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mistress-riddle · 8 months

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𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐘. cedric diggory

request — Cedric and his parents go on a trip to another country during the summer and during it, Cedric meets reader at a park reading, they strike up a conversation but seeing as they are both wizards and neither of them realize the other is also a wizard they dont keep in touch. when they return to Hogwarts, Cedric glances around and sees reader sitting with the Slytherins at dinner and asks them on a hogsmeade date to catch up. — @hea-vin

you sigh as you take a seat on the bench, family long discarded in favour of resting your aching body from the shopping and sight-seeing you've been doing for the past 5 hours and reading a book instead. you fail to notice the boy taking a seat at the exact same time as you and so you startle when he chuckles and asks "long day?"

"sadly," you groan and stretch your neck to the side, closing over your novel "you in the same predicament?"

"sadly," he huffs and ruffles his hair as he leans back, legs spreading slightly in the process "where abouts are you from?" he asks shortly after.

"live in central london," you turn to properly look at him "what about you?"

"near devon, england." he seems to be around your age, brown hair mixed with golden highlights that seemed too soft and fluffy to be dyed. his face was certainly something to admire, high cheekbones dusted with pink and freckles that accompanied them, lips wide and full and jawline sharp in its edges. his eyes are a mix of hazel and green with specks of gold similar to the ones in his hair, once you notice you've been looking for a bit too long you clear your throat and look to the side.

"how long are you staying here for?" the boy asks you, head tilted to the side as he scans you, your face seemed familiar but he wasn't sure where he recognised you from.

"i think two more days," you ponder "i'm not sure, i'm just tagging along with my family." you shrug and he smiles in return.

"same here, though i think we're staying for the week." you nod and he follows it with "how have you liked it so far then?"

"it's been pretty alright actually," you respond with a grin "i mean apart from the heckling of being with family and having siblings, the sights here are so pretty and the food is delicious."

the brunet agrees with you, the same amiable smile decorating his lips "it is quite beautiful here, though i don't have any siblings to put a dimmer on my experience."

"oh lucky you," you sigh "i wish i was an only child."

the boy laughs as he shakes his head "i often wished i had a sibling to play with."

you glance at him with a cheeky look "want to trade?"

"i'm afraid i'm too used to being an only child." he shrugs and you pout.

"bummer, i could've been having the time of my life had you agreed." you shut your eyes as you allow the sunlight to bathe you in its rays, peeking an eye open after a few seconds, you focus it on the boy beside you "you sure?"

"you didn't exactly sell it out to be the greatest thing," he pauses and hums "might need some convincing."

you tap your fingers against your thighs as you ponder "well for starters, i guess they're somewhat cute—" you're cut off by a yell of your name. the two of you turn to see a 6 year old running towards you with a cup full of fruits.

"mama said you have to come back, we're going to another place." the child rushes through her words and almost chokes on a pineapple during the relay of her message and you send the boy next to you a look which caused him to chuckle.

"slow down, you're going to choke." you pat her back gently and shake your head as you stand up, sending her away as your bags go back in your hands and your book is put away.

"well, it was nice chat," you smile at the guy still sitting "i'll work on the pro's for the next time if i see you around."

"i look forward to it, farewell, my chatting companion." he waves and you try to mimic him with a tiny wave of your own as you follow behind your sister.

it's a shame you met the handsome stranger in a foreign country and not back at home. alas, it was probably worse that he was most likely a muggle who you could not communicate with. a bummer how all the good ones you're destined to only meet once you think to yourself.

the bustling of the students feels familiar as you take your seat beside your friends in the great hall.

"how was your holiday?" asks emma from your side, nudging you with her elbow the second dumbledore announced that the feast shall commence.

"emma, had you not slept the whole ride from kings cross to here, you would've known."

your other friend, ben, interrupts as he places a hand on his chest and haughtily stares down at emma "since i was actually awake to converse with my friend like normal people do, i had the opportunity to hear about [name]'s first crush on this british boy she met on holiday."

emma ignores bens attitude as she turns to you with her mouth open, a gasp escaping her lips "no. way." she whispers and you roll your eyes.

"it's not a crush, ben just wants to mess with you." you retort at her wide eyes and disbelieving expression.

"come now, [name], it's not everyday you compliment a boys look to us, he must've really swooned you." ben teases and you sigh.

"you make it seem like i've never complimented anyone." you deadpan and your friends scoff.

"fine, i'll never tell you anything again." you mutter in spite and ben and emma hurriedly attempt to placate you throughout the rest of dinner as they try to coerce you to spill about the handsome stranger who caught your attention and affection.

towards the end of dinner when conversations take over and everyone is only lightly taking bites of their desserts, ben finds his eyes drifting behind you before his expression changes into one of curiosity "say," he interrupts you and emma, you two turn to him with an unimpressed look "does anyone know why the diggory boy keeps looking back here every now and then?" he gives you a look "any of you associated with him?"

emma wistfully sighs as she places her head on her closed fist "i wish, i'd totally get with him if he wanted." you give her a look and clear your throat.

"umm, who's diggory?"

the two sigh "cedric diggory? the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team?..." ben asks as if that'll help you and you turn to emma "he's blondish, tall, absolutely dreamy?" she quips and you hum.

"he sounds like the perfect package, how come i don't know about him?" you ask and they shrug.

"merlin knows how in your world you are, as a slytherin, it will do you good to build connections." ben adds and emma taps your shoulder to get you to turn around and show you who exactly cedric is. as you turn your head however, you catch the eye of a certain quidditch captain, you're met with the sight of the boy from your holiday and your breathe hitches as he stands and makes his way over.

"okay, now why is he coming here?" ben asks once more and emma shrugs as she watches the two of you stare at each other.

"it's you." you both utter at the same time and his face breaks out into a smile that you can't help but reciprocate.

"i thought i'd never see you again." the boy scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks colour a rosy hue.

"and i you." you nod in reciprocation.

"well since luck seems to have found me, i think i have to take full advantage of it and ask you on a date." you hear one of your friends choke but you choose to ignore them and put up a front of a thinking face as cedric waits for your answer "i just have to find out what the pros are."

you sigh as you cross your arms "i did try to come up with an extensive list..." you look up at the boy and nod "fine, i'll free a day and make a compelling case for you."

you did not think cedrics grin could widen anymore and yet you stand (sit) corrected as his teeth show "i look forward to it!" he waves you goodbye as he heads back to his table and rejoins his friends.

"turns out this priss not only knows diggory but managed to bag a date with him."

"prick."

"dear merlin, why don't i have their luck?"

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory headcanon #cedric diggory blurb #cedric diggory oneshot #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter scenarios #harry potter drabble

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swimmingismywholelife · 10 months

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The Only Reason

Summary: Even though your relationship with Christian has been rocky, neither of you are willing to go down without a fight.

Warnings: 18+, arguments, panic attack, a lot of crying, angst but a fluffy (if you can call it that I guess) ending, SMUT, some dirty talk, soft dom!Chris, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it and make sure you're not allergic to your wrap!), fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is sweet tbh

WC: 4.4K

A/N: It's my birthday but this is a present for all of you! Inspired by "The Only Reason" by 5 Seconds of Summer. My first attempt at smut which lowkey I wasn't supposed to add but it fit anyway. This is a step considering I'm openly horny on main now so you might see more in the future 👀. I literally changed it 1274045923845 times but I'm happy with the way it turned out so I hope you guys think it's good-

"Even though my dizzy head is numb

I swear my heart is never giving up.

You're the reason

The only reason."

~~~

The front door slammed shut, indicating Christian was finally home from training. You sighed, praying this would blow over quickly so you could enjoy your dinner.

The past few weeks had been incredibly frustrating for the both of you. Chelsea had been on a losing streak with hardly any goals and Christian hardly got any play time. He was in the middle of trying to negotiate some sort of deal with the club, either to transfer or give him more playing time. Although it wasn't the option he preferred, it was likely he'd be transferred somewhere else soon, and with that contract talks had to be opened. He loved Chelsea, but the club didn't seem to return that love to him. It heavily weighed on Christian's mind, slowly draining him of the love he had for the sport, sending him deeper into a depressive and angry spiral causing him lash out on everyone.

On top of that, your own stresses had started building up. Your workload had tripled due to you being short staffed. Every time you thought you were done with a project, a modification was added or a brand new one was added to your list of things to do. You were working overtime almost every single day and you were close to ripping your hair out.

Between your work and Christian's training, you'd hardly seen each other over the past few months. He'd been extra short with you recently, something that was pretty unusual for Christian. You were typically the one who struggled to keep your anger in check, but these days it seemed your boyfriend could give you a run for your money. Most days you spent sleeping away from each other as opposed to being cuddled in each others arms. During the very brief moments you did end up spending time together, more often than not it resulted in some kind of an argument.

You both agreed earlier that morning that you were in desperate need of some kind of date night to ease your minds and to spend time together. You decided that a simple dinner would be sufficient enough. It was something small, you wouldn't have to go anywhere, and it was always one of your favorite date ideas since you'd gotten together. You were excited to finally spend time with your boyfriend even if it wasn't anything fancy.

But you knew by the way Christian slammed the door that he thought otherwise. He angrily threw his training bag to the side, grumbling to himself.

"Chris, it doesn't do you any good to pace angrily around the house," you sighed. "At least come eat and try to take your mind off things."

It seemed you only made him angrier.

"God, what don't you get?!" he snapped back. "Fucking food isn't gonna help the situation. Our team is shit, this situation is shit, everything is shit!"

You stood up from your place at the table, upset with Christian for yelling at you when you just wanted to help.

"I understand you're frustrated with everything, but don't take it out on me!" you yelled back. "All I'm trying to do is help you. I'm not a fucking emotional punching bag for you to take your shit out on Christian!"

He slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the entire house. It startled you. Christian wasn't one to express his anger through violence like this.

"Why do I even keep fucking trying with you?! All you do is nag and nag and nag! You keep 'trying to help' but you're not!" he screamed back. "All you do is get in my face of 'oh Christian do this,' 'oh Christian try and do that.' Get out of my face for once I'm fucking tired of it!"

You were stunned. Your heart with each word Christian spat out at you. You loved him, but you knew you didn't deserve what he'd been giving you for the past few months.

"Fine. I'll 'get out of your face,'" you said calmly.

"Actually you know what? I'll do it myself. Being in here suffocates me," he said venomously, grabbing his keys and storming out the house.

You moved into the bedroom the two of you shared. What once felt like home to you felt like a prison suffocating you the longer you stood in it. And you just fell to your knees and cried.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment where it all started going wrong. You and Christian weren't perfect of course, but you just worked. You understood each other like no one else. You'd experienced things together that you'd never had with other people. You hadn't grown up with Christian in the past, but that didn't matter. He was your present and was going to be your future.

But that was then. Somewhere along the way, things changed. Nowadays he barely made time for you. He was gone before you woke up and you were asleep before he came home. Date nights were nonexistent, special occasions stopped being special. You couldn't keep begging for his attention, wondering if this time would be enough to keep it.

You didn't want things to end. That was absolutely the last thing you wanted to do. You loved Christian with everything you had. But you were the only one trying and you both knew that. Somewhere Christian just fell out of love with you while you were desperately trying to grasp onto something. But it was no use. He was gone a long time ago.

Christian was in the middle of figuring out the trajectory of his career, unsure if he was to wait out his contract with Chelsea for the next season or leave for a club that truly appreciated him. And pretty soon, he would be flying back to the States for international break. The last thing you wanted to do was add onto the stress Christian was feeling.

But how long would you have to keep sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of his?

Christian didn't come home that night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. Not that you really expected him to. He hadn't been home all that much anyway, and even while he was there physically, he wasn't there. So sleeping alone in your bed wasn't that much of a foreign feeling anymore anyway. And the longer he was away, the foggier your mind became. The answer was right there in front of you. This was Christian blatantly telling you how he felt about your relationship. Right?

It wasn't until about a week later that Christian had contacted you, letting you know he'd be coming back that night. You mentally prepared yourself for the worst.

The door opened, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. You could hear the clattering of the keys being placed on the table and footsteps heading up the stairs.

The lights flickered in your bedroom. Your eyes met his, startling him.

"Oh hey, I didn't realize you'd still be up," Christian said surprised, removing his jacket and placing it on a chair.

"We need to talk Christian," you said, trying to prevent your voice from wavering.

"We'll talk in the morning, Y/N. It's kind of late and I don't want another fight right now," he responded.

"I'm serious Christian," you answered, feeling your heart breaking already. "And I don't think this can wait until morning."

"Why do you keep using my full name?" Christian asked uncomfortably. "You only use it like this when something's really wrong."

You didn't answer. Instead you got up from your place on the bed and hugged his waist, completely breaking down. You felt like you couldn't breathe through all the tears and the pain you felt. Your body gave out as you fell to the ground, taking Christian with you.

For a second time that night, Christian was surprised. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head.

"Hey, hey, baby what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked.

You couldn't get the words out. You only cried harder as he led you back to your bed. You took in this moment with him, not knowing if this was the last night you would sharing with him. You tried to memorize the scent of his favorite cologne, how perfectly you fit into his arms, the way his kisses felt. You wanted to remember how safe you felt with Christian and how your heart longed for him to come home to you.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay. I'm right here. I won't ever let anything hurt you," he said, trying to soothe you.

Little did he realize he was the reason you were hurting so much.

You held Christian close to you as the weight of your decision started to kick in. You wanted nothing more in this world than to be with Christian. He meant everything to you. You wanted it all with him. You wanted to marry him one day, carry his children, grow old together. You wanted to wear his last name to every game he played, to support him as he reached all his dreams. You could have nothing but Christian and you would be perfectly content.

Your mother had told you growing up that every scenario that came your way had three answers: yes, no, or wait. And you so desperately wanted to believe Christian was your sign that being patient was worth it. That waiting would be worth it. That one day it would bring you the happiness you craved and you deserved.

But how long were you supposed to wait? How long had you waited for him to fulfill his promises? How long had you been patient with him? How long had you stayed loyal every time he'd taken his anger out on you? How long had you been contemplating if you were worth saving? Was this just patience or were you holding onto something that you should've let go of a long time ago?

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier baby," he said, stroking your hair trying to soothe you. "I didn't mean it. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry."

You couldn't get words out. You needed just one last night to call yourself his before you could make your final decision.

"Just hold me please," you sobbed out, gripping his body as hard as you could.

"I'll do whatever you need baby. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

Christian was scared. He didn't fully understand what was going on or why you were crying the way you were. But he knew something was off and something was wrong. So he just held you as you let out all the emotions you'd been feeling for weeks.

Christian knew it was more serious than he initially thought when you kept crying for over an hour. He didn't realize how absent he'd been from your life until then. How long had you been feeling such emotional turmoil? What else had he missed? Why were you crying this hard for so long?

Truthfully, he was afraid to find out. As shitty of a boyfriend he'd been over the past few weeks, Christian loved you with every fiber of his being. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, the relationship you'd built up for years together.

But he knew the likelihood of a break up was probably looming in your mind. Was this it? Was this a sign that something was coming to an end? He didn't want to know. He knew you two needed to talk, especially after the way he walked out. But he was afraid of the outcome.

So he just held you close to him, praying this wouldn't be the last time he got to feel you like this. He took in your scent, trying to memorize the way you felt in his arms. He left kisses on your forehead, shoulders, and cheeks, wiping the tears away as he went.

You eventually calmed down, your grip on Christian never loosening.

"Christian I-" you gasped out.

"It's okay baby, take your time. You don't have to rush anything you don't want to," he whispered gently, kissing your forehead again.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about," he said. "If anything, I should be the one who's sorry. I've been such a horrible boyfriend. I shouldn't have said what I said, I shouldn't have done what I did."

"Christian…" you trailed.

"Shh, it's okay baby. It's okay. We don't have to talk about this right now. We can talk about this in the morning. Just let me hold you right now. Everything is going to be okay," he said softly.

"Chris I'm scared," you whispered.

His heart broke a little knowing you were scared of what morning would entail.

"I'm scared too baby. I'm so fucking scared," he admitted. "But we'll talk about this when it comes okay? Just be here with me now. Nothing else is going to hurt you tonight I promise."

The two of you were laying on your side facing each other. Your head was tucked into his chest, tears flowing every so often. Christian never once let go, not even when his arms started going numb. You were afraid to close your eyes, scared that Christian would be gone the moment you opened them.

Your body stopped shaking and you eventually stopped crying during the early morning hours. You were quiet. And if he didn't know you well, Christian would've believed you were asleep.

But he knew better. He knew that you couldn't sleep because neither could he. Just two souls barely hanging on by a thread not knowing how to fix it.

Did you want to fix things? Or were things so far gone there was nothing you could do anymore? Was this still worth it? Was a future still possible? Would love be enough to save this?

You were set on breaking up with him the night before. You were so sure that's what you wanted. But under the moonlight that peaked through your window, you didn't know what to do anymore. Your head was dizzy with thoughts and you couldn't think clearly anymore.

"Christian?" you called out quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What are we doing?"

His body tensed at the question. He was quiet at first, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He knew this was it. His answer would either make or break your relationship.

"I don't know baby," he answered honestly.

You nestled your head further into his chest.

"I don't want to keep doing this. Guessing if you still want us. You're either in or you're out Chris. I don't want to keep playing your games."

Christian had to stop himself from letting out a sob and took a deep breath. You didn't trust him or his words anymore. And realizing that absolutely broke his heart.

"Can you look at me Y/N?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment before lifting your head. Christian cupped your cheek with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. He rested his forehead on yours.

"You don't have to say anything okay? Just hear me out. I know I've been a shitty boyfriend. I know I haven't been there for you. I haven't treated you well. I've lashed out on you when you've done nothing but love and support me. Through all the shit the world's thrown at me this season, you've been everything I need and more. And I haven't appreciated that. And you deserve so much more than what I've been giving you."

Christian stopped for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at you. How could he have hurt you so bad? How could he let everything slip between his fingers?

"I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I'm sorry that you've lost trust in my words. You always tell me that my words, my actions, and my intentions need to line up and they haven't been and I'm so sorry for that. I'm sorry I've broken so many promises. And most of all, I'm sorry that you're hurting and I'm the cause of it when I told you I'd never let anyone hurt you. I failed to see what was right in front of me and I've taken you for granted and I'm so sorry."

A tear fell from your eye, quickly caught by Christian's thumb.

"I don't deserve you. I really don't. You know that and I know that better than anyone."

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead further into yours.

"But please don't give up on us. I know you can't trust my words right now, but I swear to you I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I can't let you go. Not now and not ever. No more games. No more confusion. No more trying to guess where my head and where my heart stand with you. Right here, right now, forever and always I'm with you. My head is with you. My heart is with you. All of me is with you. And I promise I'll prove it every day for as long as I live. So please. Give me one last chance to be with you."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what you wanted anymore. How could you trust him? He was saying all the right words, but did he really mean it? Were they more empty words?

Yes, no, or wait. Just like your mother said. But you'd waited so long that it seemed almost futile. Had you been wasting your time? Or was this what you were meant to do?

And though your head was fighting with itself, dizzy and numb from the constant questions running around, you knew where your heart lied. So you did the only thing you felt could portray how you felt enough to give him and answer.

You lifted your chin and kissed him deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His grip on your cheek was firm, bringing you as close as you could physically get. The tears wouldn't stop flowing from either of your faces, but none of that mattered. What mattered was here and now.

Yes, no, or wait. And you finally got your answer.

He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And truthfully, he needed you to breathe.

You pulled back ever so slightly, just enough for you to be able to talk.

"You get one chance at this Chris. Only one," you said breathlessly. "Don't waste it."

His lips were back on yours in response, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip. You let out a soft moan as he pushed you onto your back, settling himself in between your legs. He pulled back keeping his forehead to yours breathing heavily.

"I love you Y/N. I love you so much you don't even know," he said. "I won't waste it. Not ever again."

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to your lips, needing to feel him closer. Your hands traveled underneath his shirt, nails scratching his skin lightly as they roamed his chest.

Christian pulled back from you for a moment to rip his shirt off before attaching his lips back to yours, giving you more access to him. You couldn't keep your hands off each other, your legs wrapping around his hips to bring you even closer to him.

"Chris," you whispered. "I need-"

"I know baby," he answered. "I know. Let me take care of you."

You whimpered beneath him as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of marks as he gave you sloppy but gentle kisses. He bit down on the spot just below your ear, causing you to let out a loud moan.

"Does that feel good baby?" he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine that resonated throughout your whole body.

"God yes Chris it feels so good please," you begged beneath him.

His hands grabbed the bottom of your shirt, bringing it over your head and pressing his chest against yours as he kissed your lips gently.

"So fucking beautiful. And all mine," he said to himself.

His lips returned to your neck, this time the trail leading to your breasts. You gasped as you felt his tongue along your nipple, pressing yourself further into his mouth. You only squirmed more as he moved to your other side, your fingers tangled in his hair tugging lightly. He kissed down your torso until he reached the band of your shorts.

"May I?" he asked softly.

You nodded your head frantically.

"Words baby." His fingers hooked into them, toying with the fabric. "You know the drill. I can't give you what you want unless you tell me."

"Yes please," you whined, wiggling your hips in the hopes of getting the clothing off you faster.

"Please what Y/N?"

"Please take them off Chris please. I wanna feel you on my pussy please, please, please."

"Good girl."

He slowly slid your shorts down, taking a little too long for your liking. He kissed down your stomach, loving how you were falling apart beneath him.

His fingers rubbed over the dark spot of your underwear. You gasped, hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He moved his fingers almost in a trance watching as the patch grew darker and larger.

"You're so fucking wet baby. You like it when I touch you like this?" he chuckled.

"Yes I love feeling you play with my pussy!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his fingers.

Christian pulled your underwear to the side. You shivered in anticipation as you felt Christian's breath on your lips.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, running his fingers through your folds.

"God yes! Please let me feel your tongue," you begged, lacing your fingers through his hair to bring him closer.

"As you wish princess."

Your back arched the moment his tongue made contact with you. He licked from the bottom all the way to your clit, lightly sucking on it. You moaned tugging at his curls. The louder you moaned, the faster he went alternating between licking and sucking. Your thighs closed around his head as you pushed him closer to you.

You were so lost in the pleasure that you were surprised when Christian inserted two of his fingers into your folds. You moaned even louder at the intrusion.

"God Christian more please. Please I need more!"

You were begging, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. You just wanted him to keep going.

Christian was enjoying every second of this. He loved watching you fall apart beneath him.

"You need more baby? So greedy. My tongue sucking on your clit and my fingers deep inside your pussy. What else could you want?" he teased, picking up the speed as he fucked you with his fingers.

You couldn't form any proper sentences anymore. Incoherent noises left your mouth as your body started shaking uncontrollably, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Damn baby you're shaking. Are you close already? I've barely even done anything," he mused, inserting a third finger and fucking you even faster.

"God I'm so fucking close please let me cum! Please please please I need to cum please Christian please!" you all but screamed.

"Shh, it's okay. You can cum baby. Let it go for me," he said softly.

Your vision went blank as you came, your hands grasping at Christian's curls to anchor you to reality. Your legs shook violently as Christian continued coaxing your climax out of you, only slowing down as your body started spasming with overstimulation.

"Christian I need more," you whined, gasping for air.

"I know baby, I know. I'll take good care of you," he said. "I'm right here okay?"

Christian kissed your lips gently, making your heart flutter. He softly caressed your face admiring how you glowed under the moonlight. You melted under his gaze holding him close to you.

"You okay?" he asked.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. He moved back just enough to remove his bottoms before taking his place between your legs again. He placed both of his hands gently on your cheeks, resting his forehead against yours. He looked deep into your eyes as his thrusted his hips into yours. You gasped into his mouth as he picked up the speed, grinding slow but deep.

"I love you Christian," you moaned breathlessly.

"I love you Y/N," he responded. "I love you so much. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving my worth to you."

The room was quiet except for the skin slapping against each other and the soft gasps you let out. You grabbed Christian's neck, bringing him as close as you possibly could. You needed him in every sense of the word, wanting to feel every inch of his skin on yours. He was yours and you were his. Your bodies intertwined in the same way your souls had all those years ago and that was all you really needed.

"Chris I need-" you were cut off with a particularly deep thrust making you moan, tugging at the curls on the nape of Christian's neck.

"I'm close too baby. Cum with me. Become one with me Y/N."

You had one of the strongest orgasms you'd ever had in your life. Your chest pressed into his as his cum filled you up, clenching your pussy around him. You held each other tightly, afraid to lose one another as space came between you.

The both of you laid there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of being so intimate. You gasped into each others mouths as your heartrates began to slow down ever so slightly.

"God you're so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Christian said in awe of you.

You flushed beneath him becoming shy.

"Babe you just came all over my dick. You really shouldn't be that shy," he said cheekily. You scoffed and hit his chest slightly.

"You're actually ridiculous," you said lovingly, pressing your lips to his for a quick kiss.

He pecked you once more before pulling out of you. He got up, grabbing a towel and gently cleaning your body. He left kisses as he went, worshipping your body. Once he was done, he laid on his back bringing your head onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head as you tucked yourself beneath his arm.

"Are we okay Christian?" you asked meekly.

"Yeah baby. We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

Taglist: @pulisicsgirl @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @masonspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @lovelynikol16 @bracedes @mortirolo @nyctophilic0vitnir

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fic #swimmingismywholelife

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

Text

Dean Winchester X Reader Masterlist

Some of my works are 18+, which I'll write as such here, but please heed the warnings on the individual posts as well - All under the cut :)

One Shots xx

Angst

💙 Us - request: Can you do a deanxreader songfic to the song us by Regina spektor

💙Goodbye ~ After Dean takes on the mark, his relationship with Y/N starts to fall through the cracks. She’s had enough of him taking out his stress on her, and after years of silencing her pain, she finally lets him know why it’s time to say goodbye.

💙How Do I Become Enough ~Reader and Dean right about her doubts, she feels somewhat isolated and annoyed. No cheating, necessarily, but think along the lines of Dolly Parton’s Jolene

💙Intrusive Thoughts ~Dean was supposed to visit Y/N while she was at work, but when he didn’t show, she got worried. After finally getting ahold of him, she was relieved to know that he was alive. But when another full day passes by without a word, her mind goes into overdrive about what could have happened to him.

💙Voicemails ~ this is a small, angsty thing, and it is 100000% self indulging so please feel free to just ignore it.

💙 Illicit Affairs - Request from anon based on Taylor Swift’s song Illicit Affairs <3

💙 Promise Me This Is Forever - this is for @allywritesblog and #allyswriting event, and im using the quote "promise me this is forever" :)

Fluff

💙 Phone Calls With Dean ~ just a random thing I wrote for a story that didn’t pan out, no real plot to this.

💙Shooting With Dean ~ Dean takes you out for target practice, but something else is on his mind.

💙Time ~Soulmate AU, Y/N has had the ability to pause and unpause time for likely her whole life, believing she was the only person with such a power. One day, she learns that not only is that not true, but the other person is her soulmate.

💙 Salted Baseball Bat - Anon Request: "'They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?' you say as you whack the ghost again."

💙 Criminal - DeanxReader request from @rileynicole1967 based on the song Criminal by Britney Spears

💙 Cat-astrophe Written for @spnfanficpond‘s unfic challenge with the prompt “I may have accidentally sort of adopted 5 cats.”fluff, stern!Dean,

💙 Baby Winchester 2021 - Reader finds out she's pregnant, and tells Dean in a cute, fluffy way.

💙 Just Another Day - Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Flangst

💙 We're Gonna Get You Through This - reader is triggered back to a horrible memory and explains to Dean why waiting to have sex is best for her.

💙Currently untitled ~ Request: could you do a deanxreader fic where she goes out on a date (maybe to a bar) for drinks with a guy and towards the end of the night, the guy (you pick the name) starts being rough with her cause he’s drunk and hurts her, then dean finds out somehow and comes over to kick his ass then admits his feelings for her?

💙 A Boring Holy Cross Tattoo - A Fic inspired by Cards Against Supernatural with the cards “Dean has 99 problems but ____ ain’t one.” and “A boring holy cross tattoo”.

💙 Amnesia - Request from @rileynicole1967 : Deanxreader one shot or series ;) based off the song “amnesia” by 5 seconds of summer but in the readers pov and at the end he comes back for her and it’s all fluffy and cute.

💙 Half a Man - Follow up to the Amnesia request from @rileynicole1967 - this one takes place the same night as Amnesia, but in Dean’s perspective and based on the song Half a Man.

18 + / Smut One Shots

💙Downtime ~ 18+, smut; After weeks of hunting the same witch, you and Dean decide to take a weekend break, but you didn’t expect what was in store for that weekend.

💙Punishment ~ 18+, smut; After embarrassing Dean at an important dinner, he punishes you with a cold shower.

💙 Size Matters - 18+ Smut DeanxReader request from anon, where reader has a size kink

💙 Poison - DeanxReader request from @kaitlaitlaitl based on the song Poison by Alice Cooper

Mini Series xx

💙 Movie Monsters Part One | Part Two ~ You’re teamed up with Dean, a man you’ve always found obnoxious, to find out the path of a new monster. Of course, things don’t always go as planned. (Complete)

💙 Never Have I Ever Part One | Part Two ~ Part Two is pure smut; College!AU - Dean gets jealous of the attention he thinks you’re receiving from Cas during a small party at your house and doesn’t know what to do with it, so he leaves the room to keep drinking.

💙 Hope is a Dangerous Thing... Part One | Part Two ~ The renowned author of a best-selling crime novel, Y/N Y/L/N, was thrown into a whole new world after her parents were brutally murdered. Their killer never found, Y/N took things into her own hands, meeting the Winchesters in her journey for justice. Even years later, she struggles to let anyone close in fear they’d leave or worse.

💙 i hate u, i love u (1) Slowburn au/Y/N has been in a relationship with Nick for the last 5 years. They’ve had a rough go. There’s been good and bad times, but she finally realizes that the man she thought she loved has been abusing her. Dean offers her a safe haven when she feared she had nothing else. (this may be abandoned, but we will see)

💙Reverse Supernatural ~ request; ��Hi!! I have been tossing an idea around for a bit… What if… Now hear me out… What if the Reader was the experienced hunter and she/he has to save Dean and/or Sam who have never known the supernatural existed…?” (only part one is out right now / ongoing / might also become abandoned)

Series xx

💙Family Secrets ~ 18+ ; Your uncle Bobby, and adoptive father Rufus, had a secret. A secret they never wanted the Winchester’s to find out. They had done a good job of keeping you from crossing their path, but now that they've both passed away there is nothing they can do about the brothers finding out their secret; you. (ongoing BUT I really want to and am seriously considering taking it down to rewrite it - this was the first thing I ever wrote and it's... it shows lol) 2/22/24 A/N: I want to return to this series, but since it was pretty much my first fic ever, I really want to rewrite some of the episodes and make it pace better. I understand that that might not be the best solution, however, so maybe I’ll just add inbetweeners or something. Just know I want to come back to finish it and may change some things along the way 😊

#supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader smut #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader flangst #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fan fiction

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bratzforchris · 8 months

Note

Luke x wife!reader. Backstage after the show. Smuttttttt. Fluffy

I'm with the Band

❃

Summary: Above

Pairing: Luke x feminine reader

Warnings: sexual content, p in v, fluffy smut, body worship, some explicit language, silly ending (overall really just fluffy sex)

Word Count: 1214

A/N: Thank you for the request! Sorry it's so short, college/work/an inbox full of requests are joining together to kick my ass :')

Please do not read if you are under 18

❃

It was the final show of The 5 Seconds of Summer Show in LA and to say you had been wowed was an understatement. The boys had put everything they had into the show and as they took their final bow, you couldn’t help but to admire how beautiful they all looked, but especially Luke. This tour held nothing but good memories for you, considering it was your first real tour traveling along with 5SOS. Last year you had only been able to make the California shows for the Take My Hand tour since you had still been a student, but now? You were all in since your marriage to the blond.

“Hey, baby.” Luke grinned, giving you a sweaty side-hug as he walked off stage, handing his guitar to a roadie.

“You were amazing!” You squealed, bouncing up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m so proud.”

Luke picked you up and spun you around, peppering your face with kisses. “I’m glad you thought so. I just want to sleep for a million years now.” he joked.

“You know what my favorite part was?” You asked him, tucking a blond curl behind his ear as he continued to hold you.

“Hmmmm. Let me think…” Your husband sat you down and tapped his chin, pretending to think.

He knew what it was, because he had done what you were getting at on purpose. Luke hadn’t done that gravelly ‘wife’ for “Teeth” in over two years, but they were pulling out all the stops since this was the first show in Los Angeles since you and Luke had been married and the last show in LA before Michael became a father and everything changed. Tonight though, he had finally done it. As soon as the word fell from his lips, you felt a warm ball curl inside your belly and you’d definitely had to clench your legs.

Luke looked around quickly to make sure the other three boys were occupied in post-show shenanigans before he slightly pinned you to the wall with his hips. “You liked me calling you my wife?” he nearly moaned in your ear, breath hot on your neck.

“Luke,” You whimpered lowly, your hips longing to meet his. “We can’t do this here.”

“Says who?” he asked, blue eyes filled with something lustful. “The roadies still have to pack up the equipment, baby girl. You know I’m good at a quickie, honey. I can make those pretty little thighs shake in no time.”

Luke bent down and immediately began to make out with you. It wasn’t overly forceful, no, it was sensual. It was the kind of make out that comes from pure love. The blond was on top of the world right now, and you could tell. His band had just finished an amazing leg of tour and he had the girl he loved right here in front of him. Luke slowly began to move his lips down your jawline and onto your neck, suckling softly. The blond knew you would be marked up tomorrow, and that only drove his passion. You reached up, tangling your fingers in the blond curls at the nape of his neck.

“Lu,” You whined. “Don’t be a tease.”

Luke grabbed your hand and drug you down the hall to the boy’s dressing room. Luckily, the other three had long evaded it in favor of post-show drinks. As soon as the door was slammed shut, he pushed you against the wall, grappling under your shirt to find the clasp of your bra.

“So damn pretty.” he moaned, throwing your now-loose-bra onto the floor.

A blush spread over your cheeks as Luke continued to run his lips across your body. He dropped to his knees and began to trail kisses down your tummy until he finally reached the waistband of your jeans.

“May I?” he asked you.

You nodded quickly, using your hands to brace yourself against the door at the feeling of Luke’s fingers trailing across your skin, electrically hot. The blond wiggled your jeans down around your hips, followed by your underwear and began to softly suck on your inner thighs. You moaned, pushing your hips forward to meet Luke’s mouth.

“Need you inside of me.” You whined, grasping at his hair.

Luke chuckled, pulling back at gazing up at you with those oh-so-beautiful eyes. “Don’t be impatient, my love.”

The blond stood up and kissed you once more before reaching into his back pocket and pulling a condom from his suit pants. Luke made sure you were watching as he undid his zipper, freeing his throbbing, erect dick. You moaned at the sight, throwing you back, eliciting a smirk from your husband. Luke rolled the condom on, before sneaking his hands inside your shirt, softly massaging your growing nipples.

“You’re so pretty,” he cooed, brushing his hard cock against you. “My beautiful wife.”

Without another warning, Luke adjusted his hips perfectly and slammed inside of you, the sound of his skin meeting yours echoing through the tiny area. He had inserted his dick perfectly, so that even the tiniest rhythm would make your walls clench around him, already on the edge of an orgasm.

“Oh my god.” You panted out.

Luke roughly attached his lips to yours as your bodies moved in sync. “Watch.” he commanded, nodding towards the mirror.

You craned your head as best you could with Luke still pumping inside of you and turned beet red. In the dressing room mirror, you could clearly see Luke railing you against the wooden door. Your moans echoed throughout the room and you were sure if there was anyone outside, they would definitely hear you.

“I’m close already.” You whimpered, scratching your nails down Luke’s back.

You could see it on Luke’s face that he was close to cumming as well, and you couldn’t disguise the way you longed to ride out your highs together. Both of you were sweaty and panting, the scent of sex filling the air.

“Me too.” he huffed out, still pinning you against the door.

“Please, Lu. Cum with me.” You moaned, trying to seduce him.

“Fine. Only cause you and that body are so fuckin’ pretty.” Luke said, pressing his body ever closer to yours.

On the count of three, you and Luke came at the same time, your walls clenching around his dick. When you thought of marriage, this is what you thought of; a soft type of intimacy that was filled with passion.

“I love you.” Luke said, running his fingers through your hair.

“I love you more.” You said, still blushing.

No matter how long you and Luke had been together, him telling you he loved you still made the butterflies in your tummy go wild. He was unlike any man you had ever met. He was kind and caring and beautiful and you were sure he felt the same way about you as he gazed into your

eyes. Your sweet moment didn’t last for long, though, because Michael began to bang on the dressing room door.

“We can hear you having sex in there!” he shouted.

“I’m with the band!” You hollered back.

You and Luke both laughed, hurriedly adjusting your clothes. Despite getting caught, you wouldn’t trade Luke’s love for anything.

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5sospicturesque · 10 months

Photo

Clearing out my camera roll 9511/?

#michael clifford #blonde hair #selfie #he's so fluffy #keep #forever #5sos #5 seconds of summer #9511

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luvrsbian · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐏

A/N: thank you so so SO much for the support on part one. i did not expect that at all!! everyones likes, reblogs, comments, and tags made my whole day (especially the comments and tags, almost cried during class cause i was soft over some of y'alls fic reviews) um, anyway, still fluffy, still 4k words, still a little awkward eddie, and some very minor angst for plot movement. nothing to be scared about, i promise. also, this fic is very much not a slow burn, it's more akin to love-at-first-sight-but-were-both-awkward-idiot-dummys. and as always so much love and praise for mona @enam3l for making sure this fic is coherent and not just me rambling thoughts. please enjoy!

PART ONE ✿ PART THREE

Virginias letter sat heavy in Eddie’s pocket for the remainder of the day. Only being touched again when he took it from the deep, work pockets and folded it up to put in his jean pockets as he left for the day back home. 

Eddie didn’t see you the rest of the day, assuming you left around 2:50 like Virginia would, his own shift not ending till 4. This theory being confirmed when he did finally head out, there were only two cars left in the staff lot. One being his van, his baby that was on her last legs. A few spots down sat the second, Mr. Sinclair’s Honda Accord. Knowing the father of Lucas and Erica, an ex-elementary school teacher turned middle school principal, he probably wouldn’t be heading out till around 5:30 when Ron came in for the night shift and lockup. Mr. Sinclair was a kindly principle with a no-nonsense policy yet, still carefree enough for the kids to like him. He was way better than the principle of Hawkins middle when Eddie attended.  

Eddie parked the Mystery Machine - a name dubbed by Robin the first time he took her and Steve on a drive - in front of the small, blue house. Wayne’s car still parked in the driveway, his shift at the plant not starting till 6; giving Eddie enough time to take a power nap and make dinner for the both of them. Tonight was definitely a soup and grilled cheese kinda night. Maybe some steamed broccoli for a balanced meal or what not. 

Entering the home, he falls into his usual after work ritual of putting any change from his pockets into the coin-jar and his keys next to it. Then, his shoes come off and are placed by the door so he could slip them on easily in the morning. Wayne’s door was closed, presumably still sleeping, so he does his routine quietly. He keeps his shirt on but takes his jeans off to put on some plaid, loose fit pajama bottoms. Before discarding his jeans into the could-be-worn-again pile, he takes out the note. With a sigh, he sits on the edge of the bed with the letter clasped in his fingers.  

Eddie doesn’t even know why the letter was stressing him out so badly. He knew it wouldn’t be anything truly bad. Yeah, he was bummed he wasn’t warned beforehand about her sudden retirement to Florida, but at least she left him something to explain herself. That’s more than the other people in his life who upped and left with no warning could say.  

Man up, dude. It’s just words on some paper. 

With a few more seconds of memorizing all the curves and loops of his name written by Virginia on the back, he bites the bullet and opens the letter. He unfolds the parchment, noting the formal stationary with a huff of laughter, surprised it wasn’t just a loose-leaf lined page. Eddie begins to read the words left for him. 

Dear Eddie M., 

If you’re reading this letter that means I’ve finally left this hellhole and jumped ship. (Jumped on a ship, that is. You know me and my affinity for cruises to tropical locations.) 

Eddie did know this, having heard a small handful of stories from Virgina about the cruises and summer beach vacations she would take with her son, Rick, and her roommate, Caroline. He even remembers a few years back, one of the first times he saw her out and about at the grocery store wearing this graphic t-shirt of a humanoid lady cat in a hot pink one-piece, lounging on a beach towel with the words ‘Bahama Mama’ in matching pink script above her. Eddie had walked up to her in the dairy aisle, Cheshire Cat grin on display, and said with his whole chest, “Hello, Bahama Mama.” To which Virginia promptly ignored him with a side eye glance and headed towards the produce section. 

But that also means you’ve met the lovely nurse who will be taking my place. She also has a great enjoyment of beach vacations, if you’re looking for topic starters. You’ve always been quite dreadful at small talk, but I won’t bore you with the reminiscing of our first meeting, you were there, and I hope you remember it like I do. 

Knowing you, though, you’re either jumping for joy to be rid of this old gal or confused on my sudden departure. I’m truly sorry I couldn’t say goodbye in person and to leave so suddenly. But let’s be honest here, Edward, if anyone could convince me to spend another 65 55 years in Indiana, it would be you. 

Caroline and I decided it was as good as time as any to finally do some traveling, just the two of us. Rick and the kids are in a good place now (but please still keep an eye on him when you can, I don’t trust him to be truthful about things, like you are.) You're in a good place as well, whether you care to admit it or not.  

I would never have left if I thought you truly still needed me. 

Eddie lets out a sardonic laugh at her truthful sentiments. Virginia wasn’t a liar, she had secrets like any normal person, but when she said things, she meant them. He furrows his brows noticing a small wet stain on the next line before another quickly appears. Bringing his free hand up to his face he realizes he’s crying. With a hard sniffle and another chuckle at his own emotions he collects himself and finishes the note.

Enough of the sappy shit crap. You’ll be receiving various postcards in due time through our gorgeous new friend. Play nice and don’t fuck it up, Edward. I believe in you. You need to make friends now before you end up stubborn and old like me. Not everyone gets their own Caroline. 

I better here back from you. My replacement will know what to do with them. 

Love, Virginia Wagner 

Eddie folded up the letter, put it back in the envelope and tucked it in his bedside table drawer. Don’t fuck it up, I believe in you, echoing in his brain. He had no intentions on fucking up anything. Especially with you. You, the woman he just met not even 24 hours ago. He shakes you from his thought, not ready to jump nto that obvious trap set up by a secret hopeless romantic. He needed time. His mind, body, and heart still processing the words he just read before an evil grin spread upon his lips. 

“I fucking knew that old witch was a lesbian.” 

You didn’t come into work for the remainder of prep-week.  

Which was fine. So fine in fact that Eddie 100% didn’t even notice. He had his own work to distract him. How could he have known you weren’t there when he was so busy moving desks, cleaning floors, eating lunch outside with that sad, puppy dog look on his face because he’s never had to find a spot to eat outside of the nurse's office before. Your disappearance hit him like a freight train on Friday.  

With one of those old school paperback books from a second-hand shop in town in one hand and the other preoccupied with feeding himself. His brain simultaneously trying to read the small words whilst not overthinking every possible thing regarding you. 

Did Eddie just fuck everything up with one meeting? Was he so off-putting that the only reasonable response was to quit on your first day in order to prevent the chance of running into him again? Your ability to make people leave will forever astound me, Eddie Munson, he tells himself.

The reasonable part of Eddies brain played quickly to shut down this intense negative thinking. Maybe you were just sick? Even nurses get sick sometimes! Or a family emergency! Or your car broke down! Or something evil that Eddie wasn’t sure he’d ever possibly be able to explain to someone who didn’t experience it first-hand like him and his friends was happening in Hawkins again and you just happened to be the first victim- 

Nope. No. No. We’re shutting this down here, traumatized and overactive brain. Eddie began doing his deep breathing exercises that he learned from his therapist (well, Steve’s, who had promptly told Eddie because mental healthcare was a luxury he could probably never afford.) Reminding himself he was going to be okay he decided that on Monday, if you were still M.I.A, he’d ask someone. Freaking out and thinking the immediate worst, wasn’t gonna help anyone, he needed to just chill. Not let his mind take control of him. Virginia was smart and could sense things about people, she wouldn't have forced the two of you to collide in such a way if she thought you’d up and disappear. 

Besides, even the kindest of people don’t share Swiss Rolls with people they hate, and Hawkins was no longer a literal gateway to hell. 

Eddie’s weekend was uneventful. 

He finished his book. He went grocery shopping. Him and Wayne watched some rom-com film with Julia Roberts as a sex worker. In hindsight, a bizarre movie choice for both of them, next time Eddie thinks he’ll just let Wayne put on his beloved westerns. He worried just a bit about you. He kept his thoughts as realistic as he could this time. Although, he did at one point worry, whilst lying in bed Sunday night, whether you had gone missing and he was the only one to notice, meaning he’s now fucked up any chance of your rediscovery by not informing someone. But this was Hawkins. If you had truly gone missing without a trace, he would’ve heard of it by now. Especially from Pamela in Admin who did the attendance records and didn’t know how to keep things to herself.  

Point is, if you had an unexcused absence for the 4-days you were gone, she would’ve made it everyones business. Which gave Eddie some peace of mind that he’s heard nothing through the grapevine that runs through Hawkins. 

That Monday morning, Eddie was the first to traverse the halls of the first day of another school year at Hawkins middle. Or he thought he was. He wasn’t so sure because as he made his way to the main switch box that turned on all the hallway lights, a fluorescent glow was spilling out of the Nurse’s office. 

He slowed his pace as he approached the door left ajar, his head peeked around the corner of the entry. The lights were all on, there were various storage boxes on the beds, some filled with medical odds and ends, others empty. It was clear someone had been there organizing supplies. 

“Uh,” Eddie cleared his throat, the first use of his voice for the morning, “Hello?” 

“Good morning,” 

He whips around, startled by the cheery voice. 

“Jesus H. Christ, you gotta stop doing that,” his hand rubbed at his chest, face disgruntled and red from the jump scare. 

“Hey, you’re the one who keeps entering my workspace unannounced,” a look of innocence on your face. You step around him, bodies almost touching for just a second, causing Eddie’s heartbeat to increase embarrassingly so. You’ve got a coffee mug held tightly in one hand, the other stuffed deep in your cardigan. The same sunflowers embellishing it, that greeted Eddie last time. Your scrub top today was black with various illustrations of Mickey and Minnie Mouse depicted as nurses.  

“I said hello,” he argues, hand rubbing at his chin. He continues to take in your appearance and any new details he can latch onto. You look the same, of course. It’s only been like what, 6 days since he saw you last. The only glaring difference being a sleepier appearance, even with the bubbly morning aura, your eyelids look heavy. You roll them at his defense, a resting smile never leaving your lips. 

You step over bins on the floor, take a long sip from your mug, and set it on the same table he put his lunch sack on last week. He smiles at the mug; it was off white and in red cartoonish font had the slogan ‘I ♡ my aunt!’. You begin to work on the boxes and talk as he stands in the entryway, not wanting to disturb the systematic mess you have in place. 

“I hope you didn’t miss me too much,” you snort, picking up a closed box and putting it in the storage closet by the office part of the Nurse’s Office, “I normally don’t disappear like that. You know, I just moved in town a few weeks ago, and I’ve been having problems with the house I’m renting,” you sigh after exiting the closet. Now stuffing labelled Ziploc bags with various bandages and over the counter medication into a new bin. You look focused even while speaking sporadically. 

He can’t move his eyes away from your hands as you work diligently on putting content into storage while still explaining about your absence. Vaguely, he catches something about landlords, repair men and having to take cold baths. He was listening but most of his attention was focused on your fingers tackling Ziploc bag openings. Your sleeves rising just enough for him to wonder if shadows were playing tricks on his mind, or there was a wrist tattoo he couldn’t quite make out from this angle.  

“Eddie, ya still with me?” 

He eyes snaps up from your stilled hands to look at the playful gleam in your eye from catching him staring, “hm?” 

“I asked if you’ve read the letter yet,” you decide to step slightly closer, most of the boxes now closed and in the closet. There weren’t that many to begin with but he’s still surprised with how fast you managed to finish the task. 

“Yeah, I did. It was sweet, for Virginia that is,” really sweet. You show your teeth in a wide grin. 

“I’m glad. I was afraid you might hold some resentment towards me for replacing her,” you do that snort laugh thing again, “I am nosey though, did she mention me?” 

Eddie smirks mischievously, hands coming to rest on his hips, allowing himself to incline, further closing the distance between you both. “Wouldn’t ya like to know, Peach.” 

Your stomach did front flips from the use of that silly, little nickname again.

“I would, I really would. That’s why I asked,” you say as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. One of your fingers he’d been watching intensely before, now coming up to give his chest a poke.

Was this flirting? Eddie knew it was something akin to flirting, but was this a playful flirting or a serious flirting? He struggled between the two, often getting told off and read wrong for his natural charm. He’s like pretty sure he’s flirting with the serious intention, but were you? His heart felt like it was gonna fall out of his ass and he might throw up his own brain from all these emotions and thoughts. 

Before he could respond and remind his head and heart to start working again, a familiar voice spoke from behind his back. 

“What is happening here?” 

It was Eddie's turn to roll his eyes, another body squeezing past him to enter the nurse’s office. He takes a step back to let the young intruder have space to do whatever he needs to do here. You put your hand down and smile at the student you’ve yet to meet. 

Matty Sherman had a head of thick dark curls, a mole on his left cheek, and dark green eyes. He was wearing an obviously well-loved and a size too big Pantera t-shirt he had obviously cut the sleeves off himself to make into a muscle tee. He paired this with loose fitted, medium wash jeans, and some relatively new converse. Obviously wanting to make a statement and look his best for his first day of 8th grade. Both of his backpack straps were secured on his shoulder. His eyes looked between Eddie and you before landing securely on you. 

“Sup,” he smiles wide, dimples and braces on display.  

“Hi,” you smile widely yourself, a hitch in your voice from trying to not laugh at the situation. You glance over to Eddie, who’s looking at you with a pout on his pretty lips. Your eyes shift toward yet another, Ziploc bag that was in Matty’s hand. 

“That for me?” You ask, hand gesturing towards the bag holding obvious medication. 

“You the nurse?” The teen boy asks in a playful tone, as if you’re not wearing an outrageously patterned scrub top whilst standing in the nurse’s office. 

“I am the nurse.” 

“Then this is for you. I have asthma,” he hands you the Ziploc bag, curls bouncing when he turns to look at Eddie now, “Munson.” 

“Sherman, how was your summer?”  

“Dude, it was great. My dad felt so bad about not doing crap with us for Christmas that he took Me and Eli to see Megadeth in Chicago,” Matty excitedly responds, hands flailing around as he speaks. Beaded bracelets he had covering his wrist clanking together.  

Eddie couldn’t help but smile slightly at that. As much as he acted like Matty was a thorn in his side, he did genuinely care about him. In some weird turn of events, he had become to Matty what Virginia was to him. A safe haven at school. Even though Matty was far more popular than Eddie was at the same age, he obviously needed some sort of role model or trusted adult to just care. Matty had his mom at home and Eddie at school. Similar to how Eddie had Wayne at home and Virginia at school. 

Matty was waiting for Eddie's response, wanting some sort of confirmation that his ass of a father taking him and his older brother to see a metal concert was actually a cool thing to do. You were clearly taking your time putting Matty’s medication away to give them time to have this moment. Eddie smiles wide at Matty, to which he instantly perks up more. 

“Man, that does sound like a great summer. I spent my whole summer cleaning up after you kids,” he huffs and gives Matty’s shoulder a nudge. 

“You would’ve loved it, Munson, I’m telling you.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees before your make yourself known again.  

“I hate to break this up but class for you,” you gesture towards the youngest metalhead, “starts in about 5 minutes and I’m pretty sure we need to get back to work,” you give Eddie an apologetic smile. It’s probably the closest thing to sad he’s seen you so far and he’s not a fan. At all. 

“Yeah,” he agrees sadly, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, “We good for lunch?”  

“Yes.” You respond, quickly. Agreement coming out before he even got to the final syllable in lunch. Now his lips are being nipped to contain his full smile. 

“Good, I’ll see you then,” he moves his hand to grab the handle of Matty’s bookbag to lead him out. 

“You will! Bye guys,” You wiggle your fingers in goodbye. 

“Bye,” Matty waves to you as he’s being pulled out by Eddie. Your laugh following them out into the hall. 

Eddie keeps his hand secured on Matty’s bag until they’re a good few feet in the opposite direction from your door. He lets go and Matty takes a few steps to the side and adjusts his backpack to sit better on his back. 

“She’s hot.” 

Eddie is positive he gets whiplash from how fast his head turns to glare at the 8th grader. Disgust on his face, even though he said something factual, he shouldn’t be saying things like that at all. He’s like a baby in Eddies eyes. 

“Jesus, Matty, don’t say shit like that.” 

Matty gasps in mock shock, “Woah! Language, Mr.Munson, I have impressionable ears,” he dramatically covers his ears with both hands. Eddie shakes his head and gives his bookbag a gentle shove towards where he knows his home room is. 

“Get to class.” 

Matty laughs loudly as he runs down the hall to his first period. Eddie felt too old for this shit. 

That Monday lunch went swimmingly. Eddie thinks. He hopes. It definitely felt like it went swimmingly? 

You laughed at his jokes. His actual jokes, not just his situational awkwardness. You asked about his week and he asked about yours. He left out the part of being fearful you quit cause of him. Whilst you delved more into your trouble with the handy men and your landlord; your stove still didn’t work but at least you had hot water. He even got to learn more about you pre-Hawkins by finally divulging the info Virginia had written about. 

“Well, she is right. I do love the beach,” You were talking with a grape stuffed into your cheek. It was endearing but Eddie was silently praying you chewed it well and didn’t choke cause he definitely did not know the Heimlich manoeuvre. “I think that’s what I’m gonna miss the most while here. Indiana doesn’t even have a coastline, how sad is that,” You’re shaking your head in disapproval. 

“We have lakes,” he tries to amend, taking a bit of his Swiss Roll that you, again, have shared with him. 

Your eyes shoot up at him in a glare, not amused by his suggestion, “Eat your sandwich.” You say it in a tone that Eddie imagines you would use while scolding a student, it makes him roll his eyes with a huff but he does as you say. Putting the half-eaten Swiss Roll down to actually eat the sandwich he brought, another concoction of various cheeses and deli meat and some lettuce for color. 

You smirk at him following your directions. You’re eyeing both your lunches once again, almost identical to the meals you brought on your first lunch. Two sandwiches, two Swiss Rolls, one bag of pretzels, another bag of grapes. You have a Coke can and he’s got Yoo-hoo in a glass. It kinda makes you sad that you’re both grown adults eating lunches teenagers would prep for themselves. You think, once your stove is fixed you may start bringing some better meals, definitely less peanut butter and more vegetables. Maybe you’ll even bring enough to share. 

And on Thursday that’s exactly what you do. 

Outside of that first Monday morning, nothing eventful really happened for the rest of the week. You had your small group of after lunch medicine takers and a few kids in need of ice packs and Band-Aids. Your lunches were preoccupied with Eddie, getting to know him better.  

Part of your brain wanted to convince you that they were kinda like mini dates.  Unfortunately, your rational side reminded you that you were just two co-workers who didn’t really fit into any of the other staff groups, looking for some companionship during lunch. You were the replacement of his previous lunch partner. But then you remembered all the snippets of info Virginia had written to you once she began to send you letters after your acceptance to take on her job so she could retire. You probably would never tell Eddie you know this slice of information, not wanting to embarrass him, but she had made it very clear that Eddie was lonely. She knew you were lonely too.  

You two can be lonely together. 

When Eddie walked into your office that Thursday he was extremely confused at the second lunch box placed where he would normally sit. It was bulky and plastic like yours, but instead of Snoopy it was the Smurfs. You were writing something down in that nurses journal you had, your own lunchbox sat next to your resting elbow. 

A worried thought started in his mind, Did you find a new lunch buddy? Were his conversational skills not improving? But then you looked up at him, that kind little smile on your lips. 

“You gonna sit down or just keep enjoying the view?”  

He returns the smile and gestures to the blue thing before taking his seat, “What’s this?”  

“Oh, uh…” You’re flustered. It’s obvious and he’s enamored by it - like most things you do. God what’s gotten into him. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I made you a lunch. My stove got fixed and your, well our- please take no offense to this, our lunches were starting to depress me a bit.” You were talking faster the more you went on. Realizing the possible negative consequences of your actions. Eddie was nice but he didn’t have to entertain your too comfortable and too caring too fast behaviors.  

He quickly shut down your increasingly panicked explanation, “I’ve never had a girl make me a lunch before. It’s sweet. You're sweet.” He was honest. He hasn’t had a girl in this context make him any sort of a meal before and you were sweet. Sharing Swiss Rolls and ‘take as many as you like’ candy bowls with the expensive chocolate kind of sweet.

You smile. A wide, closed mouth smile at his understanding. He taps his fingers against the hard plastic shell, right on-top of Smurfette's blue face.  

“I hope you like it and I hope you’re not allergic to anything.” You’re calmer now and anticipating him opening his lunch. 

“I’m not. Except, for like, pollen,” he chuckles and unlatches the box. Inside there was a Tupperware of spirally noodles with a mix of cut up: vegetables, tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, a few rogue pieces of broccoli and some halves pepperoni slices, an oil based Italian dressing covering it all. Your aunt’s pasta salad, that was the first recipe you ever learned. Next to it, wrapped in cling wrap was a fudgy looking brownie with peanut butter morsels spread throughout. When he looks back up you had taken out two Coke cans from the stash he knows you keep in the bottom part of your giant metal filing cabinet. A pretty hand holding one out to him. 

“I refuse to buy Pepsi, hope you like Coke.” 

“I love Coke,” he takes it from your hand.  

The food tasted as good as it looked, so good only the sound of chewing, plastic forks on Tupperware, and hums of appreciation being heard. It was similar to the first lunch but instead of the awkward, uncertain air, this moment was comfortable, relaxing. Two friends - because that’s what you two have become in this last week - enjoying a meal together.  

It happened fast, Eddie thinks, this comfort between the two of you. Maybe it’s the kindredness between you two, the various similarities you shared.  

“You know, I can cook too,” Eddie breaks the silence. You’re working on your dessert, always saving it for last. Eddie was impatient and devoured his first thing in the most polite way possible. There’s brownie in the corner of your mouth when you give him your attention, humming for him to continue his thought. 

Eddie’s not sure what possesses him to do it. He could play it off as his role of janitor and having a habit of cleaning messes, but he knows that’s not entirely true. He cups one side of your face with his hand, the rings are a nice cold on your warm face. His thumb swiping the crumbs from corner lip in such a natural way you’d think he would have done this to you often. No matter how hard you try, you'd always been a messy eater. You don’t flinch. You don’t even show any signs of this being unusual or unwelcome aside from a slight widening of your eyes. 

Eddie let's another wave of confidence take over him. “Maybe I can cook for you on Saturday night?” 

You nod, mouth still full of brownie and making the executive decision to not be gross and talk with your mouth full in this situation. He smiles and removes his hand from your cheek. Silently, you both find the skin that had just made contact now tingles. It's hard not to think about when you may steal another touch, but the pair of you hope maybe Saturday.

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3 @ms1oftheboys @rosaline-black @haylaansmi @adoringdanvers @wyverntatty @gaysludge @bebe07011 @boltonbritreads @hugdealer @gothvamp1973 @awhoreforeddiemunson @definitionwanderlust @billytalentleaves @aysheashea @pollenallergie @siriuslysmoking @heavymetalbabyy @killerbailey @sidthedollface2 @whenshelanded @hazydespair @mayhemicfordays @inocrazeh @thora-jane @varevaretostuff @vintagehellfire @chaoticgood-munson (strike means it wont tag)

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #joseph quinn #school janitor eddie x school nurse reader #tcu #ʚ by gwen ɞ

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carryonafi · 23 days

Text

where did the party go.

ashton irwin x reader; ANGST

a/n: heyyy lovers!! 2 posts in a row (almost) whaaat!! i’ve been working recently because i just went through my entire google docs and sorted everything out 😭 this is something i’ve been working on for quite some time now and requires a little bit of backstory. there will be another part to this series, and possibly a third? let me know if you want to hear about some of the key moments in the 2013–2016 period! so without further ado, this is part one of “where did the party go.”! 🤍

content warnings: sexual innuendos, heavy drinking, smoking, mentions of declining mental health

words: 2.4k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

background: Your relationship with Ashton has been public ever since the beginning, starting in 2013 and continuing to flow and experience the life of 5 Seconds of Summer all the way until the band went on a break at the end of 2016. During those years, you took on the struggles that Ashton and the rest of the band faced which left them all having you as a permanent resident in their life. However, your relationship becomes rocky when Ashton refuses to communicate until the very moment he can’t take it anymore. His impulsive decision leads to you moving out, yet still being in his life because of the others and their friendship with you.

— POV: Ashton —

I could see nothing beyond her. Of course she would be here… of course. Heart stuck in my throat, I turned my attention away from her as soon as she started to look in my direction. We had ended. Months ago, yet I still couldn’t pull myself out of the mindset that she was still mine. I was still waking up next to her every morning, head on the fluffy pillow she claimed when we first moved in and hovering over the shadow of her figure in our bed. Yes, it was still our bed. It would always be. Everywhere I went she followed me whether it be the scent of the hair mist which stuck to the bathroom tile, the fluffy blankets she had chosen for the house, a few products left behind like she was coming back… she wouldn’t.

The music was bass heavy, rattling the table which in turn shook the floor and bounced off of the walls, reverberating in the guest’s ears. In the house I was suffocated, wanting and feeling like a beggar when I so much as looked her way.

“It’ll be like the iHeart Radio night all over again!” Michael made the comment, the rest of the group lightheartedly laughing despite the known tension. I left the circle almost immediately after that, not being able to bear hearing her sickeningly sweet giggle as she clung to any one of my friends besides me. I secretly wished the same, just over a year ago we were sharing smiles at each other and trying each other’s drinks, unable to separate as we made our way to the escort and back to the hotel in a blur.

The back porch brought an odd comfort to me, it was a change of pace from all of the lights inside. Calm, soft, warm yellow lanterns and fairy lights above proudly grown ferns. Although I did feel like an asshole for exiting at a time when people were talking to me, I just couldn’t handle the voices that weren’t her’s. I couldn’t handle her’s either. The vast green soothed me and the euphoria of a deep breath from a joint hit quickly, the blue smoke wandered together, then parted once hitting a certain point in the air. When it couldn’t carry the oxygen anymore. Familiar… Maybe. Maybe that’s why there were now tears obstructing my vision.

A sudden rush of consciousness and self pity struck my senses, cutting deep and forcing me to stand up off of the porch and make my way back inside the house within seconds. Hours felt like seconds and once enclosed, nothing was real. Not the people, not the music, not the house which was once our’s and now holding me alone, not the slow drift of which my rationality began to slip.

“Come on, Ash…”

She was real, though. Touching me, feeling for the stairs with her high heels, whispering words that I couldn’t understand— I went weak. I let her hold my weight, and her soft touch was replaced with a mattress. Clouds. Heaven. She was down with me, pitifully listening to me stutter apologies through tears and a lack of sobriety, begging her to let me hold her one last time before she found better. I mumbled with full confidence that I loved her. I loved nothing more than my weakness.

“I… I can’t.” She uttered those words which was the only blur I remembered hearing, it had to be the worst of it. Not her reassurance or her hushing my pathetic tears, I had to remember what she had pledged herself to. She wasn’t coming back.

Her dress was in my arms during the hours until I woke up, like she had vanished with all that was left being her clothing and a sweater missing from my closet. Everything came creeping in pieces, coming back with each step I took down the party soaked stairs. One led me to her hands, the next led me to her voice, breathing my name and encouragement to help me, then my knees led me to the hardwood of the living space. It was impossible to exist without thinking of her, from the moment I’d wake up it would be torture right away. I wasn’t lying next to her figure. I wasn’t waking up and rolling over to the side, her small, warm frame snuggling up to mine making soft hums and mews in her sleep. The smell of her hair, the freckles lightly dusting her cheeks and nose. All for me, just for me. Her morning voice, mumbling my name into my neck and chest as she desperately tried to get closer to my comfort. My arms enveloped her until she disappeared, then I remembered she wasn’t here again. She couldn’t.

When I walked around the house I imagined her happily skipping alongside me, dragging me over to the couch just to cuddle and burrow in the soft blankets for the rest of the day until one of us had to eventually finish a task.

No more fleeting kisses, no more shoulder rubs, no more long nails tracing my shoulder blades while my fingertips gave the same treatment to the dimples on her back and the dips in her hip bones. No more of her cheek pressed to my chest, arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace because she just didn’t want to let go. No more of the stubbornness which kept me smiling at how ridiculous she could be.

When I got home I would expect a long hug, she always stood on her tiptoes to hug me so her lips could meet my cheek.. or my own. Always warm, everything she possessed was warm. Her giggles, her lips, her voice, everything. Without her everything was just cold. I never rested comfortably because it was so, so damn cold.

I could feel her. Right there. The rise and fall of her chest, hips flush to mine as her soft, pink pout glossy with need stared up at me as a way to beg for attention. Her doe eyes, big and wanton silently telling me how much she needed my love, for my hands to trace her skin and plush valleys. For her small ones to grab mine tightly, tangle in my hair, whisper against my lips about how I needed a haircut before I shut down the sense of coordination for her thoughts with my hips meeting her thighs.

The days lulled by slowly without her there, I thought back to the night she left every single day. My words were not the right choice, she was willing to be there. She was willing to help me, but I didn’t think that something already broken could depend on something else the way I did to her. I had nightmares about the sounds of her heart wrenching, yet gentle sobs as I told her my thoughts. The promise ring still sat on my bedside table on her side just waiting for the day that I could really pull myself together and face her. My only weakness. My only reason, which could have been mine from the beginning if I was smarter. If I had worked harder.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Looking dapper, aren’t you?” Michael had noticed that I’ve been emptily staring into a mirror for what felt like forever. The abrupt sound of his voice pulled me from my thoughts as I blinked, looking at his reflection behind me.

“Oh, totally. Just can’t get enough of myself.” I replied in a sarcastic tone of voice, rolling my eyes as I smoothed a hand down the front of my suit. Award shows were fun, for the most part. A lot less stressful if we didn’t have a performance, we didn’t have to worry about becoming presentable once again. What can I say? We put our all into anything we play.

Michael grinned in a silent laugh at my reply, scrolling through his phone while Calum did the same and Luke was idle in front of the other mirror. He’d started wearing a lot of eye makeup, not that it was a bad thing. He was getting incredibly good at it, just to think a few years ago he barely felt comfortable putting on some chapstick in public. “Listened to Y/N’s new single yet? Pretty dope.” Michael hummed, nudging Calum’s shoulder to show him something on his phone which was presumably the cover or something… because he nodded in approval and made a comment that I didn’t hear. The sound of her name made me shiver, I took a deep breath and pulled myself away from the mirror to sit across from the others. Their conversation made no sense to me as I was still quite caught up in my own mind, my world of thoughts surrounding me about what this song could sound like. Would I ever listen to it? No, to save myself, probably not.

The one thing missing from this was her by my side again, squeezing my hand and holding on through the swamp of cameras and flashing lights. I could always remember her being the only thing I felt, in all of the chaos. I hadn’t even registered that we had made it out to the car and were sitting in the back already, I snapped back into reality again.

“You good, dude? You’ve been sorta spacey today.” Calum did the same as Michael did to him earlier and nudged my side, I defensively nodded and silently dismissed his worries. If I talked about it, I feared that it would all come out at once without being able to put a filter on my thoughts. Soon enough, we were back in that atmosphere again. Hopping out of the car and putting on an attitude towards the cameras but a different comfort for the fans who just wanted to see us up close, another car rolled in behind us after our driver had gone but I didn’t look. I started hearing her name again, hushed in comparison to all of the other desperate shouts and calls for attention. Fuck, wasn’t I lucky? I just had to keep moving, smiling, waving, making jokes and avoiding the mention of the girl haunting me.

This night was slow. So fucking slow, I just wanted to sit through this and get out of the venue as quick as possible. I wanted to go back to our bed, hold her knitted crop top up to my face and breathe in her scent which was long gone by now. However, we had to mingle. We just had to walk around and talk to people, I couldn’t leave by myself… it was worth a shot to try to enjoy the last few hours of the event. So far, I had been holding myself together pretty well and Luke stuck by my side to make sure I wasn’t left alone in my head. I knew he would do this for me, he wouldn’t hesitate to help me when I needed it. Even if I never vocalized it.

– POV: Reader –

There it was, the movie moment. The prolonged eye contact before an invisible pull drew the two closer to each other until they finally met in the middle, though that didn’t happen. You saw him from afar, shuffling alongside Luke and unable to hold eye contact. His hair was tame, but you knew it at its best. Thick, messy curls, damp from a shower, hanging over his lustful eyes at your favorite times, pushed back into one of your clips so they weren’t disrupting his focus. You knew the best of him, and you needed to see that again. It wasn’t you that ended things, but the chase after he realized his mistake hadn’t stopped until 6 months after you two ended. Bad idea, maybe? Your heels clicked along the tile, drowned out by the natural sounds of people laughing and congratulating, drinks flowing, claps on the back. You was drawn to him the minute Luke had pressed a hand to his shoulder and left his side.

“Hi.” One word that spoke a thousand all at once, Ashton turned with a look of… fear in his eyes. It didn’t go away when your eyes met, but his expression definitely softened.

“Hey, stranger.” He breathed, the soft ring of honey around his iris and between the forest green majority shrinking as his pupils dilated out of love. That was it, from the moment he spoke you knew that the pieces were already mended. There was healing. You bit your lip to hold in your smile, but you just couldn’t. It was contagious, Ashton shared a hesitant smile back with relief. ‘Are you upset with me? Have you forgiven me for making one of the biggest mistakes of my life?’ He wanted to ask, but better yet, your eyes told him more than enough. “I loved the song.” Ashton lied, he hadn’t listened to it.

“Oh, yeah?” You stared up at him, from the trouble he seemed to be having with eye contact earlier, he sure wasn't having any now.

“Yeah, you really deserve that nomination.” He mused, pupils darting up and down from the tip of your toes all the way up to your done-up, hairspray and product doused hair.

“I appreciate that.” You gave a warm smile, hands knitting together neatly in front of yourself. It wasn’t until you made eye contact again that you realized you were wearing his favorite color, his favorite cut– a nice baby blue tight around your hips and fanning out around your frame. Time was cut short, the award ceremony was starting in less than 10 minutes now.

Ashton cleared his throat, checking his watch. “We should… probably get to our seats.” He said softly, still lingering like he didn’t want to leave you behind.

You simply nodded in agreement, bidding him an awkward goodbye before stepping away and letting that invisible string loosen its hold.

The interaction left you slightly lost, even more lost than the moment you actually ended your relationship. It felt like walking away from an opportunity, the real embodiment of stepping away from a chapter in your life. Were you at peace? Maybe, but it was unfinished. You couldn’t sit through this award show, with performance after another the wait was getting more and more unbearable to handle

You needed to speak with Ashton, burn the bridge or rebuild it.

Where did the party go?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Part 2

#5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos series #5sos smut #5sos x reader #ashton irwin x reader #5sos angst

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not-alien-girl-v · 7 months

Text

Caramel (Ross Macdonald)

warning: language, reference to the inseam incident that i will never elaborate more on but love to reference over and over again

note: continues in this fluffy lil mini series that sorta starts here. i think i might continue this into a little mini series because i like this dynamic and i think i need more of y/n and ross in this universe. if you want to, you can imagine all the ross one shots i write all exist in the same universe cuz that’s what i do.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

it’s been 2 days since ross forcefully entered came to check in on you at your shared apartment with violet. you’re still on your period, so of course, you’re still finding it difficult to look ross in the eye without succumbing to your wildest dreams, so instead you made plans that are essentially a huge turn-off for you: hanging out with his friends.

“do i do eyeliner for this? is this, like, an eyeliner occasion?” violet questions while pretending she’s not as frantic as she truly is. she sits on the bathroom counter, having knocked over a few things on her climb up but you decided not to pester her about it.

“it really depends on who you plan on talking to.” you are sitting in the empty bathtub, fully clothed and a throw pillow hugged to your stomach. the bathroom door is closed and violet forgot to put on music so both your voices fill up the room, slightly echoing with enough enunciation.

“give me a run through again?” she pleads. you’ve done it twice, so you assume this last time is the last time but for real this time.

“first there’s adam, he has a girlfriend so he doesn’t care. then there’s george-“

“that’s the other big one, right? the blond?”

“we’ll he’s not actually blond, it’s just bleached. and very fried too. so if you’re into a man with a thicker head of hair, then you’d want to go for matty. but he comes with his own things to think about.”

“like?”

“i’m skipping ahead, sorry. so george, he’s very nice, very sweet guy, he is the other big one, he’s 6’4. smokes a lot of weed, like a lot. aside from his occasional forgetfulness from that, he’s very kind, very polite and respectful, very much a feminist. and he loves dogs.”

“well, i’m more of a cat person.”

“and you’re out of luck there. all his friends are dog people. you’ll have to adjust. anyways, then there’s matty. he’s like the ‘wattpad bad boy’ of the friend group, i think he got voted most likely to be a mafia boss and purchase a girl named ‘y/n’ from her junkie mother.”

“can you maybe like tell me something relevant about him?”

“that is relevant. he’s a little shorter, curly hair, a lot of tattoos, i mean, they all do. i think george might have the most, actually. he’s a bit of a dick at times and i know he means well or he’s mean in a comedic manner but more than often he just gets on my nerves and i know you have a much shorter temper than i do.”

“so you’re saying i should try to talk to george more.”

“i’m saying you should be careful. men are unpredictable and weird. and gross. you heard about the inseam incident, didn’t you?”

she visibly shudders. “god, how could i forget? fucking grotesque…”

she turns back to meet her own reflection in the mirror, staring blankly, but soon realizes how easily you dodged her original question. “wait, so eyeliner or no eyeliner?”

you give her a long, studying look. “eyeliner.”

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

you hold the door open for violet, always feeling like a gentleman to her damsel whenever she’s around. the inside of the boys’ house is much warmer than outside, and it feels like home, if home was a set temperature.

matty and george bicker over something in front of the tv, a case of dvds, maybe. adam is balls deep in conversation with his girlfriend, carly, while he pets allen, george’s matty’s dog. ross is in the kitchen grabbing a soda and a beer when he turns around at the noise of the door being opened.

“there’s my girl!” he exclaims, seemingly tipsy before the party has even begun. he drops both beverages on the kitchen island and circles around to give violet a brief side hug and you a much more substantial one. he squishes you in so tight you feel your ribs crack and splinter under the weight of it and he’s warm like a home should be. “good to see you, violet, you ready to meet my mates? they’ve been giddy about your arrival all day.”

“fuck off, we have not!” matty hollers over his shoulder and while his head is turned, george swiftly sticks a dvd of his own choice into the player and stands up, fleeing from the scene of the crime. he dusts his hands off on his jeans and reaches out to help his friend off the floor.

once matty realizes what has been done, his jaw drops in offense, and pettily, pushes g’s hands away and reluctantly stands up on his own. he stretches his arms up high and his back and elbows crack in the process. you’re much more used to his antics than violet, so you know he’s only doing this action to make the bottom of his t-shirt ride up, revealing his happy trail and his sexy tattoos.

this isn’t just some weird head-canon you have for him, you’ve actually heard him admit to this trick before when attempting to woo a woman.

ross leads the two of you over to the three men loitering the living room. “violet, this is adam,” adam doesn’t stand as the dog is in his lap, but he gives a humble wave that suffices, “matty,” violet doesn��t need to be pointed to who matty is. he stands and smiles widely and wraps violet in a hug.

“bold,” you mutter. matty flips you off behind violet’s back. you roll your eyes but he doesn’t catch it.

george approaches then, exuding a strange energy you’d never seen before. not from him at least. “and i’m george,” he extends a hand for a firm handshake, and when you watch violet agree to it, you can see him squeeze her hand just a smidge too tight.

they both are so weird. why can’t they just act normal around your friend?

“why are you two acting like freaks?” ross speaks the words right from your mouth and you feel a strong sense of adoration for him the way he can just simply share a thought of yours.

“no reason. anyway, we’re watching 'monster house,'" george dismisses and fetches the beer ross had been in the process of grabbing for him. while in the kitchen, he grabs two more sodas, holding both the cans perfectly in one large hand and you wonder what it must be like to possess such an ability.

ross drops down onto one end of the large couch, leaning into the arm of it and matty gets comfortable on a single arm chair, not leaving much opportunity to sit near violet and you start observing the weird male hierarchy that is already set in place when a new female is introduced to the ecosystem. were they like when you first met them all? you never bothered to ask, it never happened across your mind.

george returns with the sodas and hands one to you and one to violet, ever the gentleman, and sits down on the other side of the largest couch in the room.

“hey, wasn’t that coke supposed to be mine?” ross complains.

“there’s only two left. and y/n and violet are guests, so if y/n would like to share with you, that’s on her.”

ross sticks his tongue out at george’s back when he turns to fuss with the remote. you join the men on the couch, sitting a distance from ross and he immediately pulls you closer than close, you’re basically on his lap at this point. you’re confused at this sudden pda but then you notice it gives violet enough room to squeeze in right next to george on the couch. stupid unspoken male hierarchy rules.

you hand the soda to ross, not even having to ask or say anything at all, he knows it’s his official boyfriend duty to crack it open for you. he does exactly that, stealing a sip of it before handing it back. you squint at him.

you are sly when you side eye violet and george, completely eavesdropping on their gentle conversation but acting like you’re caught up in your own with your boyfriend. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say ross was listening in as well. you’re so in sync with him.

“i moved here after high school, my family is back in california,” you hear violet inform him and george looks all too interested.

“that explains the accent. it’s not everyday you hear an american, especially around here. why didn’t you go somewhere cooler like london?”

“y/n and i used to live there but then she started studying here so we made the move together. and sorry about the whole accent. it sounds a little silly compared to you guys, i know.”

“it’s not silly at all. i’ve actually always found it quite sexy, the american speak.”

it would sound like a load of bullshit if it were coming from anyone else but george is always so sincere in every word he says, you decide to leave them be for now.

you turn back to the man next to you. “can i kiss you?”

he scrunches his eyebrows, “since when do you need to ask?”

“i’m wearing lipstick. it’s gonna get on you. it might be… i don’t know… embarrassing.”

“why would it be embarrassing to have visible proof i just kissed a girl?”

“so that’s a yes, then?”

“kiss me any time. i love your lipstick. get it all over me if you want to.”

you decide to take that as a challenge and use both your hands to hold him down still, kissing every inch of his face that isn’t covered by the dark, coarse hair of his beard.

it takes him by surprise, so he sits still in shock for a few moments, letting you make a complete mess on his face, before finally retaliating, grabbing your face this time and kissing you properly.

“ew, get a room,” you didn’t even notice matty in the corner on the chair, now wrapped up in a thick blanket and pile driving a bowl of popcorn completely solo, looking like a young girl menstruating for the very first time.

ross wraps his arms around you, cradling you protectively into his neck. “mind your business, dickwad. watch the movie.” you mumble something into ross’s neck and he lets you loose so you can speak up. “what’s that?”

“douche canoe.”

he cackles in laughter, “yeah, you’re a douche canoe.”

matty rolls his eyes and you’re more than content with his irritation, so you finally give it a rest and cuddle back into ross, enjoying his warmth since matty stole both of the couch blankets.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

taglist: @indierockgirrl @itssimpleanditgoeslikethis @americanangel @butyou-callmewhenyourebored

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meowzfordayz · 1 year

Text

MILESTONE 15.0 (compiled)

Author’s Note: compiled masterlist for MILESTONE 15.0 !! Click here for masterlist only.

Himejima Gyomei x Reader, Iguro Obanai x Reader, Kamado Tanjirou x Reader, Kanroji Mitsuri x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tokito Muichiro x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~6,100

CW: provided before each drabble

~faqs~

Title by Song Artist; ~Word Count; CW

Valentine by 5 Seconds of Summer; 400; explicit language, mild sexual content

“What do you want for Valentine’s Day?” Obanai asks gruffly, voice muffled beneath the heat and steam of the shower.

“Shuld’t you al-eady ‘o’ 'at?” you retort, words lumped incoherently thanks to the ungodly amount of toothpaste that squirted onto your toothbrush moments earlier.

“Shit.”

“You 'ropped ta so'p,” you snort, eyes rolling knowingly.

“The fuck are you saying?” he grunts, metal rings sliding loudly across the curtain rod as his bedraggled, sopping hair peeks out at you, “Finish brushing your teeth.”

“You fivish brus'ing yo'r teef!”

“You’ve got a little…” reaching a mischievous hand toward you, “There!” as he smears his thumb from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your chin, grinning at the mess of toothpaste, drool, and water, your indignant shriek only compounding his satisfaction.

“Obanai,” venmo curling your lip, internally cursing as The Mess™ drips onto your foot, “I swear I’m going to-”

“Finish brushing your teeth?” he interrupts, eyelashes fluttering, water droplet gliding elegantly off the tip of his nose, shower curtain clutched ever so cutely to his chest.

“No,” promptly spitting out the remaining toothpaste, flipping your middle finger at him, “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Without telling me what you want for Valentine’s Day?” he scowls, flicking water at your finger, “Do you truly want for nothing?”

Whining now, you cross your arms, wiping your foot on the bathmat, “I want you to be nice to me.”

“No you don’t,” he immediately quips, releasing the shower curtain, once more disappearing from view, faucet squeaking as he turns off the water.

“Oh loveliest looove?”

“I hate you,” you mutter.

“Pretty please could you hand me a towel?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll let you dry off my butt.”

You huff, eyes narrowing at the traitorous appeal warming your stomach.

“Aaand my penis?”

Ugh.

“FINE, for fuck’s sake, you can dry off my balls too.”

Hehehe. You grab a towel from the rack.

“But only if you tell me what you want for Valentine’s Day.”

You freeze, reconsidering the bargain, “I wasn’t kidding.”

“I’m very nice to you!”

“Annoying and nice aren’t synonymous,” you scoff.

“But You love me and Obanai are!” he protests.

“That makes literally no sense.”

“You make literally no sense!”

You wait, towel fluffy against your heartbeat, amusement etched permanent and crinkled around your eyes.

“I’m getting fucking cold.”

You smirk.

“So step onto the bathmat? I’ve got your towel ready.”

“Cherish my balls, carefully,” he demands, still hiding in the shower, plick plick plick steady as he begins shivering.

“I will cherish your balls,” silently counting to three before you finally tack on, “Carefully.”

~~~

You Will Find Me by Alex & Sierra; 300; mild sexual content

Kyojuro has never told you outright, but his favorite part of date night is after date night. After giggling over buttery popcorn, wincing as your lips become mildly irritated from too much salt (he didn’t mean for the salt shaker’s lid to pop off!), insisting he isn’t crying as the end credits roll; after a spontaneous mini golf outing, grinning every time you complete a course before him, chest puffing happily as you tell him again and again I haven’t done this since I was a kid, thank you Kyo; after beating you in chess, Rummy, Connect 4, Monopoly, heck even Chutes or Snakes and Ladders (what can he say? he’s been lucky ever since he met you), sheepish as you jokingly glare at him, apologetic kisses promptly sprinkled across your nose and cheeks.

His favorite part of date night is getting to watch you undress, the subtle lines of tiredness and your indefinitely growing to-do list fading faintly from sight, veneer of devotion and desire separating real life and right now. Getting to tuck strands of hair behind your ear, thumb pausing on the softness of your earlobe, heat grazing your spatial consciousness as he steps closer — this is his favorite part. Gentle words murmured inaudible, because, well, their contents don’t exactly matter.

How could they? When his hands grasp warm and steady on your hips, smile radiant as usual, your low exhale breathy and familiar. How could sweet nothings compare to the sensual everything of his mouth? Sucking light and moist at the dip between your collarbone and neck, traversing slow and patient to your other collarbone. How could hurried phrases, uttered in lust and with urgency, compare to the languid, honest adoration of his tongue? Flicking coy and then decisive, exploratory and then comfortable, tracing the outlines of your sighs, reiterating his promise that We share more than lust.

Because as much as he loves after date night, he craves the taste of your soul long after the caress of your pleasure cools.

His heart forever stained the color of your laughter.

~~~

10,000 Hours by Dan + Shay ft. Justin Bieber; 300; none

“You did what now?” you gasp, eyes wide, ready to smack Gyomei’s shoulder.

“Um…”

“What did you do?” you repeat, face hot, disbelief furrowing your brow.

“I bought you 10,000 roses?”

“Well don’t ask me,” you snap, “Did you, or didn’t you? Why did you?” exasperation creeping in at the mental image of the bedroom packed full of roses Perhaps the living room would be better.

“You don’t want 10,000 roses?”

You pause at the sheepish softness in his voice, gentle hands grasping yours, held tender against his chest, his next words rumbling sweetly through your fingertips.

“I would buy you 10,000 roses to commemorate the 10,000 hours I have dedicated to you, and infinite roses to commemorate the infinite hours I hope to dedicate to you.”

“How much would 10,000 roses cost?” you groan, blinking anxiously at the thought of the bill, “Do we have that much money?” eyes narrowing suspiciously, “Do you have that much money?” realization registering as you scowl accusingly, “So you didn’t buy me 10,000 roses?”

“But I would!” raising your knuckles to his lips, grinning as you fluster.

With a huff, you tug your hands back, arms crossing, “Not funny, Gyomei. Do you know how frantic I was trying to calculate how indebted we’d be? I hate math. Let alone where they’d go without rendering an entire room unusable!”

Pouting, he reaches for your hands again, grip tightening slightly, tone amused, “We’d be about $35,000 in debt, depending on where I bought them from.”

Your aghast expression doesn’t stop him from kissing your palms, pressing them to his cheeks, waiting for your inevitable sigh as you finally melt into his touch.

“One,” you murmur into his shirt, “You can buy me one rose.”

~~~

My Song Too by Hunter Hayes; 400; none

Giyuu still sings along to that song whenever it comes up on shuffle, softly murmured lyrics bringing a melancholy smile to his lips, haunted depth to his stare, as he remembers how you’d tease him for his Abysmal singing.

Singing out loud had always been a private activity for him, reserved for quiet morning showers and long walks down empty sidewalks after checking once, twice, three times that he was truly alone. Embarrassment played a role, but acute awareness of how torturous his singing would be for any unfortunate soul that happened to be nearby was the main reason — he’s a thoughtful fellow, thank you very much.

—

And then he met you.

Cliche? Yes. Beautiful? Yes. Too close to touch, too far to taste? Yes.

—

When discussing hobbies, singing had remained meticulously hidden under board games, appreciating nature, and fluffing and reorganizing throw pillows (don’t ask). Already astonished that you stayed after his fluffing-and-reorganizing reveal, he was reluctant to sully your perception of him any further, gently pressing the reins of conversation into your hands for the remainder of your evening together.

The first time you’d heard him sing was the first morning you woke in his bed, faint pitter patter of the shower running, worn and cozy blankets tucked carefully under your chin, something sounding like a nails-on-chalkboard rendition of Marry The Night (by Lady Gaga) rattling through the cracked opened bedroom door… so falling back asleep wasn’t an option, but basking in the vulnerability—and amusement—of your newfound understanding of Tomioka Giyuu felt even warmer than sunshine.

—

And then came the storm.

A melody of missed calls, sporadic texts, constantly running late, kisses as stoic as his public facade.

He’d promised he loved you, reiterated over and over again, as he belted One Direction in the car beside you, attempted John Legend to serenade you, and even wrote a couple of songs for you, both pinned stubborn and unforgettable to the tatters of your heart.

But for all the lyrics he caressed into your skin, you rarely sang with him.

Giyuu still sings along to that song whenever it comes up on shuffle, mouthing your part as a familiar aching fills the silence of letting you slip away.

~~~

Move Together by James Bay; 300; none

“Sweetheart,” Tanjirou tries again, gentle fingertips resting atop your shoulder, frown deepening when you shrug him off, “Could we cuddle?” poking lightly at the back of your head, “Please?”

Huffing quietly, you tuck your nose further into the edge of the comforter, knees scrunched into your stomach, staring straight ahead.

“I miss you,” he switches tactics, momentary contentment flitting across his face as your scent softens… concern returning to his brow as you stiffen once more.

If you missed me, then you wouldn’t be leaving is your unspoken bitterness, sourness in the way you bite your lip as you continue ignoring him.

“I know you’re not mad,” he murmurs, chest emanating his familiar heat as he dares to scoot closer, “You’re upset that I’m leaving,” arm reaching over your side in search of your hand, “I’m upset too.”

Shut up you swallow tightly, eyes glistening at his touch, involuntarily linking your fingers with his, silent relief loosening your lungs as his own relief—a sigh—grazes audible against your skin.

“I never want to leave,” whispered into your hair, “I always want to stay here,” body curving tender and confident around yours, “After this conference, I’m going to tell them I can’t travel for such extended periods anymore.”

That grabs your attention, eyes widening as you roll over abruptly, forehead nearly bumping his.

“You’re kidding?!”

A simple, warm smile tugs at his mouth, his leg nudging itself between yours, hopeful and longing scents melting into each other as you finally meet his gaze.

“Not in the slightest.”

“You promise?”

Because you couldn’t take it if he didn’t.

“With all that I am.”

Because he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t.

~~~

Good For You - Acoustic by Castro; 500; none

Giyuu waits outside your apartment, umbrella in hand, as rain falls soft and certain.

“Giyuu!” you exclaim, front door slamming behind you as you greet him with a dizzying grin, “I can’t believe it’s raining,” oblivious to the warmth tickling across his cheeks, “I’m gonna be soaked, I was in such a rush, didn’t grab my umbrella,” sticking out a foot, “And definitely didn’t wear the right shoes.”

Silently, he opens his umbrella, pulse fluttering as you promptly latch onto his arm, faint whisper of a smile lighting up his face.

“My hero!” you sigh dramatically, “You’re so pretty when you smile, did y'know that?” poking carelessly at his face.

Grunting at your antics, and resisting the urge to catch your wrist and brush his lips to your knuckles, he allows himself a fleeting moment of contentment, memorizing the heat of your body pressed into the tension of his, almost wishing he hadn’t brought his umbrella so he could’ve offered you his jacket instead.

“I brought extra socks,” he murmurs.

“Extra socks?”

He nods solemnly, “I figured you wouldn’t wear rainboots.”

“I didn’t want to be late!” you gasp, eyes wide in mock offense, “Besides, it’s just a little rain! I can handle it!”

“I know,” he shrugs simply, “Just like you can handle looking out the window or checking the weather on your phone while getting ready.”

“When you sleep waaay past your alarm, you relinquish various luxuries,” you retort, flicking his ear.

Snorting, he moves the umbrella slightly, chuckling lowly when you let out an indignant shriek, raindrops cascading onto your shoulder, clinging tighter to him with a damp glare.

“GIYUU!”

“Hm?” he blinks, overly polite, “Did you get wet?”

“Yes,” you growl, not-so-stealthily attempting to stomp on his toes, pouting as he smoothly avoids your wrath, “Because someone moved the umbrella!”

“Ah, well, that wasn’t very nice of that someone.”

“If you want a hug, then you could ask for one,” you scowl, “No need to resort to violent methods.”

“My methods are never violent,” he deadpans.

“Do you want a hug though?”

“Never.”

Hating himself as the brightness of your stare dims, cold distance shoving itself between you, releasing his arm with an awkward squeak, followed by a gentle smack, his chest hardly feeling a thing.

“You have got to work on your emotional constipation!” you groan, stare bright once more, “If you want a hug, then I’ll hug you!” smirking fondly, “We’re friends Giyuu! I mean, you brought extra socks for me!” rolling your eyes, “If you can do that, then surely you can ask me for a hug?”

“Of course,” he practically whispers, falling, falling, falling into your glow, “I’ll ask, next time.”

With a satisfied huff, you reattach yourself to his arm, entirely unaware of the downpour flooding his heart, drowning in the reassurance of your touch.

~~~

Kiss Me Like You Mean It by Kate Yeager; 400; mild sexual content

“You’re really leaving me?” you whine, head sticking out from under the covers, sunlight tickling your nose.

“It’s Tuesday,” Muichiro shrugs, smiling softly at your bedhead, “Work beckons,” bare chest disappearing from view as he buttons up his shirt.

“Tuesday, schmuesday,” you huff, “It’s Valentine’s Day,” curling a sly finger toward him, “And I’m beckoning too,” winking exaggeratedly, “So what’s it gonna be? Work…” stretching in what you hope is a sexy manner, “Or me?”

Shaking his head, he allows himself a breath to admire your cozy, sunlit face, snorting inwardly at how you look more like a lump than anything remotely seductive, “You realize that would be more effective without the blankets on?”

“You realize how cold I would be without the blankets on?” you retort, promptly pulling the covers up and over your head, voice muffled as you sulk, “Whatever, go to work, see if I care. I’ll just have all the orgasms by myself.”

Gasping playfully, he steps quietly toward the bed, amusement in his tone, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh I would!” you quip, legs moving beneath the covers, “You’re gonna be late for work, by the way,” hips lifting to tug down your flannel pants, “Don’t mind me,” grunting at the effort required to strip while submerged in blankets, “Nothing to worry about here!”

Rolling his eyes, he stands beside you, knees barely brushing the mattress, waiting for you to resurface.

“Can’t- Breathe!” you exclaim, head finally popping out again, swallowing your surprised shriek with practiced ease when his proximity eventually registers, “MUICHIRO!”

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he declares calmly.

“I already said that!” cheeks hot as his fingertips trace along the underside of your jaw, “What about work?”

“I’ll call in sick,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing at the dilation of your pupils, “If that’s okay with you?”

You nod wordlessly, abdomen warming, still in mild disbelief that your teasing actually accomplished something.

“Mind helping me undress?” he asks smoothly, hovering above your eager hands, chuckling as you reach for the top button.

“You planned this,” you mutter accusingly, “Bet you requested today off weeks in advance.”

He doesn’t answer, opting instead to kiss your forehead, your nose, your ears, melting into the scent of you and your delighted giggles, scooping you into his embrace as soon as you undo the last button.

“Maybe,” he whispers into your skin, “Maybe I did.”

~~~

8 Letters by Why Don’t We; 300; mild sexual content

From the beginning, I love you has burned slow on Giyuu’s tongue. What started with a tentative wave—Is that him?—snowflakes caressing the softness of your hair, excitement expanding your chest, pavement crunching beneath your boots—He’s more handsome than he gave himself credit for—all the while a subtle, sweet warmth tickled the back of his throat… What continued with finally understanding familiar, the gleam in his eyes, thigh snug against yours, amusement curling his lips—I can get us another blanket, no need to hog—shaking his head fondly as you nuzzled your nose into his shoulder, pointing firmly at the tv—You can’t miss anything!—already knowing better than to mention—We could pause it—lest you shot your daggered glare at his already trembling heart… all the while an irrevocable heat twirled certain and spicy from the pinpricks of his taste buds to the roof of his mouth. What blossomed into an aching, playful, wild masterpiece, laughter stealing your breath as your smile stole his—You’re not funny!—hopelessly poking at his cheeks, unwilling to sip from your overflowing cup of devotion, spilling through to the secrets in his bones—Then why are you laughing?—smugness in his tone, honest longing in his gaze—Because I love you!—declared without judgment or expectation… all the while, a searing epiphany begging to jump, I’ve never felt this way before still clinging afraid and unaware to the tip of his tongue. “I love you,” he murmurs on a fairly regular Tuesday, “I love you a lot.” Flames somehow stronger as he seeks to smother them in your embrace, tracing your lips, your mouth, the smoothness of your jaw, the pulse within your neck; a promise of Until the sun ceases to set as he presses I love you into every inch of your skin.

~~~

Never Was by REAVES ft. Katelyn Tarver; 400; none

Sanemi keeps his apartment as bare as his heart's been since you walked out. It didn't end with a bang, tears, or even a raised voice, but with the depth of your pleading eyes stenciled permanently across the scar tissue of his regret. Some days, he contemplates getting them tattooed onto his sternum, their dry lashes, familiar heaviness, and all. Other days, he wishes he had bottled the flutter of his skin whenever you touched him, the criss crossed numbness in his chest tenderly and decisively worn away by your stubborn, adoring fingertips until he could finally—miraculously—feel his pulse.

Most days, he misses you.

He misses the trinkets and knick knacks lining his shelves, the occasional spoon or fork left in his kitchen sink, and the scent of your commitment to him lingering on his pillowcase (because apparently he always had the comfier pillow, even when he'd secretly switch them).

He misses the random sock popping up in his laundry from time to time, immediately texting you—Look what I found...—because you'd lamented its lost two weeks ago. He even misses the dreaded noise of something shattering behind him, already anticipating your sheepish, frantic explanation as he sighs and braces himself—Really? You had to target my favorite mug?

He misses you.

Perhaps, definitely, he should've told you. Should've told you how you inspired him to do better. To be better. Should've laid out his bare bones for you to understand just how much better. Should've pressed his secrets into your warm, safe palms for you to understand just how much worse he could be. How much worse he'd been.

And he absolutely should've showed you, despite having never fully done so.

Should've showed you how capable and strong he could be. How gently he could love; how earnestly he could cherish you. How even as you stripped him of his pride, his silence, his animosity — he could still hold your hand as your equal. Not lean on you. Not take you for granted. Not shiver in the fragility of his reflection and rebirth. How he could build you up as you tore him down, providing what you needed just as you gave breath to him.

Sanemi keeps a single photo of your brilliant smile: as soft and promising as he never was.

~~~

You & I by One Direction; 400; none

"I'm surprised we've been together for so many years," Giyuu remarks softly, his hand cool and calloused as it envelops yours.

To anyone else, his statement could feel offensive, and not particularly suitable for a Valentine's stroll, but you aren't anyone else.

"Me too," you chuckle, eyebrows pinched slightly, fingers wiggling playful and sweaty in his grip, "You're way too sophisticated for me."

"I'm the opposite of sophisticated," he deadpans, stepping off abruptly, dirt sinking beneath his boots, lips warm and fleeting against your forehead, "Your statement's impossible."

"Impossible?" you snort, "Have you seen yourself in a suit and tie?" winking as the usual flush creeps up his neck, "I'd call you sophisticated," voice lowering teasingly, "And then some."

Shrugging, his free hand tugs lightly at the hairs tickling his nape, lifting your knuckles to his mouth, "I hate it. Suits are too fancy, and ties are too confusing."

"You can hate something, and still wear it well," you're undeterred, body pressing close to him as your words press even closer, "Fortunately, I only require a couple nicer evenings out per month."

And thank gosh for that he sighs audibly, fond smile grazing your skin, "Do you think you've gained more spending your years with me than spending them..." alone? Or with somebody else? "... not with me?"

Bright laughter greets his tentative question, letting go of his hand to fidget with the lapels of his coat, your delayed response filling the distance between his anxiety and your certainty with a familiar hum.

Well? he almost pushes, generally so indifferent, yet somehow so pliant and demanding in your palms.

"I can't say whether I've gained more," you begin slowly, "But I can say I'm content with you," nodding firmly, "I can say I like you, I love you, that I'm in love with you," patting his cheeks, swallowing a giggle as his flush creeps up further, "And I can say that my feelings for you are stronger and happier than any desire to worry about what might've been," squishing his cheeks for good measure, his nose and ears pink as ever.

"I feel similarly."

And although part of you wants to cross your arms and huff—Really Giyuu? I answered you with a passionate monologue, and you give me a blunt sentence?—a larger part of you is touched by his echoed sentiment, knowing all too well by now that your beloved, sophisticated man would rather hold an umbrella over you while getting soaked himself than utter anything verging on romantic.

In fact, you suspect he may be missing romance and its acquaintances from his personal dictionary altogether.

~~~

Bonfire Heart by James Blunt; 600; explicit language, implied alcohol, mild sexual content

After a day, what will you think?

The softness in your eyes makes Sanemi balk inwardly—Maybe I should’ve buttoned more of my shirt?—creeping tendrils of intrigue and pity spilling from your stare; wrapping around his wrists, along his arms, caressing the scars across his chest and torso; your mouth opening then closing then opening again.

“What?” he snaps, stalking toward you, “You are [y/n], right?”

Fucking blind dates as he struggles with the buttons of his shirt; Fuck Tengen and his wives the closer he gets, buttons still uncooperative; Fuck Obanai and his worrying watching warmth fill your cheeks; Fuck their colluding wondering how on earth they thought you’d be a match for him.

“You know, I was warned you’d be underdressed,” you finally remark, faint humor and light awkwardness in your tone, “No need to make yourself uncomfortable.

They got a warning? he nearly snarls, promptly giving up on the buttons Why didn’t I get a warning that they’d be severely overdressed?

"But you look nice,” you offer a small smile, holding out your hand, “[y/n],” compliment tumbling from your mouth before you can stop it, “And you smell good.”

I smell good?! his glare sharpens, rough hand practically smacking yours as he grips your fingers, “Shinazugawa Sanemi. I’m hungry.”

Your skin feels… polite. Kind. For a fleeting moment, he imagines your fingertips cool and gentle against the tautness of his back.

“And, uh,” swallowing thickly, avoiding your gaze, “You look nice too,” sighing loudly, “Nicer than me.”

After a week, how will you feel?

“No way, a second date?!” Obanai exclaims, enthusiastically punching Sanemi’s shoulder.

“I’m offended,” Sanemi scowls, fixated on his phone, scrolling diligently for the perfect gif.

“And I’m surprised,” Obanai retorts, snatching Sanemi’s phone with a sly grin, “What’s occupying you, buddy?” grin widening when he realizes exactly who Sanemi’s texting.

“Fuck off,” Sanemi groans, not even bothering to wrestle for his phone.

“How long have you been searching for cute cat gif?” Obanai cackles gleefully.

“Fuck. Off.”

“Dinner and drinks on me tonight!”

“The fuck?”

“Tengen thought you wouldn’t survive five minutes. I thought you’d fall head over heels.”

“Head over heels?”

“Dude, you are the world’s driest texter, and suddenly you’re interested in cute. Cat. Gifs?”

“Whatever,” Sanemi mutters, resisting the urge to toss Obanai through the wall, “You’re driving,” and I’m getting wasted.

After a month, what will you want?

“Nemi,” you murmur, carefully poking his bicep, “Did you hear me?”

Oh I fucking heard you.

“Are…” you inhale deeply, thumbs stroking smoothly over his calloused palms, “Are we dating?”

What else would we be?

“Like, is this casual? Are we official? Monogamous? What…” trailing off as his breath catches, “… what are we?”

Blunt as ever, he grits out, “What do you want?”

“I want to date you, officially, nobody else involved,” your wry smile seeping through his stiffness, “But you seem, upset?”

Shit he blinks Maybe Tengen had a point exhaling lowly I’m hopeless.

“I’M NOT UPSET!”

“But you’re yelling?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!”

Oops Sanemi blushes, embarrassment promptly melting as your arms fling around his neck, forehead knocking into his Oof, your joy so radiant he has to consciously stop himself from shying away The hell is this?

“I like you!” you squeal, lips squishy and determined as you kiss him once, twice, until he’s noticeably red, “You’re so fucking dumb,” biting playfully at the tip of his nose, “And I really like you.”

After a year, why will you stay?

“Sanemi?”

“Hm?”

“Do you still like me?”

“Babe,” deadpan, “I love you.”

“Buuut you still like me too?”

“More than anything.”

~~~

Where You Are by Gavin Degraw; 400; none

Kamado Tanjirou. Tanjirou. — The man who traces love into your skin every time he holds your hand, calloused thumb rugged and adoring against the center of your palm. “Let’s stay like this forever,” bright grin so familiar, yet somehow always catching you off guard, “Okay?” — The man who rings your doorbell at 2am, eyes tired, bedhead evident, limbs warm and sturdy as he embraces your shaky frame, careful to avoid stepping on your bare feet. “Tan? Why’re you here?” murmured drowsily. “You had a bad dream,” he says, the rush of scrambling around in the dark for the past half an hour ebbing as you sink into his chest. “To be fair, I didn’t expect you to see that text until the morn-” “And I don’t expect you to sleep poorly,” he hushes you softly, “I’m here now, aren’t I?” “I suppose,” you shrug, clammy fingers reaching up to stroke his cheek, “Let’s get in bed.” The man who sets his wet shoes neatly by the front door, tugged willingly along by your gentle grip until you’re folded into each other, dreamless touch finally lulling you to rest. — The man whose actions speak louder than words, stumbling over sentences and paragraphs, fixing his mistakes with an apologetic smile, commitment to you apparent… even as he accidentally ruins your favorite pot while cooking mac and cheese. “Seriously?!” you exclaim, mouth open slightly, eyes wide, a long exhale following as you blink slowly, “Kamado Tanjirou.” “That’s me!” he squeaks, face red, eyebrows furrowed. “You couldn’t have experimented with a different pot?” poking at the burnt mess with a partially melted spatula, “Or how about sparing my spatula?!!” “I’m sorry!” “That’s it, we’re going on a date.” “Huh?!” “We’ll take one of those couples’ cooking classes,” you huff darkly, “Because clearly someone needs it.” “I’m normally fine at cooking!” he protests, itching to rattle off all of his usual repertoire, “I just…” “You just…?” “ForgotIwascookingsomething.” — The man who shows up when it’s important, and when you insist that it’s not, because he knows better. Knows better than to ever leave you hanging, leave you wondering, leave you hurting at the thought of more. “Thank you for loving me,” you whisper, moonlight glistening on his eyelashes. “Thank you for loving me,” he whispers back, wishing he could weave the starlight in your eyes.

~~~

Not Yet by Brett Young; 400; alcohol

I’m in love with you Mitsuri realizes as you reach for the bottle of rosé, dry fingers brushing her knuckles, your eyes widening as your cheeks fluster.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“Baby,” she chuckles, patting your hand before relinquishing the bottle, “You’re okay!” tilting her head, tone playful, “Should we give up and-”

“No!” you exclaim, “No wine glasses!” the bottle’s neck slender and fragile in the eagerness of your grip, “We drink out of the bottle because we’re classy!”

“We’re definitely classy,” she giggles, watching the rosé slosh precariously, “Don’t forget to unscrew the cap this time.”

“Heyyy,” you pout, sticking out at your tongue, “There’s a reason I recap it!” aggressively shaking the bottle, “See!” grin triumphant and smug, “No spills!” flipping it upside down, “M'a genius!”

“Alright genius,” she murmurs pleasantly, tamping down alarm, “How about we get the bottle upright and take a sip?” a small sip tacked on silently.

“You think I can’t hold my liquor,” you scowl, cradling the bottle against your chest, “I’ll have you know I’ve helped drink half of this bottle!”

Aaand therein lies the issue she sighs, endeared smile tugging at the corner of her mouth nonetheless, “I know, love. You’re amazing.”

“Lemme have one more sip, okay?” you wink, leaning toward her soft, frangipani scent, “Then we can eat snacks and talk ‘bout life!”

Her laughter soaks through your clothes, warming your skin, bones straining to partake in the irresistible sensation, a knowing weight in her gaze as she nods slowly.

“One more sip,” her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, “But only if you pinky promise snacks.”

“And talking about life!” you gasp, “What are snacks without life? What is living without snacks?!”

And what is living without you? she sighs again — a gentle, devoted sound. A sound of acceptance and amusement; of adoration and affection.

“I want to kiss you,” you hiccup, “Change of plans! Kisses, then sips, then snacks, and talks!”

“Sips?” she blinks, gradually processing your declaration, “I can certainly provide kisses,” heartbeat quickening at the thought, “But there shall be no sips for you.”

“You’re no fun!”

Humming teasingly, she carefully pries the bottle from your now inattentive grip, setting it aside with a lazy thud, “My kisses are no fun?”

“Your kisses are fun,” you huff, eyes rolling impatiently, “But limiting my sips? Not so fun!”

“Sweetie,” she snorts, “You’re cut off.”

“On Valentine’s Day?!”

“Especially on Valentine’s Day.”

~~~

I Like The Sound Of That by Rascal Flatts; 500; mild sexual content

“It’s 2am,” you yawn, eyes blinking tiredly, “Go to sleep.”

Squinting, Tanjirou flicks your nose, heart fluttering as you let out an indignant squeak, “No.”

“Rude!”

“But you’re so cute,” he grins, bumping your thigh with his knee, “All sleepy and cuddly.”

“You’re sleepy and cuddly,” you huff, kneeing—much harder—at his groin.

“OI!”

“Go to sleep.”

“How am I supposed to sleep if you kick me in the balls?” he pouts, rubbing carefully—placatingly—at your knee, his own legs crossing (a protective measure).

Shrugging, you tug the comforter up and over your head, inhaling the soft, warm scent of recently washed sheets and freshly showered Tanjirou, “I missed.”

“And you’re not going to make another attempt?” he chuckles quietly, grin returning at the adorable lump of you under the covers.

“Hm,” you respond nonchalantly, cool fingertips making their way toward his bare stomach, “Maybe not.”

“What are yo- AHHHHH!”

“Everything okay?” you hum innocently, savoring the surprised flex of his muscles, palms pressing eager along his sides, mouth nuzzling fond and satisfied at his chest — a stark contrast to the uninhibited, gleeful torture of your cold palms.

“You’re! So! Mean!” he gasps, eyes squeezed shut, resisting the urge to jerk away, hands gripping gentle at your shoulders as though to brace himself, “You'reluckyIloveyou!” gulping for air as your ministrations continue.

“Oh hush,” you mumble into his skin, beginning Phase 2™ as your feet go in for the kill, outright cackling when his body goes rigid, plaintive whimper burying itself in your hair at the touch of your frosty toes, “You signed up for this.”

“I! Did! Not!” he whines, grip tightening, teeth gritted, internal mantra of I love them, I love them, I love them the only force keeping him in place.

“Did too!” you declare, smooching wetly at his collarbone, “Thank you for being my favorite space heater!”

“I take it back,” he huffs, shivering despite himself, “You’re not cute at all!”

“But I am sleepy and cuddly,” you retort, “Aren’t I?”

Disgruntled, he pulls lightly at your ear, endearment audible in his tone even as goosebumps creep up his forearms, “Absolutely.”

“Are you cold?” you coo teasingly, fingers grazing the curve of his pelvis, “My favorite space heater’s struggling.”

“Nope,” he mutters, “Not cold, not struggling,” stubbornness narrowing his eyes, “I might start sweating, actually.”

“Sooo I can use them then?” you ask sweetly.

“Use what?!” he swallows nervously, immediately on alert.

“The forbidden hand warmers!”

Shortly thereafter, Tanjirou almost wishes you’d just gone for another knee-to-balls… your contented sigh hardly enough compensation for his embarrassing shout and consequent shuddering + the temperature shock and potential flash freeze death of his sperm.

—

“You’re dramatic,” you giggle, wiggling upward to meet his begrudging gaze, apologetically kissing his forehead.

“And you’re cruel,” he scowls, expression quickly breaking into an exasperated smile, because I love you, “You better sleep with one eye open!”

“Ooh is that a threat, my sleepy man?”

“YES.”

~~~

Elysium by Mars Mignon; 500; 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, oral

“Beautiful,” Sanemi murmurs, breath warm on your inner thigh, firm arms wrapped around your legs, “So fucking stunning.”

“You know what would be even more stunning?” you hum cheerfully, fingers tangled through his hair, tugging affectionately, “Less staring, more doing.”

“Don’t fucking rush me,” he mutters, nipping lightly at your skin, smirking when you yelp, “Thought you liked me sappy and shit?”

“Yeeeah,” you huff, thighs attempting to squish him closer, eyes narrowing as he refuses to budge, not even straining, “But I prefer sappy time separate from sexy time.”

“You’re impatient,” he snorts, thumb sudden and smooth as he spreads your folds, low rumble in his chest at the sight of your body rippling, “Now let me admire your perfection in peace, fuck’s sake.”

Hoping you don’t sound too breathless, you manage to quip, “If this is your idea of admiring, then I’m five seconds away from going to the bathroom and admiring myself, alone.”

Rolling his eyes, he flicks delicately at your clit, smugness filling his stomach as you whine loudly, “You do that, and I’ll barge through the door.”

“Not the poor door,” you protest weakly, head tilting backward, pile of pillows plush beneath you, “Could you please do something.”

“Are you thirsty?” he chuckles, feathery kisses along your slit short circuiting your frustration, lips sticky as he inhales your scent, “I can get you a glass of water.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you grumble, hips bucking gently, “Could you please use your tongue to play with my clit,” tacking on gruffly, “And thank you in advance.”

Swallowing amused laughter, he acquiesces, familiar, delicious heat sliding wet and languid between your folds, your essence tart and viscous as the tip of his tongue slips teasing and coy around your clit.

“Did you forget where it is?” you snap, gasping at his immediate, scolding pinch to the crook of your knee, “I said please.”

“Say it again,” he demands, hovering over the slight swell of your clit, satisfied smile nearly touching it.

“Again?!”

“Beg.”

“Nemi,” you pout, cheeks darkening, pussy clenching at the bite in his voice, “I…” faltering as his index finger smears the slow drip of your pleasure, retort caught in your throat.

“Hm?” he prompts, fixated on the flutter of your pussy, resisting the traitorous itch to devour you whole.

“Please use your tongue to play with my clit,” you exhale shakily, legs parting wider, back arching, pretenses forgotten as desire coats your veins, “I want you, need you, to make me cum.”

The prettiest fucking cunt is his only thought as he promptly obeys, tongue sloppy and ravenous as he worships the squelching mess of your pussy, spit dribbling down to your asshole, hardly breathing as he melts into the rhythm of your moans Gonna make you cum and cum and fucking cum again, gonna break my fucking record for sure.

#milestone event #15.0 #drabble #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #tanjiro x reader #mitsuri x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader

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