#First being maya hawk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theharddeck · 1 year

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talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point.

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room.

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care.

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory.

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand.

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes.

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit).

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin.

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again.

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper.

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right.

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing.

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch.

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid.

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar.

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true.

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh.

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness.

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even.

This was fine, this was normal.

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs.

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest.

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it.

He froze.

Shit.

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes.

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile.

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong?

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours.

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy.

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again.

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin.

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin.

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good.

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again.

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed.

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration.

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again.

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you.

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him.

He didn’t look away from you.

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again.

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue.

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you.

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked.

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back.

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes.

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing.

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded.

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you.

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it.

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded.

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again.

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders.

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened.

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully.

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt.

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind.

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were.

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.”

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you.

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you.

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet.

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you.

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you.

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face.

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows

He looked proud.

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away.

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours.

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him.

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you.

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them.

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better.

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head.

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting.

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you.

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel.

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath.

Sweet man.

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground.

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free.

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away.

No wonder he walked around like he did.

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth.

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine.

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself.

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this.

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again.

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making.

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly.

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in.

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you.

There it was.

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight.

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you.

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air.

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him.

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core.

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you.

It was a good thing he was holding you up.

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be.

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you.

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it.

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa.

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you.

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts.

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked.

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much.

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch.

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?”

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe.

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down.

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs.

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed.

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up.

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #misskielwrites

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imagines-about-celebs · 2 years

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Love of my Life [Joseph Quinn x Reader]

Request: Can you make a Joe Quinn one where him and the reader are dating since shooting st4 and they are now at a concert of harry styles and they are with the older cast and their partners and the 2 of them are like constantly hugging and kissing normally they don’t do that in public but now they do and he is like hugging her and also from behind hugging when the song love of my life comes on, he like whispers to marry him and then he proposes to her there? :)

A/N: This was honestly such a cute request and I hope you like it.

@kellysimagines

You had met Joe on the set of Stranger Things season 4. You both had naturally gravitated to each other the first day you met, you both just had this spark. All of your cast mates would tease you both about being together that you both eventually just decided to give it a go. Filming had officially wrapped in September, and you and Joe are still happily dating. He was definitely the sweetest guy you had ever met; you knew he was the one for you, maybe even your soulmate. You had decided to even move in with him once filming had finished. Normally you would have felt like it was too soon, but you didn’t feel rushed or pressured at all, it all felt right.

Tonight, you were both going to see Harry Styles in concert with some of your other castmates and their partners. You were really excited as you were a big fan of his. You had been going through your closet all day trying to decide what to wear. “Hey sweetheart.” Joe said as he walks into the room, finding you still pulling outfits out. “I have no idea what I’m going to wear tonight.” You exclaimed, getting slightly frustrating. Joe walks over and gives you a kiss on the head. “Sweetheart, you could wear nothing but a paper bag and still look amazing.” You roll your eyes playfully at him, trying not to show him you’re blushing. You wanted to look to amazing for pictures but you also didn’t want to go over board with your outfit, something casual and comfy but still classy and effortless. You settle on a cute yellow sundress that joe had bought you as a gift. You paired it with some simple white canvas shoes and some light jewellery, also a cute ring that joe had also bought you as a gift. He knew you weren’t really one for materialistic things but you appreciated the gifts he bought you, the sentimental value behind them.

You and Joe had decided to take some pictures before leaving for the concert. You were excited and Joe was excited because you were. Many photos later, Joe says with a laugh “Come on sweetheart, you don’t want to miss the concert.” Trying to pull you out the door. “Ok, ok. I’m coming.” You giggle. He locks up your cute shared apartment and walks with you down to the car outside. The car ride felt short as you both filled the car with singing at the top of your lungs, somewhat of a warm up for what’s to come. You begin to feel butterflies as you see the venue come into view. Joe smiles at you, he knows how long you’ve been waiting for this night. He grabs your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, helping you ease your fangirl nerves. You smile at him and lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. After parking the car, you meet up Joe Keery and his girlfriend, Maya Hawke and her boyfriend, and Jamie Campbell Bower and his girlfriend. It was like a little Stranger Things reunion; you were happy to see everyone outside of working. You were treated to a special balcony room for the show. The view of the stage was incredible and the room even had complimentary drinks for us all. Once the show had started, you felt a huge smile spread across your face and chills all over your body. You were happy that the room had a balcony where you could scream with the rest of the crowd.

Harry took the stage with grace and sang all of your favourite songs. Joe had his arms wrapped around you. You were both sharing kisses here and there the whole show. Usually, you would feel a little embarrassed, as you weren’t really one for pda; you were both typically private people when it came to your relationship. You felt at peace and safe in his arms, he made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet. Harry started to sing the intro to your favourite song, Love of My Life. It was such a beautiful song, and it felt even more amazing being in Joe’s arms. It reminded you of the times you both would dance around your small apartment living room together, swaying slowly in each other’s arms, forgetting the outside world for just a small amount of time. Once the chorus came around again, Joe softly sang the words into your ear, “Baby, you are the love my life.” You smile, falling in love with him even more that he’s learnt the words. The next thing he says comes as a surprise to you, as they weren’t exactly the lyrics. “Maybe, one day you could be my wife.” You spin around in his arms, smiling wide and pulling him in for a kiss. You were so lost in that moment that you hadn’t realised he had started to slide a small velvet box into your hand. Once you felt it, you look down at it. Starting to feel slightly teary, you open it to find the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen in your life. It wasn’t too big, just the right size. It sparkled in the lights. You look up at Joe as he looked down at you, nervously waiting for your response. You were in such shock that you didn’t speak for what felt like forever to him. You couldn’t find the words to say, so you responded by sliding the ring onto your finger and nodding with tears in your eyes. He pulls you in for a tight hug, happy and relieved that you actually said yes without actually saying anything. The others watch in awe, and gave their congratulations with hugs to you both. You and Maya squealed as you showed her the ring. She had become your best friend on and off the camera.

The rest of the concert was amazing, but nothing could top you becoming Joe’s fiancé. As you arrived back to your apartment, you pull Joe for another kiss, savouring the moment. “You have made me the happiest girl in the world tonight, I’m so happy and grateful that you’ve come into my life.” You say still holding on to him. You see he starts to get a little teary eyed at your words. “I love you.” You give him another kiss. “I love you too sweetheart. I can’t wait to call you my wife.” He smiles at you.

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things #joe quinn #joe keery #maya hawke #jamie campbell bower

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tomtenadia · 2 months

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My new fic

Hi all,

So, I am trying to gather all the possible courage and post the Prologue of my Hockey fic. I still don't have many chapters, but I am hoping that posting it for the public will give me the push I need to write more.

So, Rowan is a Pro Hockey player in the THL (Terrasen Hockey League) and Aelin in an ex pro figure skater now working as instructor. Rowan has suffered a serious head injury in a game and has been off for a few months and is now dealing with his healing. Aelin plays tough girl but she is still dealing with the accident that destroyed her career.

A very small part of Rowan's injury and recovery is inspired by "Unsteady" by Peyton Corinne (which I recommend to everyone if you love hockey romance) and also just a smidge of Icebreaker.

Also, Rowan is a single dad to a lovely 5 years old tornado called Maya (yes, I know always the same but I love it.)

The title.... Check my heart.... a play on the concept of cross check. Not the greatest but I am bad at titles.

Anyway, I will leave you to it.

CW: mention of injuries, panic attacks

PROLOGUE

The ice rink was empty and quiet on a Saturday afternoon.

Rowan slowly walked the familiar path that took him from the changing rooms to the ice, the feeling of walking in skates still strange after two months off.

As he finally exited the tunnel, the coolness of the stadium hit his face as he sat down on the home team bench. His team’s bench. Hockey had been a huge part of his life. He had started playing as soon as he had learned to walk. His dad had been a great champion in the Wendlyn Hockey League, leading his team to many championships and countless other major victories. His dad, Alasdair Whitethorn, had been the hero for many kids. Under his guidance, Rowan had learned to skate, and to get better. He trained, he played, he breathed hockey. In high school people had started to call him his father’s heir. He signed up for uni and graduated in aeronautical engineering. Aircrafts being another passion of his. At uni he played in the team and made captain and in his final year the offers from pro teams started to rain.

His first year as a pro in Doranelle he showed the world his skills and lead the team to a cup victory. Rowan thought he was at the top of the world, until the THL, the Terrasen Hockey League, found him and got his first offer. After three years in Doranelle, Rowan was called by Perranth with an offer that was impossible to turn down. Rowan’s career exploded, brought him across different teams in Terrasen until he landed in Orynth as captain for the Hawks. Together they won a cup and other teams kept begging for trades but Rowan always refused saying that he had finally found his team.

His career had been on a trajectory for more success until the last season.

Until the final game in the championship when they battled the Skull’s bay Pirates for the cup.

Until…

A deep breath and he stopped as the usual wave of nausea hit him and the fuzzy memory of that night threatened to surface and break him.

If he closed his eyes he could still hear the sound of his body colliding with violence against the boards. The pain. The terror and then the darkness.

Still on the bench, Rowan shook his head, trying to chase away the memory. His team had won, after Lorcan had led the Hawks to the triumph while seeking revenge for his captain.

Even with his team mates chasing minor penalties to avenge him. Even with Lorcan getting a five minutes major for roughing after he thumped Rolfe, they still had won.

Rowan had been in a hospital bed when they told him. He should have been elated, but all he had felt was emptiness.

He blamed it on the bad concussion. His team had explained him that Rolfe had checked him from the back, pushing violently against the boards. His head had taken a bad hit as he collapsed on the ice.

All Rowan remembered was the sound of Lorcan’s voice calling for a major penalty on Rolfe, the feeling of ice under him and the taste of blood.

Another shake of his head to clear his mind and finally Rowan stood, gripping the edge of the gate. That was progress. He had made it a bit farther than last time. This time, the gate was actually open and his right foot was on the ice. He took a deep breath and the left foot joined his companion on the ice. Gently, he pushed himself away from the boards and stood there. He stared at the Hawk logo painted under the ice and then took a tentative skate towards the middle. But when he paused and took a look at the empty stadium, memories betrayed him and the screams and the noise of a game hit him. His head started pounding and a moment later he found himself sitting at the centre of the rink, his chest tight and his breathing laboured. A panic attack.

“Are you okay?” A voice called behind him.

He heard the distinctive sound of blades scraping the ice but did not turn until he saw a woman kneeling in front of him. Even in his confused state he could not fail to notice that she was the most stunning creature he ever saw. Her hair was blonde and tied in a tight high bun and her eyes. The woman in front of him had deep blue eyes with a ring of gold in them.

Was he dead? Had he actually died on that hockey game and this was finally heaven? Was she an angel?

“Hey, you okay?”

She touched his shoulder and felt real. No. He was still alive.

“You fell?”

He nodded lightly.

“Come on big guy, get up, I need the ice.”

“Oh.”

“I have a class coming and I have the rink booked up.”

Rowan stared at the woman, she had black leggings and a jumper. Her body was definitely the one of an athlete but at the same time he could see elegance in the way she stood on the skates in front of him.

“Come on, off the ice.”

“Hey, I can use the rink too. How much space are you going to need?”

“The whole of it?”

He scoffed “I just need a small part.”

Aelin snorted “The ‘learn to skate’ class is tomorrow morning.”

Rowan stared at her aghast. Did she have no idea who he was?”

“I can skate.”

“You fell and look unsteady. I doubt it, big boy.”

“What, you never fell in your life?”

Something strange passed in her eyes and Rowan had a feeling it was hurt.

“You really have no idea who am I?”

The woman folded her arms at het chest “Should I?”

“Captain Whitethorn of the Hawks.”

She snorted loudly “a hockey barbarian, I should have suspected.” Her tone dripped disgust.

“I assume you don’t follow it.”

“What, watch a game where ten men skate on the ice like brutes and pound each others just for the sake of it?” She protested, not moving from her stance “the only thing I know is that you oafs destroy my ice and it takes the Zamboni a lifetime to repair the mess you make.”

He was about to reply when he heard voices and saw a group of kids entering the ice “Well, princess, your class is here,” he touched his head in salute and in a powerful move he skated to the opposite side of the rink, well far away from the woman.

It was later on when he finally left the venue with a sliver of hope. It had been his first day out on the ice since the accident and he had gone through some basics exercises that coach Gavriel had recommended. It had not been easy and being back on the ice had felt alien all of a sudden. A few times he had stopped to watch the strange woman teach young kids figure skating. He had watched her demonstrate some basic moves and he had been totally enthralled by her.

Now he was finally home and a smile appeared on his face when a little tornado crashed against his legs “dad, you are back.”

Rowan kneeled and kissed the girl who was his clone “I am, muffin, did you have a great time with grampa and nana?”

“Yes, we baked.” She grabbed his hand and dragged her father in the kitchen where on the table lay numerous trays of chocolate biscuits.

“Did you bake for an army?” He asked his mother.

“We are taking some of them for her friends at skating classes.”

Aside from hockey, Rowan had another big love in his life. His daughter Maya. His life. His everything. Maya had been born five years earlier from his first marriage. He had met Lyria still back in Wendlyn. Lyria was a rising star in the world of figure skating. He had fallen hard for her and a year after dating he had asked her to marry him. Not long after they got married he got drafted in the THL and Lyria refused to move due to her busy competition schedule. One of the biggest championship was happening in Wendlyn that year and Lyria wanted the win.

Lyria’s dream got destroyed when she discovered she was pregnant. Rowan had gone back to Wendlyn to watch one of her competitions but Lyria never turned up. She gave birth to a baby girl a month before the world championship.

The day after she had been discharged she had served him the divorce papers and a letter in which she renounced to all her rights as mother. Lyria had left the house the following day. No goodbyes, no last words. Just a a note on the bed reading You ruined my dreams.

Two days later he was back in Terrasen with a newborn baby and a career as pro hockey player. He had tried to find some information on Lyria after he was back. She had moved to a land very far across the ocean and had tried to restart her career but eventually gave up and became a trainer.

“Were you on the ice?” Asked his father sitting at his side on the sofa.

Rowan closed his eyes and nodded.

“How did it feel?”

“Alien,” the answer barely a whisper “I hated being on the ice, dad.”

“It takes time.”

“The team will be back from summer training camp in two weeks and then we need start preparing for the season. We have the first friendly game at the beginning of September against Perranth. I don’t have much time.”

Alasdair placed a gentle hand on his son shoulder “I know, but recovery takes time. Especially after such trauma.”

“I am the captain and I am letting my team down.”

Alasdair was about to reply but Maya came running and screaming for her father’s attention. “Dad, nana says that dinner is ready. Wash your hands.”

The girl was about to run away but Rowan stood in a powerful motion and lifted his daughter upside down on his shoulder. Maya laughed freely and patted his back screaming to be let free.

Rowan deposited his daughter on her chair and inhaled the scent on his mother’s cooking.

Being a famous THL player came with perks. He had signed a very good contract with the Hawks that allowed him to live a very comfortable life. He had bought a beautiful house in the outskirts of Orynth near nature. While all of his team mates had modern luxury mansions in the centre, he had gone for a cottage that he had slowly expanded and fixed up. It was cozy and, most of all, Maya loved it. They had a lake at the back that in summer was used for swimming and in winter they would use to skate together. Most of his money went to make sure his daughter had a good life. When he came back from Wendlyn with an infant, his parents had flown to Terrasen to help him and Rowan would be forever grateful to his parents for the help they had given him especially when he was away for his games.

His mother’s voice woke him from his thoughts “Are you taking Maya to the rink tomorrow morning? It’s her learn to skate class.”

“Yes. I need to go and train anyway.”

“Rowan, you should not push yourself too much.”

He sighed. His mum was a sports doctor and she saw his situation from the point of view of a physician. His hand curled in a fist and took a deep breath, he knew his parents were just looking after him “Mum, I am just getting again familiar with the ice.”

“Nana, can you skate?”

Rowan mentally thanked his daughter for the interruption.

“Yes, my love. Your grampa taught me to skate a long time ago.”

Maya smiled happily.

“Once the lake is once again frozen we can go you and I so you can show me all you have learned.”

The girl’s grin spread and her green eyes brightened in happiness “my teacher said I am good.”

Eiddwen lifted the girl on her legs and stamped a kiss on her cheek “of course baby, you are a Whitethorn.”

The dinner eventually finished and after his parents left, he took his daughter upstairs and helped her get ready for bed.

She climbed in bed and grabbed her soft toy “dad, can you tell me a story of when you won a cup?”

Rowan smiled and sat at her side. Maya had grown surrounded by hockey. Her grampa, although retired, was still an important personality in the hockey federation. He would take Maya to the games if possible and would explain what was happening. She loved listening to some of the stories of his victories from both her dad and her grampa.

“You don’t want a story from the last book we bought?”

Maya shook her head “not tonight.”

Rowan sat properly with his back against the board of the bed and pulled Maya against him “It was the third period of the cup final and we were down by one and down one man….”

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius

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byghostface · 3 months

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//long rambling

There is a vent in the last part (about pro ship:/+ wired shipping + block list) it's naturally negative so reading at your own risk.

So in the new Batman and Robin issue #7 Nika's sister making an appearance, got me thinking of other possibilities for sibling characters to come back.

Mostly I’m thinking about Respawn since he is Joshua Williamson's own character. And He made Respawn appeared in the last issue of Robin(2021), he also brought back Mara in that run too (just some appearance in the later issue).

And now Joshua Williamson is writing Batman and Robin, so naturally he can bring some characters back in this run. He had said in an interview that he might have figured out a way(try) to bring back Maya.

Throwback to 2022 of this old wip/art I made, is about what I think the emo teens of Lazarus squad dynamic would look like.

I imagine Nika and Respaw are irritated/tolerate with each other but would stay for Damian because Nika is Damian's girlfriend and they want to stick together. Meanwhile, Damian likes to include his half-brother in some fun activities (Respawn is acting reluctant bc of his own issues but he actually likes to have friends and feel include).

I haven’t finished this art bc I was going to add more wips (with other characters like Rose and Hawke) to make it a post. I didn't finish this art back then bc I was afraid Talia fans would be mad at me for drawing Respawn.

Trust me, I hate that Talia gets associated with Deathstroke like this, but I think Respawn is a confused/mistreated teen character and Damian (bless his heart and soul) still wants to be his brother regarding the whole mess. I will explain/talk more about my thoughts on Respawn as a character and his situations once I finish these drawings and get ready to post them.

Writing/typing words is harder than drawing for me personally. Drawing is like channeling my energy into a picture and forming an atmosphere and hopefully people will understand what thoughts and feelings I was trying to convey. Writing is using more brain powers to choose the correct and cohesive words, so people would not misunderstand what I'm talking about. Especially when English is not my first language, and even so I normally don't talk(write) much in my mother tongue either…(I'm not a quick thinker, it took me a longer time to think things through, writing literally exhausted me physically and mentally more than drawing.)

It doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing, it's just not my first choice to convey thoughts… but considering I can't draw everything I have in my mind and it takes even longer time to finish any art, I just need to write down things first from now on. Tumblr is the only place I can think of that has this longer text feature blog post and I'm more familiar with this platform format. So I will still be here posting my fan content.

(↓Vent, if you want to avoid being block by me then read down below.)

I must say I will forever hate respawn x flatline as ship, cus I know who started this ship and their reasons behind it—Don’t let the new character develop naturally as the story goes, let’s put them in made-up weird situations first so I can prop up my own ship!😍 And get both of the new characters out of the way, since no one would defend them so I can fanon the hell out of them by making them look bad all around!🤞 (What if I stone you first hand🪨🪨💥)

And I will continue to dislike/against any shipping Damian's sibling to Nika. I simply don't like the unnecessary sibling conflict just for romance tropes! So go away boooo I hate you‼️ Not to mention the ignoring of different age range multi-ship hide behind poly… that's straight up proshipping I hate you even more!!👎

Also for people who said Nika should be crush on Damian's mother instead of him… I hate you twisted proshipper rotten smooth brain‼️‼️ She dating a boy her age and has mutual connections with him, why would she crush on her boyfriend's mother instead?? Just because Nika is a big fan of Talia??? So you telling me young ppl can't idolize adults normally without being labeled as romantic nowadays huh??( Not saying you can't crush on adults, but why crush on your boyfriend's mom? ) Your weird ass mind is showing with this ass hc be fr. Again, why would you imagine that? You just wanted to push a fake narrative of Nika being wired so you could have an excuse to make Talia and Damian dislike her (which is not true), but in fact is YOU are the weird one projecting your twist thoughts/hate onto Nika‼️💥🪨🪨

I will start to block ppl who are shipping/liking respawn x flatline (+proshipper) and STILL interact with me, read the room!! My art is not for you weirdos‼️Go away BOOOO💥 🪨🪨🪨💥💥

Can't believe I need to type this all out cuz some of you weirdos will still do these things and think is okay to interact with me and my post/showing in my notifications BOOO👎🪨🪨💥🪳🪳🪳🩴🩴🩴

(sorry for venting about random weirdos/Nika haters again, and thanks for reading.)

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mindofharry · 2 years

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imagine being in an interview with Joseph and they ask if hes had a crush on any of his co-stars and he says you omgg😷

You’re both sitting beside each other, both dressed fancy for the interview. Currently, you were doing a bunch of press for Netflix. You and Joe were teamed up together for most of this tour as your characters end up getting very close — and the fans are absolutely obsessed with their relationship, so it was only fair. And you and Joseph are super close, so the chemistry is amazing.

You were swinging your legs back and forth and Joseph leaned over kicking his foot with yours. You gave him a look and kicked his foot.

“You’re cheeky,” You said and he just raised an eyebrow.

“Ok, first question!” The interviewer said getting settled into her seat. You smiled softly, giving the woman your full attention. Joe was still staring at you, making you hit his arm. He just laughed.

Everyone on set was just amazed at how quickly you both got on. You met on the first day of filming and just have been best friends ever since and everyone can see how genuine the two of you are.

“Any celebrity crushes?” She asked and you put a thinking face on.

“Maya Hawke,”

Joe nodded, “Y/N L/N,”

KSGSJSJDJ

#joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fics

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maria-scribbles · 1 year

Text

meet me at midnight

summary: new year's eve, 1983. a rooftop, an epiphany, and a kiss that changes everything

wc: 5k

ship: eddie munson x f!henderson!reader

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of drugs and smoking, mention of barb's death (rip queen), stancy (eugh), kissing, the reader being jealous and insecure and also kinda stupid.

a/n: writing stancy made me physically ill. i really do love nancy but i'm afraid i wrote her terribly ooc in this ugh. also, do i headcannon eddie as a saxophone player? yes, yes i do. why? no fucking clue. robin's favorite band is named 'blush' after maya hawke's first album.

meet me at midnight

December 31st, 1983

"Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?"

You were inclined to, that's for sure.

Annie Lennox's voice booms throughout the house as you tuck yourself further into the corner you've managed to claim, a lukewarm cup of punch in hand. It feels like the entire student body of Hawkins High is here at Tina's party, bodies jostling each other on the makeshift dance floor and spilling down the hallway like an overflowing sink, even trickling outside onto the deck to smoke despite the frosty air.

You shift your weight from one heeled boot to the other and choke down a sip of your drink, wincing at the alcohol burning its way down your throat. Leave it to some thickheaded jock to make a punch that's almost entirely rum, you think as you abandon the solo cup on the nearest shelf and pull your sweater sleeve down to check the time.

It's not nearly as late as you'd hoped, the glowing green numbers reading ten-thirty, and you drop your arm with a sigh. An hour and a half before midnight and an hour and a half way too long in your opinion.

"Having fun?" Nancy's face is flushed as she squeezes her way through the dancing crowd to you, dragging Steve by the hand.

Absolutely not.

"Oh, totally!" Your smile feels so forced you're sure she'll notice and call you out but it never comes, both to your relief and disappointment; once upon a time you'd been thick as thieves, the best of friends just like your little brother and hers, before she'd ditched you for Barb and left you behind in the dust.

Barb, whose body lies in another dimension, frozen forever at sixteen.

Yeah, you're still processing that last part and you were there, standing beside Dustin as Eleven confirmed Nancy's worst fear, heart breaking for your former best friend as she cried into Jonathan's arms.

(Later that night, when everything was said and done and you were safe in bed with your little brother sleeping soundly across the hall was when you cried for Barb, too, a girl who was kind and innocent and undeserving of her terrible fate.)

Your relationship's been on the mend ever since but as much as it hurts to admit, you'll never be as close as you once were and Nancy's inability -or unwillingness, you think bitterly- to pick up on your unhappiness is only further proof.

"Wanna come dance with us?" She asks, oblivious, and you shake your head, crossing your arms to keep her from grabbing your hand because as bored as you are, being a third wheel would be even worse. You already feel bad for crashing their date by tagging along for the drive here, even though they both insisted on giving you a ride.

"Trust me, that wouldn't be pretty. Dusty says I dance like a school chaperone."

Steve bursts out laughing at that and it makes your heart do a little flip in your chest, even as Nancy fondly shakes her head. "Come on, you're not that bad."

"Oh no, I am." You wrap your arms tighter around yourself as someone opens the front door and lets in a freezing blast of air. "Seriously, I'm good. I think I'm gonna go grab some snacks."

"Try the snickerdoodles! I ate, like ten of them." Steve admits that last part pretty sheepishly and the way Nancy stares up at him with the most adoring look in her eyes makes you feel like you're intruding on something private.

You offer an awkward smile in thanks and with a tiny wave from Nancy, they melt back into the mess of bodies dancing along to Cyndi Lauper, leaving you alone once again.

For no less than the fifth time tonight, you wish Robin was here, not halfway across the state visiting her grandparents. While you might've lost Nancy as your best friend in middle school, you gained another: Robin had also been dropped by Barb and so it was only fitting that the two of you became fast friends, not just acquaintances that sat beside each other in the band's trumpet section.

(You miss Nancy honestly, you really do, but sometimes you think being ditched was one of the best things that's ever happened. You and Robin just click, two peas in a pod, and to you, she feels like the sister you always wish Nancy would've been.)

If Robin was here, she would've already made some quip about Steve and his coiffed hair, or Carol and the permanent expression on her face that made her look like she smelled something bad, or Jason and his attempts to impress Chrissy with his awful dance moves, and it would've had you doubled over in laughter.

She wouldn't let you wallow in the corner by yourself, an outsider looking in, both unwilling and unable to throw caution to the wind and just let go. But she's not here, so wallowing it is.

Being kind to yourself has never been your strong suit.

As if the universe is listening, mocking, a gap in the crowd grows just enough to give you a perfect view of Steve and Nancy swaying in each other's arms and you hate the bitter taste that suddenly floods your mouth.

You have no right to be jealous.

You've never admitted your little crush on Steve to yourself, let alone Nancy: how was she supposed to know? You're not even sure if it's all about him in the first place because sure, you think he's cute -you always have- but you get the same gnawing feeling watching Bradley spin Tina around the room in a playful waltz or Nate stealing a kiss from Georgina under the mistletoe still hanging in the doorway and you can barely tolerate either of those idiots.

It's all so terribly confusing.

Steve twirls Nancy under his arm and then dips her low to the ground, her delighted laughter reaching your ears even over the pounding music and something ugly blooms in your chest. You make your escape before you can do something stupid like cry, weaving your way across the living room and down the hall toward the kitchen with your head down.

…Which is precisely how you end up head butting one of your classmates directly in the chest when you turn the corner.

They give a soft 'oof' of surprise and you're absolutely mortified when you realize it's a boy, not just from the tone of his voice but from the toes of his white Reeboks bumping into your boots.

The same shoes you've heard keeping time in band every day since seventh grade, tapping along to the beat on the riser behind you with the rest of the saxophone players. The same shoes you see at the desk in front of you in third period English, still tapping along to the music that's always running through his mind, accompanied by the furious scribbling of a pencil across paper as he jots down lyrics for a new song.

You wince and keep your head down, hoping he'll just act like nothing happened and go on his merry way and just when you're about to think you're in the clear-

"Ow. You have a hard head, Henderson."

Shit, you think. Of course you had to literally run into the one person you feel like you can't speak two words to without making a complete fool of yourself; something about Eddie just makes you flustered beyond belief and you really wish you knew why 'cause it's, to put it frankly, annoying.

Really fucking annoying.

"Shit." You say out loud, quickly looking up to meet his big brown eyes before glancing away and staring at the zombie adorning the front of his Iron Maiden shirt instead. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention."

"No shit, Sherlock." He teases but there's no trace of malice in his voice, just amusement, even as his ringed hand comes into view and rubs the spot where your forehead crashed into his chest. "You okay?"

Embarrassment burns your face and you cross your arms defensively, firing back with a weak insult you're sure he can see right through 'cause if there's one thing you're good at, it's looking like an idiot all day, every day.

"I'm fine. You're not looking very festive, Munson."

He snorts in laughter and you finally gather the courage to meet his eyes again, only to find him already looking down at you with something behind his gaze that you can't quite figure out.

"I think you're festive enough for the both of us." He gestures to your deep navy sweater dotted with bursts of silver thread that give the illusion of stars. "You look really pretty, by the way."

Your brain short circuits.

Pretty? You're wearing your mom's sweater and Eddie thinks you look pretty?

You're too busy trying to get your mouth to work as the silence stretches on -you'll take a 'huh?' at this point, or maybe even an unintelligible squeak, just say something, you moron- to notice the pink blooming high in his cheeks and the way he speaks in a rush, the words all jumbling together so fast it's hard for your frazzled mind to understand what he's saying.

"-your help, so keep watch, okay?"

Keep watch?

He turns and strides into the kitchen without another word and you end up following a few seconds later, after you've finally recovered enough to get your legs working, at least.

You find him standing by the big bowl of punch, rummaging around the array of bottles littering the island, every so often picking one up to inspect before putting it back in its place with a shake of his head. To your surprise, it's not more alcohol he finally picks up but a two-liter of Sprite and at last you get your mouth to work as you blurt out, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fixing this shitty ass punch." He's not even phased by your sudden question, save for the quick smile he sends your way as he pours the entire bottle in. "Have you tried it? Jesus, Jan would be disgusted."

You cross your arms and lean your hip against the counter, keeping an eye on the door just like he'd asked. "I have, unfortunately. Who's Jan?"

"Bartender at the Hideout." Eddie throws a reply over his shoulder as he digs around in the fridge, yelling triumphantly when he finds whatever he's looking for. It turns out to be a can of pineapple juice and he dumps that in, too, turning the blue punch a pretty shade of green. "My band plays there on-"

"-Tuesdays, I know." You interrupt without thinking and rush to explain yourself, almost tripping over your words when he turns his curious gaze on you.

"Um, there's this all-girl band Robin loves, Blush. We go see them sometimes and end up staying to watch you guys, too, because you're really good-" You pause at the smile slowly growing wider on his face and shake your head. "-but you already knew that, didn't you?"

He shrugs, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat as he stirs some cherries into the punch, then dishes out two cups and pushes one across the island to you.

"Yeah, I see you there a lot. You're kind of hard to miss when the rest of the audience is just five old drunk dudes."

Your laugh rings in the cavernous kitchen as you push off the counter to grab your drink, tapping it against his when he holds it out toward you.

"Cheers."

You're not sure what to expect when you take that tentative first sip but it's definitely not something sweet and smooth with just the right amount of fizz, the burn of the rum still present but not as overpowering as it was before.

"Okay, so I don't know how you managed to make this shit taste good but you did."

Eddie sweeps into a low bow and you hide a smile behind your cup at his theatrics. "Thank you, thank you. I do accept tips, you know, and all proceeds go directly to Jan so she can buy herself a car."

You smile wider and take another sip. "I'd love to donate but I left my purse at home, I'm afraid."

He clicks his tongue in mock disappointment before leaning forward across the island and waving you closer, dropping his voice to such a low whisper you would've had to move in anyway to even hear him.

"How about I make you a deal, Henderson? Come watch us next Tuesday, slip Jan a twenty, and I'll play a song -any song- just for you."

"Ooh, tempting." You whisper back just as quietly, tapping a finger against your chin even as a weird feeling takes hold in your stomach at his offer. "Any song I want? How about-"

"Hold on, I take that back. Any song but 'September.'"

Your jaw drops. "How'd you know-"

"Because I hear you humming it every day in band, that's how."

"Oh." How the hell does he know you hum that song when half the time you don't even realize you're doing it? You've annoyed Dustin enough to know it's true, after he told you in no uncertain words. "How about I make you a deal? I give Jan thirty dollars and Corroded Coffin covers Earth, Wind & Fire."

He stares at you for a beat longer before slowly breaking out into a smile. "…I'll think about it."

You've always know he has a pretty smile, catching glimpses of it across the cafeteria from where you sat with Robin and the rest of the marching band or in crowded hallways as you rushed to make it to your locker in between classes, but having its full force directed right at you knocks the very breath right out of your lungs.

"it's not a no, so…works for me." You say, propping your chin in one hand and swirling your cup in the other, watching the opaque green liquid spin around like the center of a hurricane. "Why'd you have me guard the door, anyway? I wouldn't call making this sludge drinkable very deviant of you."

"Please," Eddie scoffs, mirroring you exactly. "'Resident metalhead spotted adding mixers to the jungle juice?' I can't trash my reputation like that."

"No, never." You huff a laugh under your breath. "You'd be ruined."

He laughs, too, and you're not sure when it became so warm in here but it's making you want to roll your sweater sleeves up to your elbows.

"See! I knew you'd have my back, Henderson."

The more you think about it, the more you realize you always have. Every time the rumor mill paints him in a bad light, you're there to put it all to rest with nothing more than a perfectly directed scowl because you like Dio, too and wear black nail polish and occasionally play DnD with Dustin and his friends when they need a sub and no one's ever accused you of worshiping Satan for fuck's sake.

If any of them would bother to look deeper than the surface, they'll see what you do, that he's kind and sweet and caring and you know because you've seen him prove it with your own eyes: driving the rest of the Hellfire Club home if they didn't have rides, sticking up for the freshmen when the seniors decide to be cruel, and even now, witnessing him first hand try to raise money for a coworker to buy a car (granted that method might be called borderline manipulation but still, at least it's for a good cause).

"'Course I do." It's both too simple a statement and more than you ever wanted to admit and the way he's staring at you feels different, somehow, different and yet not unwelcome as you stare right back…

(Has he always had that dusting of freckles across his nose?)

…which is why you end up putting your foot in your mouth without even realizing it. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right, yeah."

Something flickers behind his brown eyes but it's gone before you can put your finger on it and he's smiling that smile again, pointed canines on full display as he hastily nods and straightens, downing the rest of his drink in one go.

"Do you have the time?" He sheepishly holds up his bare wrist. "Forgot my watch."

"Oh, sure." The sudden change of subject nearly gives you whiplash as you push your sleeve up to check. "Almost eleven fifteen."

"No time to lose, let's go." He grabs a napkin and swipes a few cookies from the counter, tucking them away into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"Go where?"

"You'll see." Eddie nods his head toward the doorway and holds out a hand, silver rings catching the harsh kitchen lights. "C'mon, you trust me?"

"Against my better judgement." You tease and his laugh is downright devilish when you take his hand anyway, letting him lead you out into the hall.

You're not prepared for the warmth of his palm or the rough, calloused touch of his fingers or how your hand looks so small in his as he expertly weaves through your classmates milling about until you reach the bottom of the stairs, pausing just long enough to make sure the coast is clear before dashing up to the second floor.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You whisper and while the little conspiratorial grin on his face doesn't do much to ease your mind, the quick squeeze he gives your hand somehow does.

"Nope!" He leads you down the dark hallway with practiced ease, opening the last door on the left before pulling you inside and softly shutting it behind you both.

"I feel like a delinquent." Your quiet voice echoes in the large room, clearly Tina's from the Hawkins High cheer uniform hanging on the closet door and the over abundance of pink, and he snickers as he drops your hand to grab a blanket draped over the desk chair.

"Live a little, Henderson!" He opens another door, this one leading out onto a moonlit balcony -Jesus, you knew Tina's family was rich but come on- and holds it for you as you step outside. It's just beginning to snow, specks of white drifting down silently and forming a barely there dusting on the railing and you hold out your hand to catch one, watching as the tiny flake instantly disappears from the heat of your palm.

"C'mon, I'll give you a boost." Eddie says, tossing the blanket up onto the section of roof that's just a bit lower than the others.

"Don't tell me you shoot webs from your wrists." You joke, warily eyeing the spot even as you step forward and stand in front of him, grabbing the edge with both hands.

"Nah, I couldn't handle the responsibility of being Spider-Man." He moves closer and hovers his hands over your sides. "Still trust me?"

You nod.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is a low whisper in your ear and when a shiver runs down your spine, you blame it on the sudden gust of wind, nothing more.

You nod again.

His hands are big and oh so warm as he places them on your waist and before you know it, you're lifted onto the roof without so much as a warning, the rough shingles cold against your knees even through the thick denim of your jeans.

Holy shit, he's strong.

You don't even get the chance to offer your hand as he pulls himself up with an almost casual grace and spreads the blanket out, each step he takes so confident and sure, like he's done it time and time again.

"So, you sure know your way around Tina Williamson's roof." You carefully crawl closer and take a seat beside him, close enough that the length of your body is pressed right up against his to ward off the cold.

To be fair, you're also the slightest bit terrified of somehow falling right off the edge and it's like he reads your mind when he shuffles even closer and rests his arm along the curve of your back, not quite touching but near enough that you just know he'll catch you.

"Found out I could climb up here two years ago and-" He explains, pointing off somewhere beyond the back yard in the vague direction of town. "-it's got a killer view of the fireworks."

"It's peaceful." The sounds of the festivities have faded to nothing more than a faint thumping of bass and the occasional burst of laughter floating up from the smokers on the back deck. "So for the last two years, every party Tina's thrown, you've just been hiding up here?"

"More like escaping." Eddie shrugs and stares ahead at the snow-covered trees. "I don't even want to come to these things and I'm only invited 'cause I deal. Once these rich kids get their stuff and I get paid…no one really cares where I go so I just do what I want."

You care.

"All by yourself?"

He nudges you with his shoulder and when you turn to face him, that same look from earlier is behind his eyes, the one from the hallway and the kitchen that you still can't quite figure out. "You're the only person I've ever brought up here."

"Really?"

It's cold, the snow starting to fall a little bit heaver now, and yet you're so, so warm under his gaze as he nods, the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the softest smile you've ever seen from him.

It's like hot chocolate on a snowy day or a cozy blanket on a cold night, safe and warm and feeling more than a little like home.

"I'm trusting you with this, Henderson. Don't abuse your power."

You smile and duck your head, pulling your sweater sleeves down further over your cold fingers. "Wouldn't dream of it, Munson."

You'd nearly forgotten all about the cookies hidden in his jacket pocket until he nudges your arm and hands you two, one of his own hanging out of his mouth and you realize they're the snickerdoodles Steve had told you to try.

For the first time, the thought of him doesn't make your stomach twist or your chest hurt. Honestly? You don't really feel anything in particular, other than the fact that he has damn good taste in desserts as you take a bite of your cookie, perfectly baked and covered in just the right amount of cinnamon and sugar.

No wonder he ate ten of them.

You finish eating in silence but you don't feel the need to fill it with anything other than the sound of your breathing; Eddie doesn't either and for who knows how long you sit side by side, watching tiny snowflakes lazily fall from the sky. They dot his dark hair with spots of white and a laugh slips from your mouth before you can stop it.

"What?" He turns your way and you just shake your head as you reach over and brush some flakes from the ends of his curls.

"The snow in your hair, it kinda looks like powdered sugar."

"Oh, so you think I'm sweet?" He waggles his eyebrows and you laugh so hard you have to lean on his shoulder to keep from falling over. The arm he has resting behind you's now fully pressed against your back and it feels like a live wire running along your spine.

"I never said that!"

"But you implied it." Your breath catches as he gently brushes some snow from your hair as well, the warm, calloused pads of his fingers glancing along your face. "And good thing 'cause I think you're sweet, too."

You suddenly get the feeling you've missed something very very important as you scoot away just far enough to turn and face Eddie fully. Down below, your classmates flood out onto the back deck to wait for the fireworks as the new year approaches but you could care less, all of your focus right in front of you on big brown eyes and tiny freckles and a beautifully devastating smile.

"Me?" You speak quietly into the cold air, the question forming swirling white wisps that float above your heads for a fleeting second before disappearing into the night.

You could elaborate but you don't have to because you know he knows exactly what you mean as his hand hovers in the air between you for a long moment before he finally reaches forward and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I thought I was being obvious." He says, a red hue coloring his cheeks that you know now is definitely not from the cold.

"Why?"

"Why did I think I was being obvious? Henderson, I'm gonna play Earth, Wind & Fire for you!"

"No, why do you…why me?"

It makes him pause, a gentle furrow to his brow, and the way he says your name so softly makes your heart skip a beat.

"Because you're you."

A minute to midnight is a pretty fucking weird time to have an epiphany but you've never had good timing.

"Oh."

It's like something just clicks, the last piece of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to solve slotting into place and it all makes such perfect sense you're not sure how you didn't see it before.

"I know you're into Harrington," Eddie says hastily, eyes darting away from yours for just a second before they come right back, wide and honest in the dark. "And I get it if you never want to speak to me again 'cause I just made things super weird but-"

"I'm not into Steve."

You don't know how he makes confusion look so cute but he does, eyebrows knit together and making a little wrinkle in his forehead that's just visible under his bangs. "You're not?"

"I thought I was but…" You trail off as more and more people flood outside, their voices loud and full of excitement as the countdown begins. "Turns out I'm falling for someone else and I finally figured out who."

"Ten, nine, eight."

You scoot closer, sitting on your knees so your face is level with his when you reach out to brush some more snow from his hair, letting your fingers graze over his cheek like the ghost of a kiss. "Sorry it took me so long to catch up."

"Seven, six, five."

"Oh. It's okay." He sputters, a brilliant red flush slowly crawling up his neck like ivy. "I mean, I've liked you for a while now, ever since you joined the band when I was in eighth grade-"

"Four."

"-and you sat in front of me with your trumpet, wearing a Judas Priest shirt and I-"

"Eddie?" You interrupt because as much as you want to hear the rest of his story, you've got a more important thing on your mind.

"Three."

"Yeah?"

"Two."

"Please stop talking."

His jaw snaps shut almost comically and he watches with those wide eyes of his as you slowly cup his face in your hands.

"One."

The clock strikes midnight. The first firework shoots off from downtown and explodes in a brilliant flash of shimmering gold in the inky black sky. And you lean forward and kiss Eddie Munson.

The fireworks overhead are nothing compared to the ones you feel when he responds to your kiss with one of his own, his lips soft and sure under yours as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

He tastes like cinnamon sugar, spicy and sweet, and you can't get enough of him, of his warmth and his fingers sliding into your hair and the noise he makes low in his throat when you part your lips under his.

Kissing him is addicting, intoxicating. It's all you've ever wanted.

He's all you ever wanted.

You were just too blind to see it.

He's all you can see now when you finally part, all swollen lips and flushed cheeks and a smile that would've taken your breath if you had any left to give. The fireworks are long over but you don't even care that you missed the whole show as you lean forward to press your forehead against his.

"So, eighth grade, huh?" You ask and Eddie nods, rolling a strand of your hair between his thumb and pointer finger.

"You were humming 'Highway to Hell' and had holes in your jeans. And when I heard you talking about learning to play DnD for your little brother? That was it for me."

"I was nervous when I first joined band 'cause I had trouble staying on beat. I was so scared they were gonna kick me out." You say and when a snowflake lands on his cheek, you wipe it away with your thumb. "But I heard you tapping your foot behind me and you helped me keep time. Without you, I don't even know if I'd still be playing."

He tucks your hair behind your ear before taking your cold hands in his and bringing them to his mouth to kiss your knuckles, his touch so soft and sweet it makes your head spin.

"Your hands are freezing."

"I don't want to go home yet."

You could stay like this forever with him and when he leans forward to press his lips to yours, you know he feels the same.

"Where to then?"

He's never looked more beautiful to you, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and full of affection and reflecting the shimmer of the stars overhead and a slow smile creeps onto your lips when you weave your fingers between his.

"Surprise me. I'm all yours."

An adorable pink blush sweeps across his nose as he pulls you in for another kiss and you know without a doubt you're speaking the truth.

You know you mean every word.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #my writing #tag check

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akajustmerry · 3 days

Text

watching maya and ethan hawke's criterion closet picks. i love this one bit where he's like "i took your mother to see this movie [Husbands 1970] on our first date. she complained about the chairs at the Film Forum but I think she liked the movie(??)" and maya's like, "i am sure she did <3" dfjksnfkjnf idk i just like to imagine uma thurman watching this clip and being like, "i did not in fact like the movie or the chairs" i think that would be funny

#not that its any of my business but does anyone else think about maya working with tarentino after uma wrote that nyt article.........

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bidoofenergy · 1 year

Text

na dekhi koi aisi girl

(english: never seen a girl like that) “Zomato,” he blurts. “Actually, I’m Gayatri,” she says, smiling at him like he’s funny on purpose and not because he just remembered that he knows her from a freaking billboard. or: Pavitr and Gayatri's first meeting also on AO3

Today is another great day of being Mumbhattan’s one and only Spider-man. It’s also another decent day of being Mumbhattan’s millionth tenth standard student. Even though he’s Spider-man and he could just swing his way to school, Pavitr still meets his friends outside the train station every day. They hang out by the doors, squished together, and ride for a few stops. These are all kids he’s known for years, ever since he moved to Mumbhattan to live with his Maya Auntie. His friend Nikhil, who lives in the same building just one floor down, drapes himself over Pavitr’s back to show them all a cool cricket catch—she catches! And then trips over the boundary but saves it! And then catches it again! They all whoop and applaud appropriately, much to the chagrin of other passengers.

Luckily for the other passengers, they tumble out at the next stop. Pavitr’s school is a short walk from the station and as soon as they leave the station, they’re surrounded by other students. They start splitting up: Nikhil’s a year younger and he finds his classmates, Meera peels off to join some other friends and pretend she’s never talked to a boy in her life, and Pavitr shouts “see you later!” when he spots his classmate Hari.

Hari, who’s instincts rival Pavitr’s spidey sense—or maybe it’s the years of being friends, dodges to the side right as Pavitr tries to throw his arms around him. He laughs as Pavitr stumbles, barely managing to not fall flat on his face in the middle of the road. “Where’s your tie?” he asks when Pavitr recovers.

Pavitr slaps his chest which is where is tie should be—and isn’t. Then his hand goes to his hair because sometimes he ends up using his tie as a hairband—which is a bad habit he really should get out of—and it’s not there either. “Oh shit,” he swears softly and Hari starts to laugh again. Pavitr swings his bag to the front to frantically rifle through it, hoping his tie was just in his bag and not at home or in an alleyway somewhere. “Do we have assembly today?” he asks as he looks.

“Nah, but I can see Mohan sir at the gate.” Hari replies, a little too casual with his delivery of the news of Pavitr’s future demise.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Pavitr chants frantically, searching through his bag with even more fervor. Mohan sir is the worst, their physics teacher, and he loves to check everyone’s uniforms as they walk in. At the absolute best, Pavitr will have to run two laps around the building and then go to class sweaty to get yelled at by his class teacher (and his bench-mate). But if Mohan sir remembers he’s forgotten his tie three times in the last few weeks, he’s truly screwed.

“Just keep your bag in front,” Hari tells him calmly. He looks incredibly calm, hands in his pockets and posture loose. Pavitr knows he’s hoping Mohan sir won’t get annoyed at both of them and check their bags for phones. “And fix your hair.” Hari adds, which is just rude.

“Arre yaar,” Pavitr complains, but he obeys, abandoning his search for his tie to flatten his hair. He’s been pushing his luck for months now because he wants longer hair and Maya Auntie doesn’t care. But Mohan sir cares and thinks he looks like a rowdy and wants him to run laps every day until he cuts his hair, so Pavitr smooths his hair down and hopes someone else will distract sir.

They enter the school grounds, Pavitr rambling about forgetting his Marathi notebook—despite it being two years since he’s had to take Marathi—while Hari nods like he’s speaking sensibly. They’re past the gates, just a few steps away from the entrance to the building, when a tingle passes down his spine. Out the corner of his eye, Pavitr sees Mohan sir turn to focus on him, hawk-like. “Shit,” he whispers and Hari stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Pavitr!” Mohan sir exclaims and Pavitr speeds up, leaving Hari behind to collapse with laughter. He speed-walks away, trying to get far away enough that Mohan sir will give up.

“Pavitr, get back here!” Mohan sir yells after him and Pavitr decides to risk it and starts a light jog, weaving through the crowd to get into the building. The receptionist gives him an odd look and, when Mohan sir shouts his name again, starts to stand up.

Well, that won’t do. Pavitr pushes through the crowd and ducks down the kindergarten wing instead of heading up the stairs to his class. A little down the hall is an alcove that has a sink for all the dishes and messes the little kids produce and there’s a shelf that he can hide behind if he can just get in there without anyone seeing…

Behind him, Hari is saying, “Oh, ma’am, my father wanted me to ask—” with a very dramatic emphasis on father, as if anyone needs to be reminded of who Hari’s dad is. Pavitr is adding another favor to his mental tally (Favors You Owe vs Favors He Owes; Pavitr probably owes Hari his first-born at this point) as he ducks into the alcove and comes face to face with someone else.

Not just someone else. It’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his life. Her eyes are big and dark brown and beautiful and she’s wearing kajal. Her hair is dark and shiny and short, right above her shoulders, half up. She has a nose piercing! And a row of hoops along the edge of an ear! She’s so pretty, even in their uniform, her own shirt untucked and tie loose around her neck in an effortlessly, casually cool way. Pavitr is suddenly incredibly conscious of how sloppy he must look, rushed and hair messy and, oh god his pants leg is stuck in his left sock!

“You hiding too?” she asks, peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone is following. She looks so familiar but she’s not in his class—he would remember—and she must not take Hindi—he would remember—so where does he know her from?

“Zomato,” he blurts instead of answering her question, like a fool. She laughs, and god she’s so pretty.

“Actually, I’m Gayatri,” she says, smiling at him like he’s funny on purpose and not because he just remembered that he knows her from a freaking billboard.

“Pavitr,” he manages. “And yeah, I forgot my tie and Mohan sir already has a case against me.” Gayatri giggles and the single conscious thought Pavitr can manage is that he’s going to do everything possible to hear that again.

And then she’s leaning forward and her hand is on his chest and oh she’s pulling something out of his shirt pocket? He manages to tear his gaze away to look at what she’s pulled out and—oh. It’s his tie. He actually had his tie the whole time. Silently, he takes it from her and pulls it over his head, feeling a little like his cheeks are burning so hot he’s going to catch on fire. Gayatri is still laughing at him, but it’s gentle and she’s so pretty he can’t feel bad.

“He also hates my hair.” He adds, trying to fix his hair without a mirror.

“Mohan sir thinks my earrings are dangerous.” Gayatri tells him, rolling her eyes. Even as she rolls her eyes, she looks cool and classy! Pavitr opens his mouth to respond but. before he can speak, a hand claps down on his shoulder. Slowly, Pavitr spins around to face… their PT teacher.

“Ah, Shubman sir!” Pavitr exclaims nervously. Normally, Shubman sir is nice and doesn’t give Pavitr a hard time for hair but also normally Pavitr isn’t in alcoves with a girl.

“What are you doing over here?” Shubman sir asks, face unreadable.

“Looking for my tie,” Pavitr replies before really thinking through how stupid that sounds. Behind him, Gayatri snorts and then coughs to cover it. Shubman sir’s stern expression cracks a little and Pavitr knows he’s safe.

“Get to class,” he tells Pavitr and Pavitr scampers away, towards the staircase. He can feel Gayatri try to follow after him, but Shubman sir stops her. “I have a form for your dad, come get it.” He tells her. Pavitr feels himself deflate a little. He doesn’t even know what class she’s in!

“Okay sir,” Gayatri says, smiling sweetly. When Shubman sir turns to head to the staff room, she turns to wave at Pavitr. “See you,” she mouths at him, grinning. There’s an explosion of warmth in Pavitr’s chest.

#pavitr prabhakar #gayatri singh #spiderman india #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #pavitr x gayatri #astv spoilers #techniclaly #my fic #pavitr new favorite boy i love him so much #i lvoe getting to write about what i know (going to school in india)#if you see words you dont get go to the ao3 link there's stuff in the authors notes there

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canibeyoungforever · 1 year

Note

heyyy ;)

can i request richarlison dating a single mom reader and him falling in love with her daughter and acting like a father figure in her life since her real father wasn’t present?

a/n:stop i feel like i can write something so cute out of this😭😭♥️ thank you so much for your request hope you will like it <33

Richarlison Imagines:Never hurt her

a/n:wrote it while listening to that song <3

You introduced Richarlison to your daughter Romy when being in 10 months of relationship and you saw something happened for the past 2 months they spend her entire time together and being "the best bestfriends in the entire universe and galaxy" as she always say.

Richy is about to leave with his bags to go to Quatar but there is no Romy waiting to say goodbyes at the door,which surprise you very much.

"Rom he’s leaving soon!" You say

"I don’t care!" Romy clap back and you widen your eyes

You go upstairs in your room to see Richy all sad "What happened?" You ask

"I told her i couldn’t go to her dance show because i have the opening ceremony of the world cup and everything and now she doesn’t want to talk to me and she said that "i’m not her bestfriend anymore"" He explain

"You said you were able to go!" You say

"Because i thought i could skip opening ceremony!" He explain,feeling guilty

"You’re gonna be late you should go." You say

"Please i already feel like shit enough i don’t want you mad at me." He say

"I’m not mad Richy." "I’ll just have to explain to a 4 years old child that you didn’t stick to your promise and that’s fine." You explain

A few hours later Richy left and Romy is in her tutu:

"I don’t wanna go!" "I’m gonna fail mommy!" Romy say

"You will not fail Baby,you’ll do amazing and i’ll be here to applaud you." You say

"But not him.." She say sad and with tears in her eyes

"Hey come here!" You hug her

"I love you and he loves you too never doubt about it sometimes he just have to be away." You try to explain

"Because he’s a footballer?" "Yeah" "So i don’t like football!" You sigh in defeat

"We need to go okay" You say

"Okay.."

"Listen to me"

She look at you:

"You’ll do amazing because you are wonderful stunning and incredible just like your mommy."

She laugh you kiss her all over her cheeks and she laugh even more

You take the car and arrive when a certain blonde who was supposed have left the country make an appearance

"What are you doing here?" You ask

"I would have been such an idiot if i would have missed this." He say

"Oh that’s for sure." You say and he smile

"I’m sorry." He say

"You don’t have to say this to me the only thing i want is you to promise me that you’re never ever going to hurt her if you can’t go somewhere with her don’t promise her in the first place and don’t disappoint her once again."

"I promise i swear even." "Where is she?" He ask

"Behind the scene."

He kiss you quickly and go behind the scene

Richarlison point of view:

You go behind the scene and see Romy:

"Romy!"

When she see you her face lights up she runs to you wraps herself around your legs. You bend down and take her in your arms.

"I’m so sorry." You say "Would you forgive me?"

"And would you be my bestfriend again?I don’t want us to stop being bestfriends i love you too much" She ask

You smile "Of course" You kiss her cheek

"I love you you need to go but you’re gonna do amazing Roms okay!" "Okay!" You put her down and come back toward Y/n

You sit on a chair and she sit next to you:

"And you would you forgive me my love?" You ask

"Of course i will."

And the show goes on..

a/n:i didn’t really know how to write what you asked so i did this instead i feel like it’s very bad but i prefer give something at least english is not my first language

#imagines #richarlison #richarlison x reader #richarlison imagines #richarlison imagine

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southelroydrive · 1 year

Text

love is nothing, i am yours.

pairing: nancy wheeler x f!reader summary: self-care date with your girlfriend, nancy word count: 1.2k title: generous heart by maya hawke warnings: none a/n: first fic for my other wife before pride month ends, enjoy :]

the lively beat of madonna’s ‘into the groove’ fills the cosy space of nancy’s bedroom, blanketing the sound of hushed giggles and the smacking of lips against lips from the outside world.

you’re both sat cross-legged on the floor, your girlfriend’s entire collection of nail polishes littered across the carpet. with every shade imaginable, glitters and shimmers that sparkle in the dying sunlight which streams through the window.

your back is pressed against her bed, feeling the soft floral comforter against your skin. she sits opposite you, close enough for her bare knee to graze yours. you had both long changed into your sleepwear, matching silky tops and shorts that let your bodies brush against the others as you sat close together.

with your hand being held in her gentle grip, her thumb rubs against your knuckles as she paints your fingernails. she’s humming along to the melody, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she delicately strokes the brush onto your nails. a crease forms between her brows, furrowed in concentration and you fight the urge to smooth over it with the pad of your thumb. her brown curls pinned neatly out of her face, allowing you to admire every inch of her face. pink flushed cheeks, matching the hue of her glossy lips and lashes fluttering with every blink of her pretty blue eyes. all on display for your admiring gaze.

she looks up, eyes locking onto yours as her ministrations pause. her face relaxes, softening under your gaze.

“what’re you looking at, hm?” her head tilts to the side in curiosity, lips quirking in amusement. her eyes never deter from your own, even as her lips purse to blow air onto the wet layer of polish.

“you.” you bite the inside of your cheek, a teasing smile resting on your lips. you watch as she rolls her eyes, a soft chuckle leaving her as she lets go of your hand. you rest each palm on the floor, either side of her hips as you lean closer to her.

“oh yeah?” she raises an eyebrow inquisitively, face so close to yours you feel her hot breath fan across your lips with each word she speaks. “and why’s that?”

“cause…” you shrug, leaning forward to connect her lips with yours. it’s short and sweet, both of you smiling into the kiss before you inch away. “you’re just so beautiful.”

a small scoff leaves her lips, hands trailing down your sides until they reach your hips. she gently tugs you forward, guiding you to straddle her waist and sit yourself in her lap. “i should be saying that about you.”

“just take the compliment, nance.” you laugh lightly, hands reaching up to rest on either side of her face. you stroke your thumbs over her cheekbones, watching the flush darken and the corners of her eyes crease as she smiles.

she laughs with you, hands leaving your hips to gently hold your wrists. “you’ll ruin all my hard work, pretty girl,” she mumbles, guiding your hands away from her face. she presses her lips against your knuckles, careful to avoid the fresh coat of polish.

you smile, looking down at her with an affectionate gaze. she looks back at you, her gaze mirroring yours as your hands fall to your sides and hers return to their rightful place on your hips. she tilts her head up, pressing your lips together in a peck that makes your smile widen.

“oh!” you gasp suddenly, eyes widening in realisation. abruptly scrambling off her lap, you stand up from the floor.

nancy’s eyes follow your movements, brows lacing together in confusion. she can’t help the amused smile that tugs at her lips, watching you hurriedly make your way around her room. “what is it, baby?”

you almost trip over your shoes, which you had left at the foot of her bed, in your eagerness. you hear a muffled giggle from your girlfriend, to which you shoot her a playful glare. you eventually reach her desk, without any casualties, and pick up something she can’t quite see.

“we almost forgot the most important part.” you turn back towards her with a bright grin. making your way back over to her, you sink to the floor, straddling her waist once again and hold up what you had been in such a hurry for. nancy immediately recognises the small pot as a clay face mask, knowing you had been waiting to try it with her for weeks.

she makes a small hum of acknowledgment, rubbing her thumbs over the bone of your hips as you place it on the floor beside you. you unscrew the lid, scooping the clay onto your finger. her eyes flutter shut, a soft smile settling on her lips as you spread it onto her face, one hand gently cradling her jaw as the other strokes the creamy substance across her cheek.

you carefully paint her face, stealing chaste kisses from your lover as her eyes are closed. her hands squeeze your hips every time your lips meet hers, and you scold her for smiling too much - complaining that it’ll make the face mask crack until eventually you’re done.

“there!” nancy’s eyes open, seeing the proud smile adorning your face as you gaze at your work. your smile morphs into a playful grin, mischief glimmering in your eyes as you tell her, “now you look even more beautiful.”

“oh really?” she rolls her eyes at your remark, a smirk growing on her lips. before you can respond, the wheeler girl scoops a generous amount of the clay onto her own finger and smears it across the tip of your nose. your sharp gasp makes her smile grow, “and now you do too.”

“babe!” you whine, not being able to stifle the laugh that escapes your throat at her actions. you make a poor effort of hiding your amusement, brows furrowing and lips jutting out into a pout. your girlfriend, on the other hand, is giggling to herself at your reaction. her grin turns into a pout, mocking you with a chuckle.

“what?”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. however, the unimpressed glare you give her only encourages her laughter.

after another whine from you, her giggles fade, replaced by a smug grin. her hands cup your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks. “okay, okay. I’m sorry.”

“you better be, wheeler.” you huff, expression softening with every drag of her thumb across the apples of your cheeks. she chuckles in response, tilting your head down to press another kiss to your lips. it lingers much longer than the ones you’ve shared in the past few hours, her soft lips capturing yours in a display of tender affection. she feels your body melt into hers, chests pressed together.

when you finally part, you find yourself in a daze, pupils blown wide with the love you hold for the girl in front of you. she smiles at you, one of sincerity and genuine adoration, as her fingers begin to spread the clay across your face in an even coat. you watch her every movement, much like before as she cares for you. she pauses, leaning down to press another, but much shorter, kiss to your lips.

“i’ll make it up to you later, baby. i promise.”

#nancy wheeler x reader #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler x fem!reader #nancy wheeler fanfic #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler fluff #nancy wheeler imagine

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could-it-be-a-dream · 2 years

Text

magazine

pairing(s): robin buckley x fem!henderson!reader (adopted)

summary: you and your best friend bond over male models in a women’s magazine - in the gayest way possible.

warnings: swearing

words: 460

a/n: i imagine this is set between seasons 3 and 4, like in their first semester of school or the beginning of the second (so no spoilers for st4)! also, i’m such a simp for maya hawke, it’s not even funny. enjoy!

(i do not give permission to translate or post any of my work anywhere else!)

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

you sigh in boredom, sprawled on your bed with one of your mom’s magazines dangling from your hands. your best friend, robin, is sitting on the floor a couple feet away, sifting through your collection of cassette tapes in search of something to entertain herself.

just as you’re about to give up and go pester your little brother, dustin, you come across a picture in the magazine that has laughter bubbling up from your chest.

“holy shit, come look at this.” you cackle, waving your friend over as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and sit up.

robin joins you on the mattress and peers over your shoulder at the image. she snorts loudly upon being greeted with the sight of an incredibly jacked dude in a tiny leotard looking seductively at the camera.

“oh my god. what the hell is he wearing?” you look up at her as she laughs and shifts closer to point something else out in the picture, swallowing when you suddenly notice the lack of distance between your faces. you’re so distracted that you don’t hear what she says, the sound of her unintelligible voice only registering as a pleasant buzz in your ears.

robin’s laughter slowly fades as she raises her eyes to meet yours, and it doesn’t take her long to notice the proximity as she scans your features admiringly. she also doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches slightly when her eyes flicker down to your mouth and back to your eyes again.

your lips part in surprise when she gently grabs onto your wrist and starts to lean towards you, her breath fanning across your face. your heart thumps against your rib cage as she leans closer and closer, ghosting over your lips with her own…

then, a knock.

or, more accurately, a series of loud bangs that makes you gasp and jump about a foot in the air.

“y/n, robin, dinner!” dustin shouts through the door.

you close your eyes, taking a deep breath to calm your racing pulse. “be right there.”

you listen as his footsteps recede before standing up and heading to the door, muttering, “little shit always has the worst timing.” (it was true; you vividly remember the time he’d walked in on you making out with one of the cheerleaders in the sports equipment closet, and, knowing him, he’s never going to let you live it down.)

when you reach your bedroom door, you hesitate to open it, casting an apologetic glance over your shoulder at a disappointed-looking robin. she offers a small smile as she gets up to follow you, chewing her lip as she hopes and prays to whatever higher power there might be that your friendship isn’t ruined forever.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

part 2 maybe coming soon👀

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things #henderson!reader #dustin henderson x sister!reader #friends to lovers #stranger things season 4 #st4 #spencer writes

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alotofpockets · 2 years

Text

Not by choice | Kate Bishop

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Reader

Summary: You grew up in the Tracksuit Mafia, because your parents joined when you were just a baby, realising quickly that this was not the life you wanted to live. Only you weren't able to leave. Going to school was your way of getting to be the person you wanted to be. That's where you met Kate. What will happen when the Tracksuits bring in your girlfriend for suspecting she's Ronin and she sees you there? (full request)

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, kidnapping, mention of murder, mention of guns.

masterlist | requests: open | taglist | words: 1600

People say New York is an amazing place to be, for you however that was different. Being born into a crime family meant that you had to join whatever group your parents decided to join. Most of your life you had been a part of the Tracksuit Mafia, a crime syndicate that operates in New York City. Anything from robberies and money-laundering to murder.

You realised quickly that you wanted no part of this life, but ties bind you to the organization through your parents. So, when getting out wasn’t an option, you convinced your parents to let you work mostly behind the scenes. You picked up the financing and tracked all the in- and outcomes, whether that was money or supplies. Which got you the nickname of Overwatch. Of course, you rather also wouldn’t be doing that, especially not from the age of twelve, but you had no other choice.

Luckily they did let you go to school. A place where you could live your own life, a place where no one knew you were part of a gang, and no one was going to know. It was just you with a fake life you created to not stand out. It took a bit for you to make friends when you were younger, because it was all so new to you, there weren’t many kids with the Tracksuit Mafia besides Maya and Kazi. They were both a bit older than you and had already established a friendship before you were even born, leaving you on the outside. Not that you minded much, they were both convinced that this was the right way to live their lives, agreeing with their parents.

But once you got to college you had your fake life all figured out, making it a lot easier to be friends with people without having to worry about accidentally outing your actual backstory. After your first year of college, you met Kate Bishop. She was the captain of the archery and fencing team and could talk for hours on end about absolutely anything.

About two years have passed since meeting Kate, the two of you have been dating for the past month. You know you need to tell her about your actual life at some point. Some point soon. But how do you tell the girl you like you’re a part of a mafia group ruling the city? Yeah, there wasn’t really any good way to do it, so you decided to wait for the right moment to arrive.

The Tracksuits have been on a mission to take down Ronin ever since Ronin tracked down some of the higher up members and murdered them all, including William Lopez. Maya’s dad, she took it hard, but quickly decided to fall into his role of commander. She organized a search party for Ronin and gave everyone the mission to bring the Ronin back alive, she wanted the honor to kill him to herself as a way to avenge her dad.

After a news report of Ronin saving a dog from getting hit by a car, they finally had their eyes on the Ronin. Within a couple of hours, they not only have the Ronin in their possession, but also Clint Barton, better known as Hawkeye. They asked you to come in since Hawkeye was saying that the girl who called herself Lady Hawk just happened to wear the Ronin suit and that she was not Ronin.

When you rounded the corner your jaw dropped. The girl that went by Lady Hawk was none other than Kate Bishop. Why had they needed you to come to the front this time? This was not the right moment whatsoever. Also, Kate was Lady Hawk? You had seen Lady Hawk on the news a few times, but they were never very clear images.

Kate seems to be just as shocked to see you here as you are to see her. “You’re with the Tracksuit Mafia?” She asks fully of shock. “Not by choice.” You say, “I’ll explain later.” You turn around to Maya. “Let them go.” You start signing and talking at the same time. “They’re not Ronin. Kate is my girlfriend and Clint, well you know that he is Hawkeye.” She shakes her head and signs back, “Then how do you explain the Ronin suit.” Kazi joined in your conversation, “Well they did say she took it from a box at the auction and didn’t know anything else about it before putting it on. Maybe she’s telling the truth?” Clint cuts in, “Of course, we are telling the truth. Why would we lie when you’re all pointing guns to our heads?”

You look around and see everyone has drawn their weapons at them, “Everyone put your weapons down!” You order. “You think you still have a right to order us to do anything after all the times you’ve disagreed with our methods?” Ivan snaps back at you. “Okay fine, then just let me talk to them alone. You can leave a guard at the door or something if you don’t trust me.” With that they surprisingly agree.

“You better have a really good explanation for not being here by choice. How could you not tell me you work for them or with them or whatever?” Clint stays silent, letting Kate handle this situation. You move closer grabbing a pocketknife from your back pocket. “Can I cut you both lose before I explain?” They both nod. Once you’ve cut them lose you start explaining.

“My parents are criminals. They joined the Tracksuit Mafia when I was just a baby, I’ve never had a choice whether I wanted to be here or not. Like Ivan said, I have outed my opinions on the fact that what they’re doing here is wrong many of times. I have asked to get out of this life since I was about ten years old but there is just no way out of here.” You explain with a sad expression visible on your face. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I know I had to, but I just couldn't find the right way to do so. And I know everything might be messed up between us now. But I just need you to know that everything between us was real. The only thing I have lied about is some parts of my past, which I know is bad. But I never wanted this life. I’m sorry. I’ll get the two of you out of here as soon as possible.”

The first thing Kate says is, “Can I have a moment with Clint?” You nod and step away from them. You know you might have just lost the best person you’ve ever known. There was no way she would still want to be your friend now, let alone your girlfriend. After a couple of minutes Kate calls you back over. “Promise me that what you just told us is the truth.” She says. “I promise it is.”

“Okay, I believe you. Clint and I are going to get you out of here.” You had not expected her to say anything in this direction. Clint notices a scared look in your eyes. “We can keep you safe, I promise. You can stay at the Avenger Compound, no one from the outside will be able to come in, not even these guys. But it’s up to you, what do you say?”

If they trust you enough to open up the Avenger compound to you, you should be able to trust them too, right? Plus, your girlfriend was friends with Avenger, it had to be safe. Safer than here at least. So, you respond with, “If we head to the south wall, we should only have to fight off the two guards at the north side. We’ll have to head a bit further into the facility, but there’s a door leading outside at the end of the second hallway.”

Kate and Clint share a look, after which they both nod. “You two go, I’ll cover you.” Clint says. Kate grabs your hand and pulls you towards the south wall like you said. Once you open the door, the guards turn around and notice you and Kate leaving. They storm towards you but are haltered by Clint. “Go!” Clint yells to you. You lead Kate to the hallway with the backdoor and both started running towards it.

You’ve barely set two steps outside when you hear the window on the side of the building break. Clint emerges from it and shoots a smoke arrow inside the building. He joins you and the three of you start running until Clint notices a metro stop, you head inside and take the first metro that arrives. “So, you’re a superhero now?” You ask Kate once you’re sitting in the metro. She smiles, “Yeah, and I worked on a mission with Hawkeye!”

You start thinking, her getting you out of the Tracksuit Mafia didn’t mean she forgives you for not telling her about it. Kate notices your mind is somewhere else and places a hand on your leg. “Y/n, when we get back to the compound, let catch each other up to speed okay? You tell me about your past and I will tell you about the past couple of months with becoming Lady Hawk. We both weren’t fully truthful to each other and that might affect our relationship, but I want to be ahead of that and get everything out in the open now.” You smile, it’s like she could read your mind. “That sounds perfect.”

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Kate taglist: @kacka84

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