, ordering a drink. After the show, Eddie had invited the kids backstage to see the dressing room and experience the “real rockstar lifestyle,” and while Steve liked Eddie enough now, he was content to have a breather from his babysitting duties. Leaning on the countertop, he silently nurses his drink and gazes around at the illuminated wall of liquor, at the few stragglers sitting in booths having vivacious conversation.

“Hey, can I get a Dark and Stormy?”

He looks to the patron who had appeared on his left and is surprised to see his favorite Allison Reynolds knockoff. Feeling eyes on you, you meet his gaze and offer a subdued smile. Your untouchable on-stage character has faded, but Steve still finds himself a little starstruck. There is an undeniable self-assurance and maybe that’s why he thinks you’re so cool; he doesn’t think you would ever let anyone give you shit. Maybe it’s why he’s nervous to talk to you: he’d been accused before of being full of shit, and if that was true, you’d see it in a second.

Despite it all, he pulls back his shoulders and clears his throat. “You did really great up there.”

You’re surprised he decides to talk to you, but you hide it well. You look him up and down, sizing him up, and he feels bare under your gaze. “Thanks, man.”

It starts to look like that might be where your conversation starts and promptly ends, but you’re intrigued by him, so you press on. “This doesn’t really look like your crowd.”

He laughs at your astute observation. “What gave me away?”

Trying to suppress a teasing smile, you look at his teal sweater and white sneakers and shrug. “Lucky guess.”

He shakes his head and looks into his drink. “Yeah, I had a couple friends who wanted to come see you guys, and I offered to give ‘em a ride.”

“Oh, so you’re with the group of kids backstage?”

Having failed to avoid being pegged as the babysitter, he lets out a rueful laugh. Already in this short conversation, he knows he’s paling in comparison to the beautiful musician next to him. Any chance he has at impressing you seems lost. His tone grows sullen. “Yeah, those are my kids.”

The bartender sets your drink on the countertop next to you, and you slip him a five with a soft thanks. Taking a sip of your drink, you eye his cup suspiciously. “That’s not very responsible of you as a chaperone.”

He winces a little. “It’s a Shirley Temple.”

Your laugh is a little surprised but mostly really pleased, and he can’t help staring at the way the corner of your eyes crinkled with good humor. “Point taken, Harrington.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and he tilts his head to the side. “How do you know my name?”

You wish you hadn’t shown your hand so quickly, but it is rather amusing to watch him as you pull the rug from under him. You sip your drink again. “You don’t remember me, Steve?”

“From the stage, yeah, but—”

“No, from high school.”

The words die in his throat, and he looks at you with a new set of eyes as he tries to place you in his memory but comes up short. He feels a little guilty as he shuffles through the yearbook in his brain to no avail. “No, I don’t, I’m sorry.”

You find yourself surprised by him again because you think he really is sorry, so you let him off the hook.

“Don’t sweat it. You didn’t come to many jazz club performances, I didn’t go to many basketball games, we’re even.”

His eyebrows are still pinched as he continues to survey you, turn you over in his mind and hope to find you in a lost memory. “Still sorry, though. Thought I’d remember someone like you in high school.”

You don’t really know how to process that statement, so instead you push the focus back onto him. “You were a little…preoccupied back then.”

His cheeks flush with embarrassment at the reminder that news of his relationships were public knowledge in high school, but you don’t seem cruel in your discrete mention of his King Steve era, only honest. “Yeah, uh—needed to get my priorities straight.”

Something in your eye glitters at this seeming character growth, and he claims it as a victory, wanting to be just as fascinating to you as you were to him. And when the playing field finally feels even, you down the rest of your drink in a gulp without blinking and give him that cheeky grin that is entirely too disorienting. “I gotta go finish packing up, but it was nice talking to ya, Steve.” The newly familiar name feels foreign on your tongue, and he decides he liked the way you say it.

Before he can get a handle on his eagerness, it rears its head, and he’s watching your retreating form and calling out to you much too loudly. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

Looking at him over your shoulder, your grin stretches, and you shrug.

“Maybe.”

—

Steve isn’t excited for dinner. Sitting in the back of his dad’s car, he looks as stiff as he feels in nice black slacks and a stuffy white button-up. He feels like a kid, sitting in the backseat fiddling with his cufflinks while his parents chat about everything and nothing in the front. His head lolls back as he stares out the window at the lights of Hawkins’ main drag passing by.

His dad has a client in town and had invited him out to dinner at the town’s finest dining establishment, Enzo’s, and Steve is being dragged along to complete the manufactured image of the Harrington nuclear family. So he ventures into the depths of his closet to find the nice suit his mother had bought him at Christmas for ‘special occasions or maybe a job interview.’ (Subtlety was not always Mrs. Harrington’s forte.) Unable to stomach a moment of full rebellion, he had left off the suit jacket and tie to silently protest the dinner, and while he was met with a disapproving eye from his father, he was not told off, which he deemed a success.

In the back of the car, tired of fussing with uncooperative cufflinks, he ditches them entirely and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows. He jolts a bit as the car parks, unaware that they’d reached their destination. Without acknowledging him, his parents exit the vehicle, and Steve lets out a sigh before summoning the strength to follow them into the restaurant.

Despite being the only semi-fancy restaurant in a small town, the place is really rather nice on the inside, dim and candlelit with soft jazz from a live band in the corner. His dad catches sight of his client, and they greet each other jovially while Steve becomes increasingly fascinated by a scuff on the ground which he toes with a loafer. They’re clapping each other on the back in the familiar way that middle-aged men do, and the man shakes his mom’s hand oh-so-politely when all of the sudden Steve is getting clapped on the shoulder and introduced by his father to this strange balding man. “And this is our son, Steven!”

The man offers a handshake which Steve takes half-heartedly with a weak smile. “I’m your dad’s pal Phil, it’s nice to meet ya.”

“Likewise.”

Much to Steve’s pleasure, the conversation shifts away from him to business or golf or politics or some other thing he didn’t care about. A host ushered the group to a table where Steve sits with a straight back next to his mother who’s politely smiling and nodding. He watches her sadly for a moment as she observes her husband’s conversation, beautiful and put-together and never speaking. Steve thinks she’s actually a pretty smart lady, interesting too, but his dad never listened to her long enough to know.

Steering his thoughts from something too melancholic, he shifts his gaze to the rest of the restaurant where other tables are chatting and eating. His eyes wander from the main floor to the corner where the jazz trio was set up: a guitar, a stand up bass, and a piano. The piano and bass are played by older men, but the younger girl on guitar seems oddly familiar. He cocks his head as he runs through his memory to place her when he realizes he met her 80 miles away in Indianapolis.

Your mane of hair has been tamed back away from your face cleanly, and you have ditched the black for a white turtleneck and white slacks. The dark shadow on your lids he had come to admire is nowhere to be found, and he’s surprised by how easily you could tuck away your rock persona to be some plain restaurant musician, not meant to attract any attention. Your attention is focused on a stand of music in front of you. Steve watches enraptured as your delicate fingers expertly navigate the fretboard, picking chromatic scales and diminished sevenths. He had wondered before if he was just awed by you before because of your avant garde fashion and too-cool persona, but now, he realizes something about you is inherently magnetic as he stares and stares and st—

“Steve.”

His father’s stern tone yanks him from his reverie, and he blinks, trying to orient himself in the conversation.

“Darling.” His mother gently placates him with a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Phil was asking about school.”

Steeling his jaw, Steve offers Phil a forced smile. “Oh, uh, I don’t—I don’t go to school.”

“Really? You seem like a total college man to me.”

Hot under the collar, Steve grimaces before responding, “Yeah, just didn’t work out for me like that. But I do have a job. I work at the Family Video down the street.”

His father’s stare sharpens at the mention of Family Video, but Phil remains ignorant to his displeasure. “Always good bring home some bread, but lemme tell ya, if you ever wanna get back into the college game, I know a guy at Wabash and—”

Phil continues monologuing as Steve nods and feigns interest in whatever the hell he’s saying, but all he can think about is somehow finding a way to escape this godforsaken dinner. Eventually, the conversation leaves the topic of Steve’s future, and during a lull, he excuses himself to the bathroom. He files past tables to the back of the restaurant and once he reaches the restroom, he sees a door labeled ‘exit,’ so he pushes out into the night instead. A rush of cold air greets him as soon as he steps out, and with eyes closed, he heaves a sigh and leans against the brick exterior, relieved to have found a moment of refuge from his parents and their grilling and fucking Phil.

“You look tired.”

A familiar voice startles him out of his reprieve, and he looks to his side to see his favorite musician slouched against the wall with a cigarette between your two fingers. Your eyebrows are quirked in an amused but sympathetic manner, and you take a drag off the cig before offering him a hit wordlessly. He watches the smoke curl out of your pretty pursed lips, and when you look up at him from under your lashes, eyes shining in the harsh fluorescence, he wants to beg like a dog begs for table scraps. When he can finally pull his gaze away, his eyes shift to the cig in your fingers and then back up to yours with a guilty expression.

“I told Dustin I quit smoking.”

You shrug, and somehow with your nonchalant approval, Steve doesn’t feel guilty taking a long drag, feeling that familiar burning sensation in his lungs. He lets the smoke go on a slow exhale, savoring the forbidden pleasure. He hands the cig back and mumbles a soft thanks, which you accept with a small nod.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you survey the dirty parking lot behind Enzo’s before taking another drag, and your preoccupation with the dimly lit asphalt allows him to stare. He liked your other look a lot, but he likes this one too, the neat hairstyle pulling it all out of your face, so he can see it all clearly: the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the crinkling corners of your eyes. You’re statuesque and divine, the way you lean against the wall and glow under the light. Angelic in all white.

“Do you prefer this look?”

Your words are spoken into the encroaching night, and Steve wonders why you won’t look at him. He turns to lean on his left shoulder and face you better.

“What do you mean?”

Your lips pull into a tight smile, and you continue to watch the dark. “Just that you always seemed like a more clean-cut guy in high school, dating preppy girls and wearing polos.” He chuckles at your description of his archetype, and your smile is tight in an effort to be contained. “Thought I might’ve scared you before.” It’s kind of a joke, but it also gives voice to an insecurity that bubbled up in the time since you’d last spoken.

“I’m not easily spooked.” He’s smirking, and it looks good on his face, but it doesn’t really settle your stomach the way you wanted it too, and somehow, he realizes that and makes an effort to reassure you.

“I like your other look. I really do. The makeup, the hair—it’s cool. It’s very…alternative.”

It’s your turn to laugh. “It is. Feels more like me, though.”

“Not to say that I don’t like this get up,” he says, gesturing to your outfit. “Can finally see your whole face.”

You can’t help it when the heat rushes to your cheeks, and your eyes swing to his to see what he meant by it, but he’s indecipherable. Why does Steve Harrington want to see your whole face???

You clear your throat and try to divert attention from whatever weird tension was weaving its way between you. “Yeah, they want us to look all nice and clean and polished for the guests here, so they told me to put the hair away.”

He’s laughing again, and you can’t understand why pride swells at your ability to make him laugh. He looks beautiful beside you. Shadows gathered under his cheekbones and his jaw, under his eyes. His Adam’s apple jumps with laughter, and you want to tear your eyes from his neck but are failing miserably. Sure, he was handsome in high school, but he was far away on an untouchable pedestal back then, and now he’s real and right next to you and too tangible. Your gaze searches the night again, your smile small like a hand of cards tucked against your chest as his laugh finally fades.

The quiet that settled is not uncomfortable but the balmy feeling of possibility. You risk a sweep of your eyes up his figure to his face, and that sadness he’d come out with once again rests on his forehead, and you aren’t quite sure when you became bold, but you break the silence. “Why’d you come out here?”

His smile is rueful but not unkind, eyes looking down at a crumbling parking space barrier. He picks his words carefully. “Shitty parents talking about wasted potential.”

You hadn’t really known Steve in high school aside from peripheral knowledge, but you had enough context clues to understand. You nod slowly. “I get what that’s like.”

His eyes raise to yours in silent question. You continue, “My parents aren’t exactly stoked that their daughter is trying to be a musician. Unstable career path, starving artist bullshit.”

“But you’re, like, really good.”

When you meet his eyes again, he’s all earnestness. Normally, you would have protested and shivered under the compliment, but something about him and the way he’s looking at you makes you believe it.

“Thanks, Steve,” you whisper.

“I’m serious, dude. You could move to Nashville, do the whole nine yards.”

His blind belief in you makes you chuckle lowly, and you tap out the ashes before taking a drag of your nearly forgotten cigarette to settle the uproar of something soft and fluttery in your stomach. Something about the sight of the cig reminds him of the smoking warzone left in the restaurant that he had to return to. Jerking a thumb in the direction of the door, he says, “I should probably head back in, but uh, it was good to talk to you. Again.”

Your lips curl in that otherworldly smile of yours as he reaches for the door handle, and it takes all the strength he has to resist the pull to your side. He sends a tight-lipped smile as he pulls the door open, and he’s about to leave when you call out.

“The band is playing the Hideout on Tuesday!” Your cool exterior has cracked in your desperate attempt to keep him near, but you recover yourself. “You should come.”

He returns your toothy grin.

“I’ll check my schedule.”

—

Once again, Steve feels out of place. It’s not as bad as Indianapolis, but he doesn’t feel exactly comfortable. He’s been to the Hideout before, but it was when he was in high school with a group of rowdy basketball jocks with fake IDs. Now, he feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb against the smattering of metalheads that have gathered in Hawkins’ dingiest dive bar on this random Tuesday, and he surveys them nervously.

With a rough hand on his tensed shoulder pulling down, Robin scoffs. “Will you chill out? You’re looking around like you’re about to commit a crime.”

Grimacing, he pulls his shoulders back and takes his hands out of his pockets to look less sketchy, but then he looks even more awkward, not knowing what to do with his hands. Robin’s face assumes one of disgust. “Nevermind, that’s even worse.”

“God.” He flexes his hands and then smooths his hair back before crossing his arms on the bar. “I’m acting like a fucking freak. Why am I so nervous?”

“Because you’re crushing on a girl who’s way out of your league.”

“Not helpful.”

“Just—order a drink or something, you’ll be fine,” she mollifies while signaling the bartender.

He shakes his head. “I used to be good at this, Robin.”

The bartender arrives, and Steve orders a beer and a vodka soda for Robin.

“You were good at this. With a very different target audience. But just ‘cuz you’re dealing with a new demographic doesn’t mean the whole game has changed. Just be nice, tell her her band is good, and ask her on a date.”

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He rubs a thumb on the space between his brows which has grown sore from the constant concerned furrowing. Finally giving up on the tough love act, Robin pushes the beer toward him and sighs.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “You’re right. I’ve been rejected on a nearly daily basis for almost a year now, so one more shouldn’t hurt.”

She flicks him on the forehead.

“Ouch, dude!”

“Not the right attitude,” she chastises.

Before he can properly retaliate, the lights dim, and the sound of Eddie’s spoken intro booms from the speakers. The band members begin to filter on stage to mild applause from the rest of the patrons. Steve views the lackluster greeting with disdain before amping up his own clapping and adding a few cheers for good measure. Last one out on stage, you smile lightly, decked out once again in your black and your eyeshadow and your hair, but the sound of a boisterous audience gives you pause. Squinting into the stage lights, you try to identify the source, and your eyes land on Steve, who gives you a big smile because he can’t help himself, can’t stay cool and reserved. You grin to yourself as you plug in your guitar.

At his side, Robin bats Steve’s arm and mouths to him, That’s a good sign!!

He agrees.

“We are Corroded Coffin!” Eddie wails into the mic, and the music begins thunderously.

The band plays some of the same songs and some new ones, and Steve should probably pay more attention to the music, but he’s staring at you with hearts in his eyes instead. He catches your eye a couple times offstage, and it feels like a secret he’s begging to share. He wants to grab the old drunkard next to him by the lapels and shake him and yell, She’s looking at me!!! The guitarist is smiling at me!!! because you’re a star up there, and he’s happy to just be in your orbit.

The set lasts for their hour slot, and it closes with a galloping original song with lots of crashing symbols and dirty driving guitar. Again, Steve finds himself clapping and cheering the loudest, so he elbows Robin, so she hoots and hollers alongside him. On stage, you give a small salute in gratitude to the audience and dip into the darkness of backstage.

“Yeah, she’s definitely too cool for you,” Robin says plainly.

“Dustin first and now you,” he laments, shaking his head. “I know it’s true, but you don’t have to say it out loud.”

“Hey.”

It comes from behind him, and he turns to find you rocking back on your heels and staring up at him meekly. His breath catches at your nearness, and he’s smiling. “Hey.”

Robin witnesses this greeting with baited breath and wide eyes before spewing words, “Such a great show, [Y/N], I’m gonna go talk to Eddie, okay, bye!” She speeds away, giving Steve a very pointed look that he doesn’t miss.

Attention back on you, he inhales quickly, brain scrambling to come up with conversation. “Yeah, you were really great.”

“Thanks. It was pretty fun tonight, most of the time the audience is a bunch of drunk dudes who couldn’t give less of shit, but for some reason, they were really responsive tonight.”

Steve feels a blush creep up the back of his neck at your teasing, and his eyes are trained on the ceiling with a dopey smile on his lips. “Yeah, I don’t know, maybe something special in the air tonight.”

“Maybe.” You chew your lip, the corners of your mouth turned up. The conversation comes to a standstill, and your skin itches until you blurt out, “Thanks for coming.”

“‘Course. Gotta see all your shows before you get famous, and I can say I saw you before you were big.” You’re laughing, and he’s kinda joking, but he really does think you could go all the way if you wanted.

Your face feels hot, staring at his shoes because his eyes are too much. “God, you’re really yanking my chain now, huh?”

“You need to stop selling yourself short. You gotta believe in yourself more, you’re incredible.”

Rolling your shoulder back, you realize the dam has broken, and some courage that you didn’t know you had is unearthed in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes meet his, and you smile proudly. “D’you wanna get a drink with me, Steve?”

He nods before he can even really process what you’re saying, his grin stretching wide once he does fully realize.

“I’d like that a lot.”

—

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #corroded coffin!reader #the end is rushed but it's fine

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