#holy shit that looks like hot garbage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

auras-moonstone · 8 months

Note

hi! i love the way you write and was hoping if you had time for this rec :) ethan x reader

it's inspired by 'the summer i turned pretty'

y/n is the bailey's childhood friend, she was very close to ethan and quinn growing up, but when she comes back to newyork, richie is suddenly very interested in her and the shitty brother that he is, he know that ethan had a thing for her.

"You think she's pretty?" richie asked ethan one day.

"Yeah, and you do too," ethan replied already annoyed, trying to brush it off.

"I hadn't noticed, really," richie said, smirking.

"Come on, man. I've noticed you noticing"

richie is the it-boy of the town, always gets what he wants, cocky and arrogant. y/n was the only thing ethan had for himself only.

sorry if its long 😭😭 its mostly angsty id say, y/n is surprised someone like richie likes her but her heart has always been yearning for ethan whom she thinks will never see her that way.

childhood best friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes so i really had a lot of fun writing this! hope you like it💓🫶🏻

you’re my best friend — ethan landry

word count: 2,465

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: when y/n goes back to new york city she finds out two things—she’s still crushing on ethan and richie took an interest in her.

WHEN Y/N AND HIS FAMILY HAD TO LEAVE NEW YORK FOR LONDON, THE BAILEY’S WERE LEFT HEARTBROKEN, ESPECIALLY QUINN AND ETHAN. Both of their families had been close since forever, so Quinn, Ethan, Y/N and Richie grew up together and the first three developed a really close friendship.

Y/N’s dad got a promotion, so they had to move to England, where Y/N finished high school and started college. Now, though, her dad had been offered to go back to New York if he wanted. And because he missed the city and his friends, he said yes.

The first thing Y/N did when she found out was text her best friends—Quinn and Ethan, with whom she had kept contact with despite the distance. She was excited to see them, and wondered what she would feel when she finally saw Ethan again. She’d like to think she got over her crush, but that’s because they hadn’t seen each other in four years.

And there she was, about to find out. Y/N was standing in front of the Bailey’s house with her parents behind her. The door opened and Y/N’s chest grew tight in anticipation, and then she held a sigh of disappointment when Wayne’s face appeared.

The older man greeted her parents with enthusiasm, and when it was her time to say hello, the man opened his mouth in shock “Oh my! You’ve grown a lot! It’s nice to see you again, Y/N”

“You too, Wayne” she hugged him awkwardly. Y/N wasn’t his biggest fan, she still remember all too well the way he treated Ethan. Always comparing him to Richie, making him feel like garbage.

“Quinn and Richie are in the kitchen” he informed her. She nodded and made her way to said place.

As soon as she set foot on the big kitchen, she was attacked by a hug. “Oh my god! You’re here!” she recognized the voice of Quinn.

“I’m here! I missed you” she broke the hug to take a look at her friend’s new hairstyle “Red is definitely your color, Q. You look so good.”

“And London certainly benefited you, holy shit. You look hot. Give me a chance?” the red-head joked.

“Absolutely” she laughed, hugging her once more. “I can’t believe I’m back”

“Hi, Y/N” Richie finally managed to find his voice. He had been completely entranced by the girl. Quinn was right, she got hot. He had never noticed her, because well, he had always seen her as his sibling’s friend and because she had been 15 when she left. Now, she was 19 and super attractive.

“Oh, sorry. Hi, Richie. Nice to see you again” she gave him a little wave. Y/N wasn’t sure she liked the way Richie was shamelessly checking her out. “Where is Eth?” she tried not to sound so excited.

“Oh, he’s in his room, as always. Drowning himself in text books and having no social life whatsoever” Richie rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“He doesn’t know you’re coming today, so go surprise him” Quinn said, eyeing the way Y/N’s knuckles turned white. She had always hated when people talked badly about Ethan, and apparently, it didn’t change.

Y/N walked up the stairs, anguish filling her stomach and her heart beating so fast it made her cheeks turn red. She stood in front of the door, trying to gain the courage to knock. There was just one door separating her from Ethan, the guy who had been her first crush ever. Her best friend in the entire world.

“Come in” she heard, and almost fainted. Not because she was seconds away from seeing his face after four years, but because she noticed the change in his voice. It was deeper, raspier and… hot.

Y/N took a deep breath and opened the door. There he was, lying on his bed, headphones flattening his perfect curly hair and book open on his lap.

His round brown eyes found hers, and he jumped off the bed so fast he got dizzy. Y/N laughed and ran into his arms, that were instantly wrapped around her lower back to pull her up and against his chest. Her legs locked around his waist.

“Please tell me you’re real and I’m not making you up” Ethan said, face between her neck and shoulder blades.

“I’m real” she laughed. “And I’m back to stay. Holy shit, you got so fucking tall”

“And you have not grown and inch” he joked, letting her feet touch the ground again.

“Mean” Y/N punched his arm playfully. “Where is your Justin Bieber haircut?!”

“That was a phase I don’t want to remember” he shook his head. “What, you don’t like my curls?”

“No… I love them. You have amazing hair” Y/N complimented.

Ethan blushed, and took his time to let his eyes take in her face. Her factions were more defined, her lips were fuller, eyes a little darker but still very bright, and smile as warm as ever. She had grown a bit, but she was still short compared to him, her head barely reached his shoulders. She looked even prettier than before, and Ethan couldn’t believe he would be able to see her everyday.

The tall boy had also changed a lot, and Y/N needed to figure out how to stop looking at him before she weirded him out. His jawline was sharp as a diamond, his cheekbones more defined, and surprisingly, he had muscles. Enthralling, captivating muscles. He was pretty, adorable and hot at the same time and Y/N’s doubts faded away—her crush on him was still very much intact.

“You look stunning, Y/N/N. I missed you” he said in a low voice. They were so close, his arms still around her, and the moment felt intimate and cozy. It was at that moment Y/N realized how much she had missed her home.

“I missed you too” she smiled, happiness was radiating off her. Y/N was so happy she could cry. “Can I hug you again?”

“You don’t have to ask. You know I love your hugs, and I missed them. So, you’ll have to hug me a lot to make up for the lost time” Ethan answered, chest almost exploding for the amount of adoration he felt for her.

None of them knew for how long they stayed in each others arms, if it had been just minutes or hours, but they did know that either way, it hadn’t been enough. They could’ve stayed like that forever.

SAYING THAT Y/N CAUGHT THE ATTENTION OF EVERY BLACKMORE STUDENTS WOULD BE GOING A LITTLE TOO FAR, but she certainly had the attention of the people she had classes with. Not only because of her looks, but also because she entered in the middle of the semester, which was extremely unusual. Y/N hated the twenty pairs of eyes on her, but she was thankful she at least had Ethan by her side.

The nerdy boy felt a little uneased by the reaction Y/N caused. She had always been someone only Ethan used to notice—thought he never understood why, because she was the most amazing girl in the world—, and the thought of that changing made him panic. Because there were so many guys who were better than him, and now that she had options, Ethan knew Y/N would never choose him.

“How is your first day going?” to her surprise, Richie asked.

“Um, good?” she said, unsure. It was weird, Richie and her had never been friends. He had never cared about her well-being, what was his deal now? She didn’t know.

But Ethan did, he could see it in his brother’s eyes. Richie was interested in Y/N and it made his blood boil. He knew Ethan had feelings for her, but of course he didn’t care.

“Great. If you need anything, feel free to tell me” he said, winking at her before leaving.

“That’s the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. Is he okay? Did he fell from the stairs and hit his head or something?” Y/N asked Ethan.

The brunet laughed “He kind of became the ‘it’ boy of college, which fed his ego and makes him brave enough to flirt with every hot girl that crosses his path. You’re his next target.”

Richie had always been popular amongst girls—he was attractive, had that attitude girls found hot, and was sometimes funny—and exactly the type who would never look at Y/N’s way, or so she thought.

She couldn’t imagine herself with him, not only because ‘it’ boys weren’t her kind of boys, but also because her heart yearned for Ethan. Even when she knew he would never look at her as more than a friend.

“Well, time to damage it boy’s ego” Y/N said.

Ethan looked at her surprised “You are not into him?”

“Ethan, what the actual fuck? No!“ she laughed in shock. Wasn’t it painfully obvious that she had a crush on him and not Richie? Guess not. Or maybe Ethan was way too oblivious.

“Okay” wasn’t she imagine it or did she actually hear relief in his voice?

ETHAN AND RICHIE SAT ON THE BEACH CHAIRS NEXT TO THEIR POOL, THEIR EYES ON THE VOLEY MATCH HAPPENING IN FRONT OF THEM. It was Quinn and Y/N vs. Tara and Mindy, and Ethan’s eyes were specifically focused on Y/N’s figure. Richie couldn’t pass the opportunity to tease him.

"You think she's pretty?" Richie asked him, sarcasm present in his voice.

"Yeah, and you do too," his brother replied, already annoyed, trying to brush it off.

"I hadn't noticed, really," Richie said, smirking. He enjoyed seeing his brother angry so much, and he knew Y/N was his weak point.

"Come on, man. I've noticed you noticing. And she did too” Ethan said, frowning.

“She does? Maybe I should ask her out, then.” Richie said, hoping this would make Ethan fume.

However, the nerdy boy gave him a smile. “Do it.” he tried to suppress a smirk at his brother’s confused reaction.

“Hey, enjoyed the game?” Y/N asked. They had been so sumerged in their conversation they hadn’t noticed the match ended.

Ethan flashed her his sweet pretty smile, which she mirrored “You’re good, Y/N/N.”

“Thanks, Eth” if her cheeks hadn’t been already red from the heat and the exercise, Ethan would’ve noticed the effect his words had on her.

“Do you want water, gorgeous?” Richie asked, with a sly grin. Ethan clenched his jaw and Y/N tried not to make a disgusted face.

“Yes, but I’ll go get it” Y/N said walking to the kitchen before Richie could beat her. Ethan followed her, feeling Richie’s eyes on the back of his head. “Does he not get the hint? I have given no signs that I like him”

“I should probably warn you, he’s going to ask you out” Ethan told her, leaning against the counter and she poured water in a glass.

“Oh god, you know what? It’s fine, I’m just going to tell him he’s not the one I’m interested in” Y/N said.

Ethan stiffened “What do you mean by that? You’re interested in someone?” his chest contracted.

Y/N then realized what she had said. “Oh… well, yeah.”

The boy nodded, trying not to show how much it hurt “Are they from London?”

Y/N shook her head “No, he is from here.” she admitted.

“Oh… you met him at college?” he asked. Why was he asking? He was a fucking masochist.

“No… but he goes to our college”

“So that means you met him before you moved to London” Ethan deduced.

Y/N nodded “Waay before I moved. I have known him my whole life” she said. He’s got to figure it out now.

“I have no fricking idea” Ethan laughed. “I don’t remember you hanging out with someone who wasn’t Quinn or me.”

“Ethan are you serious?” Y/N groaned. Guess he really was oblivious. Ethan looked at her, very lost. “I’m talking about you, you idiot. Honestly, for someone that smart you can really be dumb sometimes.”

“Me? You like me?” Ethan pointed at himself in disbelief.

“I have liked you since we were fourteen, Eth. Never stopped liking you” Y/N smiled nervously. What was going to happen next? Rejection or reciprocation?

“Are you sure?” he asked in a low tone.

Y/N let out a giggle “Yes, Ethan, pretty sure I know my emotions. Do you know yours?”

“I win” Ethan said, making her frown, not understanding what he meant. “I have liked you since we were thirteen. So I won.”

The girl rolled her eyes, smile painted on her face as she walked closer to him and hugged him. “Well, guess the loser is the one who has to ask the question” Ethan raised his eyebrows in amusement, liking were this conversation was going. “Ethan, would you like to be my boyfriend?”

“I would love to be your boyfriend, Y/N” he replied. Y/N could feel his heartbeats through his shirt as his arms were wrapped around her lower back. “Can I kiss you, girlfriend?”

“Yes, you can, boyfriend” she closed her arms around his neck and brought him down to meet her lips. Mint got mixed with cherry, and their soft lips danced with each other in one perfect and very awaited kiss.

The slow and calm kiss turned into a rougher and wilder one. His hands went under her white tank top as hers messed with his soft curls. Ethan turned them around, so that she was now pressed against the counter. But soon, he lifted her up and set her on it. She opened her legs so he could step between them and deepened the kiss.

“You’re my best friend” Y/N whispered breathlessly against his lips.

Ethan smiled “You’re my best friend, too. I love you”

“I love you” she said back, before kissing him once again.

Quinn, Richie, Tara and Mindy entered the kitchen and stood still at the scene happening in front of them. The two teenagers were so engrossed in their lustful kiss that they didn’t notice them until Quinn yelled “Not in the counter, we use it to cook!”

“Kids nowadays have zero respect” Mindy shook her head.

“This is a family house!” Tara exclaimed. Richie just stood there completely dumbfounded, which made Ethan feel even more victorious.

“Oh, we have been waiting this for years, leave us alone” Y/N rolled her eyes, but got off the counter anyways. Ethan draped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“They’re cute, you have to give them that” Tara said to Quinn.

“Are you two official?” Quinn asked, now unable to hide her smile.

“Yes” they said in unison, smiling to each other.

#ethan landry #ethanlandry #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #jack champion oneshot #jack champion #jackchampion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff #jack champion fanfic

525 notes · View notes

nattysstargirl · 7 months

Text

The Beast of my Dreams

Chapter 5

Word count:3349

TW 18+: fingering, cursing, oral (R receiving) edging, overstimulation, praise, begging (reader calls Nat sir briefly) semi-public sex, Natasha being an adorable butch, possessiveness(brief).

A/N: I want butch Natasha to ruin me 😘

Nat disappeared from the lecture hall before the front half of the room could make it out, and Y/N couldn't find her in the hallway either. She kicks herself for not getting her number. She says goodbye to Peter and heads to the exit. Fridays are half-days, so she's done with classes. Which would be the perfect time to hang out with a hot lesbian. After bracing for the cold, she pushes outside and jogs down the front steps. She technically has homework she should be doing, but her whole consciousness is absorbed with thinking about Natasha. And the way her jaw could cut glass, and her deep green eyes, and—

An arm slinks around her, and panic jumps to her throat as she thinks of the touchy frat boy from last night. Bile burns her chest. But a gentle kiss to her neck from a soft face with no stubble makes her melt. Natasha.

"Hey," she whispers huskily in Y/N's ear.

Y/N giggles like she's in middle school. "Hi."

"Sorry, too much?" Nat releases her and steps into her line of sight. "I guess hooking up once doesn't put us on PDA level."

"It's sooo okay." Y/N takes her hand.

She loves physical affection, and there's something possessive and sweet about it happening in front of people. Nat's shoulders relax, and she smiles. It's a cute smile, unrestrained with all of her teeth. It crinkles her eyes and tugs on her cheeks. Y/N's stomach flips again.

"So, did you want to do something today?" she asks.

"Name it," Nat says.

Y/N pulls her onto the sidewalk, and they head toward the parking lots. She doesn't know where she'll take her, but she's lived here for three years and knows all the cool places. It occurs to her that she's never seen Nat before the stats class and knows literally nothing about her.

"Are you a junior?" she asks. "I've never seen you around campus, but that's definitely not a freshman-level class."

"I, uh...transferred," Nat says. "I'm a junior."

"Transferred from where?"

Nat seems to think it over. "Tiny little community college in my hometown. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"So you're from a land far, far away?"

"Not too far," she says modestly.

"No wonder you're so cool."

Natasha looks at her. "You think I'm cool?"

Y/N balks. "Obviously? You scared away four drunk frat bros, you wear a leather jacket, you made me orgasm harder than I ever have—"

"Oh, did I?" Nat cuts her off. She's smirking hard.

Y/N considers punishing her for her cockiness, but holy shit, does she deserve to be cocky. "Yes," she says simply.

Nat thinks that over. "We barely got started."

Y/N swallows hard. They arrive at the parking lot before she has to answer.

"Which one's yours?" Nat asks.

"It's the blue hatchback." She points, suddenly self-conscious about her fifteen-year-old beater.

What if Nat comes from money and thinks she's lame?

"Cute," is all Nat says.

Y/N walks to the passenger door to unlock it manually. "The button is broken," she explains, opening the door and letting Natasha slide in. "You can just...shove all that aside." But Nat gently lifts the stack of textbooks and papers and props them on the floor behind the driver's seat. She's careful with her feet to not disturb the piles of garbage and belongings. "Sorry, it's kinda messy."

"All good," Nat says with a smile.

Y/N closes the door and hurries to climb in on the driver's side. She cranks Old Navy to life and turns on the heat. "It takes a minute to warm up," she explains.

"No rush here." Nat's head is leaned against the rest, gazing at Y/N. Y/N blushes.

"Do you prefer to be called (your name shortened) or Y/N?" Nat asks.

Y/N tries not to smile. Nat heard Pete call her (y/n/n), and she wondered about it enough to remember through two hours of stats lecture. And she cares enough to ask her about it.

"You can call me anything you want," Y/N says genuinely. That makes Nat smile. Then she turns to the floor at her feet and picks out a plastic grocery bag. She shakes it open and starts filling it with trash.

"You don't have to do that," Y/N says. "I'm going to get it...eventually."

"I'm happy to help." She looks at Y/N. "Really, with anything you need."

Y/N drops her gaze to her hands. "You're really nice to me."

Natasha sits up. "Should I not be?"

"No, I just mean... I don't know, we just met."

"Am I being too much?"

"No! No, I like it. It's just... I'm usually pretty fast to catch feelings. Not that it's happened anytime recently, but..." Y/N puffs out her cheeks. "The affection is one-sided, typically. At least for the most part."

"Are you saying you like me?" Nat asks.

"I really do, and I know that's weird to say, but I always say the weird thing. I feel really...drawn to you. Like I've known you for a long time. That's stupid and cliché, but there it is."

"I don't think it's stupid," Nat says seriously. "I come from...a community that operates like that. We skip a lot of social norms and follow our hearts."

Y/N smiles. "That's really cool. Where are you from again?"

Natasha holds her hands over the vents. "Feels like he's warm. Ready to go?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Y/N hurriedly slams it into drive and pulls out of her parking spot. "Where should we go?"

"Mmm. Bring me to your favorite place off-campus."

"That's easy," she says. She waits in the small line of cars heading out of the parking lot. "Half-day Fridays," she explains to Nat.

"Kids are going home for the weekend."

"I go here," Nat says with a chuckle.

"Right." Y/N blushes.

Natasha's fingers thread through hers, and she pulls Y/N's hand to her mouth to kiss it. Y/N's stomach is never going to sit still with Nat around. It feels like it's training to compete in Olympic-level gymnastics. Nat kisses the inside of her palm, then the pulse point at her wrist, acting pretty casual about being the sexiest and most romantic person alive. Nat drops their hands into her own lap, and Y/N rubs her thumb in circles on her thigh.

"I think I want to call you Y/N," Nat says thoughtfully.

"Yeah?" She nods. "Y/N it is." She peeks at her shyly, but Nat's glare is now pointed out of the window. Y/N follows her line of sight. "What's that?" Three men are hauling an enormous cage out of the back of a truck. It's a long rectangle box of grid metal, with a large solid piece of metal set inside at an angle.

"It's a trap," Nat says. "For the animals, I guess?" Natasha's forehead is crinkled in a hard frown.

"They shouldn't have built a university next to a protected national forest if they weren't ready to deal with animals."

"I'm sure they'll release them safely somewhere else," Y/N offers. They finally make it out of the parking lot and drive in silence to the destination Y/N has in mind.

—

The tension in the car after Nat saw the animal traps fades by the time Y/N pulls into the drive-in theater and parks backwards.

"What's this?" Nat asks, looking curiously at the large projector behind them in the review mirror.

Y/N giggles. "It's a drive-in. You've never been to one?" Nat shakes her head. "Well, they show a movie on that big screen, and you don't have to leave your car. I'll be right back. Wait here." Y/N hops from the car and jogs to the refreshment stand. There are only a few other vehicles for the matinee, so she's the only one in line. She orders a large popcorn, two sweet teas, and a bag of gummy worms. "Thanks!" she says, handing over a twenty to cover the snacks and two tickets.

It's way more affordable than going to an inside theater, which is one reason she loves it. She hurries back to the car. Nat got out and is leaning against the car, watching Y/N return. Her arms are crossed, with one foot propped behind her against the tire. "I told you to wait in the car," Y/N says. She shakes her head. "You just can't follow orders." She was joking, but Nat seems to take it seriously.

"I don't like when I can't see you," Nat says. That stops Ema. She looks at her. "I..." Nat changes the subject, unburdening Y/N of the snacks and one cup.

"So why'd we park backwards?"

Y/N crosses to the back of the Subaru and opens the hatchback with two fingers, balancing her tea on the bumper and leaning inside to drop the backseats forward. There's a stack of thick, folded blankets she keeps on the floor for this very purpose. She unfolds it so it spreads over the flat seats. "Tada!" She flourishes her arms toward the film-viewing hangout spot. "Get in." Nat climbs inside while Y/N fetches the wireless speakers from a charging port nearby. She climbs in too, closing the hatchback behind her, then unlatching the window and hinging it open. She leaves her socks and shoes next to where Nat had dropped hers.

"Now watch this," she says.

Natasha is relaxed against a stack of pillows she found and distributed, one arm tucked behind her head. She sips her tea through the straw. Y/N rips the curtains loose from their holders and slides them over the windows, then pulls them on their trackers to close off light from the windshield, leaving her leaning over Nat. She looks down at her, hands still on the curtains.

"Cozy, right?"

Nat snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her down on top of her. She kisses her mouth gently before pulling away and saying, "Yeah. You're pretty good at making things comfortable. And you're handy, by the looks of that tracker install."

Y/N giggles and rolls off, checking her watch. "Movie starts in seventeen minutes."

"Sounds like plenty of time," Nat says, finding a cupholder for her tea.

"For what?" Y/N asks, excited to play along with any idea Nat might have. "Are you... What's that word? Where people like being caught?"

Y/N's eyes widen. "An exhibitionist?"

"Yeah."

"Uh, I don't think so?" Then she adds quickly, "Are you?"

Because Y/N could be convinced...

Nat smiles. "No. I'm pretty territorial, if I'm being honest."

She leans to close the back window, tugging the curtains together in front of it. Y/N's been with territorial people before, and she didn't love the experience, but the way Nat's acted so far hasn't thrown up any red flags for her. It's all been kind of endearing. Nat moves toward her, and Y/N gulps. She stops on her knees in front of Y/N and shrugs out of her jacket. She lays it carefully to the side, then presses her body between Y/N's legs.

"You're so nice to look at," Nat whispers before kissing her.

Y/N's body reacts immediately, her hands trembling, her hips rising to meet Nat's. It's embarrassing how quickly Natasha can turn her into a pathetic, shivering pile of horniness. Nat moves her lips from Y/N's mouth to her neck, painting slow strokes with her tongue along her pulse before sinking her teeth in. Y/N groans. She wants to tell Nat she can bite her as hard as she wants, but she thinks Nat knows that.

"I like the way you sound," Nat says. "Your voice, and your moans, and the way your breath hitches when I—" She licks her throat again. And Y/N's breath hitches. She feels Nat smile against her skin. Nat kisses her on the mouth, like she's telling her goodbye, before she moves down to Y/N's belly. She pushes her shirt up and runs her nose from her clavicle to her navel, inhaling softly. "I like the way you smell," Nat says. "Can I see how you taste?"

Y/N looks at her, and Nat's watching her face. Y/N just nods enthusiastically. "I need you to say it," Nat says patiently.

"Yes," Y/N says. She nods again.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, you can."

Nat lifts to her elbows, moving away from Y/N's waistband. "Yes, I can what?"

Y/N whimpers. "Please lick me, Nat. I want to feel your mouth on me."

"Lick you where?" Nat whispers.

"Everywhere." Y/N sounds pathetic, but she doesn't mind.

Natasha seems to like it, because she smiles, then unbuttons Y/N's jeans, slowly inching the zipper down before tugging them from her hips. "Good girl," she says.

y/n's breath falters. She spreads her legs, eager to remove any possible barrier to Nat fucking her with her mouth. If she made her see stars—constellations—with just her fingers... But Nat's not in any kind of rush. She rubs her nose from y/n's knee, down the inside of her thigh, then skips over her center to trace back up to her other knee. Then she trails back down with little kisses, y/n holding her breath and arching as she gets closer, then skipping over it and working her way up to the other knee. y/n whimpers quietly, which makes Nat smile and bite her thigh.

"God, you're so hot," y/n mutters, dropping her head back because she suddenly can't support its weight.

"Thank you," Nat says, kissing her way back to the edge of y/n's underwear. Then she licks her, broad and hard, along the panty line of y/n's left thigh. It feels insane. y/n thinks she's going to jump out of her skin and ascend to another plane. Nat hasn't been near her clit, and y/n feels like she could cum on command easily. She thinks of Nat telling her to and shudders.

"Mmmm," is all y/n can say, then her eyes fly open.

Nat is biting her, gently, over her underwear. y/n looks down. Nat drags her bottom teeth from y/n's opening to her clit. y/n knows her mouth is dropped open. Nat does it again. It's rough, but not painful, and y/n feels her pussy responding. It's throbbing, and it's wet. Her panties are already soaked through. Without warning, the teasing is over. Nat pulls the panties off of her and tosses them away, exposing everything. Y/N doesn't feel shy. She drops her knees as wide as they'll go. And Nat's back, swiping her tongue roughly into y/n's folds. It's so abrupt, y/n releases an excited yelp, her hands threading in Nat's short hair to ground her to reality. Her head swims as Nat relentlessly swipes her clit with a hard tongue.

Y/n bucks her hips, grinding against Nat's face. y/n's had sex on E before. And shrooms. Where the world melts away and you meld with another body, and your animalistic urges matter more to you than anyone's opinion, including your roommate who's definitely hearing you scream, and all that matters is the person you're fucking. This is better than that. y/n leaves her body and enters another being that she shares with Nat. It barely registers that she's definitely shaking the car with her thrusts, and that her cries are too loud, and the woman working the snack stand can probably hear her. All that matters is Nat's mouth on her. Nat looks up, sucking y/n's clit between her teeth and grinning like a devil.

"Nat," Y/N whines, gripping the blanket with one hand, the other fisting Nat's hair.

Nat bites her again, with no protection of fabric. It hurts a little, and it's perfect. She knows what she's doing. y/n's body rolls with pleasure.

"Don't cum yet," Nat says.

Y/N shudders. "Yes, sir."

Nat's tongue swipes big strokes, then delves inside of her pussy. It's wide and strong and curls up to pet y/n's G-spot. She didn't know someone could reach that with their tongue. She moans like a porn star, and she's not even trying. She clenches her eyes and focuses on not finishing. Not until Nat tells her to. But God, she's so close. y/n opens her eyes and focuses on the ceiling of her Subaru. Then she bites her lip and slips a hand under her shirt. She pinches her own nipple, hard, hoping that will slow down, but it makes it worse. Pleasure shoots from her tit to her pussy, and it throbs harder.

"God!" she yells. "That feels so good, Nat."

Nat's eyes are on y/n's hand in her shirt. She pulls her tongue out and mutters against y/n's mound, "Keep doing that." y/n does, kneading her tits roughly with both hands now. Nat's eyes go so dark they look fully black. Y/N likes that. She pulls her shirt and sports bra over her head and lays back, fully naked. Nat's mouth moves faster, roughly making out with y/n's pussy.

y/n grabs her tits again, because Nat likes it, and God—she likes it, too. She's so close. She whimpers loudly. "You want to cum, don't you?" Nat asks. Her deep, husky voice muffled by y/n's cunt is even hotter.

"Yes."

"Ask nice."

"Can I cum?" y/n asks between gasps.

"No." Nat smirks and pushes y/n's knees up toward her face. She tongues her from her clit down—past her pussy—to her asshole.

"Oh, my GOD..." y/n's never had her ass eaten. She always thought she wouldn't like it. But Nats's ravaging tongue and lips and teeth put her firmly in the Pro Ass Eating camp. Holy shit. "Please can I cum?" y/n's almost sobbing. "Please, please, please, I'll do anything if you let me come, Nat."

Her mouth temporarily loses contact with y/n. "Good girl," she says. "You learned how to beg so quickly. You can cum, after you count to thirty."

Y/n doesn't ask a single question. "One! Two, three."

"Slower," Nat's voice is muffled again.

y/n grips the edge of the folded seat and bucks her hips. "Four... Five... Six..." She clenches her eyes shut. She's not going to make it. "Seven... Eight..."

Nat pushes three fingers into her pussy and sucks on her clit, hard.

"Oh, my GOD, NATASHA!"

"Count."

"Nine," y/n is actively fighting back tears from overstimulation and pleasure.

"Ten, eleven..." Nat pushes her pinky into y/n's ass.

"Twelve—NAT!" y/n's hips buck hard, crushing against Nat's face, both hands gripping her hair.

An orgasm rips through her, and she loses track of herself. When she comes to, she's flipped them both over, Nat now on her back against the car floor, and y/n fucking Nat's face. She rubs herself in small circles as she comes down from it. Nat's tongue is inside of her, twirling slowly. y/n's legs twitch, and she falls to her side, panting. She's worried she hurt Nat in the rearrangement, but Nat's still grinning like the Cheshire cat as she flips to her hands and knees and crawls to y/n.

Y/N can't move or speak, dazed and silent.

Nat pulls a blanket over her, then lies beside her and spoons her back. She's got a protective arm over y/n as she whispers in her ear. "You're a very good girl. You did so well for your first try." She nibbles at y/n's ear before placing a lingering kiss on her neck. "Next time, let's see if we can get to thirteen."

#g!p natasha #lesbian #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #were hyena!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader smut #Natasha romanoff x reader fluff

159 notes · View notes

gffa · 11 months

Photo

Do I know the Ric Grayson arc is going to be a slog to get through? Sure, even with being able to binge it, it’s going to be A Long Read. But you know what I will say for this overall moment in the timeline? (Batman #55 + Nightwing Annual #2 + Nightwing #50) THEY KNOW HOW TO START ME OFF RIGHT. I have never seen anyone that level of nuclear hot when getting shot, much less following it up with Caring Dad Bruce who just picks up his kid and protectively leans his head in against Bruce’s shoulder to haul ass to get him help because HE. WILL. BE. FINE. like Bruce will fucking will him into being fine if he has to, like that’s some quality visual storytelling there, you can just take one glace at that page and know Batman loves that kid in his arms, and then!! AND THEN!! Ric Grayson may be kind of annoying but holy SHIT that dude is hot. Do you SEE the way he’s drawn in those panels!? What I’m looking forward to with this arc is that it seems like it was an actual shakeup of the status quo, that the length of it means that it actually had some time for the impact, that Bruce actually has to not just freak out about Dick losing his memories, not just freak out at the distance Dick puts between them now that he doesn’t remember Bruce or Nightwing or the entire history that led him to being the heart of his family, but that Bruce actually is going to have to work at this for the first time in a long while. That it comes on the heels of Selina leaving him at the altar, so the entire reason Dick was in Gotham was because he was trying to cheer up Bruce, the entire reason KGBeast shot him was because Bane was trying to get to Batman, so there’s some really delicious underlying guilt that he can’t rely on Dick to forgive him for, because this Dick can’t and won’t do that for him. I am prepared to hunker down and dig out all the Batdad and Batson feelings that this arc will give me and, if nothing else, holy shit, that is some very stunningly gorgeous art in Nightwing #50 and those panels from the Annual where Bruce hauls him off are off the charts Batdad Feelings. Maybe this arc will eventually reveal itself to be garbage, but for now HOLY SHIT THAT IS SOME PRIME QUALITY READING MATERIAL RIGHT THERE.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman: cold days #batman 55 #nightwing 50 #nightwing annual 2

140 notes · View notes

amethystunarmed · 5 months

Text

I Need a Shovel to Love Him

Word Count: 4,226 A03 Link Richie calls Peter after the events of the opening night of Workin' Girls.

~~~

Holy fucking shit.

Peter is about to lose his virginity to Stephanie Lauter.

They are on the couch in Peter's brother's apartment. Ted is gone for the evening, went to Ruth’s musical at the Starlight, but he had thrown a condom at Peter with a wink before he left. Peter was equal parts mortified and grateful.

By pure luck, Peter and Steph had managed to avoid getting tickets the same night Ted was going, giving them an opportunity to finally go all the way. They are making out on the couch, Steph straddling him while he gazes up at her in awe. Neither of them are wearing their shirts (Peter has come a long way from the first time he saw Steph in her bra and got so flustered he had to stop. He's just lucky she thought it was both hilarious and adorable). Her skin is hot against his, and when she trails her fingers down his spine, it gives him chills. Steph has finally taken pity on Peter, and moved to take her bra off herself, when the phone rings.

Pete sits up to grab it and Steph groans, flopping forward so her head rests on his chest.

"Are you serious Spankoffski? You're answering your fucking phone right now?"

"I figure if it's my brother telling us he's on his way back because he finally realized the show isn't about sex workers, we'd want to know."

"... You get a pass just this once." She slides off his lap and Peter immediately misses her weight.

Peter fumbles for his phone and is surprised by the name that pops up.

The Power of God and Anime. Richie.

Peter frowns down at his phone. Richie would rather die than make a phone call. For all Ruth loved talking to telemarketers, Richie about broke out in hives every time he had to make a call. (Between his phobia and Ruth's penchant for making the delivery boy uncomfortable, Peter had been making calls to Pizza Hut for them for years.) Richie wouldn't call. Not unless...

Peter hits the button and brings the phone to his ear, even as Stephanie groans behind him. He slides his legs off the couch and stands as he talks.

"Hey Richie, what's up? Aren't you at the show?"

Sobbing. Richie is sobbing. Peter's stomach sinks. "Richie? Richie, what's happening?"

"Pete?" Steph asks, suddenly concerned. Peter holds a finger up to her.

Richie hiccups. His voice is shaky, so much that Pete can barely understand him.

"He- he- He went crazy, he killed them-"

Peter feels like he's had ice water dumped over him.

"Who? Who killed who, Richie?" Peter gets up and grabs his shirt from where he'd thrown it earlier.

"Everyone, he- he-"

"Where are you?"

"The Theater."

Oh thank God.

"Richie, my brother is there, go find Ted, okay?" Ted was a fucking asshole but he would (probably) look out for Ruth and Richie, if only so Pete didn't tear him a new one. "He'll get you and Ruth out of there okay?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Richie says, sniffling, voice hitching. "Ruth and Ted are dead, Peter."

Peter drops his phone.

He doesn't remember what happens next. He blinks and they're in the back of Mayor Lauter’s limo. Steph is holding Peter's now cracked phone to her ear. Miss Tessburger is prattling on about something but Pete can't understand her. Her words sound like a broken garbage disposal, continually revving but never getting any clearer.

He blinks again and Steph is kneeling in front of him. She sways as they take a sharp turn. She should be wearing a seatbelt, he thinks, inanely.

"Pete, you're scaring me."

Peter doesn't know why. He hasn't even done anything.

He blinks and they're at the theater. Steph's hand is firm in his, the only thing that keeps him from drifting away. He trails behind her, letting her guide him to the sirens and the flashing lights. Until he sees-

Richie.

Peter loses time again. Suddenly he is sprinting, and Richie is too and Peter slams into him and they fall to the ground and Peter has his fingernails clawed tightly into Richie's vest so nothing can pry Richie away from him and-

He is sitting in the back of the ambulance. A scratchy orange blanket is wrapped around his shoulders. Richie is next to him. He has Peter's hand in a death grip, squeezing so tight Peter is beginning to lose feeling in his fingers.

An EMT is shining a light in his penlight in Peter’s eyes. It fucking hurts. Peter blinks aggressively at him.

“His pupils dilate, I don’t see any sign of concussion. As far as I can tell, Peter here is just suffering from a pretty extreme shock.”

He gives Peter a pitying little smile. Peter wants to knock his teeth out.

“But he’s not responding.” Stephanie is standing off the shoulder of the EMT. She has her arms crossed over her chest, her chin cocked out. It’s the same stance she’d had when she’d stood down Max Jagerman after they first started dating. It means she’s scared. “You can see it, he did it in the car too. Why the fuck can’t he hear us?”

The EMT hesitates a moment, then speaks slowly, like an adult on Sesame Street.

“Sometimes, when someone goes through something terrible, their brain will... take them away for a little. It’s a defense mechanism.”

Peter has already heard enough of this.

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.”

“Oh, thank god.” The tension melts out of Steph as she throws herself at Peter’s free side. Her arms wrap around his shoulder and she tucks her head into his neck, like she is trying to get as close to him as possible. “You’re okay. Jesus Pete, never scare me like that again.”

"Pete?" Steph and Peter pull away from each other to look at a Black man in a checkered shirt. He nervously fiddles with a button on the cuff of his sleeve. Peter hadn’t initially noticed him, but he’s pretty sure the man had been standing there for a while. He seemed vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t place him. "You're Peter Spankoffski, right?"

Steph pushes over the ambulance, and stands in between him and Peter and Richie. "Listen, if you want a statement, go talk to some other smarmy asshole looking to get famous off this. Try Linda Monroe, she has an affinity for vultures." She is so fucking cool, so brave. Peter thinks he may be in love with her.

Oh my god he's in love with her.

He's in love with Stephanie Lauter.

He wants to tell Ruth, even though she'll ask a million uncomfortable questions.

He wants to tell Ted, even though he'd give some awful advice about not being tied down.

Peter squeezes Richie’s hand.

"No, no," the man says. "I'm one of Ted's co-workers? Bill. Do you remember me?” The name slots into place. Peter remembers him in the backgrounds of office party pictures Ted had shown him and from when Ted brought Peter to a “Bring Your Kid to Work Day” even before he moved in with Ted full time. He has a recollection of Bill smiling at him from where he had hidden behind Ted, telling him, Richie, and Alice Woodward to all play nice together. Peter gives him a faint nod, which puts Bill somewhat at ease.

“Look at you, all grown up. So tall!” He is studying Peter with a sad sort of softness, cataloging all the changes from that little kid he’d met years ago. Peter wants to find the nearest bridge he can jump off of to avoid this conversation. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if Ted hadn’t had a picture on his desk."

Peter wonders if he spontaneously developed a latex allergy, it feels like his throat is swelling shut. “He... He has a picture of me on his desk?”

"Yes, he does.” Peter waits for him to elaborate, but Bill just offers him an awkward little half smile. Which, what the fuck? Did he just come over to here to remind Peter he was going to have to go to his brother’s fucking office and clean out his desk?

“Bill, I don’t want to be rude, but... why are you here?”

“Oh.” Bill furrows his brow at that, like he isn’t actually sure. “We came here together. Ted and I."

Peter squints at him. "Like a date?" He knew Ted had been sleeping around the office (knew too much about it, because his brother was kind of a slut), but he'd been pretty sure he'd been hung up on someone named Charlotte.

"No!" Bill denies, "He- I had an extra ticket, and I- he was the only one who wanted to come." Bill suddenly looked nauseous. "H- he was the only one who wanted to come tonight, and to spend time with me, and the whole night I just-"

"So you're the reason my brother is dead." The whole group snaps their heads to stare at him, even the EMT. He doesn’t know why they all look so surprised. It seems like a pretty logical deduction to make.

Steph wraps her arm around Peter’s shoulder, but she stays standing. He feels small tucked against her side. It feels nice.

Richie gives his hand a squeeze and runs his finger along the side of Peter’s hand. It feels nice too.

Bill sucks in a breath, like somebody stabbed him. Which is fucking hilarious, given the circumstances. He looks at Peter like Peter did something to hurt him. It does not feel nice.

“What? Don’t have anything to say about it? You just said it, you were the reason he was here.” The EMT winces, and Peter glares at him. He wisely decides to fuck off to the front of the ambulance.

“Peter, that’s not- I’m didn’t-” Bill fumbles over himself. Peter isn’t sure what he fucking expected.

“I think you should go.”

“Right, right, but I just wanted to say, if you need anything, you can-” He fumbles with his back pocket and pulls out a wallet, nearly dropping it on the ground. Ted always says that Bill never knows when to drop a subject, and so far, Peter isn’t seeing anything to disapprove this fact.

“Here,” Bill says, as he holds a white card out to Peter. “My number’s on there, you can give me a call-"

And Peter just wants him to shut the fuck up.

"I said fucking GO!"

Bill jumps and drops his business card. Peter feels bad, but he's too fucking tired to apologize. He slumps against Steph's shoulder. Her breathing feels like a gravitational pull, and he doesn't think he could escape it if he tried.

Bill scurries off, and Peter is grateful. “Fuck,” he groans, hiding his face in the crown of Stephanie’s head. She smells like sweat and that fruity shampoo her dad won’t stop buying for her. “Ted was right, he’s a fucking busybody.” It tears through his chest, even saying his brother’s name. He thinks the only thing that could hurt worse would have been not saying it.

It grows quiet. At least, as quiet as the site of a disaster can be. If he listens carefully, he can hear Chief Sweetly crying about one of the actors or Officer Bailey debating with Grace Chasity over who gets to keep his gun. (He's pretty sure Grace is winning.) The noises of the parking lot combine into a low background, police interrogations and muffled sobbing weaving into a dull drone. The police have turned their sirens off, but the lights still flicker red and blue and white. Peter closes his eyes, and the solid colors flicker across the black of his eyelids. The repetition is soothing, smoothing over the anxious hum that has been blaring a klaxon in the back of his brain. Between the warm pillar of Steph in front of him and Richie’s solid weight across his back, Peter finds his eyes drifting shut.

Richie’s shoulders hitching, however, gets him wide awake in an instant. Peter sits up, away from Steph, and pulls Richie closer to him, so he is angled toward Peter. Silent tears flood Richie’s cheeks. His mouth is screwed up in a crooked line.

“What happened?” Peter asks, frantically looking Richie over. He seemed fine when they arrived, but Peter had just been happy he was breathing, he could have missed something important-

"It's my fault Ruth is dead," Richie weeps.

"What?"

"I killed her, Peter. I killed Ruth." Tears stream down Richie's cheeks.

"I thought you said-"

"I told her to audition! She wasn't going too, she said she wouldn't get in. I'm the one... I'm the reason."

Oh fuck.

"Richie..."

Richie just sobs and latches onto his shoulder. Peter can feel time slipping again and he digs his nails into his palm to stay present.

"Richie, it's not your fault."

"I'm the reason she was here."

The sick feeling in Peter's gut twists deeper. That isn't what he... Fuck. What does he say? What does he say?

Steph sees his hesitation and gets a wild look in her eyes. Her hand flutters to the back of Peter’s neck. Her fingernails graze the skin in a repetitive line, like she is trying to beckon him back. He wonders if she thinks he lost time again. If so, she doesn’t say. She focuses all her attention on Richie. "It's not your fault, okay? You blame the murderer, you blame the theater for hiring this whackjob, you blame God for all I care, but you don't blame yourself for that shit, okay? That's how you drive yourself crazy, and Ruth wouldn't want that, you torturing yourself for believing in her. Okay?" She reaches across Peter and takes Richie's free hand. "Promise me."

"Promise you?"

"You won't blame yourself. Promise me."

"I'll... I'll try.”Steph opens her mouth, most likely to argue, but she is interrupted. From the side of the ambulance, the EMT clears his throat, far too loudly, and rounds the corner.

Steph glares at him, but only says, "We'll work on it.” Richie nods, and Peter is positive he is counting on her forgetting about it.

With the EMT back, their closeness starts to itch. Peter can feel him searching them, trying to figure out just what they mean to each other. Peter is pretty sure a vivisection would feel less intrusive.

The three of them untangle from one other. Steph habitually tucks her hair behind her ears, straightening to perfect posture. Even at the scene of a disaster, she maintains her image. Not that Peter blames her. He is sure Dan and Donna will have all sorts of footage from tonight all over the news tomorrow. As a local celebrity, Stephanie will probably get a featured segment. The thought makes him feel nauseous. "Everything seems to be in order!" The EMT says brightly. "I don't think you two need to go to the hospital. Do you three have someone who can take you home?"

"My uncle is coming to get me," Peter lets him know. He looks toward Stephanie and Peter. “He can probably get the two of you too!”

Stephanie's frown deepens. It has been such a common expression for her tonight, Peter feels bad. He has etched so much grief into her face. "But Peter-"

"I'm fine, Steph."

"No you're fucking not. You keep fucking... Leaving."

"I've been here the whole time."

"But you haven't. The lights are on but nobody is home. It's... It's fucking terrifying, Pete."

Oh.

Pete turns to Richie, who nods. His palm is slick with sweat against Peter's. He looks freaked out, even considering everything that has happened tonight, which Peter again feels bad about. He is letting everyone down today. Still... There is one person he can't fail. He can't.

Peter looks up at the EMT.

“Where is my brother?”

Richie swallows nervously. Peter feels his Adam's apple bob against his shoulder. "Pete...” He says slowly, like Peter just asked if he could move to Clivesdale. “He's d-"

"I fucking got that." He doesn't need a reminder. "Where... Where did they take him. After."

The EMT presses his lips together. “You should let your parents handle that, sweetie-”

“Then it’ll never get done. Where is he?”

“Everyone who was... who had passed before we arrived was taken to the hospital morgue.”

“Huh.” Images of Ted, pale and expressionless on a silver slab flash through his head. So many nurses were going to see Ted naked. He would have been ecstatic.

Then Peter is laughing. He is laughing so hard he can’t breathe. Stephanie and Richie are saying something, and they sound almost frantic and someone is shaking his shoulder but it’s so fucking funny Peter can’t stop. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cackles. And at some point his laughs have turned to sobs. They shake his whole body, and he thinks he might be screaming. He falls into Richie, and Richie is sobbing too. He wraps his arms around Peter, and hugs him tight to his chest. Peter can feel wet spots on Richie’s shirt where he is soaking him with tears and snot, but Richie only holds him tighter.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pete,” he murmurs over and over into Peter’s hair. A warm weight drapes over Pete’s back, and Stephanie reaches up to pet through Peter’s hair.

“Let it out baby, let it out.” Her voice is wet.

Peter isn’t sure how long they sit there, crying. Long enough, that Peter runs out of tears, and he just sniffles through shaky breaths, feeling like a wrung out dish towel.

“What am I going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where... Where am I going to stay?” His parents were out of the question. Peter wouldn’t go back, even if they wouldn’t just slam the door in his face. Without Ted to pay rent on the apartment... “I’m homeless. Fuck.”

“You can stay with me!” Stephanie assures him.

“Your dad is going to be okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? He’ll love it. Taking you in right before the election? He’ll look like a hero.” She scoffs. “He’ll probably claim it was his idea.”

A car pulls into the parking lot, a beat up red Toyota probably older than Peter is himself. The bumper is more rust than metal. At the wheel is the mean barista from Beanie's. She is wearing an expression that Peter has never seen on her before, blatant concern weighing her face. Out of the car, comes Richie’s uncle Paul. He is still in his suit, like he was relaxing at home in a starched shirt and tie. Considering everything he knows about Paul, that probably was the case.

“Richie!” He yells, louder than Peter imagined he could be, “Richie!” His head frantically turns back and forth as he scans the crowds.

“Over here!” Richie yells, standing and waving his and Peter’s conjoined hands. He has backed up, so the lines of their legs are still pressed together.

Paul’s entire body decompresses when he sees Richie, like he is sighing with his entire body. He staggers against the hood of the car, briefly studying himself with his hands, before pushing past it. He cuts the corner too fast, slams his thigh into the headlight, but he doesn't even seem to notice the impact. He speedwalks over to the back of the ambulance, running up to his nephew to take Richie's face into his hands. “Richie,” he gasps, like holding him is the first breath of oxygen he has gotten all night. Something about it makes Peter's already sore eyes sting, and he has to swallow a lump in his throat.

Richie looks up at Paul with a brittle smile. “Hi Uncle Paul. Thank you for coming.” He says it like Paul has picked him up early from a sleepover. Paul doesn't even answer. He just opens his mouth and then closes it, once, twice, then a third time. Then he pulls Richie forward, unflinchingly, into his chest. His shoulders shake.

“Jeez, Uncle Paul!” Richie shrieks, “You're crushing me.” He doesn't fight the hold though, merely wraps his free arm around Paul and squeezes. The hand still holding Peter’s trembles.

The mean barista jogs up to them, finally catching up from where Paul had run off without her. Peter remembers Richie mentioning she and Paul were dating, but Peter hadn't realized they were “Drive me to get my nephew from the scene of a mass murder” serious. Good for Paul.

"Hey kid. How are you holding up?"

Richie sniffs. "Sorry, Emma. I know you were excited to have dinner with Tom and Tim."

"Kid, you don't have to apologize for... For any of it. I'm just glad you're okay." She places her hand on Paul's shoulder. “Babe, you're going to suffocate him.”

“Right, right,” Paul says, distantly. He lets Richie lean away, hands slowly falling, like he is ready to reach out and grab him again at any moment. He glances over, paling at the sight of Peter and Stephanie. He clears his throat as he processes their presence. “Hello Peter. Stephanie.” He says Stephanie's name slowly, like midway through saying it, he realized he wasn’t actually sure he was right.

She graciously doesn't mention it. “Hey, Mr. Matthews.” Paul frowns, like he always has the few times she's joined them for a study session, but for once doesn't argue. Instead, he turns to Peter.

“Richie mentioned that Ted... Is... Is he, um-”

Peter doesn't have the patience for this. “Ted's dead, yeah.”

Paul gets that same stricken look Bill had, and maybe Peter should be nicer, but to be honest, he just wants people to stop looking at him. Even the fucking barista, who Peter is 99% sure has spit in his hot chocolate, is looking at him like he's a walking tragedy and Peter can hardly stand the writhing weight of their pity.

“Okay... Okay, okay,” Paul repeats, slowly, taking a deep breath. "I'm... I'm sorry for your loss. Ted and I weren't close but... I know he really, really loved you."

It's so impersonal, so distant. It’s a stranger’s eulogy.

It's exactly what Peter expects from Paul. Their mismatched relationship used to be something Peter, Ruth, and Richie laughed at Ted recalling his "best friend Paul" while Paul clearly only tolerated Ted, at best. Ruth had once called it a "tragic, one-sided bromance" and Peter had laughed so hard, milk shot out his nose. But Ruth isn't here. And Ted isn't here. And Paul doesn't like Peter's brother. And Peter can't help but say it.

"Ted called you his best friend." From the way Paul's eyes widen, this is news to him.

"Oh. I... I didn't know he, um, felt that way. I kind of thought he didn't like me."

"Being mean is how Ted shows affection. He learned it from our parents."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Pete," Steph exhales, like the words pain her. She nuzzles closer to his shoulder.

"Speaking of parents,” Paul says, in that frantic way he does when he is trying to change the subject, “are they coming to pick you up?"

"Fuck, I hope not." Peter says, before he can stop himself. He groans. Fuck his filter tonight, apparently he’ll just say anything. Stephanie, Paul, and Emma are looking at him with barely masked concern.

“Peter can stay over, right?” Richie asks, nervously. He still hasn't let go of Peter. Peter can't imagine asking him too.

“Of course,” Paul says and nods toward Peter. Then he looks at Stephanie. “Are you... Are you coming as well?”

“I...” Steph looks between them. “I’m not-” It is the most at-a-loss Pete has ever seen her. “I wouldn’t want to... You guys were... Ruth and I, we weren’t... We only hung out a few times, and... I shouldn’t.” It’s Richie who reaches out and grabs her hand.

“Please, come with us. For Pete, and... for me?” Somehow, tears begin to drip down Richie’s face. (Peter is distantly impressed. He thinks that if he cried anymore, he would crumble into dust.) “You’re our friend, Steph. You are Ruth’s friend too.” He chuckles, and chokes on it. “She was so excited to have a friend who was a girl, you had no idea.”

Steph sniffles a bit. “She was my first girl friend too. At least, the first one who was actually nice to me.”

“Steph...” Paul says. Peter didn’t realize it at first, but his eyes are red. “Even if you think you weren’t as close-” Paul’s voice cracks, “-as you should have been, you get to be sad too, okay?”

“Paul...” Emma says, a twinge of genuine grief in her tone, but Peter can’t bring himself to care about whatever the fuck they are talking about, because Steph is looking between him and Richie like she is waiting for them to say something. Words are fucking impossible but to be honest, Peter doesn’t want to talk anyways. He holds his arms out and Stephanie falls into them. And Peter was wrong, because as Steph silently cries into his shoulder and Richie worms his ways into the hug, shoulders heaving, Peter finds he has more tears left to shed after all.

#peter spankoffski #npmd #stephanie lauter #richie lipschitz #hatchetfield #workin boys #workin boys spoilers #character death #lautski #ted spankoffski #ruth fleming #hatchetverse #angst #hurt/comfort #my writing #my fanfic #paul matthews

53 notes · View notes

itsgothgirlthyme · 7 months

Text

chapter 1: the plummet of doom

next chapter

stranger things g/t

hi! i had multiple asks for this so i finally wrote something for it!! i hope i can deliver, based on what i made last year. i wanna continue this story :) ugHh! summary is, dustin finds you, and its misery. until TADA steve harrington swoops in to save you. also the borrower is a fellow girly.

borrower!reader x steve harrington

pov: you're a borrower who got herself stuck in a trash can

Stuck between plastic you tried to pry yourself out of the darkness. The stench of rotten foods you’d wished you’d gotten your hands on before made you gag. Sure, you could take the smell of a dead mouse stuck inside a trap but still cry at its death. Yet this food, it smelled foul and your hand sunk into it. It collapsed under your fingers as you gingerly pulled your hand back. You grabbed onto a piece of black plastic and pulled yourself up.

I’m such an idiot.

You continued to climb up the mountains of garbage bags while trying not to fall. It was slick or sticky depending where you touched it. You recalled yourself earlier in the day when no one was home, other than for that stupid cat. You’d climbed onto the tabletop and were getting quite a few crumbs of bread. A victory you awaited to celebrate in the coziness of your walls. Yet when that thing meowed at you, it scared the shit out of you. Foolishly you misstepped and fallen into the depths of rotten peels and papers. Your hook had gotten stuck on thick brown paper and wouldn’t let go, and then the worst of it happened. That damn door to the entrance boomed making you freeze up. Your grip grew tighter as footsteps boomed in your direction. A familiar high-pitched voice of the house was talking to the devil cat.

Then she muttered something about the trash being taken out. That's when you hid under the flesh of fruit and held your breath. Then find yourself trying to untangle yourself from this mess. It had taken far too long to break the garbage bag, but journeying to the top of the tin became hard labor. You were dirty, sweating, and really wanted a breath of fresh air. Things you were used to feeling, but this time you weren’t sure if you’d make it. These humans, you weren’t sure where they threw out so much food waste in the first place. Your hands trembled. Would you suffocate in this pile of trash, or worse?

You climbed up the last black bag closest to the lid. Yet you were so far away, and when you jumped your flicker of hope vanished.

“Shit,” you squeaked as your foot went over something slick.

You fell on top of another bag in the darkness and looked up at the ceiling. The longer you looked at the dark metal caved lid your eyes welled up. This couldn’t be it, to die due to your own foolishness. You’d expected to die due to a fight with the whiskered beast, or crushed by the hand of a human. Not being dumped into the trash due to your own skittishness (or stupidity).

“No,” you said to yourself. You got up and slid down the trash to hit the metal can. You started to bang it in frustration, like it would open. You shouted till your throat got sore, not remembering when you’d even shouted last. Hot tears slipped down your face, at least you wouldn’t go down quietly. Yet no one would know, the mad little borrower, screaming till they could no longer breathe.

Your knuckles stung and your tears had stopped. Then a loud creaking noise followed by being shed in golden light made you gasp. Tearful again you turned to look up and your eyes went wide. The house you borrowed from, the boy that lived there, stared down at you in awe.

“Holy shit,” he said.

You purse your lips together and lean into the wall.

I think I’ll die actually.

Your thoughts were not answered as a large hand loomed over you. You ran and tried to dig your way into the garbage. When you tried to dive in further into the trash he’d gotten your leg. Pulling you out painfully slowly and you sighed. This was worse than trash death, this was so much worse. You were held upside down and you were met with his dark brown eyes. His fingers pinched your ankle and you were terrified it would break.

“What are you?” he asked.

A warm cloud of air hit your face causing you to swing. You stayed silent, not daring to give this kid more reason to keep you around. You hoped. Again, your hopes were crushed as he dropped you into darkness. The small space had even you feeling cramped in as you kicked the doors of it. He shushed you but that only made you kick harder. The doors wouldn’t budge but when you heard two voices you stopped.

Then it went quiet. Then it went still. Then something zipped and you hit the ground.

“Ow,” you muttered.

The ground under you was colored red and felt like dust. You became distracted for a moment as you put it between your fingers. Tiny rocks slipped past your fingers, and your lips parted. You realized it was quite warm as well, and when you looked up you hissed. It was a bright light that packed a lot of heat it seemed. You’d never seen it before, or maybe you had. You looked away and blinked. Seeing the outline of the light in dark colors everywhere you looked. Then you saw the kid again, staring at you.

You stood up and already scurried off under a piece of wood. Yet he knew you were there but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d rather die trying to survive than playing his game.

“Aw, hey buddy. I’m not going to hurt you,” his voice was now above you.

“Buddy,” you scoffed with a brow raised.

This kid was trying to act like a nice guy?

“Look, uh. I don’t know if you know English actually,” he said. You looked to the other exit of the wood tunnel and started to crawl through it. “But I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” he said. When you crawled out you saw him, staring right at you. He frowned but then his face lit up.

“Maybe you’re hungry,” he seemed determined as he scurried out of the room. You looked back at the red dust to see it stopped at… glass. Your heart dropped and you got out of the wooden tunnel. You looked around to see your worst nightmare. You were trapped in a glass box, and the only way out was up. Your heart started to pound against your chest and your hand touched it. You wanted to cry again, and you weren’t sure if it was possible to.

Then something fell right beside you, and you looked back up. The kids' fingers pulled away and you looked back down. There was a pile of food beside you and you licked your lips. The kid told you to go ahead and eat from the same source. He called it, KitCat? Whatever it was, it took you a moment but you dug right in. It tasted like heaven to you, it melted in your mouth and was sweet. A different kind of sweet from that one time you had the peel of an apple or any other food.

You’d sat down beside it and ate away till you were full. When you were done, you could feel his eyes burning the back of your head. You sighed, now full, at least feeling a little better, but what now?

“My name is Dustin,” he introduced himself.

Your brows shot up and you looked up at him.

“Dustin,” he pointed at himself.

The giant child was trying to have a conversation with you. You sighed, defeated, and took in a deep breath. You stood up and told him your name. This sent him into being a crazed maniac. He was giggling, gasping, and practically shouting at you. You just stared back up at him in shock at how overjoyed he was to hear you say a couple of words. You decided to stay quiet afterward, already regretting those words. You’d hidden under the wooden log and curled yourself up into a ball. You didn’t even have your damn hook anymore, you felt naked, useless. Eventually, the kid gave up, told you goodnight, and turned the lights off. Except yours. Thankfully it was a quiet night as you tried to fight off heavy eyelids. Eventually darkness, once again, got the best of you.

You felt weightless and then your face crashed into something. You blinked your eyes open and realized you were trapped in darkness. You rubbed your eyes and your body flung toward another wall in the darkness. You hissed in response and backed up to the other wall. You steadied yourself and then your heart sank.

Last night flashed before your eyes and now you were here. Stuck inside the trap he’d put you in last night. Going who knows where, and you couldn't fight it. You couldn’t do anything so you kicked the opening again. Nothing happened, but you did it again. You kicked again and again until you got tired.

Being thrown into a bag and tossed around was not ideal. All the while this kid, Dustin, said nothing to you. You sat, defeated in his trap, as loud muffled noises met your ears. It scared the hell out of you, to be in this position. Would he tell other humans about you? What was he going to do with you? It made your head hurt.

Time passed, and finally, the bag opened. You were lying down and were immediately met with new faces. They all looked wide-eyed, mouths dropped and they were all children.

“Oh what the…” you stood up while trying to sink back into the bag.

“What is that?” the boy with thick black hair said.

You raised a brow at that, that. They are referring to you as it?

Dustin told them your name and you rubbed your temple. Your neck strained looking up at a total of five new faces. Oh, you hated this, this is bad.

“What? Did you name it?” the boy with a bandana tied around his head asked.

“It’s my own name,” you spoke up.

All eyes snapped to you and you stayed seated. You looked over your shoulder and your eyes went wide. All you could see were patches of long thick green grass.

“This is insane,” the redhead girl said.

“Isn’t it so cool?” Dustin said giddily.

You followed the conversation, kinda, but eventually, you lost track of the topics. Something about a creature named Dart, and how Dustin found you. You hopped over the ledge and your feet were met with a soft ground. The blades of grass met your height and the edge of your lips tugged upward. You reached a hand out to touch it but then you got scooped up into a warm hand.

Damnit.

You struggled against their grip but their fingers just tightened around you. The world spun until you were met by the kids' faces again. They started to blur in front of you and your breath started to get shallow. Once again you’d faded into darkness.

—

It had been a couple of days of being handled and biting your tongue. You’d still been staying in Dustin’s glass box, which was called an “aqua-something” you couldn’t remember. You’d occasionally see his pet “turtle” slowly walking around on the floor. You sat on the log with your head in your hands. Trying to think of a way out of the cage, since Dustin put down the mesh top on it. You were close to escape two nights ago but had managed to mess up your leg. It wasn’t till you were awkwardly walking around in the morning he’d made the connection.

You perked up when you heard the door and slid under the log. You watched Dustin walk in on his lonesome. That was odd, usually the other kids joined him to just watch you (creepy). He flopped onto the bed and huffed. You rested your hands on the log and watched him look sad. It actually made your heart crack at the sight. Dustin hadn’t treated you horribly, but not amazingly either. Yet, you knew human children were complicated. You’d heard his mom complain about his teenage years when you were still in the walls.

Your brows furrowed and you huffed. Yep, now you remembered why you hated him. He took you away from your quiet, peaceful life which would have ended in a trashy death. When you zoned back into reality Dustin was no longer in bed. The hairs on your neck rose as a shadow loomed over you. Exhausted, you just let him pick you up into his warm palms. He held you in a loose fist and you stared up at him.

“You’re still mad at me?” he asked.

You didn’t say anything and he sighed. Clearly, you were still upset over him holding you so tightly you’d passed out. The first time he showed you to his friends, he’d left bruises for days all over your ribs. They were sore alongside your pride, now with the addition of a possibly broken leg.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated for the millionth time. You looked away with little to no interest in his words. If you had any power over him, it was this. You didn’t give him what he wanted, and he’d leave you alone. Most of the time. This time he’d placed you in his backpack which had duck tape all over one side. You were surrounded by duck tape on the inside as well and pressed yourself up against it. He’d travel in silence the entire time and that freaked you out. The kid was always talking your ear off, even when you were pretending to not listen. Honestly, the things he said confused you but again, interested you.

In the darkness, you finally heard Dustin whispering. Another voice whispered back and soon enough you were jostled in the bag. You landed on your bad leg and bit down a yelp. The sound of the zipper was followed by light. You dragged yourself to the corner of the pocket and were still shed by a shadow.

“Dude, what are you talking about? There's nothing here,” a guy said.

“She’s probably hiding, hold on,” Dustin said.

Damn right, I am.

You pressed your back against the wall and hugged your knee to your chest. You blinked in surprise as the surface below you tipped. You started to slide and you had nothing to grab onto. Your good leg met with a hard surface and the bag disappeared. Your eyes darted around you and you found out you were on an open table. Escape was possible.

“What the–” you heard as Dustin cut off the voice.

“Right?” Dustin introduced you to the voice.

You slowly turned around to be met with someone older for once. You take a step back and cringe at the pain shooting up your leg. The guy looked at you with wide brown eyes but they softened. His tense shoulders relaxed and his brows furrowed. He put his hands on the table and he looked at Dustin.

“She’s scared, and looks like hell,” he said. Soon enough loud voices filled your ears as you started to step away to the edge of the table. You looked down at the drop which would surely end you. A shiver ran up your spine and you looked over your shoulder.

…

Steve watched you and his chest cracked at the sight. You were pale and were shaking like a leaf. Not to mention the limp in your walk. You’d been handled by Dustin and his knucklehead friends. He ran a hand through his hair and put a hand on his hip. He’d dealt with weird shit before but you were something entirely new. He didn’t want to freak you out, considering Dustin had helped in that department already.

“Okay okay,” Steve tapped the table, “Dustin, I’m taking her.”

“What?” Dustin asked and your head snapped to Steve.

Steve’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “I mean, they’ll just stay with me. Dustin, clearly you’ve done enough.”

Dustin tried to fight his idea, claiming you’d been “found” by him. If anything you helped him, you vividly remember going insane in a trash can. That led him to opening it, so you really saved yourself, kinda.

“Dustin, just look at her,” Steve pointed at you.

Dustin’s anger washed away but no words followed.

“Steve!” Robin shouted from the other side of the doors.

“Yeah, I heard you!” Steve shouted back.

You jumped and he apologized immediately. Your tiny face finally looked up at him but he couldn’t detect your emotions. Once Dustin recapped Steve on what had happened up to this point, Robin burst in.

“Jesus,” Steve jumped and turned around to face her. He moved himself to cover you from her vision as Robin started to complain to him.

“C’mon doofus, it's my break time,” Robin exclaimed and continued to complain.

Your heart raced as you let Steve’s silhouette cover you from her eyes. Dustin kept looking at you but you could never meet his eyes. You sidestepped closer to Steve and the edge of the table. Your head was spinning, and you were losing sight of your escape plan “the plummet of doom” you’d called it 5 minutes ago.

“Oh my god, what is that?” you heard and you looked upward.

Robin, Steve, and Dustin loomed over you. Your heart plummeted to your stomach and you slid off the table. You hugged a leg of the table and made your way down. Shouts followed and then your fingers gave out. Hair whipped your face as you shut your eyes tight. Instead of being met with a hard floor you were met with something soft. You opened your eyes to see Steve staring down at you, inches away. Your face flushed at the closeness while he looked startled. His fingers cave in around you to hold you still and you don’t move.

“Jesus, who jumps off a ledge like that?” was the first thing he blurted.

#g/t #stranger things g/t #g/t stranger things #g/t writing #g/t thoughts #giant/tiny #borrower!reader #borrower!reader x steve harrington #g/t community #g/t fic #g/t fiction #giant tiny #I WILL WRITE PART 2 SOON #this was rough to start #but bare with me #it'll be good #gotta just do some build up first #thank you for reading :)

61 notes · View notes

morbimoth · 1 year

Video

holy shit this looks like hot garbage

#ds #dst #dont starve #dont starve together #wx78 #dont starve wx78 #wx78 dont starve #kill me #actually grab my cold and sore throat and murder me #i suck bad with computers and having to fix everything and get it working #was more difficult than making this disapointment of a thing #enjoy please

94 notes · View notes

ironhoshi · 18 days

Note

Okay so it makes sense they identify with cal that way and feel that because he's abused and traumatized, he's One Of Us! Which is fucked up and makes sense lmao. I was also thinking why is dagan gera such a jackass??? Im like holy shit he's so hot but they made his personality garbage lol. I am going to be one of those trash girlies who look for good guy dagan gera fic ...

Extremely fucked up, but makes sense! All these poor traumatized babies!!! (The misunderstanding only gonna grow and I am living for it.)

Ugh, yes, trash man is hot. When I first saw him I was like "Oh, hello" and then he blamed Cal for stuff Cal had no control over? Like sir, he was barely a teen then! Oh, well, I think Darth Maul is hot so might as well add another messed up boy to the mess. Though...a good guy Dagan fic would be interesting.

#thanks for the ask #oh brother run fast #dagan gera #why so hot and so trash?#cal kestis #how the clones view cal

10 notes · View notes

strangesickness · 3 months

Text

i think richie tozier is really into glam metal. i think as a preteen he was really into rock n' roll because bill was really into rock n' roll, and i think bill would mostly listen to very core rock n' roll, not branch off into sub genres too much, he really appreciates the early stuff i think. but richie, at like 11 years old hears livin' on a prayer on the radio and he's immediately hooked. his parents buy him slippery when wet for his birthday and a bon jovi poster. his parents are pretty clueless about this stuff so wentworth takes him to the store so they get the right one. maggie's pretty sure bon jovi's for girls, but is just excited she isn't going to have to deal with her son playing the same three records over and over again anymore.

when richie's twelve the bon jovi poster gets moved to his door, so that it's hidden when he has it open. he feels guilty when he looks at it. it's his favorite poster though and it gets rotated around his room a lot.

when he's fourteen there's a bon jovi concert in maine and he convinces his parents to let him go so long as his sister goes with him to chaperone. it's a pretty life changing experience for him. his sister ends up really liking the music too, so thats cool. he gets a t-shirt that quickly becomes faded and soft from constant wear.

all the lights and effects and just the energy really flips a switch for him. it's not just bon jovi anymore, he's spending hours in the record store, he gets a job so he can buy a CD player, it takes a ridiculously long time to get to that point.

he also gets big into KISS because of course he does. he probably spends more time looking at the cover of his paul stanley album than he does listening to it. he may spend an unhealthy amount of time gazing longingly into paul stanley's eyes but his favorite is probably ace frehley. he has a ridiculous amount of magazines that he just got for interviews with them. this is the era of glam haircuts for richie. it takes him at least two years to figure out he actually has to style it though, so that's fun.

he tries to make his own music but he's hot garbage at it, he moves on to trying to play his favorite songs on guitar, which he also sucks at, he eventually gets desperate and tries to play on bill's mom's piano. he is swiftly removed from the household. he gets really good at singing his favorite songs though.

i'm not really going anywhere with this. richie tozier likes glam metal. it awakens something gay in him.

you can find some relevant images and some more of my commentary under the cut.

slippery when wet, the first album richie sought out on his own, and the beginning of the end of his heterosexuality.

i'm not going to say this is the poster, because i don't know enough about this stuff to confirm if this poster would've been sold around the right time. but you get the picture. ideally it would be this exact poster, but i'm not picky. i think richie comes home from school one day and looks at this poster and has a fucking. biblical experience. like it's just a normal school day, and then he just goes home, closes his bedroom door, turns around to take off his shoes, and stares this man straight in the eye and just thinks "holy shit he's beautiful" i think the poster sleeps in the closet that night.

this is the paul stanley album i'm talking about. i think this is also richie's main haircut inspiration, but it takes him years to figure out what hairspray is. lucky for him his hair is naturally curly so he didn't look too stupid, but things weren't ideal.

i think he takes a lot of style influence from various musicians, but he's never willing to part with his dear patterned button ups, so his workaround is: obnoxious button up + leather jacket as we saw in the movie.

he really likes cinderella, and feels a little betrayed when they change genre direction in the 90s. i think he sees tom keifer

wearing a lot of jewellery and decides he also wants to wear a lot of jewellery but ends up either hating it, or forgetting it, he also never convinces his parents to get his ears pierced. if he ever manages it, it's because bev did it herself, she probably screwed it up pretty bad too, and he just ends up with some pretty gnarly scaring on his right ear.

originally posted january 27th. reposted january 29th.

#none of this was influenced by me or my music taste or how i felt watching concert videos of bon jovi at eleven #just in case you were wondering #bon jovi is like earth shatteringly pretty though. i'll say that #“richie why are your walls covered in pictures of pretty and vaguely effeminate men?”#“richie why is your failed piercing scar on the right ear?”#“richie why do you have a collage of magazine cutouts of ace frehley on your wall?”#all maggie tozier at some point probably (she is confused and trying to engage with her sons interests)#it stephen king #it novel #it 2017 #it 2019 #richie tozier #maggie tozier #wentworth tozier #strange ramblings

12 notes · View notes