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libraryofgage · 4 months

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Harlequin Prince

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One Harley Quinn One (you're here!) 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one) Scooby Gang (there are also plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I'm a simple woman who believes Steve deserves to be a little unhinged sometimes, and having Harley Quinn as a mother is the perfect excuse to make that happen lol

Anyway, I know I haven't updated some of my other series in a hot minute; I've just been busy with work and a little sick ngl

If you'd like to be tagged for any new parts in this series, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Steve's earliest memory is of being tucked into bed with a Batman night light plugged into the wall and his mother squeezed in next to him. She's wearing her softest pajamas, and Steve idly rubs the fabric under his thumb. In her lap is a huge book that she flips through, humming "Pop Goes the Weasel" under her breath before finally stopping on a page. "Okay, Dumplin', let's read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder," she finally says, wiggling some to get comfortable before clearing her throat.

Her voice is soft and a little nasally, and Steve obediently closes his eyes when she starts reading. After a few minutes, she gently cards her fingers through his hair, her palm warm as it slides over his scalp. Eventually, he drifts off, his dream so vivid that he still remembers the oversized hammers with their white doctor coats and floating clipboards.

The first time Steve's mother is sent (back) to Arkham, he doesn't realize anything is wrong until Uncle Bruce picks him up from school. Steve had been waiting long after the other kids were picked up by their parents, a misshapen pink-and-blue coaster for his mother that he made in art class in his hands, when one of Uncle Bruce's fancy cars pulled up to the school.

The passenger window rolled down, and Bruce looked almost pained as he met Steve's eyes. "Hop in," he said, leaning over to open the door from the inside.

Steve walked up to the door but didn't get in. "Mom said I should only go home with her," he said, "unless you know our secret code."

"Cognitive Behavioral Therapy."

Steve stood for a moment longer before nodding and climbing into the passenger seat. He closed the door, pulled on his seat belt, and carefully held the coaster in his lap. "Where's Mom?" he asked, watching as Bruce turned down the radio and slowly pulled away from the school.

"Your mother is....going to be away for a while," Bruce said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "She did something bad, and now she's going to stay in time out because of it."

"Mom says you shouldn't dumb things down just because I'm young. She says it's not good for my development."

Bruce got a slight smile at that, his lips twitching up as he glanced at Steve. "Is that so," he said, his grip on the wheel loosening some. He seemed to think for a moment before saying, "Your mother blew up a warehouse. She was apprehended by Batman and has been sent to Arkham for a few months. Since I'm listed as your godfather, you'll stay with me until she's released."

Steve didn't reply. He just looked down at his coaster and wondered if he'd be able to convince his Uncle Bruce to visit Arkham so he could give it to her.

He did not, in fact, get to visit her at Arkham during that stint. But Steve did get to visit on her next one, which was almost three years later to the day. Steve's first visit to Arkham was on his 8th birthday, and he was chaperoned by Uncle Bruce and Nightwing (he wasn't allowed to call Dick by his real name when he was in costume, so Steve just didn't call him anything at all).

That was also the first time Steve truly experienced Arkham's lax security. Through no fault of his own (and he would continue to argue this point; how did two superheroes let an 8 year old wander off?), Steve had somehow ended up in another part of Arkham altogether.

This hallway had large cells with reinforced glass walls that allowed Steve to look inside. He could name most of the people he passed, recognizing Killer Croc and Riddler and the Penguin by his mother's descriptions of their defining features. Most of them tried talking to Steve, but he pushed ahead, eager to see if his mother was at the end of the hall.

She wasn't. Instead, Steve found another woman. She had green skin and bright red hair and Steve hadn't been able to contain himself. He'd practically squished his face against the glass and asked, "Are you Poison Ivy?"

"Oh, her he talks to," the Penguin said, his tone mean and his voice carrying.

Poison Ivy ignored him, choosing to instead open one eye from where she lay on the bed. She stared at Steve before sitting up. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"Nope! But my mom knows you. She talks about you all the time. She said you're the baddest badass to ever badass," Steve said.

"Oh. You're Harley's kid," Poison Ivy replied, walking over to the glass and crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"It's my birthday, so Uncle Bruce said I could see Mom."

"Well, happy birthday. Now, what are you doing here?"

Steve blinked, looked around the hall again, and realized for the first time that he was, in fact, a bit lost. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was with Uncle Bruce before."

A moment passed between the two of them in which Poison Ivy said nothing while Steve tried to remember how, exactly, he'd ended up here. When he came up blank, he simply shrugged and looked back at her. "Hey, you like plants, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, kid, I like plants," she said, her tone taking on the same inflection his mother's did when he asked something she thinks is obvious.

Steve didn't linger on the tone. Instead, he dug around in his coat pocket for a few seconds, pushing past candy wrappers and erasers until his hand closed around an acorn he'd picked up off the ground a few days ago. He pulled it out and presented it to Poison Ivy on his palm. "Is it still a plant if it fell off the tree?" he asked.

"Yeah," Poison Ivy said, her voice soft like she was staring at something unbelievable. Steve watched as a huge grin spread across her face, her eyes lit up, and she pressed her hands to the glass. "Can you do me a favor, Steve?" she asked.

"Sure! Mom said you're a person I should listen to," he said, starting to close his fingers around the acorn. Now that he was thinking about it, he didn't actually know how to give the acorn to her with the glass between them.

"Your mom is right. You should always listen to me. And her. But mostly me right now," Poison Ivy said, her gaze a bit softer as she looked at Steve. "So, go ahead and put the acorn on the ground and stand as far away as possible."

Steve didn't question her. Whatever Poison Ivy wanted to do would probably be fine. After all, Uncle Bruce didn't warn him about talking to her like he had about the Joker. So, Steve put the acorn down and hurried to the other end of the hall. "Now what?" he shouted.

The only response he got was the acorn shuddering, spinning across the floor, and then bursting open. In the blink of an eye, a tree grew, its roots breaking through the ground and its branches shattering the glass of Poison Ivy's cell. Steve was just thinking that was probably why Poison Ivy told him to stand back when she walked out, rolling her shoulders and breathing like the air is fresh.

She looked at Steve and walked over, standing in front of him for a moment before sweeping him into her arms. "Thanks, kid," she said, opening her hand and letting a tiny purple flower grow from her palm. She tucked it behind Steve's ear. "Now, let's go find your mom."

Of course, Poison Ivy's escape had set off numerous alarms, and Uncle Bruce just about fainted when he saw her carrying Steve while Nightwing looked two seconds from laughing. But Steve's mom had smiled so wide that her cheeks must have hurt after only two seconds when she saw them.

It was, by far, the best birthday Steve had ever had.

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Hawkins, Indiana, is...boring. Steve has only been in the town for a few weeks, and he's bored out of his mind. He could have been sent to Metropolis or Central City. Hell, he would have preferred Bludhaven to the absolute snoozefest that is Hawkins. But, no, Uncle Bruce insisted on somewhere safe, which means somewhere boring, which means...Steve will just have to make his own fun.

That's why he's found himself in a dive bar on the edge of town, sitting at the bar as the owner (a woman named Bev who definitely killed her husband; Steve would know, he's met plenty of women who definitely killed their husbands) refuses to give him anything alcoholic. "Listen, kid," she says, her tone hard and unyielding, "I can give you water, a Shirley Temple, or a permanent ban. Which do you prefer."

After a few seconds, Steve sighs, slaps way more money than is necessary on the bar, and says, "Gimme a Shirley Temple."

Bev nods, swipes up the cash, and starts making his drink. He watches her with a slight frown before looking away, noticing another boy his age wiping down a table. He looks, and Steve cannot say this affectionately enough, like a wannabe goon for a motorcycle gang. Between the bandana stuffed into his back pocket, his slightly frizzy hair falling to his shoulders, and the leather jacket/vest combo, the guy is the first reminder of home Steve has seen since arriving in this sleepy town.

When he notices the guy's shoulders tense, Steve looks away to keep from being caught staring. A Shirley Temple is placed in front of him, and Steve represses a sigh, missing the sounds of fights happening behind him as he drinks with Jason.

"Aren't you a little young to be hanging around here?"

Steve slowly takes a sip of his drink, the saccharine cherry flavor washing over his tastebuds, and glances at an older man a few seats down from him. He looks the man over, lingering on the half-tucked shirt, muddy loafers, and circles under his eyes. Without permission, his mother's DSM-V rushes through his mind, a blur of his mother's voice accompanying the page flips. They finally settle on "Adjustment Disorder," accompanied by his mom saying, "Sometimes, that's just a fancy term for a mid-life crisis, Dumplin'."

Without thinking, Steve asks in return, "Aren't you a little old to still be going through a mid-life crisis?"

In Gotham, that might get him a laugh, an eye roll, and possibly an elbow to the ribs from whichever friend accompanied him. Here, it gets him a tense silence that he only thought happened in bad movies gearing up for a fight sequence. Seriously, what is wrong with Hawkins?

"I'll give you one chance to apologize," the guy says, clearly thinking he's being sufficiently threatening.

It takes every ounce of Steve's self-control to keep from laughing at the guy. Does that usually work? Do people usually find this guy threatening? He's got nothing on Alfred, so Steve just can't bring himself to even fake intimidation.

"Yeah, don't hold your breath, man," Steve says, rolling his eyes as he takes another sip. The Shirley Temple isn't bad, but it's not what he was expecting, and it feels like just another disappointment atop a pile of them.

They're building in his chest, now that he thinks about it. Steve is slowly suffocating under the weight of them. They buzz in his lungs, surging through him until the energy is so overwhelming that he has to bounce his leg and tap his finger against his glass to expel some of it. He shouldn't have agreed to leave Gotham, or at the very least, he shouldn't have left the location entirely up to Bruce. Holy shit, that was a dumb decision. He ought to know better.

A sudden, annoyingly harsh drag of chair legs against the floor rings in Steve's ears, making his shoulders tense and his fingers twitch. He looks over to see the guy standing over him, glaring down at Steve like that's supposed to scare him when nothing else has.

Steve sighs, drinking the last of his Shirley Temple before standing. Over the guy's shoulder, he can see the boy his age watching them, and...well, Steve kind of wants to make a good impression on the first person to remind him of home. Plus, a fight sounds great. He'd love a chance to expel some of this disappointment-fueled energy.

The guy suddenly snorts, pulling Steve's attention back. "You're young, kid, so I'll let you off the hook this time around, but learn some respect."

What? Seriously? All of that, and the guy doesn't even start a fight? Does he know how rude that is? He'd get killed in Gotham. "Oh," Steve says, his voice flat, "you're scared of getting your ass kicked."

Somehow, that's what the guy considers the final straw. It wasn't even that good. Like, that's just fucking small talk in Gotham, and Steve can't bring himself to understand what about it was so infuriating that the guy swings his fist.

Either way, Steve happily embraces the fight. His eyes light up, and adrenaline rushes through his veins as he ducks and kicks the guy's left knee. The familiar sound of a bone snapping rings out. Steve's ready for more, hands curled into fists and held up to protect his face, when the guy drops.

After one kick, he drops. Steve blinks, staring down at the guy cursing and holding his knee. He slowly lowers his hands when he realizes this isn't some kind of fake-out diversion and looks at Bev behind the counter. She's frowning at him, hands on her hips, and Steve comes to the conclusion that bar fights are not, in fact, a thing in Hawkins. "Do they usually go down so easy around here?" he asks.

"They usually don't fight at all."

Oh. Holy shit, this place is boring.

Steve sighs and pushes some hair out of his face, frowning slightly. "Well, uh, sorry about the disturbance, then. I'll just...get going," he says, awkwardly pushing his chair in and doing the same for the guy whose kneecap he kicked. Nobody says anything as he leaves, and Steve shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, frustration and disappointment and homesickness building in him.

He's halfway to his car when somebody shouts, "Hey! Wait!"

With a huff, Steve stops and turns, his mood only lightening when he sees the boy that was wiping down tables. He waits patiently, watching as the boy runs up to him and holds out a wad of cash. "Bev said to give this to you," he says.

"What, is my money not good enough?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow at the cash before looking up and meeting brown eyes.

"No, no," the boy says, "Bev only gives change to people she likes. She said you're welcome to come by and kick Phillip's ass whenever you want."

Steve blinks, studying the boy for any signs of lies. When he doesn't find one, he takes the cash and nods. "Good to know," he says.

"Yeah. Right. Um, I'm going back inside now."

"Hold on," Steve says, grinning when the boy listens and stands still. He takes a step closer, holds out his hand, and says, "My name's Steve. I'm new around here, if you couldn't tell."

The boy stares at his hand for a few seconds before taking it, the rings on his fingers pressing against Steve's skin. "Eddie. I could tell," he says, his shoulders relaxing some. "Where you from?"

"Gotham."

"Holy shit, no wonder you looked so ready for a fight," Eddie says, staring at Steve like he's incomprehensible. Steve tries not to preen under his gaze. "Hawkins must be dead compared to Gotham."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, glancing down at his and Eddie's hands still clasped together despite the handshake being over. "But I think I'll have some fun anyway."

#steddie #steddie fic #harlequin prince #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve deserves good parents actually #bruce wayne #dc comics crossover #harley quinn #poison ivy #this bitch has been sitting in my drafts for so long guys hfjkds #so excited to finally release it into the wild

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 7 months

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I don't know if you ever received this ask or had this idea before but here goes nothing Since Ghost already met Jade's family, what if she meets his? ....angst material. Sorry not sorry.

Oh my God... Anon... You sparked something in me, and I cannot go to sleep now without posting this. Thank you so much for the idea.

(I think I'm gonna make a full on comic out of this, and I will make an art at some point for this fic, but let's use this lovely GIF of Ghost first)

She's The One

Jade meets Ghost's family.

Pairing : Simon “Ghost” Riley x Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 1.8k words Warning : Medium to heavy angst and mentions of death, but ends with a full on fluff because you know me mate I want Ghost to be happy ok.

Title and story inspired by the song 'She's The One' by Robbie Williams

"...How's your family, Simon?"

Jade asked Ghost. They had been having a small outing, which included watching the cinema together and going around the streetside shops to find new wardrobes for Ghost to wear. He initially thought that it was unnecessary, but as Jade insisted, he went anyway – as long as he could spend his off-duty time with her.

He'd met her parents, and though he was apprehensive about it at first, they turned out to be pleasant and strong people. It was such an unfamiliar feeling for him, to have a family to come home to, a supportive family and kind and can take care of their own. He's foreign to that concept.

Ghost just stayed silent to her question, his expression which was usually unreadable turned sorrowful, his eyes gazing down at the pavements they walked. She thought she should change the subject before Ghost muttered,

"You want to see them now?"

Jade opened her eyes wide in surprise, not expecting him to say anything about meeting his family this fast, and the way he said 'now'...

The woman knew Ghost wouldn't ask her that question if he was adamant as he was a straightforward person. And so, she answered, "Of course, if you don't mind it." He then proceeded to enter his car that was parked not far from where they just watched a movie in a cinema, not forgetting to open the passenger door for Jade beforehand.

They drove for a full 30 minutes of silence, save for the sound soft songs on the radio. As Ghost drove, Jade looked out the window and understood that they were going to a familiar place that she had passed by a few times in her life. He drove to the nearest available parking area, parking his car flawlessly before stopping the car engine, leaving the both of them in complete silence.

Jade felt the atmosphere around him grow heavy, his hands still on the steering wheel as if he was still pondering whether or not he wanted to get out of the car. He let out a soft sigh, took his keys and got out of the car. Jade got out of her own and looked at the surrounding area.

Cemetery.

The sun had disappeared behind the heavy grey clouds that constantly covered the England skies. Tiny drops of water had touched her cheek, in such a way it reflected Ghost's inner thoughts right now.

The man looked at her, "Over here." He walked with Jade following right behind him. After about 10 minutes of walking and treading through the tall grasses, Ghost stopped in front of a group of gravestones, four of them, which were placed more tightly together than the other. The grasses were tidily short, a sign that the keepers attended to these graves properly.

Jade then looked down, reading the engravings on the stones, and her heart shattered to pieces.

"Susan Riley, November 17th, 1965 - December 24th, 2017"

"Thomas Riley, July 21st, 1990 - December 24th, 2017"

"Elizabeth Riley, May 8th, 1991 - December 24th, 2017"

"Joseph Riley, March 19th, 2013 - December 24th, 2017"

It was his mother's birthday.

She looked up to find Ghost's eyes gazing down at the names as well, noticing that the ground he was standing on was right at the front of his mother's grave. No tears in sight, only sadness, and as an MI6 agent of two decades, she could deduce an expression of regret. Jade didn't need to wonder why, as the dates of their deaths were all the same - the reason he hid his identity, lived as no one, avoided any relationship with anyone, and the reason why he was adamant about meeting her parents – His past came to haunt, and it's target was not him.

Jade couldn't say anything. What could she say? That she's sorry this happened? She knew Ghost hated that phrase the most, of someone pitying him, that they wished things could be different. But what use is it to wish? It happened. His entire family died because something happened during one of his missions, and his family paid the price for it.

As if on cue, she heard a small sniff from him the same second the raindrops started to grow more frequent, falling harder, creating white noises and wet spots on their clothes. Being the Londoner she was, knowing that sunny days were never really sunny, Jade fished out her floral purple umbrella, holding it above Ghost's head beside her, making sure to cover his broad shoulders fully as her left shoulder grew wet.

She saw his face, and it was enough reason to stay silent and let him grieve. She didn't know if this was the first time he'd visited their graves after years or if he always come here at some time every year, but no matter which one the answer was, if she could see one thing, it was that his tears never seemed to run out after more than a decade.

Jade let him cry, the sound of his sobs completely drowned by the white noises of the heavy rain.

She knew that he wasn't much for any physical touch, nonetheless, she lifted her other hand softly and rubbed at his back, going up and down in an attempt to soothe his sorrow. And after a minute of him not flinching away from her touch, Jade mustered up her will to slowly encircle her arm around his own on his side, their sides touching as she rubbed his bicep, and going even further as she leaned her head to touch his shoulder.

Ghost's shoulder still shook for a few minutes as he cried his heart out, Jade kept doing what she did as he let his sorrow out.

Soon after, another surprise hit her when she heard and saw that the rain started to slow down, albeit still going down on both of them. Her other arm started to grow sore after moments of holding the umbrella high to accommodate his height, yet what alleviated the pain was the fact that she felt a small weight on her head, realizing that Ghost had eased his cries, now only soft sniffs, and that he leaned his head on top of hers as well.

He still stayed silent, not a word spoken ever since they arrived, but she knew that this was a good sign that he knew that she would be there for him, even when he was vulnerable.

"Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley."

Jade muttered softly, the man beside her still looking down on his mother's grave even though he was slightly dazed at her words.

"This is our first meeting, but I can tell that you were a kind person, and an even more amazing mother and grandmother."

He then glanced at Jade as she continued, "Your son is a very skilled and intelligent man, traits which I assume he got from you. He's confident, a great leader-- oh! And he's handsome as well, so that's a plus."

That prompted a scoff out of his mouth. Nevertheless, she went on. "He's not much of a social person. He's a little bit intense and stiff - We can work on that. He shot my hand once! I have the scar to prove it. His choices of words are sometimes foul, though, again, we could always work on that." Jade joked lightheartedly, seeing him softly smile above her.

"But if there's one thing about him that I love, is that he's a strong man with a warm heart, and I don't have to assume to know that he got it from you." Jade continued. "Your son is the strongest man I know, and I will stop at nothing to protect him and make him happy."

Ghost looked down at her, astounded at her words. "Thank you for bringing him into this world. Happy birthday, Mrs. Riley."

As she finished her message, Jade looked up with a soft smile, "I'll be sure to bring some flowers the next time we visit, and every year after that."

She thought he was going to say something, until the arm that was intertwined with hers moved, though nervously, gliding across her back and found its home on Jade's shoulder, before lightly pressing and pulling her towards him. Jade blushed, not only at the warmth of his body but also at the fact that he initiated the touch.

"Thank you, Lottie." He muttered in his deep voice, "So much."

"Anytime, Love."

After about 15 minutes of standing in front of the graves, the rain had stopped, and the sun showed up to light the rest of the day as the sky turned orange. Jade had stored the wet umbrella back in its container and hung it on her wrist before she walked back to the car per his request. Jade figured he wanted some alone time with his family, and so she obliged.

"How's she, Mum? She's a beautiful bird, isn't she?"

Ghost finally spoke, his hands tucked inside his pockets. He then glanced at his brother's grave, smirking. "What about you, Tommy? You think she's the one?" He asked no one, not expecting any answer anyway, yet he just wanted to let it out.

"I thought I'm gonna bite the dust on some fucking rathole somewhere, and that was what I wished at some point, but..." Ghost sighed, shifting his weight on his hip, "I kind of want to die an old man, after living my life to the fullest with her-- Fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this." Ghost chuckled at his own words, not expecting it to be this heartfelt. "I'm arse over tit for her. Yeah, you're gonna laugh at me for this Tommy, but at least I didn't laugh when you said the same thing about Beth."

"And Mum, knowing you, I think you'd like her. She's a bit like you, in a way." Ghost confessed, still eyeing her name on her gravestone, "She cares too much. In a good way, and I find it endearing." He suddenly recalled the memories he had with Jade, from the first moment they met to this moment, replaying them over and over and being surprised about how much she reminded him of his mother.

"I want to protect her with all my life. I love her, Mum."

And with that, a burden on his shoulders felt like no more. He'd never said those words to anyone, and he might be insane to be in love with someone considering how he'd lived his life, but he'd made a promise to protect her, and if he'd be a fool, then a fool he would become.

"Anyway, she's waiting back there, and I'm hungry. So I'm going to leave you now." Ghost then stood up straight, his hands still in his pockets. He glanced at every single one of the gravestones, before looking at his mother's.

"Happy birthday, Mum."

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(All of the Riley's birthdays are entirely made-up. Their date of death was also made up, but I remembered there were something with Christmas, so I'll just place December 24th to make my heart hurt more) ಥ_ಥ

Anyway, thank you for reading, and hope you love this! (❁´◡`❁)

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #sleepy answers #call of duty modern warfare 2022 #charlotte jade le jardin #call of duty oc #ghost x oc #ghost x jade #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley #call of duty fic #call of duty mw2 #angst #tw angst #tw death

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somnambulic-thing · 13 days

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Watershed Moments || part I

Masterlist Part II || ao3

Eddie Munson x Reader || E 18+ [demi!Eddie x 'tomboy'/gender-nonconforming!bi!reader]

childhood best friends to lovers, no Upside Down, canon divergent

Words: 3.8k

Series Summary: Watershed Moment is a term most people use for big events. Such events that mark historical turning points of great significance and shape the course of humanity; events that cause the printing presses of the world to run hot and make it from the front pages of newspapers into history books for the following generations to study. Opening the passenger door of Eddie’s van on a rainy Friday evening is exactly that. You're in love with your best friend. How many of those pivotal moments have there been in the past decade that have led you to this point? And what happens now?

Themes/Warnings for this chapter | pls check Masterlist for general tags: ||fluff, pining, angst, hurt/comfort, implied/non-graphic domestic abuse, child abuse: physical and mental, child neglect, dysfunctional family dynamics||

large parts of the fic will take place in the characters teenage years

A/N: I wrote this almost a year ago then got very precious about it and stopped in fear of fucking it up. I've decided to release it into the world before the layer of dust gets so thick that I can't find my way back to it anymore. Around half of it is already written in various states. This is a queer story at heart, even though you might not find it in explicit terms we'd use today to label and describe things.

Friday the 8th of May 1987

The music announces his arrival.

It always does.

It’s the reason you leave your window ajar whenever you’re expecting him; no matter the time of day, no matter the weather.

The faint notes of shrieking guitars slowly turn into recognizable music as you slip on your shoes and look for your keys. Going by his choice of song, he must be in a good mood and so you descend down the stairs in a hurry to meet him.

He’s picking you up to go see a movie like he had done countless times before.

You hook your fingers under the door handle, the metal smooth from years of doing so, and pull, rousing the familiar creeeeek of the hinges, expecting to get into the car with the boy who had been your best friend for over a decade, and suddenly find yourself staring into the face of the man you love.

Just like that.

There is a dip in the cushion of the passenger seat, perfectly molded to your ass and right there, he had placed a gift for you.

“Surprise,” he says with a smile that melts the sidewalk under your feet, gesturing at the book that’s waiting for you but there is nothing on this planet, or any other, that could bring you to pull your eyes away from his at this very moment.

You see him almost every day, had seen him not quite twenty-four hours ago, had talked to him on the phone this morning and it had been the same as always; he was Eddie.

Your Eddie.

And as you hold on to the door, waiting for the world to stop spinning so violently that you fear it could launch you into outa space, you realize that nothing about that had changed and still nothing was the same.

Just like that.

Eddie tilts his head, one hand still gripping the steering wheel, the other waving.

“Squash calling pumpkin, do you copy?” Eddie says in a deep, silly voice and the sweet sound of your childhood nicknames brings your realization full circle.

You are in love with your best friend.

“A-affirmative…”

“Ah, there you are. Will you get in here now? You’re getting wet.”

Oh, if you only knew.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you climb into your seat, carefully taking the book into your hands like it held the secrets to the universe between its covers. You yank the passenger door close absentmindedly, the slam echoing as loud in your ears as your own heartbeat and you wait for Eddie to complain about it but he doesn’t. Instead, you can sense him looking at you while you stare at the book in your lap.

And that really had been it, right?

What had made the truth about your feelings for Eddie hit you like a load of bricks; it was in the way he looked at you. In his giddy excitement to make you happy, his confidence that he absolutely would because he knew you so well and in the fact that you would look at him the same way if your roles were reversed.

That you do it all the time.

And just like that, it scares the shit out of you.

“H-how…” you start, but fail to find the right question. Your voice sounds brittle to your ears.

But Eddie chuckles, moves in closer and puts his chin on your shoulder, just like he always does. As if his silly little gesture hadn’t just changed both of your lives fundamentally and irrevocably.

“You mean,” he clears his throat and puts on an impersonation of your voice that’s infuriatingly remarkable. “Oh, Eddie, my precious Eddie, how did you get your brilliant and highly skilled hands on the new Stephen King novel that came out just two days ago?” His breath against your neck is warm and you just know that he’s pursing his lips in a silly grin.

“Yeah, that,” you swallow and then you give him what he’s after. A smile. Because no matter how flustered you are, you just can’t help it. “And I don’t sound like that.”

“Oohhh yes, you do,” he croons and the bass in his words vibrates through your bones where it’s already part of your marrow. You want to turn your head and kiss him. “It’s adorable,” he says and sits up, leaning back into his seat.

You huff out a laugh. “Do you compliment yourself in my voice a lot when I’m not around?”

“Something has to get me through the dreadful hours of the day where I have no access to your praise.”

It’s casual when he says things like that, and while Eddie starts the car and pulls into the street, you try to remember if it ever made you feel like combusting before.

Of course it had. All the time.

“Rick had some business in Indianapolis and I asked him to get me a copy,” Eddie explains into the silence, glancing over at you. “Seatbelt, pumpkin.”

“You… you didn’t have to do this…” you say instead of Thank you, Squashboy! instead of You’re the fucking best, Munson! instead of any of those soft things you would have thrown at him without hesitation just ten minutes ago and put on your seatbelt as he ordered, hoping he wouldn’t smell your confusion like the emotional bloodhound he was around you.

But Eddie laughs. “And listen to you whine about it until Hawkins’ dusty ol’ bookstore catches up with the modern world? Yeah, fat chance.”

“It would just have been a few weeks… tops…”

“A few weeks too many of seeing you mope. I’m not strong enough for that shit.”

You open the book on the first page to occupy your hands, which are begging to be buried in Eddie's hair, with something safe but, oh, the endeavor fails horribly because, of course, he left you a note inside and you should have expected it. Your fingertips trace over the familiar flow of Eddie’s handwriting with an infinite tenderness that’s meant for his cheeks.

for my little monster, can't wait for you to read this to me. - your doctor E.

“If you want to,” he adds softly.

I want to whisper every word of it into your mouth.

“This is the second book of the series, remember?… You wouldn’t understand a thing.”

“Incorrect,” he says solemnly, stops the car at a red light and almost jumps into your face with an open, all-teeth smile. “Surprise!”

“You… you read the first book?”

“Correct!” he bites his lip, excitement tugging at his cheeks. He’s so close. You could just lean in to taste him and for a moment you think that maybe he’s waiting for you to do so as he hovers there, big brown eyes roaming your face until a cacophony of horns pulls him away from you. “Fuckers,” he mumbles as he starts the car again and picks up the conversation where he’d left it: “And lo and behold: I liked it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I know, I know… I’ve given you speeches about why King doesn’t do it for me and all but you kept gushing about this Gunslinger book and how different it is and…” Eddie shrugged, “I thought I should give it a chance aaand it turned out you were right about it.”

You’re everything.

How did I miss this?

And what does it mean that I did?

“Hey, uh, are you alright?” he throws several quick glances at you, brows drawn together; all the joy, all the mirth gone.

Just like that.

Don’t you fucking hurt him!

“Why?”

“Why?” Now it’s a full-on frown. “Well, you’re… quiet. Which, you know, is totally fine with me generally, but I just told you, uh, that I read your favorite book and liked it after being a grump about it for months and—”

“Eddie?” A sigh.

“Y-yeah?”

“Wanna skip the movie, go to your place and start this?” you say softly, holding up the book. “Maybe get some snacks on our way?”

No hesitation.

“Hold on!” he cheered and you know that voice and that frantic look over his shoulder and—

“Oh no!” you huff as you scramble to clutch at something. “No nono no…”

—then the U-Turn thumps you against the door while Eddie laughs like he’s fueled on pure adrenaline.

“Fucking hell, Munson, slow down,” you shout over the wild cackling and he does. “If you kill us before I finished that series I’ll whip your ass!”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he says with a grin and your pulse speeds up; eight little words and your rabbit heart races faster than from the prospect of possible death caused by Eddie’s poor impulse control. You watch him in awe as he forces himself to calm down, fingers drumming on the steering wheel, head bopping to their rhythm. “That was fun.”

“Yeah,” you try to sound distraught. “Such fun that you’re taking years off my life every time you do shit like that, you maniac!”

“But I’m giving them back to you by making you laugh. So it doesn’t count.”

***

1976

It was the October of your eleventh Halloween when the Munsons moved into the ground-floor apartment.

You just bought the first pumpkin of the season and couldn’t wait to spend the rest of the day drafting out a spooky design to carve into the tough orange flesh.

Impatient to start, you burst through the door and were halfway up the first landing when you saw the skinny lanky boy fumble with a box that looked way too heavy for his frame if the strain of the muscles in his arms was anything to go by.

Spinning around, his eyes were wide and alert, maybe even afraid, before he saw you on the stairs, relaxed a little and turned away to get on with opening the door.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you said, placed your pumpkin on the floor and rushed to his side.

“N-no, t’s alright, I'm… I got it—“ His words were swallowed by a loud thump as the boy swayed, barely saving the box from tumbling to the ground by wedging it between the door and his skinny chest.

“Don’t looks like it,” you quipped, ready to snatch his key to assist when—

“What the fuck are you banging against that door?“

— the door disappeared in a blur and a big angry man appeared in its place. The boy barely caught his balance before the box could slip again.

“Sorry Dad, sorry I didn’t—“

“Inside, Eddie!”

Eddie’s head whipped around to you, face scrunched in worry, his skin had turned a pale grey and you were sure to see the faint yellow remnants of a bruise high up on his cheek.

“Eddie!” he snarled and without another word Eddie pushed past his father, his backlit silhouette vanishing through a door on the left in a small hallway.

“Who are you?” the man almost barked at you.

Refusing to sound afraid, you introduced yourself. “My family lives on the second floor - welcome to the neighborhood, Mister…?”

“Munson,” he said briskly, but less angry and held out a large sweaty hand for you to shake. You did with reluctance. “Polite of you to swing by and say hello but we’re busy here, so if you don’t mind.” And with that, he closed the door.

You didn’t mind. You didn’t mind one bit.

Well…

“Oh,” your mother said when you told her everything, still heaving from running up the stairs like you were on fire. “But the boy probably just fell off his bike. You know how boys are, honey, don’t you?”

Suddenly, there was an itch in your own scraped knees; somewhat of a guilty sensation that added confusion to the upset.

„I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,“ she added with a thin smile.

And you wanted to believe her, wanted to believe her so badly but your mother hadn’t seen the look in the boy’s - Eddie’s - eyes when you startled him.

Those same eyes were faintly red and a little puffy when you answered the knock at the door half an hour later.

“Hi,” Eddie said in a jolly tone that only increased your confusion. “You forgot your pumpkin.”

“Oh shit!” You hugged the pumpkin to your chest like you were reunited with a friend and glimpsed a first faint preview of that blinding smile you would eventually come to love so much on Eddie’s face. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Your, uhm, father called you that.”

“Right,” he swallowed, smile snuffing out like a candle. “Right.”

There was a silence filled with a thousand questions your mother would deem inappropriate to ask a stranger so you settled for an apology.

“Sorry, if I got you in trouble.”

“What?” Eddie drew his head back, frowning. “No, no. You didn’t, no trouble at all. Dad ’s just— you know, stressed with the moving.”

“Oka—“

“Have to get going now,” he laughed hollowly and backed away, “so much left to do.”

“See you around, Eddie,” you could only call after him as he hurried down the stairs, his reply echoing back up to you.

“See you around, pumpkin.”

But you didn’t see Eddie around much. Not at home and not at school either. He was a year above your grade - you figured that out soon enough - but it almost seemed like he was skipping about half the week on a regular basis. The few times you met him sneaking through the house like a shy cat, he was covered in grease or paint, carrying himself like a man who came home at the end of a fifty-hour workweek. He never talked much, never asked for your name, always called you Pumpkin.

You, however, saw a lot of Mr Munson; going in and out the building several times a day, often in the company of equally grim-looking men, sometimes with a woman with big brown eyes which gave her away as Eddie’s mother even before she introduced herself to you. She had wonderful long brown hair and you asked yourself if Eddie’s buzzed scalp would sprout in this deep wavy brown or his father’s dirty blond if he was to let it grow out.

You also heard Mr Munson. A lot. Especially at night, and a few weeks in, your parents started to doubt that Eddie and his mother were simply on the clumsy side.

Halloween finally arrived and you proudly placed your final piece of fine pumpkin craftsmanship out the front door, waiting for your father to come down to light the candles like you did every year.

“Hey, Wednesday.”

You turned towards the open door and Eddie slowly peeled out of the shadows of the hallway, hands behind his back and a careful smile on his face. His voice was soft and timid. The next time you would hear him talk, it had already started to break.

“Eddie,” you smiled and tilted your head. “You watch the Addams Family?”

“Duh,” he said and fully stepped into the beam of light falling into the hallway. “Looks, uh, nice… the costume, I mean… self-made?”

“Yeah, my mother helped me make it. What are you going as?”

One hand left his back as he bowed his head and scratched his scalp. “M’ not… allowed to. Dad thinks it’s… a waste of time… and silly.”

“Shit,” you mumbled, an awkward silence fell between you. “Uhm, what would you choose? If you were allowed?”

“Huh?” his face lit up slightly as he entertained the thought. “Frodo, I think.”

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s… who’s Frodo?” The disbelieve in his eyes was comical, almost theatric. “That part of your Wednesday act? Making cruel jokes and shit?”

“What are you talking about?” you chuckled and raised your hands to the sky in an equal amount of theatrics.

“The Lord of The Rings? Never heard of that?”

“Oh, yeah, but never read it or anything... my mom thinks it’s not appropriate… for a girl.”

“Shit,” he huffed. “And I thought my life was sad…” And what was meant as a joke, darkened his face like an eclipse, pulled his gaze away from you and into the distance before he shook his head to chase it away. “I, uhm, was wondering… I made a thing? For, uh… you know?” he pointed his chin at the decorations lined up beside the doorstep.

“Oh!” you called out in excitement. “That’s what you‘re keeping behind your back?”

“Uh, yeah…” he pinched his eyes shut. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No,” you said and Eddie cracked open one terrified eye. “If it’s funny, I’ll laugh! You’ll just have to join me…”

“Uhm, uuh…”

“Let’s seeeee!”

“Okay, okay, Jesus…” Eddie took a deep breath and revealed his work with slightly trembling hands you chose to ignore for his sake. It was a butternut squash and Eddie had carved a swarm of bats into the surface.

“Oh!” you said again but this time in awe.

“I know it’s not… good or anything, not like yours and I think I got the wrong kind of, uh, pumpkin because, like… you can’t get a candle in there— stupid thing ‘s like solid fucking concrete and I get it when you don’t want it out here—“

“Are you insane? This is so good!” you stopped him and snatched the squash from his hands.

“Wait, really?”

“Uh-hn,” you turned it around to take in every little last bat. “Must have taken you forever… butternut squash really is tough!”

“That’s what it’s called?” he said, rubbing the back of his head, a deep blush tinting his whole face bright red. “Had no idea…”

You stepped to the side, already busy figuring out how to rearrange the display to integrate the squash. “We just pick one out together next year… if you want. I can show you the right ones.”

“Nah, don’t want to bother you… it’s fine.”

Hunkering on the ground, your white thighs forgotten, you paused and looked up at Eddie in genuine confusion. “Why would you bother me?”

“I… don’t… dunno…”

The squash was in the perfect place and you stood up, dusted off your hands on the back of your black skirt and put a careful hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “It’s cool, Squashboy, really.”

“I…” Eddie’s face went through a plethora of emotions in seconds but he settled on a silly grin. “Did you just call me, Squashboy?”

“Would you prefer your Squashness? Or… uhmm… Lord of the Squash?— t’s a bit of a mouth full but if you insist…”

“Shut up,” Eddie threw his head back and laughed; it was loud and wild and echoed through the staircase. “That’s sooo stupid.”

There were footsteps coming from inside as someone was descending the stairs and next to you, Eddie turned into cold hard stone.

“T’s probably just my dad,” you tried to comfort him, sure you knew what this meant by now. “He’s coming to light the candles.”

The steps grew louder and Eddie’s skin was this awful shade of grey again.

“Eddie? Are you o—“

“I have to go,” he gritted out through his teeth, turned and hurried down the street in jerky steps.

“Hey honey,” your father said, appearing in the doorframe but you were still looking after the skinny boy in the too-big clothes rushing down the street, a thick knot in your chest. “Is that the Munson boy?” your father’s voice was casual, but not casual enough.

You looked up into a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?… Oh, nothing. Just got lost in thought for a second.” He finally looked down at you again, clapping his hands together. “I’m here to light some candles.”

What usually was one of your favorite rituals on Halloween was clouded by that awful shadow that kept creeping over Eddie’s face again and again. You decided to share your loot of candy with him when you came back; it wasn’t much but it was something. You’d just have to wait until Mr M was out of the house or whatever, but you could think about that later.

But when you came back home, Eddie was gone.

Nobody was telling you anything but after one week of lurking around adults when they didn’t pay attention gave you enough to piece it together.

There had been a fight. A bad fight and your father finally called the police. It took two deputies to get Mr Munson out of the house and into the back of a police car. Deputy Hopper gave him a good kick in the back of his knee to help him the rest of the way. Nobody on the block had seen that occur though, should anybody come around to ask. When the dust had settled down a little, Mrs Munson was nowhere to be found, so Deputy Hopper came back to collect Eddie.

The Munson’s rent had been paid for all through the next week and in the middle of that week, you saw a tall man whose features reminded you of Mr Munson carrying a big box out of the front door of your building. He crammed it into the back of a car already filled with other stuff and drove away before you could take a look at the front to see if Eddie was on board.

A few days later, men in blue overalls came to clear the rest of the ground-floor apartment. You lingered on the first-floor landing, observing a family’s life getting ripped out of this house like a rotten tooth from a jaw. When the blue men went outside for a smoke, you slipped inside. There wasn’t much left of what made a home a home; a potted plant, some kitchenware and— a breeze moved the curtains in the main room ever so slightly but enough for you to spot a little figurine hidden in the far corner of the windowsill. A small man with a knobbly nose and dirty feet.

You took it home with you.

And when one day you saw the tall man who looked a little like Mr. Munson from your window, you almost jumped in front of his car to make sure Frodo finally made it back to Eddie. That was what the other Mr. Munson called the little guy.

“I can’t believe it,” Eddie’s uncle rasped, “been lookin’ for this guy all over town… thought the clean-up crew dropped it off at some thrift store or church with the other stuff or somethin’. Thought he was gone for good.”

“Tell Eddie I said hi,” you beamed. “And that I saved him some candy.”

general taglist:

@bettyfrommars @dr-aculaaa @deathbecomesthem @songforeddiemunson @raccoonboywrites @jo-harrington @lunatictardis @skrzydlak @moonbeamsandmayhem @slutforstabbings @eddieslooneymoonie @chaoticgood-munson @storiesbyrhi @mrsjellymunson @the-unforgivenn @thecapricunt1616 @allthingsjoeq

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #my writing #watershed moments #Eddie Munson Angst #Eddie Munson Fluff

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carsthatnevermadeitetc · 1 month

Text

Suzuki Every Joy Pop, 1985. The passenger version of the Carry was renamed the Every in 1979 so this is the 2nd generation Every based on the 8th generation Carry kei van. The Joy Pop was a popular trim package that carried on through further gnerations

#Suzuki #Suzuki Every #Suzuki Every Joy Pop #1985 #kei van #cab over #forward control #joy pop #1980s

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evie-sturns · 3 months

Text

pick me up - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you get heavily rejected at a house party, matt comes to pick you up while you're in tears.

contains: !bestfriend matt, fluff, sfw, swearing.

———-----------------*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*---------—————

blaring music rang through my ears as i pushed through the crowd of people, coming face to face with the boy ive had ny eyes on since the 8th grade.

"hey, didn't expect to see you here!" i say chirpily, gripping the red solo cup in my hand as my knuckles turn white. he looks me up and down "well obviously im here its my fucking houseparty" he says blankly, i feel the tips of my ears go red as all of his friends stare at me.

"oh, must've forgot." i say nervously as i look everywhere but him.

the silence grows between us as i regret not drinking more earlier, im notoriously more confident when drunk. suddenly my mouth opens.

"wanna go upstairs?" i say biting my lip and looking up at him.

all of his friends collapse into laughter, including him. "yeah.. nope, your probably the last person i'd choose. sorry." he says, turning his back to me, he laughs to his friends "who does this desperate whore think she is?" he scoffs.

i feel my eyes burn as i rush towards the front door, i swing it open "what the fuck dude" a guy yells as the door smashes into his knees. i ignore him as tears well in my eyes, i run down the front steps of the porch, theres a few people scattered in the front lawn.

the music becomes more muffled and quiet as i run farther away from the party. i take a seat on side walk reaching into my purse for my phone as my hands shake, tears stream down my cheeks as i dial matts number.

matts been my bestfriend for as long i can remember, hes the only person whos been there for me through everything, hes also the only person that would be awake at 1:30am.

the phone rings 3 times before he picks up.

"matt?" i say sniffling.

"y/n? you alright, i'm about to go to bed." he mumbles into the phone.

"please pick me up, i shared my location" i say shakily holding back tears.

"ugh. fine." he groans, clearly not noticing how upset i am.

i look up as i see matts van driving down the street, he honks twice as his van approaches me. i stand up as his car gets closer, the headlights shine right on my face, which had mascara smudged all over it. his face instantly drops as he sees mine.

he jumps out of his van and speed walks towards me "hey, hey what happened?" he says looking at me, worry spread across his face. i don't respond, i know i'll start crying if i do.

without warning he picks me up, carrying me as he opens the passenger side to his van placing me down and buckling me in.

he sits down in the driver seat and looks me in my eyes, my bottom lip quivers as i try to maintain eye contact. the lump in my throat grows as he stays silent, waiting for me to speak.

suddenly i burst into sobs, matts eyes instantly widen as he grabs my hand. tears flow down my face as ragged breaths escape my throat.

"matt i asked him if he wanted to go upstairs with me, he laughed, so did all his friends, he said.." i squeeze out in-between sobs as i throw my face into my hands

"what did he say?" matt says calmly, but i can sense his worry.

"he said i was his last choice, and i was a desperate whore." i cry.

matt stays silent for a few second "oh sweetheart.." matt says leaning over the cupholder and pulling me into a tight hug. "you wanna come home with me? i think it will be easier." he says trying to distract me and i nod.

(20 minutes later)

my tears have stopped for now, i dont want to make matt feel bad.

we pull into his driveway and he helps me out of the car, grabbing my purse and holding my hand, taking me inside. "nick and chris are asleep, so try be quiet okay?" he says softly as we walk into his room.

i bend over to take off my black heels. matt rummaged through his drawers and pulls out one of his t-shirts and some sweatpants, "you can wear these, they'll be too big but its fine." he says handing them to me.

"you didnt have to-" im cut off my a finger on my lips "its literally the bare minimum, go get dressed." he says smiling and pushing me into his bathroom.

after a few minutes, i walk out into his bedroom, he's on his phone lying in bed. "feeling better?" he says looking up at me then standing up. "yeah matt, honestly thank you." i say as he pulls back his duvet covers. he walks over to me and picks me up, launching me into his bed from a meter away, i gasp loudly as i hit the matress. matt collapses into laughter "my bad."

i catch my breath as he yanks the cover up to cover me, "wait matt where the fuck are you sleeping?" i say concerned. he walks over to me and pushes me to the side of the bed. he leaps into bed beside me, launching me a half foot into the air "are you trying to kill me matt?" i say slapping his arm as he laughs.

"go to sleep." he says pressing a kiss to my forehead before laying down beside me.

———-----------------*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*---------————

cute!! dont be shy send me some requests yall

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine

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bless-my-demons · 10 months

Text

Redamancy: Chapter Six

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Physical abuse (slapping & hair grabbing) and harassment (verbal taunts) - it’s just the scene after prom dress shopping btw; protective Jasper bc this man is definitely touch her and die coded.

Notes: This came to me in a fever dream and I woke up in the middle of the night to write it, I have no regrets.

Word Count: 2005

Series Masterlist

• March 8th, 2005 • Port Angeles, Washington •

Reader

“You guys really aren’t into this, are you?” Angela says as she checks herself in the mirror with a pretty purple gown on. Jess standing on her other side in a hot pink gown with a neckline that accentuates her cleavage.

Seeing as Bella and I don’t plan on attending prom, we’ve been assigned to be the hipe crew for the other two girls as they try on dress after dress. After a certain point they all just blend together, but I try to offer encouraging words for each one.

“We really just want to go to this bookstore,” looking at me briefly she adds, “Meet you guys at the restaurant?” Bella says as we stand from our perch by the window.

“See you guys later!” I toss over my shoulder as we exit the boutique.

I stand on the porch of the store, admiring the view of the sunset as Bella finishes our excursion by paying for the book.

The bell above the door dings, “Secured the package?” I ask her excitedly and she waves the book in the air in front of her before dropping it in her bag as we leave.

“I think there’s a short cut to the restaurant this way.” Bella suggests, pointing down some narrow stairs that lead to a dark alley between a pair of buildings.

“I’m not so sure-“

“C’mon, I’m sure it’s fine.” She reassures me before taking off down the ominous path.

I sigh and follow her, but as we reach the bottom of the stairs, a group of guys walk past the other end of the alley and immediately correct their course to start walking towards us. Panicking slightly, I grab Bella’s sleeve and tug her towards a different path we passed a few feet back.

Coming out into an empty lot, “Hey! Where are you two going?” One of our pursuers questions with a drunken slur.

“Shit.” I whisper under my breath, not letting up on the grip I have on Bella’s arm.

“What’s up? It’s our girls from the dress shop!” Another behind us yells, boxing us in.

“Hey-whoa, where you going?”

“Come get a drink with us-“ One laughs.

“Yeah, hang out with us, c’mon! What’s the problem?” They taunt us, closing in.

“You’re pretty.” Another reaches to caress a strand of my hair, but I slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch us.” Bella starts panicking, flinching from their wandering hands.

“Fuck off.” I shove another one trying to invade my personal space and he returns it with a slap to my cheek that stuns me for a second.

“Cute.” A cocky one grabs her arm, yanking her from my grip. Bella responds by kicking him in the groin and he bends over in pain.

Seeing us not giving up easily, one of the drunker men grabs a handful of hair to hold me close as his drunk breath wafts over my face, “No need to be hostile, baby.” I squeeze my eyes shut and grip the wrist attached to the hand holding my hair-

But next thing I know, a familiar silver Volvo slides aggressively to a stop a few feet from us. The two figures that emerge send a wave of calm across me that nearly has me in tears from relief.

“Let her go.” Jasper’s tone leaves no room for negotiation, face set in a murderous rage.

“Fuckin’ take her bro.” Spits the piece of shit that grabbed me and shoves me into the arms of my knight in shining armor.

“Get in the car.” I hear Edward tell us with a deadly calm, Jasper's fingers running over my cheeks and throat as he inspects for injuries quickly.

I peel myself away from him as Bella moves towards the passenger side of the car, I open the door and fold the seat forward so I could climb in the back, Jasper right behind me. Once all of us are in, Edward reclaims the driver’s seat and revs the engine at the men that tried to take us before peeling out of the lot.

“Are you alright?” Jasper turns my chin towards his worried gaze with chilly fingers, it could just be the dimly lit car, but his eyes look nearly pitch black.

I hadn’t noticed I started shaking until I shook my head in response, Edward and Bella were yelling at each other in the front seat.

Jasper closed his eyes as his hand released my chin, I watched it flex in his lap as if he were trying to calm himself down.

“Are you alright?” I echo his question quietly, but he chuckles darkly.

“I would kill every single one of them without a second thought, if you so desired. I should’ve gotten there sooner, they never should’ve been able to lay a finger on you.” A cold finger pushes a curl behind my ear, the digit leaving a cooling trail across my stinging cheek from where I was slapped.

I close my eyes and whisper, “You can’t say things like that.”

“It’s true, I’m finding it incredibly difficult to not persuade my brother to turn around.”

“Jasper-“ but he cuts me off as my anxiety sky-rockets.

“Difficult, because I need to make sure you’re okay and it’s surpassing the urge to end those low-lives.” I let out the breath that was trapped at the thought of having to part with the safety of his presence.

I catch Jasper meeting his brother’s eyes in the rear-view mirror before Edward declares, “You two need to eat something-”

Bella interrupts him with a gasp, “We’re supposed to meet Ang and Jess at the restaurant!”

Swerving in and out of the late night traffic, I can tell he’s also struggling with turning back around.

Jasper

Absolutely fucking ridiculous, the rage coursing through my body has me locked tight. I don’t even know what’s prompting such a visceral reaction, she’s just a fellow classmate.

A fellow classmate whose scent has tempted me like nothing I’ve ever experienced, a fellow classmate that is gorgeous beyond comparison…

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back in my seat with my left hand perched on the head rest behind Y/n. I don’t have the control to touch her right now, to comfort her, the emotions flying around this car and roiling in my gut have me on edge; a rubber band ready to snap.

They dared to slap her, never mind them herding these girls like scared fawns, they fucking hit her. Grabbed her by her hair-a growl rumbles deep in my chest that I try to tame, but it captures Y/n’s attention. Before she can comment, we arrive at the restaurant they were supposed to meet their friends at.

Exiting my brother’s Volvo, I reach a hand in the door to assist Y/n as she climbs out from behind the folded passenger seat. Her hand is a warm anchor in mine, reminding me that she’s here and safe. She stands on the curb, looking at her small hand in mine and as much as I don’t want to, I let it slip from my grasp. I shut the door and turn to Edward as I see Bella walk towards the two girls leaving the restaurant.

“I’m going to stay out here while you guys go in.” Y/n tells Edward.

“You need something to eat.” I protest, concerned.

“I can’t exactly walk in with two upset guys and a handprint on my face.” She says, sounding exasperated. Her emotions were a scrambled mess, so I didn’t push her decision.

Grab her a burger and fries or spaghetti, if they have something simple like that. I think for Edward to pick up, he nods confirming my request before turning to follow Bella up the walkway.

Y/n wonders a few feet away to seat herself on a bench facing the street. Before I could say anything, our classmates rounded the bushes bordering the restaurant and spot us.

“Y/n! We just saw Bella with Edward walking in, do you need a ride home?” The one I assume is Jessica asks, her emotions a little more bold than the shy one standing beside her.

“I can get her home, we’re just waiting on my brother.” I intercept their question as Y/n tries to discreetly pull up her hood to hide her reddened cheek.

“You sure?” The quieter one finally pipes up, wanting confirmation from her friend. Considerate, but frustrating seeing as they’re wasting my alone time with her.

“I’m good Ang, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” She dismisses them with a smile and a wave. They finally peel themselves away and drive off in their car.

“How did you find us?” She asks and I turn to face her.

“You need to ice that.” I nod to the mark on her beautiful face.

“Don’t change the subject, Hale.”

“We were driving by and saw the commotion-“ but she interrupts me, her own rage bubbling to the surface.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” She stands and closes the distance between us. “How did you know we were in Port Angeles? You’ve been gone from school the last few days.”

I gape at her, not prepared for her sudden fury. I’m at a loss for words yet again, I can’t tell her that Edward can read minds and we were watching over them ever since Alice saw them split from their friends at the dress shop in a vision.

Y/n turns to stomp away frustrated, but I reach out and softly grab her arm to stop her.

“Wait-just wait a minute, darlin’.”

She looks at me expectantly with eyebrows raised and I swear I’ve never seen a look so endearing.

“Well?” Y/n presses.

“I can’t explain-“

“You can though! It’s not hard to just-“ She’s yelling at me in frustration, but I stomp on her rant as my control slips.

“Don’t ask this from me!” I yell back, exasperated.

“Why can’t you let me in?” She says at a near-whisper after a heavy pause, stepping into my personal space.

“It’s easier this way.” I say in a clipped tone as I look away from her intense gaze, backing into the Volvo. I can’t let her in, I’ve never let anyone in. She’s human, I'm a vampire and that’ll never change - I can’t get attached. Taking her mortality so that I might never lose her will never be on the table, staying one step removed is the only way to keep her safe.

“Easier for you or for me?” She continues to press, “You saved me tonight, can’t even tell me how, and you want me to go back to being just your lunch buddy? Your classmate in History, like you didn’t swoop in and stop a group of men from doing god knows-“

I stop her rant by grabbing her biceps, “Stop.” I plead with her, unable to envision what would’ve happened without our intervention.

“Tell me, Jaz.” She asks desperately, somehow knowing I’m teetering on the edge.

My gaze frantically shifts over her face, my mouth open and closing like a damn fish out of water searching for the words. Thankfully my brother must sense my panicking thoughts because he’s exiting the restaurant, take-out box in hand as he ushers Isabella to our car.

“I got you a burger, I hope that’s alright?” Edward extends the container to her as I release her and turn away, collecting myself.

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you. Th-thank you very much.” She stutters, surprised Edward got her food to-go.

“Everything alright?” Isabella asks, concerned for her friend.

“Let’s go home.” Y/n says, ignoring the question and my heart plummets. I messed up this whole thing.

I open the passenger door and offer my hand for her to use to steady herself, but she promptly ignores it. Stubborn girl, I think as I climb in behind her.

#twilight #bless-my-demons #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper whitlock hale #redamancy series #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper whitlock #female reader insert #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale twilight

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whoopsyeahokay · 1 month

Text

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been acting cagey for weeks, a fact you hadn't had the heart to address since Maddie's disappearance. but with his dubious return to school and how he loitered in the periphery of Nicole and Simon's orbit, you thought it was about time to get answers. too bad one pale, cow-eyed jock had other plans.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

✨ alright, beauties, this part ended up with a wordcount almost 3x longer the others, so tumblr forced me to split 'er up. 😅 PART FIVE and PART SIX will be posted in tandem with this one, so y'all don't have to wait to read both 😊

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.4

Xavier knew that whatever oddness you displayed, it was done with intention.

Sticking wads of gum in your hair at recess? Hana's brother had shaved a strip off the top of Hana's head in 5th grade and you needed to give your mom a reason. Giving Xavier's dad a casserole in a pan he'd have to return? He and Xavier hadn't had a homecooked meal since Xavier's mom went to visit her sister in 8th grade. Now every other Wednesday was circled on the calendar in Xavier's kitchen, Family Dinner scrawled in red sharpie.

So, whatever had possessed you into your uncharacteristic choice of outfit, Xavier knew there was a reason.

"Don't." You warned as soon as you opened the door.

Xavier smirked, eyeing you as you climbed into the passenger side of his truck. Of your friends, Mathilda was the one who layered herself in dark colors; a walking shadow with sass and a violent streak. You, on the other hand, tended toward a more eclectic wardrobe and never reached for black on black, especially since...

Well. Since.

Xavier recognized your leather jacket, the lapels boasting a collection of button pins and silver studs, and band patches stitched into the sleeves. An accessorized exhibition of your taste in music and social commentary.

The jacket made sense.

What didn't was what was undoubtedly your uncle's Black Sabbath hoodie paired with black skinny jeans tucked into pointed-toe, matte black booties, the small heels on which had click-clacked down the walkway from your front door to the truck.

"Your mom's?" Xavier guessed, referring to the jeans and booties.

"Shush."

"No, no, no," Xavier said mildly, pulling into the road, "I happen to think you make it work. It's giving—" He swept the air in front of him dramatically with one hand, setting the scene, "—Crime in the Dead of Night."

You shoved your backpack into the footwell and buckled your seatbelt before leveling him with a glare. Well, maybe. He couldn't really tell through the enormous sunglasses you'd chosen to complement your peculiar ensemble, but your lips were pursed in that way they got when you were grumpy about something.

"Shut up, Zav."

"No really," Xavier insisted, "Incognito Chic. Doesn't look like you're hiding something at all."

You smacked him on the shoulder, unable to suppress a lighthearted chuckle. "No questions asked." You said, invoking a years-old promise you'd made in the aftermath of what had happened to you that third week of 7th grade.

It was an appeal for support without having to reveal things that didn't make sense yet. Perhaps never would. Just unconditional thereness from someone you trusted to have your back.

A knot curled in Xavier's gut. His grip tightened on the steering wheel for a short second before he managed to tamp the haunting feelings back to the darkest corner of his brain.

He'd taken advantage of that pact in recent weeks. Had asked you a few times to cover for him if Maddie asked after him; even had you send texts about band practice on random days when the schedule hadn't changed since last fall. Every Saturday in Lucas and Hana's garage.

The whole thing with Claire made him feel rotted from the inside out. He could only vaguely remember how it'd started. A dumb decision made at 3am on a Tuesday, swaying from too many hits of his vape and two shots of his dad's whiskey.

And you never questioned him. Not once. Just honored your end of the deal because you believed Xavier was your friend and wouldn't make you aid and abet his sleaze.

Fuck.

A few blocks from school, you reached across the bench seat and placed a hand on Xavier's forearm, tone warm, "You sure about this?" You asked, "Cause we could go to the mall. Or drive up to the lake." Meaning his dad's cabin. "Or into the city."

Xavier gave you a weak smile, "Sounds like you're looking for an excuse to skip." He couldn't blame you. Still, "I need to do this, kiddo. Not just because I don't want the fucking trolls to win, but because there is someone in there who knows what's going on."

"So...what? You're going to track down leads and find Maddie yourself?" You raised an eyebrow. Again, Xavier couldn't quite see it with how much of your face the sunglasses masked, but your forehead shifted in a way to suggest it.

"Hey, I'm open to ideas if you have any you'd like to share."

You sighed heavily, shook your head. "Nah, B, I got nothing. But if you need help, just let me know." You smiled, patted his shoulder, then bent forward to grab your backpack.

Pulling into an empty spot in the parking lot, Xavier wrestled with asking you for another favor. After all the deceit, he should take responsibility for his own shit, but he didn't have the mental fortitude to deal with Mathilda's—albeit well-meaning—stance against his choice to return to school.

She'd made a fuss in the group chat the night before, words all capitalized and stressed in bold, and Xavier wasn't looking forward to listening to the barrage he was sure she'd prepared for him. Hana, Lucas and Eli, Xavier could manage, even if they shared Mathilda's point of view. But Mathilda? Was a force of nature.

You'd just slid out of the truck, were about to shut the door, when Xavier swallowed and forced himself to ask, "Do you think you could run interference?"

You studied him for a moment, likely wondering if it was worth it to take the bullet on Xavier's behalf, and then, "Sure thing, I got you."

Xavier was profoundly grateful to count you as a friend—hell, after all you'd been through together—a sister.

He put every ounce of sincerity behind his words, "Thank you," and offered you a proper smile, all teeth and crinkled eyes. You responded with a smile of your own, bright and buoyant and a boon to the anxiety rending his confidence.

"I'll see you in there." You chirped, stepping back and giving a mock salute, "Good luck!"

Xavier sat in his truck until you disappeared into the school, waited for the door to shut behind you before he leaned over and opened the glovebox. His vape sat on top of a mess of empty takeout wrappers and vintage CDs—the latter a testament to how old his truck was.

He hovered, stock still, chewed the inside of his cheek as his lungs and brain yearned for a taste of sweet-cotton-numbness.

"You know, you don't have to lie to me." Maddie's disappointment was palpable, pressing under Xavier's skin like cold fingers.

"Okay, fine, I'm a total burnout who is skipping class to get high in his car. Congratulations, you got me." He nonchalantly responded.

Maddie smiled, cute, dimpled, and said, "For the record, you're the worst liar in the world."

Xavier's heart broke.

Abruptly, he smacked the glovebox closed and opened his door, hauling himself out of his truck in a blur of movement. He needed to get his ass in gear before he changed his mind and fucked up again.

Today, he was going to make damn sure he did better.

💀___________________________

PART THREE - PART FIVE

note: if you'd prefer to read all three parts together, as it was intended, you're welcome to check it out on AO3!

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits

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quinloki · 1 year

Text

Elevator Music

Fem Reader x Eustass Kid

One Shot - 2,956 words

CW: Language, sexual themes and situations, semi-public sex, elevator sex, rough sex, consensual, modern au, Kid has both arms. 18+ only

-:- Table of Consent -:-

Inspired by this tumblr post about being trapped in an elevator with the person on your lockscreen.

“Floor?” You ask as the tall, broad shouldered young man stepped into the elevator. He looked like he could be the poster boy for punk rock. Wild red hair, golden brown eyes, scars that did nothing to detract from his looks, and a confidence in his step you had to appreciate.

“Eleven.” He answers. His voice is a little like gravel but not unpleasant.

You press the button and return to your phone, stealing a few sideways glances as politely as you could. Shame you didn’t have business with him, but the elevator ride was improved at least.

Around the 8th floor there was a jolt, not a hard one, but it was unnerving in the otherwise smooth ride. You both flinched a little and exchanged glances, and you nearly said something when another harder jolt shook the elevator carriage. You can’t help the surprised squeak that escapes you, and you grab onto the bar.

The elevator doesn’t move. Smooth, jerkily, or otherwise.

You and the punk exchange glances before looking around the compartment. There’s an emergency box he pulls open and an old style phone with no buttons. He picks it up and you can hear it ringing even after he puts it by his ear. You’re still looking around for the little red button, or anything that might be useful if no one picks up the phone.

But after a few rings there’s a voice. It’s too muffled to make out, but you can hear your fellow trapped passenger.

“Yeah, the elevator’s stuck.” There’s muffled talking and he looks around and looks at you. “See anything that says what car this is?”

“Six?” You prompt, pointing to a number just under the floor button.

“Probably. Yeah, we think it’s car 6… yeah, ‘we’, there’s a lady in here too.” There’s a long silence, and he rolls his eyes. “Am I staying on the line for this, or can you call us?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sure, sure. Here.”

He hands you the phone and you make a face before taking it. “Yell-o?” You say, unsure what was going on.

“Ma’am, we need to know if you feel threatened.” The voice on the other end of the line says.

“Huh?”

“If you feel unsafe we can probably get authorization to break the doors open and getting you out before the fire department arrives.”

“Hang on.” You put the phone to your chest and look at the big guy with you. “If I tell them you’re making me feel scared they’re willing to break the rules and get us out of here faster.”

“… You’re not afraid of me?”

You tilt your head. “No, why would I be?”

He grunts. “It’s fine then, you can lie, it won’t bother me.”

You speak back into the phone. “Hello? Yes, uh, yes, I am so if you could-.”

“For insurance reasons you’ll have to officially press charges ma’am.” The man on the other end of the line explains. “My supervisor just informed me.”

“Oh. Well, no then. Just get us out of here as fast as you can. I was on my way to an interview.” You reply. “I’d rather not miss it. Did you need to speak to him again?”

“No ma’am. We’ll call once we have an ETA for you. You can hang up for now.”

“Alright, thank you!” You say cheerfully and hang the phone up. “Sorry, we’ll probably be here for a while. They wanted me to file actual charges.” You grouse, clicking your tongue. “How useless.”

He shrugs and sits down in the corner by the phone. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Anything but that,” you say with a smile, sitting down across from him, being mindful of your interview outfit. “(Y/N). What’s yours, red?”

He grunts. “Anything but that.” He echoes. “Eustass Kid.”

“Well, Mr. Eustass, my apologies for not pressing charges on you.” You say with a grin.

He grunts a laugh, and leans his head back. “Hope you make your interview.”

“Ha! Thanks.” You sigh. “I’m kind of glad to be missing it, but it won’t matter. I’ll just have to try again tomorrow.” You admit with a sigh.

“Oh?”

“Yeeeeeah, it’s my dad’s company. I could give two shits less about it, quite frankly, but I’ve been black listed.”

“Huh?” Eustass looked at you with actual interest for the first time since he got into the elevator. “Are you saying your old man kept other companies from hiring you?”

You nod. “Dad doesn’t have a son. Someone’s gotta take over, and if I don’t then I don’t get to work at all. I spent the last two years job hunting, and he pulled the plug on everything. I can’t even get a job as a newspaper boy, and I don’t have enough personal funds to get out of the range of his reach.

“Ahhh, sorry, a bunch of rich kid drama, isn’t it? I have it so hard.” You try to laugh, but frustration makes it hard to be flippant. “If I play along for a couple years I can bounce. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

“… You don’t have to have it hard for something to suck ass.” He says after a moment. “Your dad’s a real bastard.”

You grin. “Thanks.”

A few more minutes pass and the elevator phone rings. Eustas picks it up and listens for a few moments before replying. “Sure, we’ll be fine. If anything changes we’ll call.”

He hangs up the phone and settles against the wall more. “Get comfortable, it’s gonna be an hour at least. Says the fire fighters are busy, and once the emergency calls are cleared they’ll send someone over.”

You lean back with a bit of a sigh. You weren’t sad to be missing the interview, but you also weren’t thrilled to spend an hour or more in a box, eight floors off the ground.

You take out your phone and putz around on it for a while. After a few minutes you find yourself stealing glances at Eustass Kid. Punk rock r-shirt, work boots, dusty jeans. He smells of grease and oil and metal and chocolate. In the enclosed space it doesn’t take much to notice it all.

He’s thick and muscular. Probably could do all manner of unspeakable things to you without breaking a sweat, but something about him left you feeling safe around him. Safe enough to fantasize a little, even if you felt a bit guilty. You two barely knew each other’s names, but it was easy to imagine what was under that well-fitted shirt.

It was easy to imagine the things you’d let him do to you, too, and not just because you were wholeheartedly rebelling against dear old dad, but also because he was just hot. From the sound of his voice, to how he was relaxing right now, to - what you were sure - was a fiery personality he’d been suppressing for your benefit.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone.

“Yes.” You reply with a smile, watching a grin cross his face before he looks up at you.

“Not what I expected.”

“I get in trouble for that a lot,” you admit, letting your eyes shift down before looking back at him. “I’m reminded repeatedly that my behavior is terribly unladylike. Honestly though, who should care?”

“You sound like you’re looking to get into trouble.” He says, sitting up a little and giving you more of his attention.

“Are you offering to help, Eustass Kid?”

His grin turns toothy, you’d almost call it a smile except it was just so wolfish. “Planning on setting a date, or are you going to walk into the trap right now, mouse?” He asks, opening his arms and motioning you over.

You glance around the elevator again, checking to be sure there weren’t any cameras in the car with the two of you, and then stand up. He adjusts a little more, legs closed, slouched just a little, hands out on either side of his waist, at the perfect height to help you steady yourself as you step over him, foot on either side of his hips.

You pull your skirt up a little as you sit in his lap, a small approving hum from him as the tops of your thigh-high stockings come into view for a moment. Settling into position in his lap you shift and let out and involuntary gasp. The bulge in his pants is already pushing the zipper of his jeans into you.

“You really want this, huh?” He muses, shifting his hips into you and nearly pulling another sound out of you. Your face is hot and red, and you’re not having second thoughts or anything, but you’re surprised at your own arousal.

“Seems so,” you admit. “I’d blame you, but I’m worried your ego would fill to bursting.” You rock your hips against him and feel his straining under the denim. “Though it seems to be mutual.”

“Whatcha looking to get out of this?” He asks, hands gripping your ass and squeezing it.

“An orgasm comparable to that cocky look on your face.” You muse, causing his grin to twist perfectly.

“Ha! Alright,” he grabs your hair and pulls you close, but not quite enough to kiss. “I meant past those doors opening, but I can work with that.”

“Ask me something like that after those doors open,” you answer, biting your lower lip and pulling against his grip on your hair. You shift against the erection straining in his pants and rut your clit against the coarse fabric more than you meant to.

The sweet mewling gasp that escapes you is devoured by Eustass as he pulls you into a deep kiss. There’s no tenderness in the passionate kiss, no ode of love or promise of tomorrow, but it’s as greedy and needy as you are and you sink into it.

Your fingers fumble with his belt as heat builds between you, a pleased hum is all the consent you need as you begin to undo his jeans.

“Normally I’d say something about dinner and a movie first,” Kid teases, lifting his hips and helping to put the waistband of the jeans down a little. “I ain’t got any condoms on me though.”

“Honor system then,” you practically pant the words. “You clean?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too, and I’ve had IUDs since I was sixteen, so no worries.” Your fingers run along the length of his cock, still under the fabric of his boxer, and you’re already impressed. Licking your lips involuntarily you reach in through the front opening of the boxers and wrap your fingers around the hard, thick flesh and pull if free.

Eustass’ hips buck and he hissed against the sensation of it, but he doesn’t move to stop you. Your eyes go wide at the sight of the beast at this man’s disposal, and you wonder if it’s going to fit. It’s thick and long and a little intimidating, just like the punk it’s attached to.

“Jesus.” You mutter.

“Having second thoughts?” He seems pleased instead of concerned.

“Minor logistical concerns.” You say, but your voice isn’t nearly as confident as your words. You pull your skirt up and hear him swear under his breath. “Ha, thing for thigh highs, Mr. Eustass?”

“Fuck yeah,” he answers, hands sliding up your thighs, snapping the garter straps playfully. “Goddamn. What were you interviewing for with this on?” He asks, his fingers hooking around the front of the thong and tugging it up a little.

You gasp and arch your back a bit at the sensation, chuckling in a mix of pleasure and nerves. “Just rebelling where I can.” You admit as he tugs the thong aside and you push your soaking slit against his rock hard erection.

You’re so wet you slide against him easily. You both take a moment to enjoy the pleasure from the contact and you can feel him twitching against you.

“Hells you are soaked.” He licks his lips and leans you back a little, lining himself up with your entrance. “You can go at your own pace, but I want to see this.”

Your whole body twitches and your face heats up. Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and those golden brown eyes seem to look into your soul. You steady yourself with your hands on his thighs, slowly lowering your hips onto him. If you weren’t practically dripping with desire you don’t think you could take him without a lot more prep, but you slowly work him in and out, stretching yourself against his thick cock and reveling in how full you feel.

You don’t hold back the airy moans and needy whimpers that escape you as you work him in deeper and deeper. The elevator phone rings, and the only look you give him is one filled with lust. You shift your hips and moan as he reaches for the phone.

His right hand goes over your mouth as he picks up the phone with his left. “Yeah?” He prompts, voice steady. His eyes are still on you, and a slight shift of his hips is all the motivation you need to continue taking him in.

He smirks as your tongue slips along his middle finger. “Yeah, okay. Thanks for the update.” He replies to the voice on the other end of the phone. His middle finger is slipping against the tip of your tongue as he hangs up the phone.

You lean forward, pushing his finger into your open mouth as you take the rest of his cock into your pussy. You kiss the base of his finger lightly, before leaning back, running your tongue along his finger playfully. You put your hands on his shoulders, struggling a little to get the leverage you need to move. He’s so broad your knees don’t reach the elevator floor, so instead you hook your feet over his legs and begin to ride him.

“Got about twenty minutes.” He says, hands on your hips, helping you move once you set your pace.

“Ah, damn,” you gasp, grinning at him salaciously. “A quickie then, eh?”

He nearly barks a laugh, before giving you an amused grin. “If twenty minutes is quick in your book, I’m curious what a proper amount of time is?”

“Mm,” you grind into him a little. “An hour at least.” You muse, riding him as you talk. “Foreplay, teasing, as many toe-curling, throat-shattering orgasms you can rip from one another, aftercare. A good proper fuck in the morning should wreck your whole day.”

You can hear him growl in approval, hands tightening against your hips, dick twitching inside of you. His hips move to meet yours as you come down, pushing him into you deeper and faster. You moan for him to do as he pleases and the restraints he’d put on himself snap.

You went from being on top of him, to being under him, to being up against the elevator wall in just a few minutes. Every time you got close he’d shift to a different position. The grin on his face let you know he knew exactly what he was doing, the bratty bastard.

Pushed up against the elevator wall, legs hooked over his arms as he brings you close again. Something in his demeanor promises release at the end of this, and you’re holding onto him in need and desperation. Moans and grunts mixing with the shiver and creak of the elevator car.

The elevator phone begins to ring.

“Ah-aan-answer that – hnggh! – and I w-will kill you!” You gasp as you can feel yourself nearly there.

“Cum for me little mouse,” he growls, tongue teasing your neck.

Pleasure rushes into you, tensing your body and causing your fingers to dig into him through his shirt. He speeds up a little and the pleasurable mewling sounds coming from you turn into gasping pleas as you clench against him sending you both over the edge.

There’s a quiet moment, a couple rings from the phone the only thing marking the passage of time, shared between you both before he pulls out and sets you onto shaky legs. He’s reaching for the phone before he’s even tucked himself back into pants, practically snarling.

“What?”

There’s a moment of silence before you can hear the voice on the other side start talking. You’re adjusting your clothes, and trying to tidy yourself up a little when you feel something leaking down your thighs. Your hands go between your legs as your face turns red.

“Yeah yeah, thanks. Look just get us out of here, it’s getting hot in this box.” He grumbles into the phone before hanging it up. Zipping up his jeans he pulls a rag from his back pocket. “It’s clean.”

You take it and clean up the leak. “Thanks.” Your attention is turned away as you clean yourself up. “Want me to dry clean it before I return it?”

Eustass laughs. “Nah, keep it.”

“A memento then?” You muse with a chuckle. “Oh, hey, I never did ask - what’re you here for today?”

“Finalizing the paperwork on the shop.” He says. “Starting my own business.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh? Congratulations.” You offer a smile. “I’m sure it’ll succeed.”

“Mm, thanks.” He replies absently.

There’s a moment of silence between you and you hear people outside the doors working on getting you out. You and Eustass take turns tidying one another up, since there’s no mirror to use, and make yourselves as presentable as possible.

As the doors open, Eustass turns to you with a grin. “So, I hear you’re looking for a job?”

#one piece eustass kid #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one shot #reader insert #eustass x reader

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