#I'm fuckin perplexed
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Honestly I’m just speechless 😭
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i beat the 999 trilogy
#that was fine#i enjoyed ztd a lot#i cant pretend like imlike superbly jazzed about any of them#i wouldn't recommend them to anyone just cuz i dont think they're worth 60 hours of my time#but i did enjoy them?#i'm perplexed to be this neutral to a game tbh#all that i have taken away is junpei's va (evan smith?) goes HARD and i wanna hear him again#but i'm pretty sure besides junpei the major roles he does are fuckin monster high characters lmao#oh well time to watch monster high movies
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gordon ramsey: and this... flayed corpse of a dead god...? [gives a perplexed look]
underpaid waitress: oh yeah that's really popular actually!
gordon ramsey: oh really? then I'll have one and... the ribeye steak and minestrone soup.
underpaid waitress: coming right up!
owner: fuck. we're so fucked he ordered the flayed god.
[cut to gordon poking at the stigmata of the silently screaming skinless diety cadaver on his plate with a spoon]
gordon ramsey: Soggy, greasy. God really is dead if this place is serving shit like this.
underpaid waitress: everything okay?
gordon ramsey: is this fresh...?
waitress, holding back laughter: oh, no no no. it comes in frozen and we thaw it in the microwave.
gordon ramsay: microwaved... disgusting. and what's this sauce?
underpaid waitress: the blood of the sinners.
gordon ramsay: t-the blood of the sinners on the corpse of a flayed god?? doesn't sound very... traditional.
underpaid waitress, smirking and shaking her head: nope!
gordon ramsay: take this back to the kitchen, I'm done.
underpaid waitress: he didn't like the flayed god.
line cook from new jersey who is also the owner's brother: waddayamean! I made it perfect. Cooked ta fuckin... fuckin perfection! have I eva burnt anythin' heea... oh im gonna go give him a peesa my mind!!!
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↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴
☒ Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six
☒ Summary: "Alastor said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel looked puzzled. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?"
☒ Warnings: fem!reader she/her pronouns used, hurt with no comfort sorry, tons of confusion for alastor and the reader, one kiss, very suggestive language (its from angel- are we surprised?), slight self harming (alastor), blood, tears, arguing, desprate!alastor, toxic themes, split pov (second devider is when alastor's pov starts!)
☒ Word Count: 2,653
"You- WHAT?"
Angel shot up from his spot on your bed. His eyes widened, eyebrows knitting in perplexity.
"I know- I know! It's bad... but I wasn't thinking clearly!" You slumped under Angel's judgemental gaze, pulling your knees up to your chest from where you sat on your bed.
"Toots, there is no way his pussy eating skills are good enough to fuck you that dumb!" You averted your gaze. Heat rose to your cheeks from Angel's crass words.
"Oh, but they are..." You mumbled before you felt two of Angel's hands grip your shoulders, shaking you out of frustration.
"Did you really have to pick an absolute psychopath to be the one to pop your cherry? Toots, you're gorgeous. You could have anyone you want!" You were flustered beyond comprehension as Angel stopped shaking you. Opting to glare at your heated face instead.
"We didn't go all the way! Plus he's the one who's been pursuing me all this time- I didn't get it at first, and I still don't. But-" Your expression morphed into one of contemplation. Angel's jaw went slack as he impatiently awaited your next words. "But what?! Spit it out!"
"He said we've met before. In the living world. But I seriously don't ever remember meeting him." Angel nudged you to the side before slotting himself atop your bed once more. "Soo... what do you remember from your life?"
You froze.
Angel's inquiry filled your mind with more questions than answers.
"I... not much," You paused, turning to face Angel before you continued. "The earliest memory I have is waking up in a hospital bed after surviving a blow to the head from some hunting accident."
You closed your eyes, wracking your brain for every last detail you could remember; no matter how small. "I ended up falling into a coma only days after that mishap. The next thing I know, I'm in fucking hell." You chucked bitterly. Angel let out a laugh of his own.
"No offense, babe, but that has to be one of the saddest fuckin' things I've ever heard," Angel outstretched his legs, overlapping them atop yours. "That accident, what else can you remember about it? Maybe that's the ticket!"
Your eyes shot open from Angel's question. "Wait... before I fell into a coma, there was this nurse- she told me that I was led into the woods by a dangerous fellow," You paused, eyes scanning Angel's wildly as he perched himself forward. Literally hanging on the edge of his seat from your musings.
"She told me the gunshot wound saved my life, fucking ironic now because It ended up killing me anyway. She also said that... the man who took me into the woods was a serial killer who had been on the run for decades. He ended up getting shot in the head that night, also. Except he died instantly..."
Angel was hanging on to every word you uttered. He could see the pieces falling into place from your look of awe. "What was the man's name, toots? What was it?!" Angel shouted a little louder than he intended. You jolted back from his outburst, taking in a shaky breath. You replayed that memory with the nurse over and over again.
She had to have said it at some point.
Come on! Think, think- think!
“Turns out the man you were out in those woods with was a wanted serial killer. That 𝘈⃒̅𝘭⃒̅𝘢⃒̅𝘴⃒̅𝘵⃒̅𝘰⃒̅𝘳⃒̅ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The papers say he was good at steering clear of the cops for all these years. The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer.”
"His target was a nearby deer."
A deer...
Again.
Retrace.
"That ɹ̸o̸ʇ̸s̸ɐ̸ʅ̸Ɐ̸ fellow was an active murderer for decades! The hunter wasn’t even aiming for you both. His target was a nearby deer."
Fuck- it was just out of reach.
One more time, one more fucking time.
Think carefully.
"The hunter wasn’t even aiming for That A͊l͖a̪sto̶̸̅r̷̦͍ fellow. His target was a nearby deer."
You gasped sharply, startling Angel. You felt your heart sink into your stomach as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place.
"Alastor... his name was Alastor."
Your voice was distant as you spaced out. Angel's face blurred out of focus through your line of sight.
"You've got to be fuckin' kidding me. That freak was going to kill you when you were still alive-? And now... you belong to him? Shit- toots! This is rough... and not the good kind of rough."
Alastor sat at the piano. Staring at the keys with that ever-present smile— but not daring to strike a tune.
You’ve been avoiding him again.
What was it going to take for you to realize that he was your fiancé on earth?
Sure, his features were more creature than man, but at the end of the day; Alastor was still the same man you fell in love with.
Maybe he should have held off from his… desires.
Could you blame him, though? He’s been waiting nearly a century to be reunited with his beloved.
You’re the person he thought about for all these lonely years in hell. The only solace for Alastor was the notion that you survived, lived a long happy life, and inevitably made it to the pearly gates.
So imagine his despair when you showed up at the Hazbin Hotel, looking to be redeemed.
Alastor recognized you immediately. He could spot that grin of yours in a crowd of billions.
Smile at the world, and she smiles back at you.
But— you didn’t even spare him the time of day. Alastor gave you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you just needed some time to reignite your memory.
And so, he gave you time. You’ll come around, Alastor thought.
But he couldn’t have been more wrong, as much as he hated to admit it.
He grew impatient— losing all of his resolve when you admitted to his voice reminding you of home.
Alastor presumed maybe a passionate encounter would jumpstart your adoration for him. You had never breached that level of intimacy when you both were alive. You were adamant about waiting until marriage, but those dreams never came true.
Yet even still, it was not enough.
Was he really that forgettable to you?
Suddenly, a knock on his door pulled him from his stupor. Alastor quickly cleared his throat, straightening his bowtie and taking steps toward his door.
The second he swung the door open, he was met by the person who invaded his every thought; you.
“What a pleasant surprise! Come in, my dearest.” Alastor piped up, stepping aside to let you into his safe haven.
Your face was devoid of any vibrancy, and your eyes frantically avoided his. Alastor watched you closely as you hesitantly stepped past the threshold of his space.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor hummed as he shut the door before turning on his heel to face you.
You rubbed at the sleeve of your dress nervously. Alastor’s mind instantly flashed the memory of your first meeting.
The sight of you soothing yourself with a gentle caress to your bicep. Clammy hands seeping perspiration through that gorgeous vermilion dress of yours.
“I-I remember you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Legs trembling from where you stood before him.
Your words caused Alastor’s heart to race wildly.
At long last— you remember him!
“I knew you would, my smart girl! Ah- you have no clue how elated I am to finally hear those words leave your lips!” He invaded your personal space without missing a beat.
Alastor’s eyebrows knitted in confusion as you dodged his hand— that had full intention of clasping around your cheek.
“Don’t… don’t touch me.” Your voice was shrill as you took a step back from him.
Alastor took one step forward.
“My darling, why are you being so cold? You know how much I loathe teasing.” Alastor forced out a chuckle as you took two steps back.
Alastor took three steps forward this time.
“You’re sick! You’re the one who’s been teasing me all this time— how dare you?!” You spat, raising your hands to push him away, but to no avail.
Alastor grasped your wrists with his large palms. He gazed down at you with a frenzied look, grip tightening scarcely around your wrists. “Darling… this isn’t funny anymore.” His voice was low, and the corners of his lips twitched in irritation.
“It never was funny to begin with! I mean, how could you try to kill me on earth and then think it’s okay to fool around with me in hell?!” You glared up at him, tears of frustration now rolling down your cheeks.
Alastor’s grip loosened from your words. He was utterly astonished. "You think I... tried to kill you?" His voice was quiet, crimson orbs frantically searching yours.
You grimaced at him, rolling your eyes before you shouted, "You led me out into the woods, and the next thing I know, I'm in the hospital with a gunshot wound to the head and no memories before waking up in a stiff hospital bed! Everything I know about you and the accident was spoon-fed to me by some crappy nurse!"
Alastor's smile dropped. He wasn't even aware of the frown that crossed his features. The only giveaway was the absence of that standard achy feeling in his cheeks from holding an everlasting grin. "Darling, I-I'm not following... you mean to tell me you... don't remember your life before that mishap?"
You looked puzzled by Alastor's uncharacteristic display of distress. His hands slipped from your wrists as he wobbled backward. "Yeah, and It's your fault! If you didn't haul me out into those woods to kill me, I would still remember who I was! And my whole life before all this bullshit!"
You took a step forward.
"I would remember my family, my career, if I even fucking had one! I would remember my joyful memories, my painful ones, and— and- maybe I would remember somebody who actually loved me!" You furiously glared up at him. Pointing your index finger into his chest in an accusatory fashion.
Alastor snapped at your last words.
Somebody who actually loved you?
It was him.
It was always him.
Was his love for you really that immemorable?
"You truly aren't joking... you... don't remember me." Alastor felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. You were the last thing keeping it intact. All that he felt in his chest now was your blunt fingernail piercing his skin from where you jabbed him.
"I just told you I do! What the fuck are you talking about?!" Alastor could tell your patience was wearing thin. You were probably just as confused as he was but for all the wrong reasons.
Alastor's arms fell limp against his sides. Yet his fists were balled up so tightly that he could hear the pitter-patter of his blood spilling onto the carpet from how deeply his nails sunk into the flesh of his palm.
You weren't ever going to believe the truth, but Alastor still needed to try.
"My dearest... that is not how we met. And my intentions were not and never will be to end your life." Alastor paused, taking in a shaky breath before continuing.
"You're frustrated about not remembering somebody that loved you, yes? As am I..." You tilted your head in confusion. Finally pulling your finger away from his wounded chest. "What the fuck are you trying to say, Alastor?" Your voice was laced with annoyance, and your scowl was unwavering.
"Darling, that somebody that loved you was me-and still is. It will always be me," Alastor paused, hands now finding purchase on your shoulders. "That accident should have never happened! We were scheduled to be wed at the courthouse later that evening... but... we never... made it..."
Why were his cheeks burning unbearably so?
And why was your countenance blurring before his very eyes?
Alastor's grip on your shoulders was unwavering, but his hands now trembled. Your expression was one of perplexity as you shook your head incredulously. "I loved you in life and now in death. I've loved you all this time, my sweet girl. Nothing will ever change that! Please, I beg of you- you must believe me!"
The definitive radio static crackle to his voice was nowhere to be found. Instead, his voice was laced with desperation. You looked disoriented through his blurry gaze as you took a weary step back.
Alastor felt wetness trickle down his burning cheeks.
Oh, he was... crying?
The last time he wept was when he first arrived in this grim place otherwise known as Hell. The realization that he left you on earth all alone tore him up. Alastor was inconsolable for years.
You truly knew how to put him together just to rip him apart all over again, huh?
There is no undoing grander than love itself.
"I-I don't believe you..." Your voice was just above a whisper as you slipped out of his grasp and approached the doorway. You turned your back on him, literally and metaphorically.
Alastor didn't miss a beat. He rushed to you, large palm slamming flat against the wooden door. "We worked at the same radio station! Your bitch of a friend Elaine and her parents took you in after your pill-addict parents abandoned you on your eleventh birthday!"
You let out a sharp gasp as he hovered over you. Alastor couldn't read your expression, with your face practically pressing into the wooden door. All he could see was the top of your head as he pushed his chest into your rigid back. His arm was outstretched, keeping the door shut and caging you in entirely.
"It was love at first sight for me! We went dancing for our first date. Did you truly fail to notice how effortlessly we moved along the dancefloor at Charlie's last gathering? It's because deep down, your body remembers every dance we ever shared,"
Alastor flipped you over faster than you could process. Your back was now flush against the sturdy door, his arm still caging you in. He peered down at you as his thumb and index finger from his non-dominant hand grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Every lingering touch..."
He felt you tremble beneath his intense stare from how his chest now squashed against yours. Alastor's face dipped lower, invading your personal space. He brushed the tip of his nose against yours, breath fanning over your tear-stained cheeks.
"And every kiss..."
Alastor observed you desperately as he pressed his lips against yours. He poured all his love into the shared embrace, hoping it would jumpstart your memory. But instead, you just shoved him away harshly, breaking away from his embrace. Alastor felt his world crumble around him as you wiped his kiss away with the back of your hand.
"You're fucking crazier than I thought!" With Alastor still reeling from the rejection, you took your leave. The sound of the door slamming thundered through his head.
Alastor sunk to his knees. His hands came up to tug at his messy tufts of hair. Allowing the tears to flow freely now that he was completely alone.
Alastor did not think you were capable of hurting him until now.
Alastor yanked at his locks furiously as his cheeks burned brightly in frustration. His knees quivered as his forehead kissed the carpet that was stained with his blood from earlier—when he unintentionally ripped up his palms. Alastor curled in on himself as he wept.
This pain was worse than any other.
But more than anything, his love for you only burned brighter.
As did his determination to have you remember him and the pleasant life you both shared before all was lost.
tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86 @saccharine-nectarine @c-thegingergirl @tsunaki @geminixbunny @softangxlicss @alleystore @sirens-and-moonflowers @fairyv-ice @honey132 @alastorsaries @zenix108 @michi-keinz @fokrilove @yourdoorisunlocked @willowshadenox @izakyun @fangirlbitch02 @kyana-chan @aquariaries @sincerely-lorely @maxlynn17 @ivebeenthearchersstuff
#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#alastor smut#alastor x you#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel x y/n#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x y/n#alastor angst#alastor fluff#hazbin hotel angst#hazbin hotel fluff
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I'm the powder, you’re the fuse
SUMMARY: Soap finds out that his girlfriend is a skilled mercenary. And that he likes it... a lot.
PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader
TAGS: Established relationship, Badass!Reader, Smitten!Soap.
WARNINGS: Canon violence, mention of: blood, death, kidnapping/hostage taking, torture, weapons, suggestive content (Soap is Horny), military inaccuracies, swearing.
WORD COUNT: 1.9k
A/N: yes I am still writing the civilian fic with Ghost and Soap... but then I had this idea and thought I could finish it ""quickly"". Written on mobile so if there are mistakes feel free to tell me!!
Soap let out a yawn big enough to dislocate his jaw, staring at his captain with mild resentment.
“This couldn’t hae waited til after breakfast, sir?”
“‘Fraid It could not, John. Actually in just a few minutes you'll be barking at me to know why we haven't gotten a move on already.”
Johnny looked back at his superior with perplexity, before glancing over at his teammates around the table, hoping for a scrap of information. Ghost remained imperturbable while Gaz shrugged.
“We received this video thirty minutes ago. Addressed to a certain Sergeant MacTavish.”
His captain turned on the projector and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. It was his teammates’ turn to glance at him questioningly, and to him to shrug with ignorance.
The Scottish soldier rubbed his face in an attempt to get rid of his lasting drowsiness as the video projected on the white screen facing them was starting.
A group of armed men in balaclavas were occupying a room. The one in the front spouted the classic ransom demand in exchange for a hostage. Nothing worth being summoned at the crack of dawn for.
Then the spokesman moved aside, revealing their detainee, bound to a chair and gagged, shooting daggers at her captors, and Soap almost knocked over the table with how brutally he stood up. Carried away by white-hot fury, he slammed his hands on the table.
“Fuckin’ - what the fuck is this!? When did this happen? Where are those fucking bastards? I -”
Rage had roughened his usually smooth voice, granting it a gravelly pitch, turning his shout into a growl.
“Control yourself, Sergeant”, interrupted Price, “It's not over yet.”
On the screen, the same man as before grabbed your hair, ignoring your murderous glare, forcing you to look at the camera, and coaxed you with disdain before taking off your gag:
“Come on doll, gonna have to beg real pretty for your man to get him to rescue you.”
The second your mouth was freed, you snarled at him, baring your teeth like you were about to bite.
“I'm gonna rip your throat out with my bare hands, you f-”
“Fuck, someone muzzle that rabid bitch”, swore your agressor, your belligerence clearly having thrown a wrench in his plans.
Soap could not help the flare of pride soaring in his chest at the view of your defiance and your grit.
After receiving their orders, the team left the room to prepare themselves for the assault.
“A friend of yours?” asked Gaz, while Ghost questioned “Ya know her?”
“That's mah girl”, admitted the Scotsman, a bit sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away. The cat was out of the bag. For your own sake, you had been a well-kept secret, but it was blatant that it didn’t protect you.
“Been together for a year. Never meant to drag her into this, though.”
“She sounds like a bloody riot, mate.” teased Garrick.
“She doesn't seem fazed to be taken hostage. Mainly pissed.” pointed out Ghost, wary.
“She's fearless.” admitted Soap with an enamored little smile. “Doesn't mean we don’t have to get her out of this though.”
His expression shifted from fondness to cold determination.
“‘F course.”
“We've got your back.”
“Gaz? You copy?” called Ghost over coms.
The afornamed was tasked with overwatch. His response arrived, marked by hesitation.
“... I don't think she needs our help, guys.”
“The fuck s’that supposed to mean?” grumbled the Lieutenant.
“It'd be better if you'd see for yourselves. Third window on the right, second floor.”
Ghost took out a pair of binoculars and pointed them at the given position.
“Fooking hell…”
The expletive was mumbled with a mix of surprise and… awe?
“What? What! Lemme see L.T.!” pleaded Soap.
Ghost quickly passed him the tool, eager to make him shut up. The sergeant hastened to shove them against his face. His gaze took in the sight in front of him and he let out an appreciative whistle.
“Steamin’ jesus…”
He drank in the view that was your bloody display of fierce skill and deadly efficiency. You staggered between the enemies with fluidity, making them seem like clumsy amateurs. Slicing a throat there, shooting a head here, he watched with fascination as you used a dead attacker as a human shield.
“I think I'm hard.”
“TMI, Soap.”
Gaz coupled his comment with a gagging noise.
“Can ye blame me! Mah lass is oot there bein’ a bonafide badass ‘n’ that's the hottest shit a've ever seen.”
“M not blaming you for being a horny bastard, I'm blaming you for not keeping it to yourself.”
“If you two are done bickering, we could go pick her up.” groaned Ghost.
Letting Garrick past, he grabbed Soap by the shoulder as he was walking by him.
“You knew?”
“Knew what?”
“That you were going out with a killer.”
“Nae, but it turned out to be a good thing, didn’t it? Cannae imagine how badly this would have ended with a civilian. The wounds, the trauma…”
Ghost let out one of his grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.”
Positioning themselves near that final entrance, Soap nodded in response to Ghost's hand signal, waiting for him to break the door down. They were still on their gard in case some of the assailants survived.
In the ensuing silence, your voice reached his ears through the wall he was propped against.
“Come on doll”, you taunted, imitating your captor's scornful tone from earlier, sickly sweet then venomous. “Tell me who you work for and I won't gouge out your remaining eye.”
Johnny gulped. Eavesdropping on this definitely did not help with the… situation in his pants.
The racket produced by Ghost dealing with the door had the merit to make him focus once again.
His body moving automatically, his training taking over, Soap charged into the room, pointing his rifle at the only person left standing there. Like a reflection of himself, you were aiming your own firearm at him. Your eyebrows were frowned in concentration, your eyes glinting with cold determination. Then recognition dawned on your face, and you heaved a sigh of relief, lowering your weapon.
“It's you! You scared the shit out of me.”
Relief flooded through him at the sight of you, bruised, battered, and blood-spattered, but alive. He tossed his gun aside as you put down yours, ready to embrace you, but Ghost's voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Back off, Soap.”
An order. Johnny stared at him in shock.
“What the hell, L.T.?”, he hissed in his direction.
You docilely raised your hands in the air as the masked man lined up the end of his gun's barrel with your head.
“Worst rescue party ever”, you mumbled to yourself.
“Sorry, Johnny”, grumbled Skullface, not sounding sorry in the slightest, never taking his eyes off you. “But do your usual conquests take down a dozen armed men on their own?”
Illustrating his words, he gestured with his rifle to the ground littered with corpses. The man you had started to interrogate - the only one left alive - whined in pain.
“So what's your deal? Ya a mole? Shagging Johnny for intel?”
“Ghost!” Soap gasped, offended for himself as much as for you. “M not some clueless newbie!”
You made a face at the question. You understood where he was coming from, hell you’d do the same if the roles were reversed, but that didn’t mean you enjoyed sharing details of your sordid past, especially with a stranger. The less people knew about it, the better.
“I used to be a mercenary for a family who did organized crime. Been clean for years though.”
“Oh yeah? They let you leave just like that?”
“The boss’ daughter had a soft spot for me.”
The lieutenant stared at you for a few more seconds, as if judging the veracity of your statements through sight alone, before lowering his weapon.
A resounding “Bonnie!” rang out. Next thing you knew, your boyfriend's muscular arms closed around you, causing you to yelp, pain running through you at the overeager contact. Soap cursed and apologized profusely.
“Bloody hell, a'm sorry, didnae mean tae hurt ye. Are ye alright? Show me where it hurts. If those bastards leid a hand on ye, I swear-”
There was something both flattering and arousing with how the more Soap lost his cool, the more pronounced his accent became, and the rougher his voice sounded. You placed a finger across his mouth to put an end to his verbal onslaught, an endeared smile on your own.
“At ease, soldier. I'm OK, just some bruised ribs and a busted eyebrow.” you summarized while pointing to the trickle of dried blood on the side of your face.
He leaned his forehead against yours, a gesture that felt terribly intimate, an adoring grin adorning his lips.
“Cannae believe ye wiped out those sorry fuckers all on yer own. Fuck, that's hot.” he confessed in a subdued tone.
You threw your head back in laughter, only to wince when your sore ribs manifested themselves.
“Never heard that one before. Could get used to it, though.”
You laced your fingers behind his neck, nonchalantly leaning against him, not fighting back an impish smile. Soap's hands grabbed your hips in response. Your roguish expression must have gotten the better of his restraint, because one breath later, he was hungrily pressing his mouth against yours. You replied in kind, swiftly deciding you did not care for his colleagues’ presence, and he moaned in appreciation.
After a minute or two, you broke the kiss against your will, remembering an issue that needed to be solved. You smiled, amused by the vision that was Soap chasing your lips blindly, then pouting when you refused him.
“So you guys are gonna take care of the bodies, right…? I can deal with one or two, but this is a bit much.”
The last soldier, the one you didn’t hear from yet, a pretty man with dark skin that Soap would later introduce as Gaz, assured you that they would handle it.
Transferring your attention back to Johnny, you noticed a trace of guilt in those ocean eyes of his, as he was staring at you.
“Something wrong?”
“Ye not mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” you frowned.
“It's mah fault if those bastards took ye.”
“Oh, Johnny…” you sighed wistfully, cupping his face. “I knew what the risks were when I chose to date a soldier. Plus, there will always be a chance that my past catches up to me. I was pretty fucking mad when I got a hood shoved on my head and my arms twisted behind my back before getting hauled away in the middle of the fucking night, but not at you.”
Once they gathered all the intel they needed and dragged away the only survivor, the team and you left the building. Your testimony was required for the mission report, so you accompanied them without protest, longing for the care that would be provided by their medical facility.
As you were walking to their vehicule, hand in hand with Soap, you noted how he couldn’t take his eyes off you.
His cerulean eyes kept greedily roaming all over you, like you were a vision so dream-like it was making him doubt your reality, like you would vanish the second he stopped contemplating you.
“Yer one badass lass, y'know that? ‘M so proud o’ ye. Proud tae be yers.”
A/N: Ghost's "grunts that Johnny knew meant “I disagree but it's not worth debating you about it.” " is based on my grandma 💀
#mine#cod x reader#soap x reader#soap squad#john soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#cod mw3#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish#soap cod#soap mw2#cod fanfic#fanfiction#cod x you#johnny soap mctavish x you#john soap mctavish x you#cod fic#soap x you#call of duty x you#call of duty fanfic#writers on tumblr
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Choice
Summary: Simon forces you to choose. Him, your husband… or the other man he found in your bed.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
Word Count: ~2.6k
Warnings: ANGST
A/N: Forgive me.
“Simon!” you gasp, bolting upright in bed.
There, darkening the doorway to your bedroom, stands your beloved husband. You thought you'd spotted something lurking in the shadows of your periphery, but rather than it being a mere figment of your imagination like you'd hoped, you've come to find out that's not at all the case.
Simon’s brows are knitted tightly together, the lines framing the sides of mouth deepening as he begins to scowl. “Fuckin’ knew it,” he grits out. “Knew you were a fuckin’ liar.” His eyes flit back and forth between you and the figure lying beside you in bed, and if looks could kill, you'd both be six feet under.
“Simon, no, wait–!” You're quick to shoo the other male from your bed even as your husband storms away. Jumping to your feet, you chase after him, tugging your shirt into place from where it had ridden up. Simon’s just reached the living room when you manage to catch up with him. “Simon, please just–”
“When will enough be enough?” he cuts you short as he whirls around to confront you. You've never seen such anger rippling from him before, and it makes you recoil, stopping dead in your tracks. “When's it gonna end, huh? You promised me you were gonna fuckin’ stop this.”
“I-I-I know I did, Simon,” your voice trembles under the weight of your shame.
He's right. After the last time, you’d told him that was it, that it would never happen again.
So much for keeping your promise.
“I'm– I'm so sorry,” you try to offer him, for whatever it may be worth.
Apparently, it's worth very little as he proceeds to scoff right in your face.
“You’re ‘sorry’?” His expression pinches to show how he takes offense to that apology. “That’s three times this month I've caught you. Three. Let alone how many other times I'm sure have been behind my back.”
Again, he’s right on the target. You’ve been dishonest with your husband, been deceiving him more times than you can even remember at this point. Though you're in no place to feel as if you're the one that's been hurt in this situation, you can't help how his biting words feel like daggers plunging right into your stomach.
Simon sighs and brings a hand up to rub his forehead, the self-soothing gesture doing nothing to soften the lines creasing his skin. After a while, he asks, “Why?” his voice much calmer than it was a moment ago. “Why d’you keep doin’ this? Lyin’? Sneakin’ around?”
When he drops his hand to look at you again, you can see how quickly his emotions have shifted from fury to sorrow. The sight of his grief almost wrenches your heart in two, and you swallow the lump in your throat, your own emotions threatening to spill forth and choke you.
“I… I don't know,” you tell him, yet another lie.
You know the truth behind your actions, the real reason you can't break this bad habit. It's because you're selfish; because you're spineless; because you're fucking weak.
Your answer, the unconvincing slop that is, isn't good enough for Simon, and his shoulders rise in a show of perplexity. “Am I not treatin’ you right? I've been withholdin’ from you? Is that it?”
You're shaking your head before he even finishes the inquiry. “No, Simon. It's nothing like that,” you say.
“Well then, explain it to me.” He tosses a hand into the air, the frustration in his tone palpable. “Because I'm tryin’ to understand what makes him so bloody special. What is it about him that makes you treat me like a fuckin’ afterthought?”
“I don't–!” you begin, the accusation immediately putting you on the defense. But then you pause and intake a deep breath, trying to rein yourself back in. The last thing you want is to strike a match against this highly combustible conversation. If ignited, this powder keg runs the risk of taking you both out with it.
You take another moment to collect yourself before releasing an audible exhale. “Yes, he means a lot to me–”
“Oh, well, I'm bloody well aware of that, thank you.”
You ignore the derisive comment as you continue, “–but you're my husband, Simon. At the end of the day, I always want you,” you emphasize. You can feel a stitch forming between your brows as they slowly pull together. “I know you're upset with me – and I understand, truly – but I… I-I just…” your voice trails off as you consider your next words.
You know what you want to say, what niggling thought you want to express. But you're not sure if voicing it aloud is the right move to take. You're trying to cool down the tension here, not potentially add fuel to the fire.
But as Simon prompts, “What?” you realize there's no backing out of it now.
You sigh. “I just think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”
The way your husband's eyes immediately widen tell you it was probably better to have kept your mouth shut.
“Blowin’ thi–?!” Simon blinks wildly in disbelief, his anger from earlier surging back tenfold. His voice is venomous as he spits, “I catch you lyin’ to me, catch you continuously goin’ behind my back.” He points an accusatory finger in the direction of your bedroom. “I catch you with that filthy shite in our bed–”
“Hey, don't call–”
“–see him lyin’ there, sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow, and you think I'm ‘blowin’ this out of proportion’?!” he's fully shouting now, his volume having risen alongside his fury. Simon lets out a dry chuckle that's entirely devoid of humor. “Do you even hear yourself? Do my feelings mean nothin’ to you anymore? Do you– Do you even really love me?” his voice peaks as a wave of despair washes over him.
“Wha–?” Now it's your turn to blink wildly as you're caught off guard by that last sentence. “Of– Of course I do, Simon! Of course.” How can he even ask you such a thing?
“You just love him more, then, right?” The question stings like a punch to the gut.
You shake your head vehemently, asserting, “No. No, of course not!” even as you feel a twinge of guilt pricking the base of your skull.
Just as you're slightly skeptical of your own words, so too is Simon, and he brushes you off with a, “Pssh, right.”
The heightened emotions of the last several minutes persist even as you and your husband lapse into a tense silence.
As you stand there, you watch as Simon begins to harshly run both hands through his hair, not sure what you should say – if there's anything to say in this moment. Though you and he have had this same argument more times than you'd like to admit, something about this time felt different to you, felt like there were higher stakes in the mix. And as you reflect on the quarrel, you can't help how one line in particular sticks out in your mind. ‘You just love him more, then, right?’ he'd accused, bluntly, bitterly.
The idea is ridiculous to you, loving someone else more than your own husband. It sounds like something only a fool could believe.
But if that's the case, why did Simon say it so assuredly?
And why does the thought of it make your stomach clench like there could be some truth behind the claim?
After another few moments of him tugging at his roots, Simon releases a billowy breath. He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head to himself, before dropping his hands back down by his sides.
“I don't know how much longer I can keep this up,” his voice sounds as exhausted as his body looks. As he peels his lids open to once more lock with your gaze, you feel your own eyes narrowing in your confusion.
“What do you mean?” you ask, voice quiet, timid.
“I mean you need to choose,” he tells you. “Me or him.”
That statement has you balking, the cords that hinge your jaw shut practically snapping. “Si, you– you're not serious.” This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?
“I am.” He nods resolutely. “I can't keep doin’ this – goin’ back and forth with you, wonderin’ if you're really all here with me or not,” he says, frowning. “So you need to choose. Right now. Me… or him.”
It's like you've just witnessed your worst fears materialize before you. Simon, your loving husband, has just asked you to do something that was once completely inconceivable to you. He's asked you to make a world-altering choice: pick between him and someone else.
The decision should be easy – should be obvious – and yet, you find yourself frozen, unable to speak the words you know you should say.
Simon is your husband, the first and greatest love of your life. But this other man he's making you choose between is… well, he's something else to you entirely.
When you're having a rough day and feel like the world is collapsing in around you, he's the first one you want to run to when you need a shoulder to cry on. And conversely, when you're feeling on top of the world, feeling so high up you could reach out and touch the clouds, he's the one you want to call so you can share your joy.
From the moment you met him, you knew he was one of a kind. He's got a smile that could rival a thousand suns, a kiss that could warm the coldest of nights, and the way he looks at you – like you hold the entirety of his universe in the palm of your hand – you think it could keep your heart beating long after it's chosen to stop.
He's your best friend, your other half of a whole, your personal ray of sunshine that cuts through all the gloomy rain. Simon is your husband, yes, that’s true. But this other man is your soulmate, and you know that however long you both shall live, you will love each other until you take your final breaths.
Tears start to bead in your eyes as the answer to your predicament reveals itself to you. And as Simon eventually pushes, “Well? Who's it gonna be?” you know there's only one thing you can tell him.
“Him,” you mutter, feeling the first tear spill over. “H-Him, Simon. Him. I choose… him.”
It's like the planet ceases to spin for a moment as your choice floats in the air like a ghost. At first, you think Simon must assume you're bluffing, what with the way he has no immediate reaction to your response. But as the silence stretches between you and you've yet to renounce your decision, you watch as the realization hits him like a slug to the chest.
Simon's face falls, the color zapping from his skin, and as his eyes start to shine with tears, you find your cheeks flooding with your own.
Simon blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. His brow furrows like he wants to say something – to argue something – but when he opens his mouth to speak, no words escape. He closes his mouth for a second but then opens it again soon after, once more nothing leaving him but the sound of his breath.
Open then shut, open then shut, he repeats the cycle over and over again, never once managing to get a word out. Finally, after several minutes of waging an internal battle with himself, Simon eventually lets out a low sigh of defeat.
“Then go,” he mutters, gaze falling to the floor. “Just… Just go.”
Your own heart shatters at seeing the pain you've caused your husband. But you can't take back what you've said now, and even if you could, you both know it'd be a lie.
Thus, all you can offer him is a whispered, “I'm sorry.” Any louder and your voice would break from the strain of your cries.
The room falls quiet again as you both let everything sink in. Simon, your husband, the man you'd promised forever to, just put his heart on the line, practically flayed himself open for you… and you didn't choose him.
“I'm sorry,” you say again because you don't know what else there is to do.
Simon waves your apology off with a dismissive hand, still refusing to meet your eye.
Over the next few moments, you continue to sob softly, the sounds of your sniffles puncturing the otherwise quiet house. After a while, you feel the faucet behind your eyes gradually slow to a trickle, and you wipe your face with the back of your shaky hands, swallowing down the last of your tears.
You take another minute or so to compose yourself, still standing before your forlorn husband. Once you feel somewhat well again, you clear your throat, then tip your head back to let out a short, high whistle.
Almost immediately, you hear the telltale noise of feet moving against the hardwood floor. Then, not a beat later, you see the man you'd just chosen rounding the corner to the living room.
“Come here, pup-pup. Come here,” you encourage Riley, your fourteen month old shepherd-mix, forward.
Like the good boy he is, Riley trots closer at your beckoning. But before he reaches you, he makes a pitstop by Simon, shoving his cold, wet nose into the man's empty palm.
Riley gives him a couple boops to the hand, politely asking him for pets. And Simon, for his part, despite still being obviously disgruntled, obliges and gives him a brief, dispassionate rub to the snout.
Having received his desired scritches, Riley then continues over to you, and you crouch down so you can meet him at his level.
“You wanna go cuddle with me some more? Yeah? Do you?” you pitch your voice up in that babyish way Simon pretends to hate.
Riley, however, absolutely loves it, and his tail wags back and forth in a way that says he's all too eager to agree.
“Okay, let's go!” You wave him after you as you take off down the hall.
As you both walk back to the bedroom you'd been occupying earlier, you hear Simon speaking behind you, muttering angrily to himself.
“Mangy fuckin’ mutt. Knew he was gonna be trouble,” he murmurs as he makes up a spot for himself on the couch. “First he steals my bed, then he steals my cuddles, next he'll be stealin’ my fuckin’ car…” his voice peters out the further away you walk.
“Don't mind your daddy. He's just being grumpy as usual,” you stage whisper to Riley as you approach the door to your bedroom.
Letting yourself inside, Riley quickly follows after. You shut the door and then waltz over to the bed, patting the empty space beside you as you settle in.
Swiftly, Riley jumps up to join you, taking the side normally reserved for your husband. He moseys all the way up the mattress until he reaches Simon's pillow, where he proceeds to lay down.
You roll onto your side and start to pet him, scratching that spot behind his ears you know he loves. As you do, you see that infectious smile of his slowly take shape, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as his eyes drift closed.
The sight of him so content makes your own lips upturn into a smile. He is so sweet, so perfectly innocent, that it makes your heart want to burst inside your chest.
And as you continue to cuddle Riley, making little kissy noises in his ear, you know you made the right choice as you grin and ask him, “Who's my favorite boy?”
__________
A/N: April Fools! Hope I didn't break your heart too much lmao!
As always, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley angst#ghost cod#ghost mw2#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2
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Skin Don't Matter To Me
Quick a/n before the fic gets started; I am SO SO SORRY to those who were upset/uncomfortable/angry that I made the original billy x black!reader a former slave!reader. I didn't think. I shouldn't have been up at 1am writing. It was horrid and a terrible decision on my end. Forgive me or not, is entirely up to you. Ty to the anons who called me out for it and made me realize it was wrong to do that, biracial or not. I hope you can forgive me 🫂
Tw/CW: insecurities, anxiety, racism is brought up (not comments, just behavior).
Summary: Reader gets insecure about her relationship with Billy after seeing some girls flirt with him.
It was a chill Saturday evening in the saloon as patrons drank, played poker, and chatted absent-mindly. It was an easy night, for sure, aside from a few drunken snide comments made towards reader, but she shrugged them off. After all, she wasn't getting paid to fight the customers.
As she hummed and wiped down the bar, which was currently empty, she stopped midway to wipe some sweat off her face—reader loves her afro, and has no problems pulling it back so she didn't sweat to death while she worked, but some nights it was just too hot and having so many people out and about the saloon was making it harder to deal with.
Her dark skin shone in sweat as she worked but didn't complain. She had to make a livin' somehow, and she wasn't gonna do that by moanin' and groanin'.
As she resumed her work, she flashed a smile towards her boyfriend as he played poker. He was in his favorite seat, watching her work as he placed his bets and ignored the other girls hitting on him and trying to get his attention. He was technically working as well—he and his boys were security for the saloon because some of the customers were still quite horrid to the folks of color who worked, especially the women. They'd try to threaten y/n but were often silenced or kicked out by Billy and his men.
Y/n and Billy had been dating for 2 years, despite the ups and downs of him being a cowboy and the racism she'd face for being a black woman.
As she worked, still humming, she caught sight of some white girls being all touchy and whispering things in his ear. She bit her tongue as to not cause a scene and focused on continuing to grab glasses and wipe down tables.
'He'd never leave me. He's said that,' She thought to herself as a reminder that Billy would never leave her for some white girl. She was his, and he was hers. Yet, despite the constant love and affection he would give her, she still got that nagging fear that he would leave her.
A few hours later, Y/n's shift had ended and the couple were headed back home to the ranch that they bought with their savings over the course of their relationship. Y/n was silent the whole way home, which made Billy worry that he did something wrong.
"Darlin' did I do somethin' wrong?" He asked, setting his hat on a hook by the door as he shut the door behind him.
A lump formed in her throat and she sighed, knowing he'd keep asking if she said nothing.
"It wasn't you, Billy it... it's just my fears," She answered, trying to dismiss her fears.
"Well, what's wrong? It won't go away unless you talk to me."
Damn his smooth and relaxing tone- she didn't want to talk about it, afraid it would turn into an argument about his loyalties but he was so understanding that she knew she she couldn't hide it from him.
"Those... those damn whores that keep touchin' on you like you're not taken," She told him, sighing. "I know it's probably stupid or somethin-"
"Oh thank the Lord, I was hoping you'd bring this up," He breathed out, letting out a relaxed laugh and earning a perplexed look from y/n.
"...What?"
"I've been wanting to tell you about that. I never wanted to stress you out, but I hate, and I mean absolutely fuckin' hate when they do that. It gets so annoyin', I tell them I'm taken and to back off, but do they listen? No." As Billy continued to ramble about how he hated the other women touching and talking to him like he wasn't a taken man, she smiled.
He was so vocal about how much he hated it when they touched and flirted with him that it eased her worried soul and she hugged him tightly.
Fucking hell, she loves this man so much.
#billy the kid#billy the kid smut#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid x you#coriolanus smut#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coryo smut#coryo snow#tom blyth x reader#billy the kid x black!reader#billy the kid x reader smut#billy the kid x oc#billy the kid x oc eventual smut#tom blyth angst#tom blyth x reader smut#tom blyth x oc#tom blyth x you#tom blyth#coryo x reader smut#coryo x reader#coryolanus snow#coriolanus x you#billy the kid tv drama#tom blyth as billy the kid#billy the kid angst#billy the kid fluff#billy mccarty#billy antrim#william h bonney
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pussydrunk!Yuuji knew you had somethin special between your legs, even before you gave him a sample: He flirts with you endlessly, showing his interest in you any time he gets a chance. 'Fuck, y/n, have mercy...' Yuuji thinks when he finds you on your lavender loveseat beautiful brown legs spread, intently reading the magazine you're holdin up to your nose. The shape of your pussy in your tiny panties makes his mouth water; his dick rising so fast he gets a bit dizzy. "Hey, I'm so fuckin tired. Hope your day was better than mine, pretty baby.. Was it?" Yuuji asks sweetly. Your nose still pinches at the pet name "'S fine, I guess. Whooped the fuck outta Panda today." You answer without takin your eyes from the gossip you're currently consuming. "Scuse me, I was talkin to her. How rude!" You look down to see him starin between your thighs, leanin to plant wet kisses against your clothed clit lovingly. "So fuckin nasty.." You whisper, spreading to make room as Yuuji removes your underwear.
pussydrunk!Yuuji died and went to heaven the first time you let him hit: He's naked on top of you, eyes shut tight huffin hard as fuck in your face. "Ooh shit, girl! Tight as hell.. Ahhhh fuh- hold up.. Gonna cum, y/n. Pussy's too wet round my shit. Stay still for a second." Oh hell naw! Can't believe your ears right now. You didn't get all dolled up for nothing. Makeup perfectly matching your glittery sapphire one piece lingerie. "Yuuji, you just slid in.. Aint even start strokin yet." Tone heavy with annoyance, but he can barely hear you. Blood rushin in his ears; black dots his vision. Then Yuuji's filling you up half a second later; lickin and suckin on your neck as he presses in deep as he can. "Fuckfuckfuck! Please don't hate me, y/nnn.. Ah shit! Can't stooop.." He's crushing you under his weight, poor baby so incoherent. Doesn't even realize how he pathetically chants 'pussy's too good' as you land a smack on the back of his head.
pussydrunk!Yuuji feels like the world's ending when you don't let him fuck for a while after the first time: You're sitting with your back against your pillows in bed scrolling through the gram when he bursts in the room, briefly attempting to pry your knees apart. "Baby, come oooon. Need it so bad. Why are you torturing me like this?" Yuuji's been such a whiny brat about it. You want it too but he needs a fuckin lesson. "Boy.. First off, not ya baby. We ain't datin. Two, you came too fast, and waaay too fuckin much. Do you even know how much nut you spilled in my shit by the time you finished?" You fix him with a steely glare for good measure but his goofy ass only hits you with a perplexed "Ummm. A lot?" You scoff, rolling your eyes before looking back to your phone. "Baaaaaaby!" "Not cha baby.."
pussydrunk!Yuuji that starts bargaining after a few weeks, ready to gamble with his life if that means fuckin you asap: "Playin with my emotions, y/n. Just tell me what I need to do already. Do anything, name it. Just tell me what you want and it yours." He's got you pinned to a wall at the school, hands on either side of your head, dick tenting in his uniform. "No, Yuuji. Don't think you learned your lesson yet." "I did, baby! I'm sorry. So so sorry for filling your pretty lil pussy up without permission." You look into his shiny eyes, feeling a bit guilty at your teasing. His handsome features looking so devastated as he hangs his head, stuffing his face into your throat. Fuck, his submission has you so damn wet; panties sticking to your plump pussy lips. How much longer can you keep this up? "Hmmm.. Come over tonight?" Yuuji's like a kid in a candy store, head poppin up as he grins at you widely. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, baby." His kisses smother you as he whispers his appreciation against you lips. You laugh, pushing him back to retain your tough act. Even though all you want is to be impaled on his cock again. "Whatever, Itadori. Just dont be late. Oh and one more thing: Not your baby." Your tell him in a sing song voice, walking away with a little extra sway in your hips. "We'll see bout that.." Yuuji says to himself, squeezing his dick as he stares at the jiggle of your backside.
pussydrunk!Yuuji who refused to take any chances now that he's finally got another shot. He makes sure to jerk off before he comes over, hoping to God that helps with feeling of your compact pussy. When he gets there, he starts off with your pleasure; has you cum on his hand and tongue first. Yuuji quickly finds out nuttin before was a good idea. Especially from how his dick keeps jolting at the feel of you round his fingers, the delicious fuckin taste of you drippin down into his mouth. You're beggin for a break by the time Yuuji puts you on your side. "Pleeease baby, c-can't yet. Need a few mintues." Voice low, already a bit hoarse from screaming his name for the past half hour. "Aw.. I'm ya baby now? That right?" He coos, chuckling at how you nod but try scootin up to escape him swipin his dick up and down you drenched slit. He pulls you back by your hips, his fingers itchin to grip your y/h/c locks and hold you in place. "Naw, where you goin? Said I could finally get in this cute lil pussy tonight." "Can, just need to catch my- YUUJI!" Your not sure if you ever hollered so fuckin loud in your life, your soul descending straight to the depths of hell when he skewers you on his thick dick. "Hold up, baby. Pleeease! Dont gotta stop. Just n-need a quick break." "Mm mm, y/n. Can't do that." One arm slidin underneath you to wrap around and hold your tummy; the other under your knee to lift up your leg. Yuuji's thrusts are slow and shallow, just testing the waters of your perfect cunt, hoping to keep some kinda composure. "Oh. My. GOD. Got my dick trapped, baby. Lemme go so I can fuck you." Pulls your trembling frame closer against his body, kissing your shoulder, sliding in so much fuckin deeper. "Wait, Yuuji, wait!" You never receive any reprieve though. He only kisses your shoulder a second time, grippin at your tummy fat as he speeds up. "Wish I could. Mmmfuck.. Waited too long already." Eyes rollin back when he smashes his pelvis against your juicy ass over and over. "Cant think, cant eat or fuckin sleep without this pussy, y/n/n." Yuuji lifts your leg higher, opening you wider as his dick jams in to the base. Your pussy's drooling all over his balls, tits bouncing wildly and its getting really fuckin hard to take. "Y/nnn! Holy fuckin shit- gonna be mad at me when I creampie you again? Dont be, princess. Know I can't help myself." You're unable to do little more than wordlessly keen in response, poor cunt rapidly fluttering as his curved girth jams your g spot. Shit, no one's ever fucked you so thoroughly. You've never felt like this; can't even take a breath as he nails the tender spot with too much accuracy. "Yuujiiiiii!" You're squealing and squirting all over his cock, makin a mess of him without permission- just like he did a few weeks ago. Except, Yuuji fuckin loves it, is instantly obsessed with the sight and sensation. His eyes cross, saliva running down his chin as his body spasms and he nuts in you with everything he's got. "Oh fuck, y/n. This pussy mine! Baby, say it. Say it's mine, tell me you belong to me." It's the first time he's given you any typa command but you submit like you've been doin it all your life. "Yooours, Yuji. Forever yours!"
#black reader#black fanfiction#black writer#all readers#all welcome#all women are beautiful#smut#dirty talk#creamp!e#pussy drunk#pussylicker#dom reader#yuuji itadori#yuuji itadori x reader#yuuji x black reader#itadori x black!reader#yuji itadori#yuji itadori x reader#yuji itadori x you#yuji itadori x y/n#yuuji x reader#yuuji x you#yuuji x y/n
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after hours (part 2)
☆ pairing: satoru gojo x afab!reader, toji fushiguru x afab!reader
☆ summary: you update your friends and they cannot believe what happened between you and toji. but one of you friends, satoru gojo, is acting weirder than usual...could it be? nooo, nooo, it can't...right?
☆ warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! dirty talk, implied power dynamic, sexual tension
☆ tags: modernAU, academiaAU
☆ a/n: sorry for the lack of smut but i swear it'll be worth in the next part 😈 but hope you enjoy the love triangle between toji, gojo, and y/n that's forming! spoiler alert: there miiiight be a potential three way coming soooon ~ ahaha i don't wanna say anything 🤭
🖤🤍 series masterlist 🤍🖤
"NO. FUCKIN'. WAY...", shoko gasps, jaw open, as you tell her about what happened last night with toji over a matcha latte with oatmilk. you take a sip, savoring the earthy, bitter beverage, and give shoko a serious look.
you, shoko, and your friends always grab beverages from cafe amanai every morning, serving as a meeting point for everyone's busy lives. usually, it's used to air out mild inconveniences, from poor grades to missing keys, but today, it is being used to dissect what the hell happened between you and toji last night, to your obvious dismay.
"yeah, and now i'm getting dinner with him and megumi and going to his parent teacher conference." you say, looking slightly distraught, as you contemplate the ramifications of hooking up with your extremely attractive neighbor. "was this a bad idea?"
"was what a bad idea?"
you and shoko whip around to find satoru gojo strolling to your table, wearing his signature black round glasses and unruly white hair. he glides down in the seat next to you, literally butting his head into the conversation.
you sigh deeply and slowly sink your head onto the table surface, knowing full well that once satoru gets up to speed, he's never going to shut up about it. "ohhhh satoru, don't make me say it again..." you whine.
"let's wait until suguru comes back from flirting with the barista to tell them. i don't wanna update them twice." shoko kindly offers, patting your head and softly running her fingers through your scalp.
your head shoots up the minute your hear about suguru flirting. according to satoru, suguru never drank coffee until the day riko complimented his bangs, and ever since then, suguru would do everything in his power to stop by cafe amanai and order a latte. in the process, you, shoko, and gojo got unbearably perplexed at the idea of the suguru geto, the hoity-toity moral compass of the group, having a crush, on not just anyone, but the cafe owner, and everyone's favorite barista: the gorgeous, raven-haired riko amanai. you all really try to be subtle, everyone craning their necks in unnatural directions, trying to decipher what embarrassingly awful one-liner suguru was going to say to riko instead of just asking her out.
"can you guys not embarrass me for just one day at this place? just one. it's all i'm asking for." suguru says sorely, popping out from the opposite direction of where you all were staring, startling everyone into mumbled apologies ("i wasn't even looking", "had to stretch my neck after benching 300", "i don't even care about you and riko").
"anyway, now tell us...what's the bad idea?" gojo prods, grinning at the excitement of restarting the gossip session. oh my god, why is he so nosy?
"i mean, okay, it's complicated so don't judge me and i really don't know how it happened but-" you start, before shoko cuts you off.
"y/n fucked our hot neighbor, toji. remember him? the one i was telling you about that probably is a gigolo-"
"shoko, he is NOT a gigolo! stop saying that about him!" you say irately. "he probably has...some respectable job that...is classified or...something", you defend, trying your hardest to defend toji in front of your friends. why were you so keen on defending this guy after one random hookup?
"the one who's son you BABYSIT for?!" suguru yells incredulously a bit too loudly, that results in your shooting daggers at him. "y/n, you have to know this is some fucked up power dynamic thing, right? he's paying you to babysit his son. there's no way what you're doing will end well." suguru chastises, scrunching his eyebrows in genuine concern.
"so about that..." you start, realizing just now how idiotic you're about to sound admitting that he has not paid you for the past week and decide to pivot. "it's just babysitting, suguru, okay? chill, it's not that serious."
"also, he hasn't paid her at all last week." shoko states nonchalantly. you give her a crestfallen look, wishing she had said quite literally anything but that.
satoru, who had been suspiciously silent up until now, roars in laughter hearing this, while suguru groans. "wait hold on. you're telling me people pay him to be a gigolo but you're giving him that pussy for free?" satoru says in between breaths, clearly finding your predicament more than amusing.
"i'm going to kill you guys." you say, rubbing your temples, already trying to remedy the headache at bay.
"poor y/n," shoko teases, "she's not ready to be a step-mom." she chuckles as you narrow your eyes at her. "kidding!" she smiles, with her hands up, feigning any remorse. everyone, including youself, start laughing lightly at the situation you're in, and you notice shoko's eyes widen with excitement and warmth as she sees utahime walk into cafe amanai. "utahime!" she waves, catching utahime's attention. utahime darts over to your table and plops next to shoko, and do something that shocks satoru and suguru to their core. aww, look, they're kissing! oh wait no, they're fully making out. oh, they should get a room.
"excuse me?!" gojo, who is so baffled by the sight in front of him that his sungalsses are completely off, says.
shoko and utahime break out of their short kiss, and utahime narrows her eyes at satoru as if he was a pest (you have to admit, he sometimes is), seemingly annoyed by his intrusion. "oh umm, this is utahime, as you guys know. um, she and i are dating. that's all." shoko taciturnly says. "anyway, we have to go, now." she turns to you. "i'll see you at home and you better tell us everything." you laugh and nod, standing up to give utahime a quick hug before they left.
you turn around to two stunned faces, as you explain to them that shoko and utahime had been dating for over a month now, and that they did not tell either of them because, well, they were both a bit obnoxious, especially together.
"just because you're right doesn't mean i'm any less shocked!" suguru says, eyes still wide and processing the fact that one of his best friends was dating someone and he had no clue. "okay, i actually don't even have time to process this right now. i have to make copies for the class i'm TA-ing for." suguru says, as he quickly throws his untouched cup of coffee into the trash and speeds out. "see ya." he waves before he speeds out of the cafe.
you sigh tiredly, knowing that whenever you're alone with satoru, things get...a bit weird. you guys are friends, of course, but you would be lying if you said you didn't feel the tension in the air abruptly change slightly when it was just you two. there were plenty of times when you went over to satoru's and played video games or drank beers like the old school friends you were, but it would always end veeery touchy feely (like the time you fell asleep with your head on his lap or that one time he said it would be a good idea to cuddle "for warmth" because the heat was broken).
but this was just because you guys were like, super super good friends, though...right? in any case, you knew for a fact you and satoru were not into each other because you both fooled around with other people, so case closed.
"so...how was it?" satoru asks, with a stupid grin on his face. you can sense he's about egg you on about something you did not want to talk about, but you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"how was what?" you say, shifting in your seat slightly and playing with your fingers. you take a sip of your lukewarm matcha as you turn to look at satoru.
"how was the sex with toji?" satoru clarifies. you almost choke on your matcha, but quickly regain your composure.
"wouldn't you like to know, lover boy." you say, slightly annoyed and yet bemused why satoru would even ask that question. ugh, why does he even care? can't he let this go? he was the one making fun of you the most about this anyway!
"woah, okay sorry for trying to make sure you at least had fun before you made a bad decision with some broke dude who doesn't have a real job." satoru says, raising his hands defeat and putting his sunglasses back, obscuring his bright blue eyes that always made you wish you could stare at them forever. wait, what?
"he allegedly doesn't have a job, okay. and also, being a gigolo, allegedly, is still a job." you say, once again baffling yourself as to why you're feeling so defensive of toji, especially more so in front of satoru. why is he being so weird about this? you've told him about guys you've slept with before and he barely even cared.
"what are we? in court?" he snorts, shaking his head slightly in amusement.
"why do you care?" you accuse, finishing up the last sips of your matcha before setting the cup down and anxiously playing with your fingers.
"i don't care...i just..." satoru trails off, as if thinking about what he wants to say next carefully. "i just wanna make sure he's treating you well, that's all."
"well, if you must know, we didn't have sex." you respond, your heart beating a bit faster as you're borderline talking about raunchy activities in public.
"whadcha guys do?," satoru asks shamelessly.
at this point, you're so over satoru's bullshit. "he ate me out okay! what other personal stuff do you want to know about me? how would you feel if i asked you how many times a day you jerk off, huh? not so amusing now is it?!"
"did you cum?" he asks. his smile is beaming and he's holding back a chuckle, as he enjoys seeing you getting all riled up because of him. he knows he's pushing your buttons, but he just can't stop. it's too fun. and you look too cute when you're angry at him.
"you're so fucking unbelievable!" you spit, as you abruptly get up and grab you empty cup of matcha and your bag, heading towards the exit. entering the bustling city, you see satoru catching up to you in your peripheral and walk even faster to the crosswalk, but not fast enough. satoru catches up from behind easily and places his hands on your shoulder, as you whip around and give him a death glare.
"what do you want?!" you ask irately.
"umm...i'm your ride to class, remember?" satoru says sheepishly, flashing you a grin.
could this get any worse? you roll your eyes. he is correct, and technically you could take the bus but it'll make you too late for your class, and walking is just out of the question. you sigh in annoyance. "where's your car?"
the walk to satoru's porche is short, but within that time, you both manage to make up as you always do. such is the waves your guys' relationship rides: daunting when it happens, but calm once the storm passes over. by the time you're at satoru's car, you both are laughing hysterically.
"fuck off! no way suguru said that to riko!" you exclaim, responding to satoru telling you that suguru responded to riko's "good morning" with the biography of his barber who cuts his bangs.
"his ass folds so easily when it comes to his bangs," satoru says as he turns on the ignition and starts driving. satoru thinks about the first time he met suguru and how they got into a minor argument because his bangs were the first thing satoru noticed. satoru's mind wanders, and he thinks about the first thing he noticed about you: your smile and laughter. the way you tuck your hair behind your ears whenever you get anxious, the way you play with the ends of your hair when you're flirting and you think you're being subtle, the way your nose scrunches when you're concentrating deeply, and especially the way you, without fail, always fall asleep leaning against him during movie nights.
"hey, y/n," satoru starts softly, "you busy tonight? thinkin' we study for our final next week and maybe watch a movie. have you watched saltburn yet?"
"ohmygod i haven't but i really want to!" you say excitedly, thinking about how shoko has been begging you to watch that movie since it came out. wait, parent teacher night. you frown. "oh wait actually, i'm not free tonight, but let's do tomorrow?" you offer sweetly, praying satoru for once is not nosy enough to ask what you're doing instead tonight.
"whatcha doing instead tonight?" he asks without skipping a beat.
"...i'm babysitting tonight." it's not use lying at this point, but you know it's embarrassing to say you're getting dinner with his son and going to a parent teacher conference.
"oh right, the thing you do for free now", satoru says, rolling his eyes. he could egg you on and press your buttons again. he hasn't decided if he will again just yet.
you decide to change the subject, not wanting to start yet another argument with him. "anyway, you wanna head to the barcade tomorrow before the theater to get drinks and hang? i think shoko and utahime are coming and they said something about inviting suguru, too" you ask, knowing full well what his answer will be.
"how could you fucking ask me that? how could you ask me if i want to go to the only barcade in this city after what fucking happened to me the last time i went there?!" he accuses you. you sense the irateness of his voice, knowing full well this is how he gets whenever you bring up the local barcade with him.
basically, earlier this summer, the four of you went to the flashing new barcade that opened downtown, thinking you would all have a couple drinks and play some arcade games. according to satoru -- you and shoko were, at the time, dry heaving in the bathroom from one too many AMFs (satoru's idea) -- some guy came in with his kid (you still didn't really believe this part because how was a kid allowed in a bar?) and not only "bullied satoru" (satoru's words), but also made off with his drink and tickets. you still aren't really sure what the big deal is, but you find it funny, nontheless, seeing satoru still get sour about that barcade.
"geez, sorry, i didn't know you were still upset about it." you say, raising your hands and eyebrows in defeat.
"i literally talk about it once a day in the group chat. i was finally gonna get you that jigglypuff plushie you always wanted with those tickets!" satoru confesses, and you almost feel a bit bad for him. almost.
"well, you can try again tomorrow night then", you wink, before satoru pulls up in front of the building where your class is. you hear satoru humph in defeat, and you know you'll see him tomorrow night at the barcade. you thank satoru for the ride, but right before you close the door, he calls out your name.
"hey y/n also, sorry 'bout earlier at the cafe.", he says (he doesn't sound sorry at all, you think. this is definitely a ruse to say something stupid), "but i needed to tell you something before you left. the answer is two but if i'm bored, probably three."
you stare at him blankly. what was he on about? "what?" you say, perplexed.
"it's how many times i jerk off in a day. just thought i should let you know since you asked," he says, with a cheeky smile on his face. cue something stupid! bingo!
"bye satoru." you say immediately, closing the door of his porch and crossing the street. god, satoru was one of the most annoying people you knew. why does your face feel so hot?
you try really hard not to think about what satoru just said, knowing he was just being his usual cheeky self. satoru touches himself twice a day? when does he do it? in the morning? who does he think of? does he think of you? what the fuck, y/n -- think about something else? remember you came all over toji's face?
woah, okay. that was a lot, even for you. you have no idea where that thought came from, and you're pretending like it never happened. you're pretending like your panties aren't getting damp thinking about satoru's flushed face and his large fingers reaching down and grasping his hard, veiny -
your thoughts are interrupted by a text on your phone:
toji: see ya soon, pumpkin. wear somethin' nice for me, yeah? ;)
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji fushiguro#toji zenin#toji x reader#toji fushigro x reader#fushiguro toji#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen gojo#gojo#gojo saturo#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo#saturo gojo fanfiction#saturo gojo x reader#saturo gojo x y/n#toji fushiguro x y/n#saturo gojo smut#toji fushiguro smut#gojo smut#gojo x y/n#satoru gojou#gojou satoru#gojo x toji x reader
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Negan glanced over as the door opened and then slammed shut, expecting to see Daryl again with another lecture for him. But when he saw it was you, and especially when he saw the conflicted look on your face, the glassiness in your eyes, he sat up straight on his cot.
He gulped and waited to see if you would say something, but after a long moment you simply paced in front of his cell. He gulped, his eyes following your figure across the floor and back... across and back... "Daryl said she's gonna be okay."
You stopped, your shoes scuffing in the dried silt on the floor. You looked at him for a long moment and then nodded, gripping onto one of the cold iron bars. "Yeah. She'll be alright. Eventually." Your expression softened as you thought of Lydia.
Negan swept his tongue out over his lower lip, his eyes still fixed on you. "So—"
"You're a fucking asshole, you know that?" you snapped at him, but your tone wasn't exactly angry, at least not entirely. "I mean, seriously. What the fuck are we supposed to do with you?"
His hazel eyes simply stared back at you, bathed in confusion. "I—"
"No, honestly, Negan." Your other hand came to grip another bar of his cell and he saw that your knuckles were white and you seemed to be slightly shaky. "People are talking about executing you out there. "
He nodded and tilted his head. "Well... People want a villain. Who am I to disappoint them?" he said.
"For fuck's sake! Can you be serious for one moment! I know it was an accident. I know that!" There was almost a wild panic in your eyes. "But they're going to kill you! So, what am I supposed to do here? Please, if you have an idea, tell me!"
Negan felt a pang in his chest as he realized you were genuinely fearful for him. It was more than he ever expected to get from you. Was it possible that you actually—no. That couldn't be... "I'm not your problem, doll," he said. His voice was measured and calm. "Maybe it's just time that I pay for my past sins. Lord knows there's a fucking steaming pile of 'em."
Your jaw was set as you looked at him and then you swore under your breath and suddenly dug a ring of keys out of your pocket.
"What are you doing?" Negan asked, his brow furrowing as he watched you unlock his cell. He was on his feet the next moment.
"Saving your ass," you said, pulling the door open. "You have to leave. Now."
Negan drifted over to you, perplexed, and stood at the threshold of his cell. Freedom was one step away. But instead of rushing out, or heading for the door, his eyes flickered over your face. "You're letting me go?"
You nodded once, your eyes avoiding his. You were afraid if you held them any longer... well, you didn't know what, but something would happen. "Yeah. You need to get out. Go somewhere else. Find new people. Start over."
Negan gulped but still didn't move. His eyes traced the graceful line of your neck and curve of your jawline in the flickering light of the lanterns. "What if I don't want to leave?"
Your stomach flipped and your eyes shot up to meet his again. You swallowed down the bubble that was expanding, almost ready to burst, in your chest. You shook your head. "You have to. I'm not sure Michonne, or Daryl, or me can save you this time... You have to go. while you still have a chance."
Negan thought about arguing, thought about trying to convince you to leave with him, but he knew you wouldn't. You had too many roots in this place. He turned back to his cell and hurriedly gathered the few meager possessions he had. He stopped beside you at the threshold again. "Just for the record, you are the best fuckin' thing about this place."
And then he was gone, breezing out of the room, and you were surprised by how empty you suddenly felt.
Prompt: "People want a villain and who am I to disappoint them?"
Happy Wicked Wednesday, ya'll!
#negan smith#negan smith x reader#redeemed!negan#negan smith x you#negan x y/n#the walking dead drabbles#twd imagines#gif imagines#twd#my gifs
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scarlet flags || tangerine
tangerine x f!reader
summary: you called me angel for the first time, my heart leapt from me
warnings: suggestive- minimal descriptions, toxic situationship
word count: 860+
masterlist
"you don't get to call me every time you get lonely, then pretend you don't know who i am when i'm not hidden behind the walls of your room" you spit, the venom in your tone nearly lethal.
he tutted as you turned away, "don't be ridiculous, angel."
you snapped your head to him, jabbing your pointer finger into his chest, face mere millimeters from his, "you!- you don't get to call me that. don't you fuckin' call me that.
tangerine lazily intertwined his fingers in yours as he hovered above your body. his lips moved soft yet feverishly against your own, it was bliss. you felt intoxicated and you silently prayed the high wouldn't come down. tangerine pulled away and started peppering kisses across your cheek until he reached the skin below your ear. with his teeth he nipped at the flesh pulling it into his mouth, surely to leave a purple splotch on your skin, his mark as if he were an artist. tangerine slid down your body, his lips ghosting down your chest and stomach until he got to your underwear, and through his dark lashes, he looked at you.
"is this okay, angel?" he whispered, his fingers wrapping around the waistband.
angel. this was the first time he called you that. it made your stomach flip, angel. you loved the inflection in his accent when he spoke the nickname. the nickname for you. you felt like you were his. it made your heart leap and you swore a piece of itself landed in tangerine.
"okay, okay! i won't call you angel," tangerine said defensively.
you rolled your eyes in disgust, racking a hand through your hair. he was agitating, this conversation was agitating. tangerine was a smart man so it was surprising when he seemed to act dense to avoid conflict.
"besides, i don't know where you got the idea that i ignore you in public love, i don't," he said crossing his arms.
"oh really? so last week at the gathering? or the gathering before that? you looked through me, like a window, pretended i was nonexistent. do you not realize how that feels?" you spewed.
a silent nod was all he gave you when you greeted tangerine at the work event. perplexed, you raised an eyebrow at his retreating figure but didn’t dwell on it too long now being sidetracked by ladybug. these work gatherings were really an excuse to drink and boast about whatever successful mission you had just come back from. truthfully, they were boring, but it was an unspoken rule that it was mandatory.
ladybug chatted about his healing foot from a gunshot wound but your eyes and mind were elsewhere. across the dimly lit room, tangerine stood with a puffed-out chest talking about the recent bolivia job. his eyes would wander across those listening, soaking in the praise before looking at you. it was quick and not like he had been caught, but as though it was an accident.
watching as his eyes looked up and down at one of the women standing beside him, he smoothed out his mustache before placing a hand on her waist. she threw her head back in laughter and her lips forming the word 'please' as she toyed with his collar.
you hate how you felt. you weren't his, you knew that, but you spent countless hours underneath his sheets and on top of his body and to sit here and be nonexistent made you mad, made you feel little. unfortunately, tangerine had a way of still making you want him and you know you shouldn't. it's funny, really, how his true colors shine in darkness and secrecy.
"c'mon, it wasn't like that, love," he tsked, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward.
"but it was," you said pointedly.
tangerine sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, "y'know i'm no good at this stuff."
"i don't care if you don't want a serious relationship, tangerine. what i care about is having some respect and not being some disposable body. and what i hate the most is you keep drawing me in and you aren't even doing anything," you spoke.
it was the truth. you'd text each other how you miss the other, saying you wish you could feel him in you, or he'd say he misses your skin and you'd find your way over to his apartment. he'd greet you at the door with strong arms around your waist. most times few words were spoken before you'd find yourself in his bed with his head between your legs crying out to some foreign god.
what you hated most was standing before him now, his eyebrows pulled together and his tongue sucking at his teeth you still felt the unseen magnetic pull to him. you knew that eventually the piece of your heart that leapt into his the first time he called you angel would be broken. though, in this moment you knew after a few more bitter words and rolling eyes you'd find yourself in his arms again, and again. somehow tangerine's scarlet flags would always be washed out in the light of his room.
#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine x reader#tangerine x y/n#tangerine x oc#tangerine x you#tangerine imagine#tangerine imagines#tangerine bullet train imagine#tangerine fic#tangerine fanfic#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine bullet train fanfic#tangerine fluff#tangerine angst#tangerine blurb#tangerine headcannon#tangerine oneshot#bullet train imagine#bullet train fanfic#bullet train oneshot#bullet train x reader#bullet train#aaron taylor johnson imagine#aaron taylor johnson x reader#tangerine headcanon#sebsbarnes
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Bully!Eddie seeks you out one morning but he finds you hurt with a scrapped knee because some lowlifes tripped you for being the freaks plaything:-( he's not sure what happens to him but something inside him takes over and he starts to take care of you, pecking away your tears and carrying you to his van so he can drive you to his trailer to get Wayne's first aid kit
this post is 18+, minors dni. (i didn't tag this as dark, because i feel like i didn't make him too crazy of a bully. he's more of a tease, really, he just annoys her, it's not like he's beating her up or something 😭 regardless, don't like -> don't read!)
When Eddie rounds the corner towards your locker, he doesn't expect his sneaker to ram into something soft. Nor does he expect it to groan.
You blink tearily up at Eddie from your spot on the floor, scraped knees to your chest as your back presses against the cool metal doors.
Upon seeing Eddie's perplexed expression the tears in your eyes spill lushly down your cheeks, a broken sob coming from your throat as well as a gushing groan.
You tuck your chin to your chest, silently begging for Eddie to move on and realize this was not the time.
instead, you feel a soft touch on one of your knees, burning as it presses into your cuts, despite being gentle. You hiss and jerk your knees apart, not caring that it exposes your panties from under your skirt.
"'The fuck happened?" Eddie demands, "Did you fall over?"
"Someone tripped me," You sniffle, a sob wracking your frame, "Please, Eddie, just leave me alone!"
Upon hearing you hadn't been the victim of your own clumsiness, Eddie feels his chest tighten. He squats so fast that his knees crack, and you jerk your head out of your arms to stare at him, startled.
"Who tripped you?" His brows are furrowed, nearly knitting together in the middle of his face, "Only I'm allowed to tease you."
"Some- some basketball player," You gush through an anguished sob, "Eddie I really can't do this today, please. Please, just go away!"
"Will you shut your trap about me leaving? I'm not gonna skip out on you," He scoffs, "Do you have band-aids in that little pink purse of yours?"
Your lips puff out in a frown, and you shake your head, smearing a tear away from your eyes with a rough finger. Eddie swats your hand away, but when he strokes your cheek it's gentle, and he cleans away the rest of your anguish.
"'Kay. Can't tell the school nurse, she'll just give you a fuckin' ice pack. I'm gonna fix you up, okay honey?"
You feel his hands grip the bottoms of your thighs before you can process his words, but when you realize he's peeling your back away from the lockers to pick you up you bolt out of his grasp.
He looks offended, "Hey!"
"Don't-! What are you doing?" You smear away another tear from under your eye, the ache prominent behind your lids.
"I'm taking you home," He spells out, rolling his eyes, "So that I can clean you up," He reaches out a hand, "And then I'll drive you back to your place for the day."
"You.. you'll fix me up?"
"Yes," He urges, "You.. you don't think I'd, like, hurt you, right?"
"I dunno," You mumble, eyes downcast, "You push me."
"Not into anything!"
"You trip me."
"I always catch you."
"You say I'm a ditz."
"I'm a super super senior. Don't let me insult your intelligence."
Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you stare at him from below your lashes. He's waiting, arms wide for you, and when you take a tentative step forwards, he pulls you the rest of the way in.
"There you go," He yanks you to be flush to his chest, breath fanning over your face. You're intimidated by the close proximity, because anytime he clears this much distance between you, he usually has you pinned against something while his hands roam your waist. Your heart thumps in excitement at what you're trained to expect, and you're slightly disappointed when he doesn't touch you further. What he does do, though, is lean forward to peck your cheek, lips shining with your tears when you pull away. You sniffle lightly, hands curled into the loose fabric of his t-shirt, confused and concerned with this new side of Eddie.
It feels nice to have him kiss your tears away. But it's so much more exciting, it gets your stomach in more of a whirl when he kisses your lips, nipping at them until they're red and sore and stinging. Apparently he feels the roving of your fingertips against his chest because his expression darkens slightly, deepening from a grin to a smirk.
"Don't worry, sweetheart, this isn't permanent. I'll be back to pushing you around once you've got bandages on those knees. I think you owe me a thank-you for helping you out, don't you?"
Butterflies swarm through your tummy as you nod vigorously, mouth practically watering at the thought of his cock. You go with him much more happily now that you know what you'll get after he's done, and you find you rather like his sensitive side, even if it only lasts until he's smoothed band-aids over your knees.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one-shot#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hc#eddie munson hcs#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson dialogue#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fanfiction#eddie munson au#bully!eddie
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Write A Letter To Yourself To Find The Answers You Want. || 'Dear Subconscious...'
have ya ever had a problem at hand that ya just couldn't figure out a solution to? it's such a deeply perplexing problem that ya just decide to shrug it off and maybe 'sleep it off.' and so, ya do just that... and maybe in the middle of the night, or as soon as ya wake up, or maybe even two days later in the middle of a totally unrelated task, ya get a random idea, a random thought, or perhaps a random solution that was the answer. that was yer subconscious, answerin' that problem ya were so stumped on.
which got me thinkin'... why haven't i considered askin' my subconscious a direct question? ive seen this happen in movies before, usually with— people who have DID or MPD, or perhaps someone who sleep walks, or suffers black outs. I've seen people leave notes and messages to themselves.
why haven't I just written a letter addressed to my subconscious and let it solve everything for me? why haven't I asked my subconscious to show me the answer or give me the answers I need to tap into being in the state of pure consciousness? the letter is personal to me, and my subconscious knows me best, so why the fuck wouldn't I trust what it has to say? i already do muscle testin' to get my yes/no answers, I already do fuckin' tarot readin's on myself— so... why not do this? can't believe I haven't done this yet.
and with that thought, I got my handy notebook, sat down at my dining room table, and got to writin', starting the letter off by saying 'dear subconscious...' I spilled my most vulnerable guts afterwards and the rest was history.
I'm gonna tell ya right now, full transparency, I wrote to my subconscious about how much I want to enter the void state/I Am State and asked it for clear signs in my letter, I told it to give me the answers I want in a way that only I could understand. an experiment worth while... originally, i wasn't gonna post this but then i got my answers and i wanted to share this with ya lovely folks of this lil' dandy community.
I bet you're wonderin' what was the answer I got from my subconscious. I got multiple answers, as terrifying as that is, and I cannot even fathom how I can explain them properly. All I know is that I feel unwavering peace in all aspects of my life. but if yer really curious, I got a message in a tarot readin' video and through the spinoff of adventure time that just came out, not too long ago on max. Fiona and Cake. the shit they say in the show is... I can't even explain how it made me feel, just finished watchin' the entire series today. it was everything I needed to know, I asked my subconscious for an answer that only I would understand and what would ya know... i love musicals and animated shows/movies, and behold, i gotta damn combo. i definitely recommend it to my fellow manifesters!!! they literally talk about how easy it is to create yer own REALITIES in the damn show... that's what we fuckin' do!!!!
how do I write a letter to myself?
address yourself a letter as 'dear subconscious' and then get to writin'. you're literally sendin' yerself a letter, say whatever ya want in it, write yer secrets, write yer fears, write yer dreams. ask yer subconscious whatcha need to do to get yer dream life guaranteed and ya shall receive. some people may not like the idea of this but, what's the harm in a lil' conversation with yerself and findin' out the answers ya need. It can especially help ya if you've been strugglin' for a while, 'specially with all ya folks out there who've been on yer void journey for multiple years. what better way to get yer answers than to speak to yerself through yer own mind... wah, that sounds fuckin' coconuts but I stand by it.
essentially, this is just a combo of commandin' yer subconscious and scriptin', that's not hard at all. and who said ya gotta handwrite it? ya can type it out on yer phone or even yer computer if ya want, do whatever feels good and allows ya to write out yer guts and frustration. after that, ya can relax and see what happens next. that's all in this post! thanks for readin' and I hope ya get the answers ya seek! until next time!~
p.s. this ain't a challenge, it's just another way to get to know what you need to do to accomplish your dreams as the individual creator of yer reality. you'll know when yer answers come. hell, might even come to ya in the middle of the night or even in a random movie in the form of a quote that is far too relatable to yer situation ya decided to sit down and watch one day. kinda like what happened with me... hehe.
#void state#god state#law of assumption#manifesation#manifesting#manifestation method#void state method
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[Start ID: 6 pages of HLVRAI narrative doodles about the Science Team's first meeting with the Spore Launcher.
Bubby waves Gordon over to a small lift enthusiastically: "Gordon, come look at what I found! Right this way."
Gordon, however, is wary: "I dunno, man. Should I even be trusting you to lead me places? You remember what happened the, uh, buh- the last time, so sue me for having a hard time believing it's safe up there."
Bubby gives him a tired look: "Gordon, I've long put that behind me-"
"YOU???" Gordon cuts in incredulously, "YOU'VE put-"
Bubby ignores him and continues: "And- Yes! I would like if we could get going now."
But they do not get going, because Gordon is now mad. The lift makes its way up without them.
"Look, buddy," Gordon starts, trying to keep him volume under control, "I don't know if you think this is some sorts bit? Or me being uncooperative- I am GENUINELY traumatised by what you did. And Benrey. Can't forget him. The fuckin' TWO of you can-"
But Bubby isn't having it, and dismissively he says: "Yes, and I apologised. I didn't expect that to happen, you know. I did tell you that."
The lift comes back down with a surprised Darnold.
"Oh! You guys made it," Darnold says as the lift comes to a halt.
Bubby's face brightens as he sees him, and he points out the thing held in Darnold's arms: "Oh good, it's that thing I wanted to show you!"
All eyes follow Bubby's finger down the purring lungfish-like alien in Darnold's hands.
Gordon is horrified: "What the- what the hell is THAT?? Should we REALLY be touching the weird alien creature- killing machines- in this place- Come on, you guys…"
"Well, y'see, Dr Freeman," Darnold begins matter-of-factly, "those creatures were- y'see, they weren't in tubes. Un-tubed creatures, now they're the ones you gotta look out for. But this one is fine. I should know. I made the potion in the tube I found her in!"
Gordons squints at him: "What the hell is he saying?"
Bubby's mouth hangs slightly agape. He does not answer.
Darnold continues, undeterred: "I recognised it immediately from how I, uh, blacked out for 2 minutes after tasting it."
"You WHAT?!!" Gordon yells.
Bubby regains his voice. Something Darnold had said about making potions for tubes had left him uneasy. "Darnold, did you aid in my creation?" he asks in a small voice, too quiet to hear over Gordon's volume.
"WHY WOULD YOU- You're supposed to-" Gordon stumbles over his words, perplexed by Darnold's actions, "Weren't you, like, terrified of dying just a minute ago- WHY would you drink something you didn't even RECOGNISE??!"
"Look-" Darnold tries to interject, but Gordon presses on. "YOU COULD'A DIED, MAN!!"
Sensing that Gordon is finally done, Darnold sighs: "Look, I understand your concerns, Dr Freeman, but what IS a scientist if not someone who observes and makes sense of his surroundings?"
Gordon pinches his nosebridge and screws his eyes tight shut: "I dunno…Alive? Usually?"
"I do this for a living, you know?" Darnold counters.
Bubby folds his arms, unimpressed: "That's no attitude for a scientist, Gordon. How do you think we got so famous as a research facility?"
Gordon groans: "From all the shit that's going on now, for sure. The media's gonna run with this for weeks-" He cuts himself off with an exhausted sigh: "I'm done with this conversation."
Gordon pulls his hand from his face and gestures to the alien creature in Darnold's arms: "What's, uh, what's that thing you found there, bud? You know it's not dangerous. What else d'you got? Know?"
Darnold's eyes wander upwards in thought, stroking the creature absentmindedly: "Well…she didn't try to take my head off when she saw me, that's one. There were two others in the intact tubes nearby. Hers was broken."
As the creature begins to purr under his hand, Darnold smiles slightly: "Oh! And that she seems to enjoy being pet…which was quite surprising."
"I couldn't find any written information on their species," he continues, "so I've elected to call them the, uh…Gubbs…after the sound they make."
"The Gubbs," Gordon repeats, unsure, "Right, okay-"
Bubby raises an accusing eyebrow at Darnold: "That's not what we agreed on." He raises an intelligent finger, recounting: "I remember clearly stating that they looked like mini Hubble Telescopes, and that we named them "Hubbs"."
Darnold frowns at him: "I- no, you- I recall no exchange of that nature, Dr Bubby."
Overlapping him, but quieter, Gordon mutters: "The Hubb- I mean, I guess? Kinda? But-"
Bubby jumps back in to correct Darnold: "Of course, you do! It's much like the James Webb Telescope you kids are more familiar with these days."
Gordon freezes.
"Gh- The-" Gordon stutters, and it takes him a moment to find his words, "J-James Webb."
Bubby begins to say "Yes", but shuts his mouth right before the word leaves.
"James Webb," Gordon continues, shaken, "I'm not trippin', right? He said that. James-"
"…yeah, I, uh…" Darnold says, equally at a loss, "…I don't know what that is."
Gordon points at Bubby: "How do you know what that is, it's not even-" his voice drops into a harsh whisper, "It doesn't even exist yet??"
Gordon sucks in a breath. "Bubby," he tries again, carefully "How do you know what that is?"
The old man is silent for a long beat.
"Hello, Gordon," Bubby says.
The defult NPC dialogue line catches Gordon off guard so hard he wheezes in surprised laughter.
"You can't just-" Gordon wheezes for breath. "That's Dr Coomer's line-"
As if on cue, the stout elderly scientist appears by Bubby's side.
"HELLO, GORDON!" Dr Coomer greets chipperly.
Gordon heaves a heavy sigh: "Hello, Dr Coomer…"
"Hello, Dr Coomer!" Bubby beams.
End ID.]
Previous parts found here: [Part 1.] [Part 2.]
#ohhh the classic collapsing of time into a singular now. what are they putting in the clocks these days? /j#hlvrai#hlvrai darnold#hlvrai gordon#hlvrai bubby#snail's art#id
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New York New Rules Pt. 4
Warnings: Violence, Trauma, Fluff, maybe Smut, mental health, blood
Summary: Y/N meets the survivors of the last events in Woodsborrow and gets on Ghostface's list. But there is also a darkness in Y/N wich path is she going to choose
Female Y/N x Tara Carpenter
Sorry for bad writing. I'm using a translator and hope you guys can enjoy it. Also, this is going to be a slow burn
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,
I'm 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day
I'm 11 minutes away, so why aren't you here?
I think I missed you callin' on the other line
I'm just thinkin' all these thoughts up in my mind
Talkin' love but I can't even read the signs
I would sell my soul for a bit more time
You stain all on my body like you're red wine
You're the fuckin' acid to my alkaline
Stupid. Frail. Perplexed. Fearful. Offensive. Sharp and Hurt
„Y/N you rather feel nothing again" I said to myself as I stared at the ceiling of my room. I've probably been lying here for 15 minutes because 11 minutes ran at least three times in a row. In fact, this was one of my favorite songs. But why actually? I know that I have a feeling for the darkness. But why were pain and suffering so self-evident for me? No matter which movie I watched or which series. My darling was always the villain.
There are really people who just hate them because they have the title of villain. But why are they trying not to understand? What about Katherinen Pierce from the Vampire Diaries? This woman suffered and that only because she wanted to be loved and loved? She lost her family. Her child and was hunted for centuries. The man she loved hated her and didn't believe that the love between them was real. Maleficent... rejected and hunted because she was different? Kylo Ren, Star Wars... who let a big wait on his shoulders... not to forget that Luke wanted to kill him. Wanda Maximof... one of my favorites. What was wrong with creating your own world in which you could be happy? Especially if you had lost everything you had left.
Was I the evil one? Did I want to be the bad one? Sometimes I'm not sure but the feeling I felt when Tara looked at me and asked where I was during the attack... I won't forget this so quickly because at that moment I felt like one of the bad guys. But I also felt misunderstood.
Did Tara hate me? How did Tara think about me in general? Since I've been friends with Mindy, I've met her maybe five times. And we didn't talk much to each other. Most of the time our conversations were about the university. I tried to get closer to her. However, I always had the feeling that I was always failing with her. One second I thought I had full self-confidence but then a look into Tara's eyes and my brain shuts down. I had really never felt something like that before. Especially not towards a woman.
I always stayed away from relationships or physical contacts. As soon as it went in this direction, I always pulled back and hid in my bubble. However, there were days when I would have liked to go to the next bar with my dirty thoughts and have been looking for someone for a hot night.
But as I had analyzed myself so far and with the help of Dr. Stone, I knew what my problem was.
The music in my headphones stopped. I looked at my cell phone and saw that my alarm clock that I had set after talking to Sam was now active.
Should I? Shouldn't I?
"Fuck it," I said to myself and made my way to the Blackmoore. I would prove to them all that I am not Ghostface and if they do not meet me then I will also permanently delete these people from my life.
Slowly I played with the ring on my finger. It wasn't special. I didn't like fancy jewelry either. But this ring carried good memories with it and that's why I always wore it with me. When I saw the carpenters and their friends in front of the Blackmoore, I hesitated slightly. Everyone was sitting on the benches of the university and Mindy seemed to be holding a monologue. She was the only one standing in front of them and gestured around like crazy with her hands.
"Why am I doing this to myself?" I asked myself desperately and approached the group. Drier than I thought, I said "hi" when I entered the inner circle and drew all attention to me. There was a free place next to Quinn, so I sat down with her just as she opened her mouth but Tara was faster and said "you came?" I avoided her gaze and looked coolly at Mindy who looked at me with pinched eyes " Y/N Perfect timing..."
Mindy went to explain the rules and that we were in a franchise. I really famous myself to listen to her, but the voice in my head was too loud.
Don't look at Tara. You must never look her in the eyes again. Is she looking at you? Are the others watching you? Do the others know what happened at the police station? Do they know about my state of health? Did they thought I was Ghostface?
"Am I gonna die a virgin?"
Wait a minute? My full attention was back. I looked at Ethan and then at Mindy.
"Weird overshare but that brings us to our current suspects. Ethan! A shy dorky guy who no one suspects because he's so shy and dorky"
So I wasn't the only suspect? I felt a slight feeling of relief.
" Quinn! The sexy sluty roommate"
Quinn looked at Mindy slightly irritated
"Sex positive but thanks?"
"How did you come to live with Sam and Tara?" She asked but Sam answers "we put an anonymous ad online"
And Tara replied "and her dad is a cop"
Mindy took a step towards Tara and said in an aggressive tone "and that makes it more likely that she is the killer because having a cop that is a great cover! Do you not remember how this movies work Tara?!"
Now Mindy gave everything. That reminded me too well of the many discussions we had about movies. Then Mindy even suspected her own girlfriend. Like wow… this whole thing was really serious.
"Never Trust the Love interest..." she said coolly and her look was serious. Suddenly there was a tension in the group. That sounded pretty deep... I mean in the first stab film it was also the love interest, among other things.
"Y/N!" Mindy called and smiled at me dirty. I sighed, pinched my eyes briefly and looked away from the group but Mindy came one step closer to me. "my dear friend Y/N... you are also new to our group," she began.
Did she say group? What did she mean by that? Was I part of the group?
"As your best friend, I know that you are going to therapy"
Oh no Mindy, please don't. Not again. Not again. Why me? Why?
"But you never told me why you are going to therapy... would you share the reason with us?" I avoided her eyes and looked nervously at the floor. My heart was beating so fast that I felt the pulse pounding in my ears. Again I played with the ring in my finger "Mindy she doesn't have to tell us anything..." said Tara after a short silent, low-key.
Surprised, I looked at her and our eyes met.
Relief. Relief? RELIEF!!! The first word that went through my head. Did Tara just defend me? Why had she done that? And there she was again. This gentle darkness, and the little white lights, like a light at the end of the tunnel that rested me to tell me here you are safe.
Stop it. I tore my eyes off her and stared at my ring. "okay then tell us at least where you were during the attack..." I looked at Mindy "home... and you are welcome to ask Maria when I entered the building and when I left it last. As I know her, she can even tell you the exact time" Mindy nodded in agreement to me, she knew Maria "okay. Good alibi. Nevertheless, you are suspicious. You don't like to socialize and maintain the good girl, reading books and sitting at home image"
Confused, I looked at Anika, was that something good or bad?
Anika said "that's not fair, if then we are all suspects, including you"
Mindy agreed with her and said to Sam "especially Sam" confused I looked to Sam, I had the feeling of not knowing something and because of the looks of the others I could see that I was right.
After that, I turned on the conversations of the others and tried to look at everyone unobtrusively. I started with Quinn. Quinn's emotions were neutral in order not to be completely present. Anika seemed very calm and attentive. Sam seemed tense. Chad hmmm I don't have to worry about him, he was fully focused on taking notes. I wanted to skip Tara and see Ethan directly, but our eyes met. Had she been watching me? After not even a second, I broke off the look of contact again by looking at my ring. Suddenly Quinn got up, then Anika moved to Mindy. The group disbanded.
"We have to stay together, that's the only way we are safe and can rule out who the killer is," said Mindy, "you could all come to us" said Sam and now also stood up.
Did she mean me with everyone, too? How exactly did they think of all this here now?
Confused, I asked her as if I hadn't even been present at Mindys Monologue "I don't… wait, I don't look through. What's the plan now?"
Chad replied when he got up "we're going to Sam and Tara... stay together... and try not to be killed" he didn't give me more information when he left. Chad, were you serious? Confused, I looked after the others when they were almost gone.
And then I suddenly noticed a person next to me. Before I could turn around, there was a hand on my right forearm. And then I was back in the tunnel... tried to get to the light. "Come to us tonight and we can tell you everything," Tara whispered to me, slowing down my nervous pulse. I could listen to her for hours when she talked to me like that. It was so reassuring. Warm. Pleasant. Right.
Her eyes fell on Sam when she nodded in agreement with Tara "maybe you can bring another pizza right away," she said and slightly raised the corners of her mouth. Tara pressed my arm slightly and looked at me at with bright eyes "by the way thank you for the pizza... after this hangover I needed it".
What was that feeling at once? Joy or nervousness? I had to smile unconsciously and nodded "special wishes?"
Tara snapped her finger and began to list different toppings and looked at Sam to see if she agreed with her "The main thing Jalapeños... registered" I said and stood up. "You have our address?" Sam asked again and I nodded in agreement. She raised the corners of her mouth again before putting her hands in her jacket and set off. Tara followed her.
Before my brain realized what my body was doing, I grabbed Tara's hand and hoped she would turn to me again
"Why did you help me earlier?"
And again this pure placid and sweetness to recognize in her face "what happened in the police station was just fucked up" we both had to laugh about her word choice and Tara's dimpels came to light.
Damn, how could Tara be so beautiful?
Okay, pull yourself together Y/N! How was that again with Tara? Never looking into the eyes again? Now I just wanted to sink into them and that even though I could never keep eye contact. Simp
"And I wouldn't want that either... if I imagined that someone would have done that to Sam..." she looked back briefly to the her. Sam stood a few meters away from us and waited for Tara "and see that as a leap of faith Y/L/N... don't spoil it" dryly I laughed and shook my head "I wouldn't even have a good motive" she squeezed my hand briefly.
Did we hold our hands all the time? How could I miss that? I mean... with this face you forget everything, she gave me a grin with sharp eyes and whispered "but there's always a motive" and then she disappeared.
#actress#fanfiction#jenna ortega#ghostface#melissa barrera#samantha carpenter#scream#tara carpenter#vada cavell#wednesday#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega x reader
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I just wanted to say regardless of whether you've seen the show that you're my favorite ST writer. I dont know how you capture the characters so well while further developing them perfectly but it's genuinely incredible. I must've read your steddie fics like 97 times just because I adore them <3 If you're still taking prompts, I'd love to maybe see Steve and Eddie! Maybe with "Oh this is too good to pass up" as the dialogue? Either way, you're incredible and I can't wait to read all your other work <3
Okay, wow this is VERY sweet ;w; You are so so kind anon. I think I'm getting better at writing them now after having practiced. Those first fics have a fond place in my heart for being the first ones, but every day I am tempted to rewrite them LMAO
anyways, I'm certainly far from perfect but I'm grateful that you enjoy them!! This warms my heart so much. I really do love writing them and the positive response to those fics made me wanna keep going and improve. Still haven't seen the show yet but honestly I'm chilling in this little niche I've carved for them.
Hopefully this fic makes you happy and pushes me a lil closer to being worthy of the honor of being your fav. Really hope you enjoy--I fuckin love these boys <3
...................
Ahoy, Sailor
You can read this as a season three au or as season four. Either way, Steve and Eddie have a bitchy will they/won’t they rivalry situation going on. Eddie REALLY likes pushing Steve’s buttons.
It’s not unusual for Eddie to find his way to the Harrington house for some excuse or another, but he’ll admit it’s unusual to be invited. He tends to just appear and haunt Steve unasked. It’s more fun that way.
Steve had called him, muttering something about how Eddie needed to come pick up his vest because it ‘smelled like a depressed hippie’. Eddie had fired back that Steve’s room couldn’t possibly smell any better without it, and their usual bickering had Eddie leaving fifteen minutes later with a grin on his face.
He loves Steve. Messing with him, that is. So, naturally, when Eddie ascends the stairs and sees Steve dressed like a little schoolboy, he takes a minute to compose his best jokes.
“Ahoy, sailor.” Eddie whistles, leaning in the doorway to Steve’s room. He drinks in the Scoops Ahoy uniform and all it blessedly has to offer.
“Wh—oh, fuck off. It’s laundry day.” Steve rolls his eyes.
“Aye aye, cap’n.” Eddie salutes. Steve flips him off.
“Cool the attitude, sassy lost child.” Eddie snorts. There’s piles of clothes on every surface in the room, arranged in a way that suggests intention but would baffle even the most equipped psychologist. Eddie wants to ask about the system here, but he knows he’s no better, so he just watches Steve flit around with a little pout on his face.
“You look like Donald Duck’s worst cousin.” Eddie snickers into his fist.
“You done?” Steve puts his hands on his hips.
“For now.” Eddie shrugs. Steve huffs.
Steve keeps rooting through the piles on the floor--slow enough to be mesmerizing, but fast enough where he’s clearly looking for something specific. Oh, his vest. Laundry. Eddie scans the room until, aha--he spots it hanging over the back of Steve’s desk chair, smooth and loved. Striking, compared to the state of everything else. Eddie smiles before he can catch himself.
“My vest is over there.” Eddie jerks a thumb towards Steve’s desk.
“Yeah, I see that.” Steve gives him a perplexed look. He shakes his head and keeps drifting through the clothes.
“Then what are you looking for?” Eddie ventures, stepping into the room properly. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t shrug his vest on. It feels like a conclusion of business, a visual excuse for Steve to kick him out despite the olive branch he’s inexplicably extended.
“A shirt. Robin’s got a date to impress.” Steve sorts through a pile. He looks between a yellow sweater and a green one, sighs, and tosses them both aside.
“By wearing…your clothes?”
“Yes, Munson, keep up.” Steve puts a hand on his hip. “She’s gonna be here eventually, probably freaking out, and I wanna give her two options. Just two. She’s gotta look good, but she’s gotta be comfortable.”
“Right.” Eddie nods slowly, as if this makes sense.
“Hey, make yourself useful. I’ve got this shirt, uhm, dark blue? With a little stripe? If you find it, let me know.” Steve flaps a hand at him. Eddie knows precisely the shirt--it fits Steve distractingly well.
“I’ll get right on that, sweetheart.” Eddie flops backwards on the bed. Steve shoots him a withering look. Eddie gives his most charming smile and folds his arms behind his head.
God, he loves this part of their little dance. The way Steve looks at him, the undeniable fondness buried beneath the exasperation—it’s a thrill.
Steve tugs at a shirt underneath Eddie’s body, but he can’t get it free. He heaves a belabored sigh.
“Do you mind?” Steve’s eyebrow twitches.
“Not at all. I’m enjoying myself immensely.” Eddie smirks.
“If you stretch out my shirt, I’m gonna push you in the goddamn pool. Get up!” Steve jabs Eddie in the side. Eddie giggles and flinches violently.
Steve Harrington is looking at him as if he’s the best present he’s ever received, and while some deep and unacknowledged part of Eddie does flips at the sight, it’s terrifying.
“Oh, this is too good to pass up.” Steve crawls onto the bed after him, his devilish grin curling wider by the second. Eddie’s face burns and he scrambles to flee, but Steve’s already on top of him.
“Don’t you dare, Harring—aaah!” Eddie’s soul and dignity flee him in a high-pitched shriek.
“Holy shit. I’m barely touching you.” Steve staccato pokes him everywhere he can reach, quick and light, and Eddie can’t stop the giggles bursting from him in waves. He wants to think of something witty to say, but it tickles, and Steve’s smirking—it’s a lot to ask of man under these conditions.
Steve starts tickling him in earnest, his fingers skittering wherever they can reach. When Steve trips up his ribs, Eddie arches like he’s being hit with a defibrillator. He smushes his face into his hands, hoping maybe he’ll smother himself and they can call this a day, but Steve tuts at him and pulls his hands away from his face.
“No way you’re this ticklish,” Steve says again—does he really need to rub it in—and gives Eddie’s sides a curious squeeze. Eddie shrieks and flips himself over, attempting to crawl towards freedom.
“Where’re you going?” Steve drags Eddie back into place by his waist. He makes an incoherent whining noise that breaks off into laughter and goes limp on the bed. He tries to roll back over but Steve is solid on top of him. Being face-down gives him the small mercy of being able to hide his face while he cackles.
God, he didn’t even know that the back of someone’s ribs could be ticklish. Holy hell.
Eddie grabs at Steve’s knee and releases a desperate jumble of syllables. Steve yelps and falls backwards off the bed.
Eddie peeks at him over the edge of the bed, laughter petering off into gentle embers. Steve stares up at him, wide-eyed. Eddie backtracks, trying to figure out why a simple touch would’ve elicited such a big reac—oh. Oh.
Steve’s halfway down the stairs before Eddie even realizes he’s gone.
“Hey! Get back here!” Eddie skids after him two stairs at a time, swiping at the back of Steve’s shirt.
Eddie tackles Steve over the back of the couch, both of them a tangle of screeching, flailing limbs. Steve’s stronger but Eddie is scrappy, having long since abandoned his self-preservation instincts. Steve tries to roll them over and Eddie goes limp. Steve grunts under the deadweight, and it gives Eddie the two seconds he needs to clamber on top of him properly.
“Now—“ Eddie finally wrestles Steve down, huffing a lock of hair out of his eyes— “What the everloving fuck was that?”
“Nothing.” Steve’s poker face is good, but Eddie can see right through that easy smile. He walks his fingers across Steve’s stomach. Steve inhales sharply.
“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Eddie raises his eyebrows innocently. Steve narrows his eyes at him, but his fake smile is very slowly twitching into a real one.
Spurred on, Eddie kneads into Steve’s stomach, gentle and a little clumsy. Steve trembles under him, wrenching a hand free just to cover his face. Little huffs and snickers wobble out of him.
“Dishing out what you can’t take? Oh, this is precious.” Eddie snickers. Steve shoves his hand into the side of his face to push him away. Eddie licks it.
Steve screeches, but that breaks the dam. The first beautiful sound from him is a snort. Eddie gasps happily, then laughs right along with Steve.
It’s not that Steve doesn’t laugh, he does, but it’s often the restrained chuckle that Eddie loves to give every royal NPC in his campaign. Eddie’s never heard anything like this, this bubbly rush littered with voice-cracks and little bouts of nose-scrunched hiccups. He didn’t know Steve was even capable of these kinds of noises.
The stupid little Scoops shirt rides up and Eddie takes advantage of bare skin. Steve squeals and goes boneless on the couch. He hits Eddie with the full brunt of his smile, unfiltered and radiant, and something in Eddie’s chest flutters.
“EddieEddieEddie--” Steve snorts again, and the speed at which his face turns scarlet suggests embarrassment. Eddie can’t imagine why.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” Eddie reaches behind him and finds Steve’s knee, tickling just where the goofy shorts stop, and Steve wails. He curls his head into Eddie’s chest and seems to resign himself to die there. Eddie has absolutely no feelings about how warm Steve feels or the desperate little leg kick he does.
Steve grabs Eddie’s wrists and he relents, figuring the promise of future mischief is a sufficient tradeoff for a truce. Steve collapses back into the couch cushions with a delirious little giggle, rubbing his hands over his beaming face. Steve peeks at him overtop his hands, then snickers again.
The longer they sit here, both breathing a little hard, the longer Eddie has to notice the gentle warmth and curve of Steve’s eyes. A hysterical man would call them doe-like. Eddie accepts this new state of being and leans a little closer. His guitar pick necklace dangles over Steve’s chest. Steve’s jaw falls slack, eyes flitting to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s hair falls in a frizzy curtain around them both.
Eddie doesn’t see Robin so much as he hears her—the screech of disgust bounces off every wall. He pops his head up and they make direct, unfortunate eye contact. She shoots him an all-knowing look with her beady, accusatory little eyes and he gives her his most threatening zip it gesture.
Steve decides that that’s the moment to counterattack, sending a cackling Eddie toppling off the cushions and onto the floor. Steve slides down after him, ducking under a flailing arm and scribbling his fingers wherever he can reach. Eddie curls up like a pillbug. He can hear Robin saying something but it's unintelligible over the sound of his own laughter.
“I know, right?” Steve grins back at her, then looks back to Eddie. Softly.
Steve has the audacity to wink at him. Eddie files that little moment away for Tonight Eddie to scream into a pillow about, and instead focuses on launching a counter-counterattack that’ll save his life.
#my fics#steddie#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#ticklish!steve harrington#ticklish!eddie munson#me answering this ask and sweating: dont write an essay dont write an essay there's already a fic attached to this dont--#anyways thank you anon ive been sitting on these kind words for a little bit and it really means a lot to me. <3#kind anons carry this blog on their backs fr#also codependent besties stobin are everything to me. robin steals steves clothes and then he just starts giving them to her#also at the end robin definitely is saying that eddie laughs like a goblin and steves like yeah. he does <3#continuation of the 'robin has a key to steve's house' saga
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