#i tapped the max volume AGAIN
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hey quick question. what hte Fuck was that,
#this is directed at both apple and also my shoulder#mad at apple bc: replaced the control bar on new laptops with a digital version#which includes a volume slider instead of just 'volume up' and 'volume down' buttons#mad at shoulder bc: two back-to-back subluxations??? wat are you DOING HONEY#what happened: accidentally tapped the top of the volume slider#which turns the volume up to MAX and blasts ur eardrums into smithereens#note that i did that whilst one of my hands was sorta loosely holding my arm#so in my panic. i think i must have grabbed and yanked on my arm???#and it popped RIGHT OUT of the socket (and then back in)#which is just adding insult to injury (or. injury to injury??) bc i was ALREADY dying#from the music blasting at an ungodly volume#and now my SHOULDER HURTS????#okay and um. i remembered how to turn down my headphones so i did that and took a moment to collect myself#and then guess waht. guess what i Immediately fucking did.#as soon as i was ready to proceed with the music listening???#i tapped the max volume AGAIN#and YANKED MY SHOULDER OUT AGAIN#bc i was kinda holding it since!! yk!!! it HURT!!!!#so yeah now ive figured out how to remove the slider and just put in the up/down buttons instead#but also im fucking Angy bc WHAY THE FUUCK#whatever the fuck
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THE SMITHS | Adam x fem!angel!Reader
SECOND PART
plot. in which Adam, after bumping into you listening to music in the elevator, gives you unsolicited music recommendations.
tags. first meetings, Adam being Adam, flirting, concerts, music, getting to know each other, rockstar Adam (still takes place in canon).
taglist. @call-me-nyxx
a/n. Adam is my muse at this point, he's directing all my creative energy lmao. This came up to me as an idea last night, kinda different from my usual Adam content! Might do a part 2, we'll see about that, enjoy!
«Take me out tonight, where there's music and there's people who are young and alive»
The elevator doors slide close, the few heavenly beings have exited, leaving you alone inside the cubic space. Absentmindedly, your foot starts tapping on the floor. A faint melody can be heard from outside your earbuds, the volume of the music set on max. You bumped music in your ears every chance you got, including when you were on bureaucratic duty for the Seraphim's.
«Driving in your car, I never ever want to go home».
As the elevator stops at the upper floor, the doors slide open and reveal who called it. Immediately, you adjust your pose, clutching your paperwork against your chest with arms crossed. Adam, the First Man, just entered the elevator.
He's loudly sipping what seems to be a sugary beverage from a large cup, positioning himself next to you. You've seen him many times, from a distance. At meetings, where you worked as an assistant, walking around Heaven, on posters advertising his band, in court. But you never interacted, there was no reason to. He was one of the big heads of Heaven, while you just hoped that nobody would yell at you for not adding enough milk to their coffee. Of course, this is what makes you nervous. But when the doors close again, you take a deep breath and let the music envelope you again.
«And if a double decker bus, crashes into us»
You relax, forgetting that Adam is next to you. You just stare at the elevator doors, unbothered. You just let yourself get lost in the sad, indie rock tunes that paradoxically raised your spirits. That's until, with the corner of your eye, you see Adam turning towards you. He's saying something, but music muffles your hearing.
«Ihatethasmiths»
You remove one of your earbuds, and you turn around with a gentle, sweet smile.
«Mh? Sorry?» you ask, the corner of your lips curling upwards.
«I said I fuckin' hate The Smiths!».
Your smile fades out immediately, your eyes go wide and your eyebrows shoot upwards. Adam goes back to look straight in front of him.
«tO dIe By YoUr SIdE iS SucH a HeaVenLy wAY to DiE! Ugh, fuckin' hate 'em » he mocks.
Dumbfounded, you just stare at the First Man in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, and your earbud is still pressed between your thumb and index as you can still hear There Is a Light That Never Goes Out playing. Then, the elevator doors slide open with a ding! and Adam just exits, slurping loudly his drink as if nothing happened. You follow him with your gaze, still in shock. The doors start closing again.
«Holy shit» that's all you can say, before disappearing behind them.
—
Next week, you're still in the elevator, a cup of hot coffee in your hand and your earbuds religiously plugged in your ears. Today you're in a good mood. The Heaven Headquarters offices weren't too packed with work and you were rising to the highest floor of the palace to spend time with your co-workers. That's until the elevator stops and the First Man Adam comes in. Again. You stiffen, your wings twitch and, hoping to not be noticed, you roll your eyes. Now that you think about it, it's the same day and hour you two met last week. When he, not-so-kindly, expressed his disappointment in your music taste. Suddenly, you realize something else. That you're...
«You still listenin' to that crap?» Adam says, pointing a finger towards your earbuds.
You sigh, resigned. You're still listening to The Smiths. This time around you heard Adam loud and clear, but you turn the volume down anyways. And, not caring about being all dignified and reverential in front of him, you roll your eyes in front of him.
«Yeah, I'm still listening to The Smiths. Heaven knows I'm Miserable Now».
Adam, scoffing, symbolically brings two fingers towards his mask and pretends to throw up.
«The Smiths are the bane of rock, I swear! Who wants to listen to a man being all whiny about love, vegetarianism and shit. Rock 'n roll is something else, I tell you»
«I disagree on that»
How did you even end up in this situation? Discussing music in an elevator with the First Man on Earth, one of the most important authorities of Heaven. It's just unreal, so much that going on doesn't bother you that much.
«You're into rock music?» Adam asks, shaking his usual drink in his hand, ice making a crisp sound inside the cup.
«Safe to say yes» you say, a collected but confident smile on your face.
«Okay, okay» Adam smirks, mischievous «and who are you rocking out to?»
«Oasis» you reply.
«Ugh»
«Radiohead»
«Nahh»
«Arctic Monkeys»
«Ew»
«Joy Division»
«For fucks sake woman, are you gonna give me a real rock band or keep naming your emo fest-»
«Guns 'n Roses»
Adam's breath stops for a second. You stare at him with a challenging look. His LED eyes digitally burned on his mask squint.
«Okayy miss...?»
«(Y/N)»
«(Y/N). Name 3 Guns 'n Roses songs»
You raise a finger in front of him, your eyes wide in a sort of prohibitive look.
«Nuh uh, don't you try to pull that move on me, I'm not gonna name anything».
«Tch, as I thought» Adam says, before sipping on his cup of icy soda.
You emit an annoyed groan, before sipping on your coffee yourself. As you're about to press start again on your phone to replay the music and metaphorically cancel Adam's presence from the elevator, he speaks again.
«Listen, girlie, if you wanna listen to some real rock music you should, first of all, give up on that sentimental bullshit that people call rock nowadays. Second, you can start by coming to one of my concerts. I'm-»
«Adam, The First Man. I know who you are» you interrupt.
You move your weight from one leg to the other, as Adam playfully smirks at you.
«Of course you know who I am, you probably heard of me from my band»
«Actually, I work as an assistant for the Seraphims meetings» you say.
«Oh, nah I never noticed you. You sure you don't know me from my band? We're pretty sick»
It's not like you expected him to know you from meetings. You mostly worked behind closed doors, preparing paperwork and only handling it to Seraphims last minute. And Adam wasn't really a necessary presence at meetings. He was important, an authority holding a great power for sure, but you don't really understand of what kind.
«I heard that you got a band but sorry, Christian rock is not my genre» you reply, nonchalantly.
Adam jumps a little in surprise, an appalled sound escaping his lips.
«Oh no sweetie, you got it all wrong. Didn't you listen to me when I said that we're a real rock band? We sing about all things rock» he says, theatrically.
«For example?»
«Sex, drugs and bitches of course».
You let out an ironic chuckle, not thoroughly convinced.
«I heard your venues are like, really crowded. I don't know if I feel like tip-toeing all night long to see anything»
«You can always tell security that you're with me»
His statement surprises you, so much that you turn around with a frowned forehead. The scrunch in your face says it all about your uncertainty. Adam looks chill, confidently leaning on the elevator's mirror and looking at you. How long have you been riding this thing?
«You think they'll believe me? Not even in a 100 years»
«Listen sweet cheeks, I'll meet you at the queue between sound check and the start of the show and I'll directly tell em that you're with me».
«You want me to play groupie?»
«Aren't you already?» Adam grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A very shit-eating grin.
You let out a playful and sarcastic chuckle «No, but I accept your offer, Mr. Real Rockstar»
«More of a real rockstar than Morissey»
The elevator doors open, it feels like you've been there for an eternity but not necessarily in a bad way. It's Adam's floor, the one just beneath yours, and he waves at you goodbye with a hand.
«See you Saturday, you'll be my number one fan».
«You wish»
How was that one of the most annoying, yet weirdly entertaining conversations you ever had?
—
You've never been to an Adam's concert, because you never had the chance to get into his music even if he was really known all around Heaven. But it was true that his gigs were packed. The line is infinite, and the venue probably won't even be enough for all these people. Suddenly you start to regret your decision. Damn, you even dressed up for this! You nervously start shifting your weight from one side to the other of your body. Security is already telling some people to just go home because it's likely that tickets just ran out. One titanic of a bodyguard goes up to you, arms crossed.
«I'm sorry miss, but we're out of tickets»
«Oh it's fi-»
You can't finish the phrase, distracted by the feeling of a stranger arm wrapping around your shoulders. You straighten yourself, and turn around alarmed. Adam had appeared from behind a portal, which immediately closed behind him. All the people left in the queue turn around, shocked to see the frontman appear right there.
«Don't worry dude, she's with me» he says, confidently.
How can someone be such a loser and so charismatic at the same time? This is what you ask yourself while wrapped around Adam's arm. The security guard nods, and Adam opens the portal back with a snap of fingers. Soon, you find yourself in the front row. Did he just transport you there? Adam has already let go of your shoulders, standing behind the barrier. Fans in the front row start going crazy at the unexpected sight of the frontman. As they scream incoherent, adoring gibberish to him, Adam stays focused on you.
«I'm happy you're here. Trust me, your ears will thank me for blessing them with some real rock» he says, his playful smirk permanently printed on his mask.
You roll your eyes, but you're betrayed by your own smile «We'll see»
«Trust me, you won't be disappointed» Adam replied.
Then, he winks at you before turning around and heading towards the backstage.
When the concert is over, you can confidently say that no, you aren't disappointed. As much as you hate to admit it, Adam can get it. He knows how to play guitar, he's vocally a beast in every good sense possible, and he's a stage animal. He's an idiot for sure, an arrogant one, but he quite literally fucking rocks. It's the way he plays guitar solos, his finger picking technique flawless and effortless. And how he knew how to talk to the crowd, how to move on stage. And you also saw him for the first time without a mask. You didn't know what to expect, but you have no complaints whatsoever. Brown, messy hair, dark but charming circles under his eyes, a fierce grin on his face. You felt your stomach fluttering when he obviously looked at you during Stick It To The Man. As people are leaving the venue, you're about to do the same. Maybe you and Adam will talk about it on your next random encounter on the elevator. But, before you can turn around, you see a security guard gesturing you to come close. He opens the barrier for you, and, confused, you shuffle your way through it.
«Yeah?» you ask.
«Adam wants to see you» the bodyguard says, moving his head to invite you to follow him.
Your heart skips a beat. This is some groupie shit. But you don't mind. You follow the security guard to the backstage, hugging yourself slightly out of nervousness. Adam, who was talking to the drummer, immediately stops the conversation when he sees you approaching behind the security guard. A wide smile extends on his face.
«So, (Y/N)! Did you change your mind about The Smiths?» he asks, opening his arms.
You place your hands on your hips «No, but...you weren't half-bad»
«Not half-bad?» he says, almost offended.
You decide to give up the tough girl act «Okay, I'll admit it, you know how to rock. You were really good».
«HA! Told you! Ladies love my band and you're no exception. And THIS is real rock»
«I'll still bump the shit out of The Smiths next time we meet on the elevator» you protest with a smirk, crossing your arms on your chest.
Adam drags a hand between his messy hair «Instead of meeting in the elevator, me and the rest of the band are going to the after party. It's in a club near the venue. Why don't you come? I still have to recommend you some real music»
Oh this is bad. Adam's teasing smile, the way he got closer to you and is now staring down at you without a shade of awkwardness. And the fact that one of his skilled hands is now placed on your waist, again, without any form of hesitation. Is he hitting on you? You feel your face burning, pressing your lips together. Would accepting make you a groupie? And soon, you realize that you don't care.
«Okay, First Man, I'll come with you. But only if you don't ask me to name 3 songs of a band»
«Deal»
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001. ༺...OR JUST LOOK LIKE ONE༻∘
summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.
contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty.
previous. next. masterlist.
★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
the apartment is a lot quieter without tina. she made a lot of noise. you could still vaguely hear her terrible singing as she’d shower, cook, or clean; how she’d wake up early in the morning to make elbarote breakfasts that caused pots and pans to fall…very often; and the fact that she’d watch anything on her phone at max volume.
in retrospect, she was kind of annoying.
but she was nice and you lived with her for almost a year. you’d gotten so used to her.
but now, it’s quiet. and the only thoughts you had were thoughts of not being able to afford rent next month. luckily, sean, your best friend knows basically everyone on campus and kindly agreed to ask around for you.
you’re in your car after stopping to get fast food. you shove a few fries in your month as sean shuffles through his phone to show his instagram conversation with a potential roommate for you.
“okay, so…” sean shoves his phone in your face. “this…is ellie. she’s looking for a roommate and –– ”
“i slept with her…” you mumble after seeing the username. “didn’t end so well…”
“damn…okay, next.” he swipes through his phone again. “okay…this is emily. she’s a straight a student and wants to know if you’re okay with pets?”
you hum. “what kind of pet?”
“um…let’s see.” he shuffles through the text conversation and chuckles. “oh, a twelve inch snake?”
“no thank you…”
“aw, really? it’s kinda cute actually…”
“nope.”
“okay, next candidate.” he takes a big bite of his burger, chews for a while then takes a sip of his drink before he slides through his phone again. “alright, we have paige…it seems like she’s coming from a similar situation to you. roommate kicked her out after getting married at 19…yikes.”
you peer over at his phone. “give her my number…”
“already trying to sleep with her too?” sean snorts and you roll your eyes.
“so that i can text her about the place, idiot.”
“oh, yeah…” he taps on his phone a few more times and then you feel your phone vibrate.
FROM: PAIGE
hi
i got ur number from sean
you’re looking for a roommate?
TO: PAIGE
yes!!
just have a few questions first
FROM: PAIGE
like what?
TO: PAIGE
do u smoke?
or own a ten inch snake?
and do u wash ur dishes?
FROM: PAIGE
nope
no??
yes
TO: PAIGE
*address*
are you able to come over tomorrow?
FROM: PAIGE
yes
what time?
TO: PAIGE
whatever works
FROM: PAIGE
i’ll come over around 12:30 then?
you smile at sean, relaxing for the first time since tina moved out. “thank you so much, sean. seriously.”
“hey, i would’ve let you stay with me but i live in a tiny ass dorm so…” he chuckles. “besides, if you became homeless, where am i supposed to go when my roommate need the room to fuck his boyfriend?”
you snicker. “good point. is it really that bad, though?”
“they’re like feral rabbits…” he mutters.
the next day, you hear a knock at the door at 12:27. she’s punctual, that’s a good sign. you open the door, breath catching in your throat when you see her. she smiled at you and you died a little.
damn, why didn’t sean tell you that she looked like that?
she’s tall, definitely athletic by build, pretty eyes, and a warm smile. you’re fucked.
“hey, i’m paige.” she holds her hand out for you to shake and you have to physically refrain from shuddering. hello, paige. her voice…welcoming and warm, you hand to clear your throat to stop yourself from screaming.
it’s a great terrible idea to fuck your roomate. you remind yourself over and over again as you take her hand, tell her your name which she already knew, and invite her into your apartment.
“nice place…” she steps inside cautiously.
“thanks.” you stop yourself from checking her out any longer, not wanting to be creepy. stop being fucking creepy.
she looks around, you’d just finished cleaning.
“so you’re an athlete?” you clear your throat, trying to politely strike up conversation.
“yeah, basketball.”
you internally groan at the slight smile she gives you when she answers your question.
“that’s –– ” hot. “cool.”
she nods, turning to face you. “so is there anything i should know before i agree to move in?”
“oh…well, my best friend sean comes over sometimes. he sleeps on the couch occasionally but he’s really clean and respectful.” she nods, not looking bothered by that information. “and, um…i’m gay if that sort of thing bothers you…”
she snickers, shaking her head to herself. “doesn’t bother me at all…”
“oh? are you…?”
“yeah.”
damnit. she looks like that and she likes girls? you’re so fucked.
“what about you?”
“what about me?” she licks her lips.
“anything i should know about you before i give you the key.”
“well, i’m kind of in…a relationship. kind of, not really.” fuck, that sounds complicated. too complicated. “it’s��i dunno…but, uh, she might come over if that’s okay?”
you swallow thickly, yes that sucks goodbye!! “no, i get it…no problem as long as you pay your rent on time.” you die a little on the inside again.
she smiles again, it’s painfully beautiful. “i can definitely do that.”
you hand her the key and clear your throat again. “alright, roomie.”
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Turns you on
Billy Hargrove x Male reader
CW: Smut, enemies with sexual tension, internalized homophobia, use of words "homo, queer, etc.", denial, masochism, miscommunication, unprotected and low-prep sex (wrap before you tap!), set in season three, fighting, Sub!Bottom!Billy, Dom!Top!Reader.
WOMEN DNI
He already had everything packed up with him, bag on his shoulder, hair still a little damp after the shower, eyes down on his shoes, which were a little bit wet, too, walking in the room full of teen guys after shower. Already taking a step towards the door, he heard a voice behind him:
"Hey L/N!"
He turned around, facing a grinning shirtless guy with a towel on his waist, his eyes examining the other one.
"What do you want, Hargrove?"
Y/N spoke, his voice low and cold. Billy only smiled, his eyes traveling up and down the others body, before speaking himself.
"Good game today. You've outdone yourself. I guarantee you'll get your date with Vicki."
The blonde smiled, biting his lover lip, before turning to his locker.
"Oh? So you don't think I'm a homo now?"
"Yeah, I don't think anyone queer would be able to do that great on a field in favor of looking at half naked guys."
"So you, apparently, don't count?"
Billy stopped his movements for a moment, before slapping the door to his locker with a loud thud, turning around and marching up to Y/N with an angry expression and still shirtless. The other guy just grinned at his opponent, hands on his sides.
"Take that back, bitch."
"Are you teasing me with your naked torso now? Either way, that makes what I said even more evide-"
Y/N dodged a punch, grabbing Billy by his other hand and disarming him within seconds, pushing him against a cold wall, holding both of his hands behind his back.
"This makes it even more gay, Hargrove, don't you think? If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked being tackled by me. Or maybe you really do?"
L/N chuckled, before storming off to class, leaving Billy behind, cursing under his breath. He stared at the door Y/N just went out of for some time, before turning around and going to finish off dressing.
***
Billy was sat in his room, alone. He just told some girl he banged an hour ago to get out. Music was blasting in the room. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the beat, inhaling nicotine. She called him gay. She said it was homosexual, how he mentioned another guy after he just fucked her. It wasn't even in that kind of context, she was so fucking annoying. Never talking to Nicole again, he made a mental note.
He almost felt like crying. So degrading. Infuriating, even.
His hand slid towards the volume slider on the cassette player, turning it up to max, still looking in the same spot. The speakers blew up with rock music, shoving every thought out of his head. He didn’t want to think about why he mentioned him. Why he said it. Only about temporary feeling of comfort the music brought him.
There were days when he felt like there was a load off his mind. But this wasn’t one of those days. Billy closed his eyes and tried to imagine a girl. Any, non existent even, just a girl in his room, on his bed. But his imagination knew better. It knew what Billy needed, what he yearned for. He needed a different image.
He opened his eyes, a girl sat on his bed, dressed in nothing but fancy lingerie and a see-through short dress, face full of makeup, a trendy haircut and a beautiful ring on her middle finger. She smiled tenderly and whispered, hovering over to Hargrove:
“What are you waiting for, beauty? Your perfume smells so nice, I want to feel it closer...”
He could only look at her, in slowly building up terror. The girl looked at him, winking and slowly laying down on the bed, biting her lower lip. Billy could only look at his imaginative scenario in horror. He didn’t feel anything. The girl was exactly his type, he imagined her, for fuck’s sake! But nothing happened to him, to his body. His lips started faintly shaking. Hands cautiously ghost inside his underwear. Soft. It was fucking soft and cold. Not even a sign of arousal. The girl was perfect, but what he’d fear the most happened. Billy blinked a few times, so the girl would disappear. Met with his empty bedroom, a few tears dripped down his chin.
***
Moving towards the designated spot throughout someone’s house party, Hargrove, with a couple of beers already in his system, grinned, almost tasting the thrill of a fight on his lips. You could easily find the spot, moving towards a crowd of students which formed around. When he neared, whistles and drunk shouting emerged from the crowd. A shit-eating grin spread upon his features, when the crowd parted, revealing him in the middle. Y/N also smiled upon seeing Hargrove entering the crowd.
“Showed up after all, huh?”
“Of course I did, I’m not afraid of a bitch boy like you”
The crowd made a loud “ooooh” sound, everyone in there looking at each other with faces, practically saying “this shit is about to get ugly”.
L/N hummed, as if considering what Billy said, before lifting his head up and spewing the most thunderous laugh anyone ever heard from him.
“You’ve dug yourself a grave, Hargrove! Get ready, you fucking prick!”
Oh, did he get ready. Billy’s gut practically boiled with excitement, as he stripped his jacket down, being left in nothing but an opened button up and leather pants. He bit his lip, jumping in one place from all the energy inside him. That is, until Y/N took his shirt off, throwing it somewhere into the crowd, some girl catching it and screaming. But Hargrove did understand why she did that. He felt like he would, too. A smile freezing on his lips, as he, himself froze in one place, unable to take his eyes off L/N’s bare body. Y/N lifted his hands into the cold night air, and then doing a backflip, making the crowd roar in excitement.
In contrast, Billy couldn’t squeeze out a sound, feeling as another type of excitement arose in his body.
Y/N was already near, looking at Billy with a grin, as he flexed his muscles.
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or you just have nothing to say? You can’t run now, Hargrove!”
The blonde chuckled, cracking his knuckles.
“I wasn’t going anywhere, L/N! In fact, I’m only coming at you!”
He threw a punch at Y/N’s face, which the other one swiftly blocked, before swinging his fist right in Hargrove’s gut. He chocked out a grunt, and immediately slammed the other guy in the jaw. Y/N tried to throw a punch at the side of Billy’s head, but the blonde ducked, sweeping L/N off his feet, both landing on the ground with a thud. Y/N groaned, getting a grip on the collar of Billy’s button up, before hitting him in the jaw with his own head, both hearing a loud ringing in their ears. Hargrove covered his bleeding lip with a hand, while L/N took advantage of the situation, tackling Billy to the ground, twisting his spare hand, shoving his face in the ground. The crowd roared, everyone chanting the name of whoever they were betting on, someone had a camera, recording everything. Billy struggled a little, before feeling something he didn’t expect at all. The feeling he was so desperate to get, he’d fear so much he lost, suddenly came back with a boom. He hardened against the ground.
“You give up, Hargrove? Am I too strong for a bitch boy you are?”
Billy’s low chuckle emerged beneath the two, as he waited a little to reply.
“Was just giving you a head start, L/N!”
He made an attempt at turning around, only feeling himself being pressed into the ground more. Then, he kicked Y/N with his leg, getting a little more space to himself, turning around and landing a punch in Y/N’s face, only for the other guy to mirror his actions. They were fighting in this position for a while, until L/N stood up, jumping on his two, seemingly waiting for Billy stand up. As he started moving, Hargrove was only met with a hit in his face, He could taste the fabric of Y/N’s boots on his tongue. A head with a blonde mullet fell back in the dirt, a new ringing starting up in his ears. This time, Y/N didn’t wait, landing another punch with his foot right in Billy’s gut. Hargrove laughed once again, feeling the arousal in his stomach building up even more now.
“What are you laughing at, freak?!”
Another kick, his left side. This time, Billy grabbed his opponents leg, pulling on it, making him fall back on the ground, too. Hargrove crawled up to L/N as if some kind of wild animal to his injured prey, only to be met with a blunt hit in his nose with the same dirty boot. He continued crawling up, until his face was grabbed by Y/N’s clawed hand, his nails digging into Hargrove’s skin. The blonde stopped in his tracks, looking up at his opponent with wild eyes and a blown smile. Y/N smiled in return, coming closer to Billy’s ear, softly whispering:
“I know you enjoy this, you pervert.”
Only before hitting Hargrove in the face with all his might, the others head once again meeting the ground. L/N stood up, shaking his pants clean. The crowd shouted, a group of people forming around the winner. Billy laid on the ground for half a minute before getting up, finding his jacket in the dust and turning in the direction of the house, that was now left empty, since everyone at the party left to watch the fight.
The blonde was washing off blood and dirt from his face and body. Looking at the mirror, he noticed a black eye Y/N gave him. He felt sick to his stomach, trying to stop the coming puke with tap water. He heard a noise of a closing door behind him and turned around, to be met with a familiar body, also covered in blood and dirt. Y/N smiled, coming closer to Billy.
“Hello there, Hargrove.”
“You too, L/N”, mumbled the other guy, as he turned around to the mirror, looking down at the sink and proceeding with his own business.
“Enjoyed the fight?”
Billy shivered, as he heard the voice right near his ear, not daring to turn around, instead looking at his opponent in the mirror. His face was dirty and bloody, still shirtless, he pressed himself right against Hargrove, both his hands on either sides of the sink.
“Yeah, I like getting my ass beat by fuckers like you.”, he answered, sarcastically.
Y/N laughed, bringing his hand to Billy’s shoulder, rubbing it.
“I sense sarcasm in your tone, but if you wanted my opinion, I think you actually do enjoy it.”
“Stop trying to handle me, I can do that myself perfectly fine.”
Hargrove was trying to shut off the bubbling feeling of arousal from the feeling of another body being pressed up against him.
“You can say that all you want, but we both know, you love it when I handle you. I just don’t know if you love it when anyone does this, or just me...”
“Are you hinting at me liking you? In your dreams, L/N!”
“Me? Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I don’t need you to like me. At least, I don’t need it to fuck you, Billy.”
Billy’s breath got caught in his throat as his body got pressed up against the bathroom wall. He didn’t have enough time to process his position, as a pair of lips attacked his own. The kiss wasn’t gentle and loving, it stung, partially from Hargrove’s busted lip. He tried to reach his hands out to embrace Y/N’s muscular shoulders, but felt a cold hand holding on both of his wrists. So instead, he focused on giving himself all into the kiss, desperately trying to claim the leading role and failing miserably. He subconsciously rutted his hips against the other man’s, finding his dick being as evidently hard as his own. Separating, Y/N grabbed Billy by his hips, lifting him up and pressing him against the wall with doubled force.
“You don’t look like you’re struggling, dear. Maybe you’ll just going to admit that you like being handled by a guy, it’ll make this easier for both of us.”, L/N whispered in his ear, suddenly thrusting his hips forward, making Billy whimper in desire.
“You need to try harder than that, Y/N.”, Hargrove chuckled under his breath.
“Fair enough.”
Y/N smiled and thrusted his hips again, grinding his crotch into Billy’s. He tried to say something, only faint moans slipping out. Hargrove’s hands clamped down on L/N’s shoulders, and he felt how completely and utterly desperate he is for the other guy, his erection at this point being as hard as a rock.
“Do I really need to say it? You already know it.”, he whispered faintly between whimpers.
“Of course you do. You want me to hear it, right?”
Hargrove gulped, his nails biting into Y/N skin.
“You’ll hear it when you deserve it, asshole.” Billy grunted, biting his lower lip.
L/N laughed faintly, his hand ghosting over his belt.
“I’ll have to play bad then, if you’re so bullheaded.”
In mere seconds Billy felt himself being forced on his knees, his hair held in an iron grip of Y/N’s. He felt his body getting heavier with arousal dripping down to his stomach like honey. Y/N finally undone his fly, guiding the other guy with his hand.
“You probably don’t know how to do this, it’s alright. I don’t give a fuck about technique or shit like that, just do whatever you feel like.”
Billy nodded, carefully stretching one of his hands out, exploring an unfamiliar feeling of touching another man’s dick. He’d only see other guy’s private parts in porn, so it was unusual for him to see it so close. It was big and pulsing. He hesitantly wrapped a hand around it, stroking just like he did with himself, since he figured it would be kind of the same for everyone. And he was rewarded with a low groan from Y/N which transitioned into a light, almost admiring sigh. It encouraged Hargrove, driving him to speeding up the pace, biting his lip at every sound coming from his partner. That is until, Y/N seemingly had enough, his hand in Billy’s hair once again evident as he shoved Billy’s face right into his crotch.
The head laced with pre-cum touched Hargrove’s bloody lips. He hesitantly opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, carefully tracing the head with his tongue, his eyes darting up and down to Y/N from time to time, to see his reaction. When he felt like it was enough, Billy gulped and opened his mouth, sensually wrapping his lips just around the head to test the waters. He was met with an immediate response from his partner, L/N moaning above him, as he felt the grip on his locks tighten. Hargrove's gag reflex kicked in, as he went further, feeling tears forming in his eyes yet again. And that's when he heard Y/N speak up:
"That's it, good boy, don't choke yourself now, it's okay."
Billy couldn't help but let out a noise of his own, quietly moaning around Y/N's cock, his eyes still watering. This time, the pain of Y/N gripping his blonde hair completely faded, leaving a strange aftermath feeling of emptiness, instead, a palm gently patted Billy's head in a loving, careful way. Hargrove felt his stomach jump, as L/N took himself out of his partners mouth, and lifted him off the floor.
"That's not fair, how I am the only one who's half naked, don't you think, Billy?"
"You want me to just discard my clothes in someone's random dirty fucking bathroom?"
"Ooh, you a neatfreak, Hargrove? Hard to tell by the way you look right now."
Billy rolled his eyes, taking his button up completely off and throwing it in the sink, then proceeding to do the same with his pants and underwear.
"Look at how hard you are... Bet you got this hard the second I hit you back there, fucking masochistic slut..."
"Shut the fuck up before I resume the fight."
Y/N chuckled, as he wrapped his hands around Hargrove's waist, pulling him closer and into a kiss. This time, Billy put up a good fight, grabbing L/N by shoulders, angrily biting his lips, and even the tongue sometimes. Being busy with the second, more intimate round of their fight, Billy didn't notice Y/N's hands roaming around his body, so he let out a surprised moan when he felt something prodding at his hole.
"Don't be so loud... I can't just do you raw, y'know... I mean, unless that's what you're specifically into..."
Hargrove opened his mouth to spit out some snarky remark, but it drowned in another breathy moan, coming out right from the back of his throat, as he unconsciously grinded against L/N's fingers. As Y/N worked his way inside his partner, he lifted him up by the thighs, roughly pressing him against the wall, silencing another incoming moan with a prolonged, messy kiss.
Both hands now gripped Billy's thighs, as Y/N pulled back for air, licking his lips and eying Hargrove, completely ruined before him, and they were yet to get to the main course.
"You sure about this?"
Y/N suddenly asked, worry painted on his face, to which Hargrove only rolled his eyes.
"Did you not see me getting super hard for you, and literally sucking your cock?"
His partner chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from Hargrove's face.
"I suppose you're right."
Before pressing into Billy, immediately covering his mouth, as he started to moan upon an unfamiliar feeling within his body. Music echoed from the other room, as Billy silently moaned, only for Y/N to hear. Their eyes gazed into each other, as L/N smiled, once again replacing his hand with his mouth, before silently whispering in Hargrove's ear:
"Just give me a sign when it's okay to move."
Meanwhile, Billy was at the same time in hell and heaven. He felt like he was being split up in two, and ascending to gods, with the way Y/N felt inside him, so naturally good, and painfully big at the same time. He would occasionally whimper, when L/N would ever so slightly move, just to hold him in a more comfortable position. As the pain faded, Billy couldn't help but moan, slightly grinding into his partner, nodding upon being asked if this was the asked for sign.
Billy thought he felt good before, but not until Y/N started moving. The blonde felt like he could cum any second, which never happened to him before that fast. As L/N moved in and out slowly, he made sure to mark Hargrove's neck and chest using just his mouth.
"You feel so fucking good when you're inside..."
Sometimes, Billy's brain would work enough for him to form a sentence of admiration, but other 80% of the time, it was too clouded by lust. Y/N smiled, as he licked a stripe from Hargrove's neck, right to his ear, making sure to get it, too. Billy moaned, his eyes rolling back, as he continued to mutter incoherent sentences, before this one:
"Please... Faster... Y/N... So good..."
"What is it, baby? You want me to go faster?"
Hargrove frantically noded, as Y/N wasted no time completing his demand, slamming into him twice as fast as he was. Truth being told, at this point, Billy felt like L/N didn't really care over his, Billy's pleasure and wellbeing, he felt like he was being used, and no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, he liked it, a lot.
"Use me... Y/N... Y/N, please... Oh fuck.."
"What is it, baby boy? Is someone here likes being used as a little, dirty, dick hungry slut?"
L/N emphasized every single word of the last sentence with a deep, hard thrust, every single one of which Billy felt like went straight up to his brain.
"Answer the question, dear."
Hargrove nodded a couple of times, being rewarded with another couple of hard thrusts, that felt like they were rearranging his insides, literally.
"Such a good boy, I bet you would enjoy it so much..."
L/N not only sped up, but also let one of his hands find it's way to Billy's cock, now gently stroking it with expertise.
"If I just went out there, to everyone who's partying..."
Hard, deep, steady thrusts made Billy not only roll his eyes back, but throw his head back, and moan, at this point not caring about everyone outside hearing.
"And let them use you... However they wanted. Doesn't that sound great to you?"
Hargrove moaned once again, his hands desperately trying to hold on to Y/N's sweaty body. Even if he was out of here a little bit, he still could answer the question by shaking his head.
"No? Then what would you enjoy?"
Billy shut his eyes and tried covering his mouth up with his hand, but failing miserably.
"You..."
"I don't understand what that means, sweetheart. Explain to me."
Y/N shook his head, fake pouting, stopping his hand movements.
"You... I enjoy... Enjoy you..." , Hargrove said through panting, moaning and whimpering.
"So will you finally admit you have a thing for me?"
L/N asked innocently, as he stopped moving whatsoever, only holding Billy up with his hands.
"What..? Move, move, please, oh my fucking..."
"Not until you admit it."
Billy whimpered, bucking his hips against Y/N's to get some sort of friction, before looking up at his partner with pleading eyes.
"You're adorable like this. But I won't start moving until you say it."
"I like it... I like it when... You're on me... Using and..."
The rest died down in the moan he once again erupted, as L/N teased him by grinding a little.
"I like being handled by you, Y/N... I love it, fuck... Oh god, I couldn't get my dick up to a thought of some girl this week and I... Holy shit... I thought I'd lost it, you made- OH FUCK! Ha... You made it... Come back."
Y/N licked his lips, satisfied with the answer, bending down to Hargrove's ear.
"That's so good, darling."
And not waiting another minute to regain his speed almost immediately, slamming into Billy at the highest speed he could handle, the sound of skin slapping, both moaning and Billy's sweaty body slapping against the wall echoed in the bathroom.
"Oh god, Y/N... I'm fucking near. I feel it... I... Ha.."
"Go on babe, do it for me."
As soon as those words left Y/N's mouth, Hargrove moaned in a high-pitched voice, as he came all over himself, releasing the tightness that was building up in him for the past week. L/N continued ramming into him at a fast pace, until he came himself, moaning into Billy's ear.
As Y/N pulled out, a little bit of his seed oozed onto the floor, as they both collapsed on the bathroom floor, both sweaty and sticky, their ears ringing. As the aftermath cleared a little bit, a quiet, still not completely stable voice echoes in the bathroom walls:
"Tell anyone about this and you're fucking dead."
#x male reader#x reader#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x male reader#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargove imagine#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x male reader#top male reader#top reader#dom male reader#dom reader#🍷 mlmmetalhead
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midnight visitor - billy hargrove x harrington!reader
pairing: billy x harrington!reader
summary: billy climbs in your window after an episode with his dad and you try to hide your relationship from your big bro steve
length: 1.9k (i got carried away with soft!billy)
warnings: mainly fluff, soft!billy, mentions of sex, mentions of abuse (billy's dad)
a.n: set around s2/3 ish? there are no volume 2 spoilers in this post!
It was late on a Tuesday night and as usual, you were doing homework, books sprawled out on your bed. You’d been at it for hours and your eyes stung but there was a huge test coming up that you couldn't fail. It would ruin your whole Harrington reputation and since your older brother, Steve, graduated, it was up to you to continue the family legacy.
The problem was, you didn’t care much. It’s not that you didn’t care about your education, because you did and you were grateful. But your parents (when they were around) would put immense amounts of pressure on you and you hated it. Steve managed to break away from it a bit and a part of you hated him a little for it, but you couldn’t blame him. If you could, you would forget about an Ivy League school and stay in Hawkins with your friends, get a job and have the life you actually wanted. And it was thanks to a certain someone who helped you realise what you actually wanted, not your parents - Billy Hargrove.
You’d met on his first day of school when he’d waltzed in late to your math class and his entire persona dripped of Bad Boy. And yet, there was a certain nervousness to him as he sat beside you, fingers drumming on the desk repetitively. After a while, it got on your nerves enough for you to place your hand on top of it to stop the incessant noise. He had blinked and looked at you - and that was it. You had fallen head over heels for him.
No one could know, at first. If your friends (and Steve) found out that you were dating the school’s, hell, Hawkins’, biggest bad boy then you would be murdered on sight. It didn’t take Billy long to replace your brother’s ‘King Steve’ place and even though you were fairly popular too, you still couldn’t tell anyone that Y/N Harrington was in love with Billy Hargrove. But, steadily, people found out. Max and Lucas were first after they caught you and Billy in the middle of things after school one day and you swore them to secrecy. But of course, Lucas told Dustin, Mike, and Will. And if the boys knew, it was only a matter of time before your brother found out.
Somehow, it had been a month and Steve hadn’t said a word to you. You picked up your history textbook as you thought about it. Did Steve know? Had the boys finally told him and he just hadn’t addressed it yet or did he truly not know?
A tap on your window rouses you from your thoughts. You frowned. Did you imagine it? The clock on your bedside table told you it was near midnight. You’d been studying since seven and had barely stopped to breathe. Maybe you were just tired. But then it came again and you definitely hadn’t imagined that.
You rose from your bed, papers and books shifting at the disturbance. Your bedroom overlooked the pool and the floodlights outside barely illuminated a figure at the bottom of your window, but this was a familiar enough routine that you knew who it was. You unlatched your window and pushed it all the way up, leaning out. The night air made your bare arms break out in goosebumps and you shivered.
“Billy?” you whispered, hoping that Steve was asleep in the room next door. Your parents were away for the week so you didn’t have to worry about them, but Steve was like a watchdog.
Normally, Billy would be leaning against the wall with a smirk on his mouth and a quip ready on his lips that would always wind up with the pair of you tangled in your bedsheets and out of breath. But sometimes…sometimes he was quiet. Sad. Beaten.
Tonight was one of these times.
“Y/N,” he said, his voice almost broken. You wondered how bad it was this time.
“Come on,” you said simply. He always waited for permission before entering your bedroom and you found that sweet, even in the state he was in. Slowly, you watched him climb up the side of your house, using the windows and pipes and the sheer strength of his muscles to pull himself into your window. You helped him in and pulled the window back down as quietly as you could but you stumbled and it landed with a clatter. You tensed and both you and Billy waited for sounds of Steve. Sure enough, his footsteps sounded down the hall and there was a knock on your day.l “Y/N? Everything alright in there?” Steve voice came from outside your bedroom door.
“Yep, all good!” you called back, hoping you were convincing. “My window got stuck again.”
“Oh, okay. Well, night!” Steve replied and you listened to him leave, only relaxing when you heard his bedroom door close again.
When you turned around, you gasped. Billy’s eye was almost swollen shut and there was a lovely, vicious bruise forming along his jaw. His top lip was also split, slightly swollen and dried blood painted it. Your heart sank to the floor. “Oh, Billy,” you sighed.
He finally met your eyes, shining with tears. “’S not that bad,” he brushed it off. “But I can’t clean it up.” You picked up on what he was asking without words, as always. He was asking for help.
You swallowed thickly and nodded. “Of course. Come here.” You led him to your bed as always and he perched on the edge, careful to move your books to the side.
As you went to your desk to retrieve your supplies for these situations, Billy glanced around your room. On his usual visits, he never really paid any attention to it. He was otherwise occupied. But whenever he showed up like this, he studied every inch of it as if by examining the walls, he was examining the inside of your brain. And, you supposed, he was.
He looked at which record you had listened to most recently (Queen’s The Works) and what books you were reading (a lot of Jane Austen, looking at your bookcase). He loved learning little details about your life that you didn’t realise he cared about. He’d also never admit it out loud but he loved listening to you talk for hours about what you loved, thinking that he had no idea what you were talking about when really he knew exactly what you were saying.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Your back was turned but you frowned at him as you turned around, first aid kit in your hand.
“Sorry?” you repeated. “For what?”
He waved around your room. “For interrupting so late. Didn’t mean to.”
You came over and knelt on the floor between his legs. There was nothing remotely sexual about it this time and you took his hands gently in yours and made him look at you. “Billy, it’s fine. I’d rather you be here than there.” He knew where you meant. At home, with his asshole father that did this to him. You wondered what Billy had done this time that had caused his father to flip. You never asked explicitly. If Billy wanted to tell you, he would. He usually didn’t and you never pressed. But you knew it was usually about Max and how he should be more responsible for her. Which, you thought, was rather unfair. Max was her own person and god knows she had a mind of her own. Billy didn’t want to look after his step sister all the time and you understood that. But his father didn’t.
You took a deep breath as he nodded. Letting go of his hands, you unzipped the first aid kit and got to work. “This is going to hurt,” you said like always, even though he knew. This had happened enough times that he knew exactly what would happen when you pressed a cloth with alcohol to his lip to clean the wound. He hissed and you used your other hand to grip his leg to keep him still. He placed his hands on your shoulders to keep himself steady as you worked to clean up the mess his father had left.
You tried to fill the silence with distractions. “So Steve hasn’t said anything yet.”
Billy’s eyebrow on his good eye lifted in surprise. “No? Interesting.” He mumbled. “Reckon he knows I’m banging the better looking Harrington?” You gave him a look and smacked him arm very lightly, but a smile tugged at your lips. There was Billy’s humour returning. He grinned at you. “What?” he said innocently. “I’m being honest. You really are better looking than him.”
“Oh, shut up,” you scolded but your tone was entirely un-serious. “To answer your question properly, no I don’t think he knows yet. There’s no way in hell he’d be quiet if he found out what you were doing to his baby sister.”
Billy smirked. “Maybe we should tell him. I could do with a good laugh right about now.”
You set down your supplies as you finished and tossed the blood-stained cloths in the bin. “Absolutely not,” you shook your head before standing up and looking down at him. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “All done and all handsome again.”
He brought you closer to him and wrapped his arms around your middle. His head rested on your stomach and you gently played with his hair for a moment. “Thank you,” he mumbled into your top.
“Always,” you told him sincerely.
He sighed and pulled away. “I suppose I should get back. I’ve disturbed your study session enough.” He made to stand up but you shook your head.
“Uh-uh. There’s no way you’re going back home tonight. You know the drill, Hargrove.” He blinked at your sudden dominance and bowed his head, relenting.
“Yes, sir,” he huffed a laugh and looked at your bed, head cocked. “I would offer to put this shit away but we both know I’d mess with your system.”
“Quite right,” you nodded before gathering your study materials and quietly placing them on your desk. Then you got ready for bed as usual, turning off the main light and putting on your night light that Billy had teased you about for weeks the first time he’d visited your room. You tossed Billy one of his spare t-shirts that you kept in the bottom drawer of your dresser and the pair of you dressed for bed, removing your jeans and climbing into bed beside each other.
You laid with your head on his chest, listening to his breathing, glad he was okay. Nights like this always humbled you, grateful for the family you had even though you had your own problems. At least your parents never hurt you the way Billy’s dad did to him.
“Goodnight, princess,” Billy said quietly, pressing a kiss to your head.
“Night, Billy.” He snuggled in closer and turned the pair of you until your back was pressed against his chest. But as you moved, something shifted in the bed and fell out, landing with a hard slam on the floor.
“Shit!” you hissed, the pair of you sitting up to see a stray textbook on the floor. You’d missed one.
“Y/N?” Steve was outside the door again and you barely had time to stop him before he opened the door. As Steve’s eyes landed on you, his baby sister, and Billy Hargrove in bed together, he screamed.
“Shit,” you repeated.
As Steve began to lecture you, Billy pressed a kiss to your shoulder and muttered, “Well, I guess your brother knows.”
masterlist // requests
#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove x yn#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove smut#dacre montgomery#stranger things#stranger things volume 2#stranger things imagine#stranger things smut#stranger things 4#hwknshellfire#billy hargrove x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#eddie munson#x reader
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[Exactly what i need right now, i love writing things like this.]
[Made it GN if that bothers you then let me know.]
[Thanks for reading this and have a good day/night!]
[Can be seen as platonic or romantic]
[I left Airachnid out because technically she isn't a con. and the max count of images was reached]
Cons X Reader who has an unexpected music taste
[this took longer than I expected, sorry for that, but i hope you like it!]
[Have a good day/night and stay healthy!]
××××××××××××××××××××××
Megatron
The last cycles where stressful for everyone, the Autobots blew once again an energon mine up, but finally you had a breem or two for yourself.
So you just flew around, just a few miles away from the nemesis just in case, and heard your music so you could enjoy the moment.
What you didn't know was that Megatron decided to check in on you. He worried about you, just not openly in front of others, and thought that you two could have a nice chat while flying.
Even while you where traveling at a high speed he could hear your rather interesting music playing, more like blasting, in your vehicle mode. Just a reminder that he still was, quite a big, airplane so he of course maintained a safe distance and he could still hear every word. Every Word.
It took quite some time before you noticed the warlord and when you did you paused the music and asked in your normal, polite, tone how he is and some other smalltalk stuff.
You both talked normal but just before you got back onto the Nemesis he let's you know what he heard and thinks.
"(Y/n), you have quite an interesting music taste if i can say that."
You knew if you could see his face then he would be smirking and raise an optical ringe.
"You listen to the music relatively loud, it was quite shocking to hear such music from you considering the way you normally act."
You wanted to say something, you where close to saying an excuse, but before you could you heard an laugh that had an playful, and teasing, undertone in it.
"I won't do anything about this but do me a favor and don't play that kind of music near me."
××××××××××××××××××××××
Starscream
You where on the way to an mission because they requested backup/help and where near it.
You where alone and just turned put on some music like you always did when you're all by yourself.
What you didn't see was Starscream approaching from your left. It normally didn't really interest you but you had the music turned up to the max and he could almost feel the bass/vibrations through the air.
You didn't see him or heard him so he just tapped your wing with his (maybe a little too rough but he didn't mean it)
"(Y/n)! Do you listen to me? What is this 'music' your listing to?? I didn't expect such music from you-"
He got interrupted in his, friendly/teasingly, rant by an message over the com saying that the problem was solved and you could go back to the Nemesis.
The flight back was a little awkward for you. But after Starscream stopped talking you asked him if he couldn't make such a big thing out of it.
Of course he would never do anything when you are uncomfortable but you will be teased when the two of you are alone.
××××××××××××××××××××××
Soundwave
You where on your way back to the Nemesis after another battle with the Autobots. You listened to your music like always on flights but this time you where just pissed off.
You turned the music up to max volume so you could calm down easier. You often did that when you where mad or overwhelmed about something and it didn't bother anyone right now.
Soundwave flew next to you, you often just listened to music on flights, and it didn't bother him because he didn't talk anyway.
But it did worry him about you being okay, he knew about this habit and learned that this meant that you weren't happy, and he sent you a small message.
[Do you want too talk about it?]
You explaind him that you where okay, just a little mad at yourself because you couldn't win that fight and of course because the Autobots hurt both you and Soundwave a little.
The flight was quiet from both sides until you got back. As soon as you landed you got a message from Soundwave.
[I think you did great you did your best. <3]
××××××××××××××××××××××
Shockwave
You where on the search for predacon bones across the world and you where currently on your way through an old desert.
Shockwave was right next to you, he always came with you when you left his laboratory, and he was quite like always. He never talked much, especially on missions, unless necessary.
So you decided to listen to an playlist you made yourself for long drives and turned the music just a little louder.
Half an hour later you where almost at the location and you turned the music off. Just in time to hear Shockwave talk about the bone.
He heard the music, he was about to tell you to stop it but decided against it. It didn't bother him, at least not much, and he knew you weren't as patient as him and if this helped you with being patient on these drives then he won't interrupt you unless he deems it necessary.
××××××××××××××××××××××
Breakdown
You where driving through Nevada looking for any sings of Autobots or their human friends, you actually treated them good, and listened to a Playlist you found in the human internet which you turned to like.
What you didn't know was that almost every human could hear you, good thing you where driving on some less populated roads, and Breakdown was around.
He was surprised at this music, he won't judge you for it but it was quite a shock, considering how shy you where and quiet when talking with others.
He drove next to you and when you noticed you turned the music off so you could talk to him. He tried to hint the whole conversation at the fact that he heard your music but you didn't seem to get it.
Just before Breakdown drove away he said something that made you a embarrassed mess.
"I would say see ya, but i think I'll hear ya first-"
Yeah, he will definitely be teasing you. Not openly for others but you will get it.
××××××××××××××××××××××
Knockout
You where waiting for Knockout to finish one of his race's again because you both wanted to go to a drive in theater after that.
It took a little too long for you so you decided to just listen to some music, there was no one around to hear it anyway and you would spot Knockout soon enough to turn it off.
Or that's what you thought. Knockout came from behind you, cause he knew you where a little jumpy, and went the long way just for a little teasing material.
"Aww~ You thinking of someone while hearing that?"
Cue you having a sparkattack and then being a blushing embarrassed mess. He now got brand new teasing material and he won't let you have a break from it.
Btw. he would ask you for the Playlist because he lowkey liked it too.
××××××××××××××××××××××
Skyquake & Dreadwing
You where on your way back to the Nemesis after, yet another, lost battle against the Autobots. You where glad you at least found an energon mine while on the way back.
You decided to listen to some music that you found on earth. Normally you wouldn't listen to music while on a mission/on the way back because it could be unsafe if you don't hear an enemy approaching but you decided to just make an exception this time.
After some time Dreadwing and Skyquake joined you because they where also on their way back from a mission and thought you looked lonely.
They could hear the music and almost every word even though you played the music inside your vehicle mode.
They where shocked but mostly didn't want to interrupt you because you seemed happy while hearing your, rather scandalous, music.
They both decided to just not talk about it too much. But Dreadwing still wanted to tell you it was unsafe because you didn't see/hear them approach you.
××××××××××××××××××××××
Predaking
Predaking knew you liked earth music after you both talked about earth and it's inhabitants but after doing some research he learned there was a lot of different music.
He didn't think it would be too important considering it's just music but he still was a bit curious about what you like.
He found out when he walked by your private room in the living quarters and searched for you because the both of you had finally some time to talk.
He heard your music through the metal confines of your room and was surprised to hear such music from you considering the way you normally act.
But he still came in after knocking so he could talk to you and tell you that even though it doesn't bother him you should turn it down because others could bring you in trouble, Starscream and Knockout most likely, and he didn't want that to happen.
#tfp x reader#tfp#tfp Decepticons x Reader#tfp predaking#tfp predaking x reader#tfp skyquake#tfp skyquake x Reader#tfp dreadwing#tfp dreadwing x Reader#tfp Knockout#tfp Knockout x Reader#tfp breakdown#tfp breakdown x Reader#tfp Shockwave#tfp Shockwave x Reader#tfp Soundwave#tfp Soundwave x Reader#tfp Starscream#tfp Starscream x Reader#tfp Megatron#tfp Megatron x Reader#tfp x cybertronian Reader
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hurt/comfort steve thought (if you’re still accepting them!): he really hates crying in front of ppl so throughout the beginning of your relationship you try to gently remind him it’s ok if he cries in front of you, it’s not a sign of weakness etc. and when something happens that makes him break down in front of you for the first time, he’s like rly shy & embarrassed at first :(
A/n: Oh my gosh this took SO long to answer, I am SO SO sorry about that. Anyways, I enjoyed this thought so much that I decided to pair it with a running idea that I had in my brain lately, so this ended up Steve-Thought-turned-whole-fic, so I hope you enjoy it, lovely!! Once again, thank you for sending this in and partially inspiring this!
His Knight in Shining Armor
Boyfriend!Steve Harrington x Reader
Tags and Warnings: Post Volume 2 Setting, Mentions of Eddie's Death and Max's Coma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Guilt, Comfort/Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Steve Harrington, Steve Finally Gets to Cry, Despite the Title Reader's Gender is Ambiguous, Episode: s04e09 "The Piggyback"
Word Count: 5527
Summary: Even as Steve's long-term partner, you've never once seen him cry. In the aftermath of the final battle against Vecna, and in the very hospital room where a barely-living Max Mayfield lies, that changes.
Steve Harrington Masterlist
“Steve!”
Your legs burn as you chase your boyfriend out into the hallway, black Converse tapping softly at the dingy grey tiles beneath you. Everything is a blur – white walls and white coats and white lights that are far too bright and probing at you; it’s all blending together – and the smell of chemical antiseptic gives you a nauseating headache. Still, all of your grievances are floating, fading, flying away at the sight of the man before you.
Steve Harrington is too strong for his own good. A lover, probably one of the most caring people you’ve ever known, and yet he carries so much. The guilt of being Nancy Wheeler’s bullshit for much too long, the awareness of Hawkins’ looming and inevitable doom, the instinct and need to be there to protect you and Robin, to protect the kids – all of these are things that Steve Harrington has placed upon his own back, heaving emotional weights that even a sumo wrestler would struggle to uphold, and yet you had never once seen him cry. Or, rather, he had never once let you see him cry.
You had cried in front of him several times – stress from work and just shitty days in general tearing you down – so it was difficult to imagine just how he was holding himself together. With the thinnest of threads, is what you would assume.
You had always told him that it was okay to be vulnerable, that you would be there to catch him if he ever fell, to hold him during his starless nights, but he was persistent. He shrugged off your offers, not in an unappreciative way, but in a manner that seemed to mean that he wanted you to be under the impression that he was fine. That he didn’t need you to sweep up the broken pieces of him and put them into the dustpan, because he had only ever tried being so defenseless with one other person before, and what had that gotten him? Bullshit…
You never pushed him, hoping with everything in you that he would absorb your words into his heart and come to you when the walls crumbled, but you had a feeling that the first cracks were forming in his foundation when this entire mess with Vecna started.
When you had stepped into Max’s hospital room together, hands interlocked, you almost felt his breathing catch as if you shared the same lungs. His palm stilled against your own, cold and clammy, and he was slinking away from you, back out the door you had barely stepped through to begin with. He was running down the hallway, towards the emergency fire exit at the very end, and you knew that the river was overflowing the dam.
“Steve, please–” you breathlessly call out to him, gaining a few confused glances from patients and visitors nearby, but he’s out the door before the words have fully fallen from your lips. Whether he’s ignoring you in the hopes that you turn away or he somehow just hasn’t heard you yet, you’re unsure.
Regardless, you’re still hot on his heels, your feet hitting the ground impossibly faster. The force of your speed causes them to go numb, nerves firing like you’re stepping on little knives, but you don’t care. You’re too focused on watching Steve’s hazy outline through the blurred windows to really notice. Everything in you hopes that his silhouette doesn’t get smaller – he’s not walking away into the parking lot, he’s not – and you must be really good at manifestations because your wishes somehow ring true. That, or maybe it’s the fact that you know Steve Harrington like the scenic backroads to your parents’ house.
You underestimate just how rapidly the door to the outside is approaching, too caught up in your own worry to think about your physical body. The breath is knocked out of your lungs as you collide with the exit, harsh metal bruising your hipbone as the force of your being sends the door flying open. Wincing and gasping for air, you wobble and step down onto the concrete landing below, eyes scanning for your boyfriend with the intensity of those futuristic pieces of spyware that Joyce Byers said local conspiracy theorist Murray Bauman owned. Maybe your eyes were as powerful as the spyware too, because you easily found Steve’s mop of ruffled-through hair even when it was barely visible over the stairs.
Posture slumped, a man – no, younger; he’s a helpless boy now, a boy who has bravely bitten off far more than he’s able to chew – with shaking shoulders, hollow and yet so unbearably full. His palms shield his face from the world, the only way he can go about holding himself up in this moment, and he caves in on himself, a statue who’s been pushed a little too far over the edge and who is now facing the irreparable consequences. Statues only are made for heroes, how did he end up with one anyway?
You tentatively approach him, walking a little over halfway down the staircase with each move forward feeling like a punch to the gut, and his despondence is like someone has taken your favorite sweater and tried to replace it, but the material isn’t as soft as before and the stitching on the inside isn’t in the same pattern. You stand three steps behind him – his shadow is on your shoelaces – and he says nothing. Three becomes two and two becomes one, and he says nothing. You sit down next to him, a gust of wind and your legs against the cool rock below making you shiver, and again, he says nothing. He doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge that you’re there or that your breathing is still heavy from chasing him, and a pit begins to form in the most sensitive area of your stomach. The tides are receding and the morning skies are red – Steve Harrington is becoming a tsunami.
You, then, say nothing. You’re afraid to reach out to him, afraid he will turn away from your touch like he’s been burned, afraid that you’ll try to mend his heart and it will scurry away from you forever, and you love him. You love him so much that you can’t risk it – the prospect of loving him so much that it drives him away is your very own circle of Hell – so you sit and you say nothing.
Minutes pass, and the air feels like it’s rocky – you’re inhaling pebbles when you breathe. There seems to be a mountain between you – better yet, he’s at the top of the mountain and you’re a traveler without the proper gear to reach him – and you feel as though your hand would have to go through lightyears of space and time to brush upon his shaking arm. The silence doesn’t seem like it will let up, and you’re growing to think that maybe he won’t open up to you at all.
Steve’s position shifts – he buries himself further in his hands, somehow – and that almost gives you the impression that his body isn’t violently shaking. He talks then, moreso brokenly whispers, and if you weren’t right next to him then you might have mistaken it for the whimpering wind.
“I can’t go back in there.”
You stay quiet, unsure of what to do next. Your most basic instinct in that moment is to wrap yourself around him like a warm coat, keeping him from the cold of the air and the cruel of the world, but you don’t even settle for resting a palm against his arm. Any move is a push too far when it comes to Steve Harrington and allowing himself to feel for once.
Instead, you pray that he continues on. To your luck, again, he does.
“I know they need me. The kids need me, Robin needs me…” His voice trails off, and he retreats from his hiding place between his hands. He doesn’t turn to you, but it’s a sign of acknowledgement that’s moving in the right direction, nonetheless. “She needs me. Max–” His voice cracks and he tries to cover his tracks by clearing his throat and biting his bottom lip, but you can already see the sheen of unfallen tears on his waterline.
All thoughts of moving too quickly thrown out the window, you shuffle closer and angle yourself so that your knees are inches away from one of his. The warmth from his body fades into yours, intermingles and creates a voluntary bubble of safety around the two of you, and you don’t stop your hand from reaching out and snaking its way down his forearm. A ghost against his skin, leaving goosebumps along your wake, you carefully interlock your fingers with his, and while he’s trembling and resistant at first – stoic – he seems to surrender to himself as his grip hardens against your own, leaving his knuckles white and your hand feeling a little cramped, but you know better than to say anything. Not now.
The reciprocation of his hand to yours settles his internal battle – it’s okay if he keeps going, keeps feeling – and so he finally lets out a long, quivering breath that is reminiscent of the steam above a volcano.
“I’ve already failed her once, and now I’m doing it again.”
The words are what you expected to hear from him, but that doesn’t mean that they make your airways feel any less constricted. Imagining the guilt that he must be carrying – the guilt of losing a friend, a sister, almost a daughter – somehow is more painful than when you collided with the heavy hospital door a few minutes ago.
Everything is suddenly too real. Just days ago you felt like you were on top of the world with your plans to take down Vecna, overconfidence being the sunlight that kept all of you on your toes, and now you were here. Here, with several of your friends gone and one on the verge, skirting the veil between life and death, and you hadn’t really had time to process it all until now. With Steve’s fear and guilt and grief bleeding into you via osmosis of the hand, reality is finally settling in.
It was easier to pretend that none of this was real when you were packing up all of your things to move into Steve’s – all of you had seen the empty ground where Vecna’s gunshot-riddled body should have been, so Steve wasn’t going to have you living in your place alone, even if it meant there was a minuscule chance his parents came back to awkwardly find you there – and it was easier to pretend that nothing had changed when you went to volunteer at Hawkins High, mindlessly going back over the clothes your boyfriend had folded to make sure that they were presentable. The days after the rift was created between Hawkins and its Upside Down counterpart were hazy; it was as if everything before had been some fever dream that all of you had shared, and your schedule was so busy with volunteering and moving that you didn’t have time to fret or to try and tackle what had happened and how that had made you feel.
Everyone had spent those first few nights in sleepless petrification. Joyce hadn’t surprised the group by returning and recovering Hopper yet, and Jonathan and Argyle were still making their way back to Hawkins with El, Will, and Mike. The party was broken, in more ways than one, and so everyone who remained stayed together.
None of you even bothered with packing up night bags or suitcases – truthfully, no one knew when you would all be returning home – and none of you complained when Steve led the rest of you back to his place on foot, ushering you inside the door with a pathetic attempt at a smile. Max had already been transported to the hospital then, and while Lucas had traveled with her initially, they sent him home after she went into emergency surgery. The home he went back to was Steve’s, and those who were inside – Robin, you, Steve, Erica, Dustin, and Nancy – greeted him with heavy embraces and unspoken solemnity. No one spoke at all that night; rather, everyone piled up on extra mattresses and couches in the living room and huddled together as the TV displayed movie after movie. Each time one went off, Steve got up to find another one to put in the VHS.
Once an old helicopter from Russia and a pizza van from California touched Indianian soil, the family reunion had begun. Some victories and losses were shared with one another, but certain topics remained unmentionable. Max. Eddie. Their names were like lava on your tongues, and saying them meant that it was real – Vecna was still out there and he was real, several innocent people had died and had been declared missing since the rift had opened and that was real, and just as Max was finally becoming more forgiving with herself, she was gone again, and that was real too. It was too much all at once, too much for a group of children who had somehow fought for the world and won, even on more than one occasion, and so, however wrong it may have been, you couldn’t dare utter a word.
It was still too soon when Wayne Munson touched his nephew’s missing persons poster at Hawkins High, but Dustin was more brave than anyone else and stepped forward. The rest of you watched with grief-stricken hearts as he stood up for one of his best friends and role models, and while you couldn’t say everything that Dustin did because the words wouldn’t stop getting caught in your throat, everyone else did give Eddie’s poor uncle the reassurance that his nephew was, in fact, innocent, and was, unfortunately, a hero.
It was still too soon when the hospital rang Steve Harrington’s house to let Lucas Sinclair know that Max Mayfield was now allowed to have visitors, but you all piled into Steve’s BMW anyway and rushed to the hospital. Steve broke several traffic violations and there were so many people in his car that you were genuinely shocked you could all fit, but none of that mattered. It was almost as if your chance to see her would be gone if you were even a fraction of a second too late, and none of you were willing to take that chance.
Despite how quickly you all bombarded into the hospital and into Max’s room, your feet never once hit the ground. You were walking on air, somewhere far above the earth that was dreamy and made your head spin, and all of that crashed and burned the second that Max’s mother opened the door.
The severity of your situation was so dark, so desolate that it took Steve Harrington’s hand squeezing the life out of yours and the declarations of exclamatory guilt coming from his lips to get you to finally adjust to how things would have to be from now on. The crushing weight of it all brought bile to your throat, and you subconsciously returned Steve’s death grip on your fingers.
“She relied on me.” You can hear Steve talking, you can still feel him right next to you, but you’re still floating. You’re still trapped in some kind of daze, and his words only make your chest ache with loss. “She relied on me, and I let this… I didn’t do anything to stop it. I promised her I’d make sure she’d be okay. I promised her that she would make it out of this.”
The pain and guilt of Steve’s voice goes right to your gut, making you feel more nauseous than the chemical scent of the hospital ever had, and dizziness overtakes your body despite the fact that you’ve been sitting entirely still.
Even in his current state, your boyfriend takes notice of the way your palms grow more shaky and rigid. By habit, he turns to direct his gaze towards you – always more concerned about anyone other than himself – and you have one small moment of eye-contact, a glistening of pain and anxiety and understanding between the two of you, before a single tear escapes the confines of Steve’s pretty brown eyes and he panics.
His stare widens impossibly further and he’s too quick to turn away, to shut down anything that might follow afterward. His head shoots away, focus lingering on some wilting bushes that are to his left – any scene without you is suddenly of intense interest – and gradually his body shifts away as well, his knees no longer parallel to your own. A gap is left on the concrete stairs between you, and just the sight of it makes you feel colder than you did when the unrelenting wind previously froze you to the bone. The gap doesn’t just freeze your bones, it erodes them too.
Steve takes what you can only assume to be an attempted deep breath, but he seems to be too forceful and instead lets out a strained half-gasp, half-cough. Sniffles and the sound of poorly restrained tears ring throughout you like a church bell, and you snap out of your stupor as your protective nature kicks into overdrive. You want nothing more than to whisper your mantras of love and reassurance to him, a hand snaking up to groundingly, softly, curl the delicate hairs on the back of his neck around your fingertips, but you hesitate. Again.
“You can… uh, go back inside now,” Steve says, so quiet that a ladybug landing on a four leaf clover would have been an explosion in comparison. The only reason you hear him at all is because the breeze carries his voice over to you like one of the gruesomely thoughtful dead mice a beloved pet cat would leave on your doorstep at midnight.
In another situation, you may have laughed out loud at his suggestion, but you know the significance of this moment. You know that things are delicate, as is Steve’s relationship with emotions, so you settle for subtlety, a choice that you’re hoping lets him know that you aren’t trying to be pushy, you aren’t trying to push him to the point of driving him away. Truthfully, the very last thing that you wanted to do was leave him, and you hoped with everything in your soul that he felt the same.
“I could,” you say, voice soft and matching his from before, quiet enough to be spoken between the two of you only – not even the swaying oak tree nearby can hear the words exchanged among you like a sacred secret. “But I’d rather be here with you.”
Your carefully chosen words imply more, other things you wanted to tell him on the tip of your tongue – I know you need me, I want to be here now and always, I want to be the one you go to forever, please let me. You’re all too aware that his previous offer for you to go back inside was more – that it was his way of letting you know that you can go back, back to the way things were before, when he hadn’t been vulnerable like this – and you hope that your answer speaks the same riddles he does, only in reverse.
Steve says nothing, which might be alarming any other time, but he hasn’t made any other covert suggestions about how you should be reacting to this situation, so you take that as the small victory that it is. His shoulders quivering, he still keeps his back to you, clearly not quite ready for facing you head on, and you ever-so-gently bring one of your hands to his back, hoping and praying that it isn’t too much too soon. His walls fall one at a time, castle crumbling brick by brick, and you hope that he’s let his guard down enough to finally let you comfort him. You’ll dig him out of the rubble and debris every damn time; you’ll be his knight in shining armor if he’ll let you.
The muscles in his back tense a little, making you hold your breath for what feels like ages, already expecting him to turn to you, a teary smile on his face as he tells you that he’s fine, he was just being silly, and aren’t you ready to go back inside now? like he’s said in the past. Like when you accidentally stumbled into the bathroom that first night, when he was wiping tears from his eyes in front of his aged, rusting sink. You couldn’t help thinking he was like that sink then, looking broken down and far too old for his true age, and the thought of seeing him like that again is enough to send a cold chill through your chest. Everyone knows what too much rust does to something – it corrodes and eats away at the source until nothing’s left – and it was with cruel irony that the very image of that happening to your ever-loving boyfriend made you feel like something was eating away at you.
You’re so in your head with worry that you barely notice that Steve hasn’t shrugged your hand away. You shake yourself out of your spiraling thoughts, away from the shock that fights for you to freeze up in uncertainty, and decide to test the waters. Your fingers trace small shapes into the material of his yellow sweatshirt like you’ve imagined doing thousands of times before, their movements a bit stiff and awkward but neither of you seem to care. Steve seems to relax into your touch, feeling his body loosen right under your palm in such a way that makes your heart partially melt – both at being capable of being able to do that for him and also because it was you that was calming him down, not someone else.
Even if it was only miniscule, to be the one to provide him a sense of comfort was an honor. Still, though, you don’t plan on moving away until he’s either all cried out or he asks you to back off. While you’d prefer the former, just this moment in itself is proof that you’ve made progress, and you’ll accept any kind of growth at this point, even if it means you don’t get the chance to hold him in your arms like you know he deserves. One step forward may be twenty steps away from that – your perfect fairytale ending where you can finally share the burdens that Steve has been carrying solo for far too long – but you’ll take ninety more days like this as long as Steve’s finally letting himself feel something.
A choked up sob escapes his throat, a noise that simultaneously relieves you and takes a chunk of your heart from your chest and stomps on it. If you really focus on the sound of him crying, on the way his body uneasily shakes, you begin to feel your own eyes prickle with the potential of unshed grief. Your first instinct is to shove it away, to try and be a rock for the utterly drained man next to you, and maybe it’s the exhaustion eating away at you post interdimensional battle – or maybe it’s just the heat of the moment – but, regardless, you let down the barriers and allow teardrops to cascade down your cheeks.
Steve doesn’t seem to notice you’re crying with him until he hears you loudly sniffle, and in his haste to check in on you, he forgets about his emotional hesitancy. His body shifts back towards you, a small sense of warmth crossing over your legs as his knee gently knocks into yours. His eyes scan carefully over your face, his eyelashes wet and clumped together and his eyelids slightly swollen and tinted pink.
“You’re even pretty when you cry,” you blurt out, the words tumbling from your lips before you can even think about having said them, and it takes a second for you to truly understand that you’ve spoken out loud rather than harmlessly thinking it to yourself.
You’re not sure how you expect Steve to react, but what you don’t anticipate is the soft and intrusive blush that begins to creep onto his cheeks. Gaze diverted to the ground, he takes in a long, deep inhale of air before quietly replying with a bashful, “Sorry about that.”
He doesn’t have to explain that, you know he’s talking about his vulnerability with you, and you instantly shake your head at him, the shine of the sun showcasing the half-dried and abandoned trek his tears fell from. With the burning light directly behind him, casting his brown hair a few shades lighter and leaving behind a residual warm yellow glow, he looks like a fallen god.
“Don’t be.” Your hand slinks away from his back and down to where his hand rests upon the concrete, and when you take it into yours, you feel the indents of the rock and gravel below in his palm. “Remember what I said before?”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t have to scold me about it.” The sprinkle of playfulness in his tone takes you by surprise, and you’re relieved to spot the edge of his lips tilted up into the tiniest of smiles. Despite all the horrific events of the past few days, Steve Harrington can still have a smile on his face, and that makes you feel like maybe everything else is going to end up alright.
As abruptly as it was there, however, it’s gone, and your boyfriend’s voice is back to the quiet hoarseness of before.
“It’s just…” He trails off, features scrunched up as he appears to be struggling with words. Luckily for him, you know him better than the flavors of ice cream you had to painstakingly memorize when you were merely coworkers at Scoops Ahoy.
“Hard, I know,” you say, finishing his sentence for him. “But I’m happy you let me in. Even if it was only for a little while.”
Steve shifts to form eye contact with you, his own gaze softened as he drinks in your words, the gentleness of your hand, and everything about you. For the first time in his life, he finds true trust in another person. Your little smile holds a kind of affection that’s almost dizzying, the kind of dedication one only sees in those horribly cheesy romance movies he’ll never admit he likes watching with you, and he feels like being next to you, showing even the tiniest sliver of his pain to you, is like a baby being swaddled into a security blanket.
He stays silent, overwhelmed with his onslaught of adoration for you, and the two of you let the moment pass just like that. Hands entangled, gazes interlocked, and thoughts filled with nothing but one another, the comfortable silence filled with words unspoken but understood between you.
You know better than to bring up his guilty confessions from before. Your conversation has shifted and you’re afraid to backtrack, afraid that doing so might result in him hiding away from you again, so you decide to let it go. Even though the only thing you want to do is relieve his pain, reassure him by telling him that he’s taken on too much – that the best course of action anyone can take for Max is being patient, having hope, and kicking Vecna’s ass – but you let it go for now.
“Thank you.” Steve breaks though the quietude to beam at you, grin still small but never any dimmer, and practically offers his heart to you alongside it. He’s more than certain that you’ll be careful with it, especially after today. He thinks that maybe he can get used to this, to being vulnerable with you and to seeing your pretty smile afterward, and he’s almost looking forward to it. Almost, but not quite.
The way he looks at you, so full of love that it’s more obvious than the answer to some elementary math problem, is nearly enough to bring you to tears again. Never in your life had you imagined finding someone so soft, so genuine and caring for everyone around him, and your chest is beginning to ache as it longs to beat directly next to his.
Consumed by this feeling, you reach out with your free hand and grasp the sleeve of your sweater into fisted fingers before using the plush material to wipe away what’s left of his breakdown. Your motions linger as you shake your sleeve back into its proper place and scoot closer to him, index and middle fingers rising and tracing along his cheekbone. You can’t help but get lost for a moment, sidetracked and taken into another world as you closely examine the smoothness of his skin, the tiny little freckles that are sparsely scattered onto the side of his face. You already knew they were there, of course, but you never get tired of finding them. Sometimes you wish you could thank whoever it was that painted them there.
Steve’s breath is warm against your chin, causing your stare to automatically flicker to his. You’re not surprised when you find that he’s been looking at you all this time, absorbing this memory with you while he can make it, but it still makes your lips upturn nonetheless.
“You ready to head back in there yet?” he asks, voice low and a tad bit teasing as his ego undoubtedly takes a boost from how unintentionally hypnotized he’s made you. “Those shitheads are probably losing their minds right about now. Think we’ve left and they’ve lost their ride home or something.”
His joking tone is laced with worry; you both know that just talking about going in there means your minute of peace is over. You’ll be back into the throes of whatever new hell Hawkins endures next, back to living in uncertainty surrounding the safety of not only yourselves, but also your friends. It was true that people had been dying this whole time, the years being tainted with the blood of those like Barb who never really had a chance, but this was your first real taste of a different kind of loss. A kind of loss that’s more than just being sympathetic or upset for a few days; the kind of loss that’s felt in the absence of people at birthday parties, in the way that sometimes conversation seems normal until there’s a lull that should’ve been where someone else was cracking a joke. It’s the kind of loss that you can’t ignore because it’s felt everywhere, and just the minor glimpse of it that you’ve caught in the past few days has you feeling terrified.
You’d always naively thought that you and your friends were safe, untouchable, too relevant to the status of Hawkins and the world at large to be taken from this world. Eddie and Max had proven your beliefs wrong, and that meant that no one was really safe at all. Vecna could and would strike again, and it was only a matter of time before you’d be walking on eggshells and avoiding stepping on the vines of the Upside Down again.
A flash of yellow and a hand being offered out to you snaps you back into reality. You weren’t even aware Steve had gotten onto his feet and was no longer sitting next to you, no longer tracing his fingers on the delicate skin of the back of your palm, but you don’t get caught up in that.
Instead, you accept your boyfriend’s outstretched hold and let him help you to your feet. Your legs are wobbly, halfway numbed from lack of movement, but Steve’s right there by your side, iron grip on your hand like he’s seconds away from rushing forward to catch you, if necessary. You don’t need it this time – your body comes back to life quite quickly, leaving you with legs again in replacement of the jelly-like limbs you had prior – but something in the gleam of his eyes and the sureness of his hold tells you that he’ll be there to catch you next time and the time after that too.
You give his hand a small squeeze, noticeable enough to act as the okay to start heading back inside, and when he squeezes back, you know that you’ve got one another. Both physically and emotionally. The next move from Vecna is inevitable, but you feel a little more certain about things like this, fingers intertwined and with souls that you chose to be twisted together. When misfortune strikes again, Steve will be there to hold you close, and you’ll be more than willing to do the same for him. You know there’s years of trauma and pain that he hasn’t shown you, hasn’t yet informed you of, and you look forward to the days when he decides to open up. As long as he keeps letting you wipe the residue of his tears away with your sweater sleeves, of course.
#stranger things fic#stranger things#stranger things four#stranger things 4#st#st4#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington headcanons#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#lovely requests#dear anons
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I need more Spanish reader and jack fics 😩😩
DULCES SUEÑOS | J.HARLOW
PAIR: JACK HARLOW X SPANISH SPEAKING!READER
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST
A/N: the english translations will be beside the spanish sentences :)
after a long day of work, jack opened the door, and did his nightly routine. once finished, he went down the living room, and sat on the couch, where you were watching a series on hbo max. “jack! te extraño mucho [i miss you so much],” you took a pause on the series to kiss him.
“white lotus?” jack asked you, but you giggled, knowing he loves watching it with you. “i told you to wait for me when watching these shows!”
“too bad, you know i want to avoid spoilers tomorrow, jack.”
instead of finishing the episode, you went back to the hbo max screen, where it shows their catalogue. “want to watch something else?”
you passed the tv remote to jack and he began looking, “have we finished succession?”
“yes, a long time ago.” whenever you and jack would watch a series, often times jack would fall asleep. it was understandable, especially after being in the studio all day. jack went to the ‘movies’ category, and selected a horror movie for you and him to watch.
“let’s watch american psycho y/n.” jack persuaded you to watch it but you refused.
“ay no [oh no]! i don’t want you to end up sounding like esos pierdedores en twitter [those losers on twitter].”
you then mocked jack by doing his frat impression from snl, “sigma! sigma!”
“y/n, you know i’m not like that.”
“well, don’t be.”
-
while watching, you started to hear jack yawning, a sign that he was tired.
as a kid, you remember your parents telling you to “mimir,” a spanish slang for going to sleep. you started telling him in spanish, “a mimir, jack.”
he covered his mouth with his hand, yawning, “what?”
“go to sleep jack.”
“but i want to spend some more time with you,” he smiled, resting his head onto your shoulder.
“fine, just for a while.”
you and jack continued watching the movie. there wasn’t any jumpscare scenes, but you thought the movie was campy. meanwhile, jack was still beside your shoulder, watching the movie while being half awake. eventually, it turned into a snooze fest for him.
with forty-five minutes into the movie, you started to hear jack snoring. “ay dios mio [oh my god.],” you took a peek at jack, who was peacefully asleep on your shoulder.
you tapped his shoulder to wake him up, “jack, let’s go to our bedroom, yeah?”
-
you and jack arrived to the shared bedroom, and you turned on the tv once again. by that point, jack got comfortable and pulled up the sheets, calling it a day.
you looked to your right and saw jack already sleeping. you leaned in and gave him a kiss, “buenas noches, amor.” [good night, love.]
trying not to make noise, you lowered the tv volume, and clicked resume on the white lotus.
#jack harlow#jackman thomas harlow#jack harlow x reader#jack harlow x you#jack harlow x y/n#jack harlow fanfic#jack fic#jack harlow imagine#jack harlow angst#jack harlow smut#jack harlow fluff#jack harlow concepts#x reader#instagram au#social media au#fluff#smut#angst#urban wyatt#urban wyatt x reader#urban wyatt imagine#urban wyatt fluff#urban wyatt smut#urban wyatt angst#urban wyatt x y/n#urban wyatt x you#lil nas x#druski#clayborn harlow
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y’all know what is abt to happen. possibly one of the most self indulgent things ive written so far. also, my momma watched this whole match and following events and this woman is so tired of me but we love her. i feel like at this point with the chronicles, just expect daddy and obvi the cuffs but im putting it so no one can say i didnt warn them
|remember to leave feedback and i love all you heathens|
‘Big Bad Wolf’ 18+
Wardlow (Michael) x fem!reader
^he told her not to get involved but he also knew he had a more than stubborn and bratty girlfriend^
- CW: restraints (handcuffs), honorifics (daddy), choking, spanking, spitting, degrading/name-calling, slapping, dom/sub dynamic, edging, whatever the word for crying kink (theres a word, im just dumb), i think i allude to a subspace or form of littlespace
- *EVERYTHING IS CONSENSUAL*
- ‘big bad wolf’ by in this moment had a hand in the inspo, you should give it a listen
- ‘donna plays with kayfabe’ the shequel and i love jade cargill
- shawn spears (ronnie), red velvet (stephanie)
- the initial concept for this i had posted has been changed for obvious reasons. i’ll circle back to that idea in the future
3rd Person POV:
Y/N hated what Max was doing to Michael. She had offered to put Max in his place because she had done it before. He told her to stay out of it because he didn’t want her career to be put in jeopardy. Y/N was on her way to a championship title match and he couldn’t let her risk that because of him or Max’s antics. She stayed in the back and watched the match with Jade. Her anger boiled over watching Max rattle off his demands for their ‘contract signing’; like he did with Cody. Y/N saw and open opportunity to get at Max and took off. “Y/N, where are you going?!” Jade shouted after her, “Put that rat in his place.” “At least take a chair babe!” Y/N grabbed a folding chair and went off again. Jade couldn’t help but smile at her friend going to protect her boyfriend.
After all the other jobbers went out, she snuck out behind them. She smacked Ronnie in the back with the chair. Even in a dress, ‘The Vixen’ was always ready to fight. She tapped Max’s shoulder and he turned around to see a very angry Y/N. “How cute, came out here to save him? Pathetic.” he mocked her. Over his shoulder, she could see Michael giving her that look. She let her emotions take over and tackled Max and delivered hit after hit. He had tried to flip her over to return the punches, but she was one step ahead and put him in an armbar. Him screaming in pain was only part of the revenge. She would have done more until she felt Michael pulling her off him. “Y/N, that’s enough!” he growled in a volume only she could hear. “Put your bitch on a leash, pig.” Max spat, resulting in her breaking free of Michael’s grasp and attacking Max again. This time, The Baddie Section came to get her. “Y/N, come on. He’s not worth it; as much as he deserves it.” Jade said. Kiera glared at Max and Ronnie as Jade and Stephanie brought her back to the locker room to calm down.
She stayed with them until there was a knock at the door. Jade went to see who it was, “Hey Mike. She’s calmer now.” she looked over to see Michael, she knew he wasn’t happy with her and would be in for it at the hotel. Y/N rushed to the door and latched onto him, “I’m sorry.” was mumbled into his chest. He thanked the girls for looking out for her and left the arena entirely. The car ride back to the hotel was silent. From that alone she knew she was waking up sore tomorrow.
As soon as the door to the room shut, one hand was around her throat and the other was pulling at her dress. “You disobeyed me. How does 20 spanks for each time you hit him sound?” she whimpered, “But~” “No slut. I told you everything was under control but you just had to go and be a brat. Strip.” Y/N couldn’t fight the pool forming in her panties; his voice, his words, his dominance, and his hands on her body didn’t help either. He sat on the edge of the bed still in his suit, watching her undress then motioned for her to come over. Laying her across his lap, his hand ran down her spine to her ass; there was no telling when he was going to strike. His hand left her skin and a second later, it came colliding back down in a spank “Count whore. And thank me.” She only whimpered at his harshness, “One, thank you Daddy.” “See, now you’re a good girl.” He landed another smack and it continued until they reached 20 and there were tears in her eyes. There was also a forming wet spot on his pant leg, “Such a dirty little thing. Getting off on a spanking?” he pulled Y/N back to her feet “On your knees.” She rushed to the floor and waited for his next move. Instead of making her suck him off, he got up and walked to his bag. Her mind was swarmed with the possibilities of what he was going to do that she didn’t process the click of handcuffs around her wrists. He circled around her and towered over her kneeling form. When he came into her sight, he had taken his suit jacket and shirt off, now undoing his dress pants. He sat back down on the bed - grabbing her chin, “Open. Tongue out.” she did as she was told and was met with his spit in her mouth and a slap to her cheek. Michael had her trained well and she didn’t have to be instructed to swallow, the image making him groan - he repeated the action. “Please Daddy?” “What do you want, slut?” He knew what she wanted. “Please can I taste you?” He freed his cock from his briefs and gave her what she wanted. He nodded for her to do it and she wrapped her lips around his tip and went to work. He adored seeing her on her knees for him. Taking him inch by inch in her pretty little throat. The tears screaming down her cheeks was a sight he loved. His hand found its way to tangle in her hair, making her take him deeper “Such a good little cock slut”; she knew what to do if it was too much. Despite the degrading words and actions, her well-being was his priority.
When he decided it was enough, he pulled her away by her hair and tossed her onto the bed. Now on her back, she felt his hands rub up her thighs to her dripping cunt that was aching for some form of contact. He ran his tongue up her slit and she jolted at the feeling. “I think you wanted to be punished so you pulled that little stunt. Is that it? You wanted me to fuck you dumb so you put yourself in danger?” he questioned. Michael didn’t give her a chance to answer as he dove straight into her heat like she was the last thing he would ever eat. Anyone who has seen his tongue on television can only imagine the wonders it did, Y/N got to experience it. The first time he ate her out, she came three times from his mouth alone.
By the way her thighs started to shake, he knew she was on the edge. He pulled his mouth away and chuckled darkly at her cries and begging. “You thought I was gonna let you cum that fast?” He hovered over her body and smashed his lips against hers, moaning at the taste of herself. His hand went up to her throat again and his other snuck back down to her pussy. He had to get her ready to take his cock, punishment or not. She gasped at his one finger entering her, pumping in and out. His hands were a gift from whatever higher power there was out there. His fingers reached spots in her she had never felt before. He added another and scissored the two, adding a third thick finger shortly after, all while his thumb worked her clit. When he felt she was ready, he pulled his fingers out and held them up to her face, “Suck.” he commanded. She cleaned her juices off his fingers as he watched her intensely. “Good fucking girl~” Quickly, he flipped her over and pulled her hips up with her face in the sheets. Slowly, Michael eased his cock into her as she moaned softly. His pace started slow so she could get used to him, but it quickly got faster and rougher. He pulled her up by the cuffs and wrapped his hand around her throat once again and his arm going around her midsection. The growls in her ear only pushed her further to the edge. “If you wanted my cock, you could have just asked. You know Daddy loves to please his good girl.” Y/N only whined, “I’m s-sorry, I’ll be g-ood.”
Pounding her in every way he could, edging her each time she was about to explode. On her back again with her legs over his shoulders as he drilled into her, she couldn’t form words anymore. He marveled at the state of his girlfriend, the fact that only he can break her down in such a way. “Daddy, please let me cum. I can’t hold it.” With his fingers on her clit, he gave her permission; “Cum, slut.” her whole body convulsed with pleasure as she soaked his cock. He gave a few more thrusts and released inside of her. He undid her wrists, massaging them to get the circulation going again. He looked in her face and saw nothing but bliss and a fucked-out smile with hooded eyes. When she had that look on her face, he knew she was far gone. “Puppy? Hey, you still with me, Y/N?” she hummed in response. When he tried to pick her up to take her to the bath, she whined. “No go, stay.” she pleaded as she once again latched onto him. “Okay puppy. Do you feel alright?” She nodded, he saw the shift in her headspace as she laid on him and traced patterns on his stomach. “I’m sorry for freaking out like that. I really hate having to just stand back and watch all this garbage happen.” He sighed knowingly, “I know you just wanted to help. But I can’t risk you getting hurt. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you because of this.” She sat up and put her hand on his cheek, “Michael, I can defend myself. I know you want to protect me but I’d risk getting hit to defend you. Buut, if you really want me to back down; maybe you should fuck me into oblivion more.” “You are insatiable.” For the first time that night, they shared a more gentle kiss, “Mmm but you love me for it.” He couldn’t argue with her.
~~~~~~~
lovely taglist babes (dm or comment to be added)
@josiewrites @rubyred1980 @chrisdickinson @xkennyxomegax @night-of-the-living-shred
#donna writes#donna is in love with wardlow#donna's wardlow handcuff chronicles#aew#wardlow#michael wardlow#wardaddy#wardlow x reader#wardlow oneshot#wardlow fanfiction#wardlow imagine#wardlow smut#aew x reader#aew smut#aew fanfiction#in this moment#big bad wolf#im so tired
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Out For Blood | Chapter 8: Sugar Coated
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Munson!Reader ; Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!O.C.
Warnings: Strong language, season 4 vol. 1 (NONE FOR VOL. 2 YET) spoilers, angst, SLIGHT mention of abuse no heavy details and I don’t plan on going into super heavy details and if I do I will put a warning in all caps before the chapter
Word Count: 2k
Author’s Note: so volume 2 happened... so for those who want to know i’m team FUCK THE CANON so yeah anyways this was a fun one to write because a certain scene I imagined I was yelling at my old guidance counselor who did jack shit to help me.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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“Steve, hand me your keys.” (Y/N) put her hand out.
“What? No, you’re not driving my car.”
“I’m not driving your car, just hand me the keys. It will only be believable that I brought Max here if I have some form of keys with me.” She looked at him, “Trust me on this.”
Steve reluctantly gave her the keys, “When did we decide you were also going in?”
“We didn’t decide anything…” She trailed off. “But if anything goes south I can be a distraction for Max to get what we need.”
Steve looked at her for a minute as if he was trying to read her mind, he sighed, “Fine. Be careful.”
“When am I not?” She asked him sarcastically as she exited the car, Max following behind her as they went up the driveway. “If there’s anything you don’t want to talk about with her, tap your foot three times, I’ll figure out how to get you out of there.” She whispered to Max as Max rang the doorbell.
“Max, (Y/N), hi.” Ms. Kelley opened the door, greeting the two girls.
“Hi, we’re so sorry to bother you over break but… do you have a minute to talk?” Max placed her hands in her jacket pockets, (Y/N) put hers in the back pockets of her jeans.
Ms. Kelley looked between them for a moment, “Um, yeah, of course. Of course.” The girls entered the house, (Y/N) looking over her shoulder and nodding her head as she made eye contact with Steve and Dustin.
“Okay. They’re in.”
“I’m missing collarbones, not eyes.” Dustin hopped in the front seat, “So… we gonna talk about it?”
“Sorry, talk about what?” Steve stopped looking at the door of the house and turned to Dustin.
“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you defended Nancy against (Y/N).” Dustin raised an eyebrow at him.
“First of all that's not what happened.” Steve rolled his eyes
“Pretty sure that's what happened. It was pretty public and there were a lot of witnesses.” Dustin smirked at his older friend.
“Are you implying I still have a thing for Nance?”
“No, we all know you have a thing for (Y/N), but defending your ex-girlfriend isn’t going to get her to like you again, trust me.” Dustin said matter-of-factly.
“I was just trying to protect a friend.”
“Hmmm sure, because (Y/N) isn’t your friend and Nancy was the one who needed to be protected at that moment?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You implied it and now I know why (Y/N) got mad.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll punch you so hard your teeth will fall back out.” Steve looked over at Dustin, frustrated.
“Whoa too far.” Dustin glared at Steve.
“Not cool, sorry.” Steve shook his head.
“Not cool… it’s okay.”
“You sure you want (Y/N) in the room while we speak.” Ms. Kelley asked Max as Max sat down. (Y/N) placed the car keys on the counter next to the bowl filled with other keys.
“Positive, she’s the one who suggested I should visit.” Ms. Kelley raised an eyebrow at the older girl who just shrugged and stood next to the bookcase in the corner looking over the books as Max spoke.
“It’s just with everything that’s happening with all the murders it’s… it’s making everything worse again.” Max began, nervously fiddling with the zipper on her jacket.
“You’ve experienced trauma, Max, and when you keep your feelings, your pain bottled up the way you do,” Ms. Kelley looked over at (Y/N) for a brief second, “it doesn’t take much to trigger them again so now when it rains it storms.”
“Yeah I know…” Max trailed off. (Y/N) picked up a book and started reading the back of it.
“Do you think you’re ready to talk more about that night?” (Y/N) turned her head to look at the two of them. She watched Max for a second and saw Max tap her foot three times.
“I live where it happened.” (Y/N) spoke as she set a book down and pulled the keys from her pocket.
“I’m sorry?” Ms. Kelley turned to look at her.
“Where Chrissy’s body was found, I live in that trailer with my brother and my uncle, you should know that right?” (Y/N) walked over and stood next to Max’s seat. “The cops asked me a bunch of questions when I got home this morning, they even asked Max a bunch of questions too…” (Y/N) set her hand on the back of the chair. “Did they talk to you? I mean, I know you were seeing Chrissy.”
“(Y/N), you know I can’t talk about Chrissy or any other student.” Ms. Kelley shook her head.
“Yeah, but, I mean what if she was being stalked by someone… did Chrissy mention anything…?” (Y/N) trailed off,
“... Or who might have done this?” Max asked.
“I’m… I’m sorry, I… I really can’t discuss this. You wouldn’t want me to talk about you to other students right?” Ms. Kelley waved her hands around.
“You know, if I were dead and it would help catch the killer, then yeah, I most definitely would.” Max said, (Y/N) tried to hold in her laughter.
“Well, let’s leave that up to the police, shall we?” Ms. Kelley responded.
“Yeah, you’re right, the police who barely let me into my home, you know I wasn’t even allowed to grab more than a change of clothes? They totally have this under control.” (Y/N) said sarcastically and rolled her eyes.
“Can I use the bathroom?” Max asked suddenly.
“Sure. Up the stairs, to the left.”
“Thanks.” Max got up out of the seat, walking up the three steps.
“(Y/N)... do you want to talk?” Ms. Kelley asked the older teen.
“No, not really.” She scoffed, glancing over to see Max with the keys in her head, she gave her a slight nod before making her exit.
“Here she comes, here she comes.” Steve tells Dustin as they see Max.
Max entered the vehicle, “Where’s (Y/N)?” Steve asked her.
“(Y/N) you really should talk to someone.” Ms. Kelley began.
“And talk to who exactly? Max? She’s dealing with her own trauma and I don’t need to dump mine onto her.” (Y/N) crossed her arms over her chest, “Or better yet, I should call up my father in prison and tell him ‘Hey what’s up? I hate your guts’? Or should I go visit my mother’s grave and tell her I hope she’s getting her ass kicked in whatever afterlife there is and that I hope she’s suffering the way she made Eddie and I suffer for several years before our uncle got us out of that house.” (Y/N) vented, waving her arms around as she talked.
“(Y/N), that’s not what I meant and you know that. Have you tried talking to your brother, your uncle, Jennifer?” Ms. Kelley asked concerned.
(Y/N) scoffed at the mention of Jenny, “Jennifer and I aren’t exactly talking at the moment.”
“And why’s that?” Ms. Kelley turned around and pulled out a notebook and pencil.
Fuck, (Y/N) thought, she fell right into the trap Ms. Kelley had put out. (Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek and thought for a second fine I’ll play into it, “You know, Ms. Kelley,” She tilted her head to the side, “There are some friends who turn to strangers right?” Ms. Kelley nodded her head, unsure of where this was going, “Well, some friends turn to targets. Especially friends who promise to not keep secrets or tell lies.” She laughed slightly, “You know I never once kept a secret from her, and yet here she was for months fucking my brother behind my back… and look mercy is virtue and all but all I want to do is hurt her.” (Y/N) was lying through her teeth, of course she was hurt because it was kept a secret from her for who knows how long, but she didn’t want to hurt Jenny, she’d never want anything bad to happen to her - that’s her best friend for life.
“(Y/N), don’t say that. You don’t mean that and you’re going to regret saying that.” Ms. Kelley stopped writing and looked up at her.
“The only thing I regret is everything I wish I had said to you yesterday.” This was it, this was her ticket out of this house and as far away from Ms. Kelley as possible, “I hate everything about you. You think you’re helping us kids, you’re not, in fact you’ve made me a hell of a lot worse than I was, and honestly every conversation I have with you makes me feel like you’re going to take me behind the shed old yeller style to see what’s going on inside my head.”
(Y/N) smirked slightly as she finished, Ms. Kelley was unable to speak or move, “Did you want that sugar coated? Because honestly this is the most cathartic feeling I’ve ever experienced. Besides, what do you want me to say? I can’t help it that I feel so heartless.” (Y/N) smirked fully now, and turned to walk away, “Bye Ms. Kelley, have a nice life!”
“(Y/N) hold on we need to talk about this!”
“No we don’t!” She shouted as she turned the corner.
“Yes, we do, (Y/N) these outbursts aren’t normal.” Ms. Kelley followed her.
“You see, that's the beauty of us only having conversations once a week about my past trauma… you don’t know what my normal is.” (Y/N) opened the door and closed it running across the street towards Steve’s car.
“There she is.” Dustin pointed at (Y/N) as she got to the car, opening the door and jumping into the back.
“What did she say?” Steve asked her.
“Nothing, just drive.” She slammed the door closed.
“Nothing?”
“Steve! I said drive!” She shouted at him and he hit the gas.
Max and (Y/N) sat in the back seat of Steve’s car, looking at each other and having a silent conversation with their facial expressions. Max lifted her eyebrows up and down twice before nodding her head towards Steve, (Y/N) tilted her head in response and furrowed her eyebrows. Max glared ever so slightly before nodding her head toward the older girl and then towards Steve.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened slightly and her lips slightly opened in an ‘o’ shape, she looked at the back of Steve’s seat and then shook her head before making a ‘holding a shotgun’ gesture followed by a fake gesture of love, and then stuck her tongue out and pointed at her mouth like she was going to vomit. Max giggled at the gestures catching the attention of both Steve and Dustin.
“What are you two laughing at back there?” Steve asked them, looking at them through the rear view mirror.
Max rolled her eyes, “Boys.”
“Us?” Dustin turned around in his seat to look at them.
“If the shoe fits.” Max responded, causing (Y/N) to laugh. Steve smiled at the sound, having missed it and still missing when it was him who would make her laugh.
“Dustin, do you copy?” Dustin’s walkie talkie sounded.
“Lucas? Where the hell have you been?” Dustin responded.
“Just listen. Are you guys looking for Eddie?” Lucas asked frantically.
“Yes! We found him, no thanks to you.” Dustin rolled his eyes.
“You found him?”
“A boathouse on Coal Mill Road. Don’t worry, he’s safe.”
“You guys know he killed Chrissy, right?”
(Y/N) scoffed before leaning over the center console and grabbing the walkie.”Hand me that, that’s bullshit Sinclair and you know that! Eddie tried to save Chrissy!”
“Then why do all the cops say he did it?”
Max grabbed the walkie from (Y/N), “Lucas, you’re so behind it’s ridiculous, okay? Just meet us at the school. We’ll explain later.”
“I…I can't. I think some real bad shit’s about to go down.”
“What are you talking about? What bad shit?” Dustin took the walkie talkie back from the girls.
They all sat only hearing static for a minute, “Lucas? Lucas?!”
Taglist: @preciousbabypeter @honeymunson @willgrahampills @secretsicanthideanymore @tanyaherondale @lettyshush @kayt-marie @live-the-fangirl-life @burn1ngw00d @alainabooks143 @kamala-khann
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#steve harrington series#kers writes
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(Uzume) “ Oi, do you know where I can get a pair of headphones like that? This song is making me regret having ears. “
She can only try to ignore it with her thoughts for so long. Even playing in the game room with the machines at max volume fails to distract her from the endlessly looping chants about sunshine and lollipops.
(To Niwa Tatsuki)
It took her a moment to notice the other asking the question before she finally recognized she was being spoken to. Taking off the headphones and asking them to repeat themselves, she tapped her chin.
The song was already giving her a headache.
"Yeah. I kind of... went to complain about it and the crew was nice enough to give me these. Maybe you could go ask them for a pair."
She put the headphones back on before speaking again. "Sorry, this song gives me a major headache. It's so out of tune..."
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hi hello i am once again (this is the first time) asking for 831 content. like i KNOW you prolly can’t tell much because of like lore and trauma and stuff but like they’re so cooooool and i have a gigantic crush on ALL OF THEM AND REAPER USED TO BE SO HAPPYYYYY. do you have any plans on possibly giving lil sprinkle hints and stuff abt them throughout the story? bc like 3 of them are still alive and well and one is like. kidnapped 🤨 soooo idk i know reaper has some deep seeded trauma like every girlboss does but idk
i also don’t know if this ask makes any sense. i’m very eepy BUT no pressure to write or add anything i’m just genuinely curious. ANYWAYS i hope your week goes well!!! and pls stop eating shrimp bc we need them to fry the rice !!!!
fun fact I was actually going to make something for them so...
//drinking mentions
"Okay, so, it's gum, but it's natural." Tahoma tried, offering Izzie the packet. It was a sweltering summer in Austin and the two of them and the rest of the 831 were waiting outside the lines of parked taxis and Ubers rumbling, hidden from the heat. "No gum is natural--"
"Yeah, but it's not like you're going to eat it!" Izzie just shook her head and leaned further into the concrete wall, sipping her water like a drunkard at noon. Each and all of them had pretty much run out of water by that point, but Okazaki and her ever-growing intelligence snuck in another bottle in her bag, aptly saying "fuck TSA." Johnny was well and done with her, sighing as he popped another piece of gum into his mouth as Rigo groaned loudly, Nadya shoving him. "If you keep moaning someone's gonna think you're having sex."
"In this weather? I'm sweating enough as is."
"I thought you liked hot," Marisha quirked, pushing her lips out as she fanned herself with the collar of her shirt. "Yeah, but this shit's dry!"
"At least California has a beach-- all Austin has is a river you can't swim in." Angel wiped her forehead, rubbing her eyes in the process. She hadn't slept on the flight and, frankly, the nearly twenty hours of travel, she was ready to hit Phil's guest bedroom's mattress and sleep for an equal amount of time.
The doors wheezed open, Rosie stepping through with seven different water bottles in her arms, the rest of her team practically leaping at the chance to take one from her. Everyone thanked the woman with all of their heart, gulping down every drop, Nadya crushing the plastic bottle like a Four Loko, sighing in relief. As if right on queue, the massive black SUV that they were so familiar with pulled up and honked loudly.
Shades pulled down, bright American smile sparkling as the window rolled down, their captain's arm out his own window, patting the roof. "You folks need a lift?"
They piled and packed in like sardines, grateful for the ever-blasting AC that he cranked up to max. "Hope I didn't leave you guys out there for too long."
"No offense, Cap, but you were forty-three minutes late." Rigo tapped his wrist, his metaphorical watch clinking (he made the noises with his mouth). "Always so exact," Phil smiled, rolling up the windows as Achebe settled herself in the front, happy to get her own special seat while the rest of her team had to sit on top of each other (though none minded all that much, they were just happy to be out of the heat). "And that was thirty-eight minutes we sat outside when we could've been inside your house, in your pool-- oh, wait, did-- Nadder, did you order already?"
"What? Dude, we just got here, why would I have ordered?"
"Because I was talking about Lolo's and I thought we were on the same page." Phil grinned over the 2015 Summer Pop that played over the radio, cranking the volume. "Can't hear you two over the sound of Calvin Harris!" The rest of Nadya's and Rigo's unharmful argument over whether or not the former could predict the Californian's hunger was muted by "How Deep Is Your Love?" as the team was driven to the not-so-humble abode of Phillip Graves.
It was everything the sweaty brigade of military idiots needed; from a pool and green, green grass in his backyard, to a three-bedroom, fully airconditioned suburb-style house. As all of the group crammed in right behind Phil, his keys jingling as he unlocked the door, he chuckled, the group pushing through as he let them inside. The first time that they'd been over, there were kids' toys, drawings of crayon figures, and dozens of stacked apple sauce packs in the pantry. By the second trip, they were gone. There was a mutual agreement not to talk about it, but Graves' team still softened their blows on him.
But as the team made their way from the front entry to the living room, they stopped. Nadya was in the back of the group, rummaging through her backpack, bumping into the back of Navarro. "Shit-- why'd you..." But as she stepped around the massive woman, she stopped too, her jaw slacking. "... Dad?"
To be continued...
#asks#rwys asks#rwys 831#team 831#tf 831#tf831#rwys navarro#rwys nadya#rwys reaper#rwys graves#rwys gallagher#rwys rigo#rwys okazaki#rwys tahoma#rwys achebe
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Hey,Can i order comfort?
(TLDR;ccino and dust meet from a very special cat)
I awoke to the sound of my alarm,it was blaring at max volume after all,
I forced myself up into an upright position,flinching quite hard once I felt the cold air from my broken window.
I dragged myself out of bed,being quick to get dressed in my day clothes before the cold got the better of me;pulling my coat over my chest as I exited my room,going to grab my wallet and phone then head to work,
I shoved my items into my coat pockets before I headed off to go do my work,already quite tired upon thinking about it.
I headed off to a more desolate au as the most recent message i had received instructed,and seeked out a very specific someone,
Of course,this is my job as a hitman to seek out and kill people as to how my clients want me too.
As I found my target I readied a piece of rope I was instructed to use,and one I was allowed entry into the house;I strangled them to death,them having put up little to no fight against me.
I sighed as I laid the person down,gently setting them back down onto the couch they were previously on,taking a picture of the poor person afterwards,
I sent the picture to the person that had asked it of me as i left the place,going to go meet them in our promised meeting place.
That didn't last all too long though,as they offered up another victim for double the pay as the first;
I stared in disbelief before reluctantly agreeing to their offer,groaning as I headed back into the town and seeking out the victim,
As I found them,I started up a conversation.
Again this didn't last too long,as i had grabbed a sharp object and stabbed the person multiple times,watching them bleed out,
Taking a picture once they had passed and sending it to my client,finally heading back to our promised meeting place,
I arrived quite quickly and awaited the arrival of my client,tapping my foot impatiently.
I glanced around my surroundings as i waited,taking note that the area was quite bright and flourished with various shrubs and flowers,
It was also a bit windy here too,but was warmer than my home;which I'm grateful for,
I looked over in the direction of footsteps,noticing my client coming with the company of two people.
I sighed as I realized what my 'client' was going to try and do,as it seemed that they were not going to pay up the fee that they had previously promised me,
I wasnt really listening when they grabbed me a bit,albeit I believe they said my name for 'Dust' was quite hard to miss in a sentence.
I groaned a bit and grabbed at the man's arms that had grabbed me,steadying my magic and impaling him on the spot,ending his life almost immediately,
I looked over to the other two that had just witnessed one of their group members pass on. I pulled out the exact same object I had used earlier and used it to engage a fight against the two still standing there;I ended up the victor,receiving very minimal injuries.
Once I had made sure that they were not going to move,I knelt down and raided them of their wallets,my new form of payment.
I stood back up and stretched,freezing once i felt something warm and fuzzy rub up against my leg;I looked down to it and relaxed,noticing that it was only a cat,
'But..a cat?' I asked myself 'how'd it get all the way out here?'I reached down and pulled that cat up and into my arms,reading out the tag on its collar.
I glanced around before heading to the address listed on the collar,becoming quite confused upon seeing that the address lead me right to a cafe,
I took a deep breath as I entered the cafe,setting the cat down and allowing it to run off.
It didn't take long for the sudden smell of pancakes to hit me,my stomach rumbling once i registered it;i then realized that i haven't eaten breakfast,so,i decided to go sit myself at the counter to get something to eat while i was here,
I tapped at the counter for a few moments before another customer handed me a menu,as they didn't need to use it anymore.
I read through the menu for a bit before i heard someone,
"Excuse me,sir?"the voice had said,sounding a bit strained but gentle to the ears anyways;I had looked up to the person talking to me,noticing that their name tag had read 'Ccino'.
"Have you decided as to what you will be ordering?"Ccino had asked,holding out a notepad as to write my order down i presumed,
"Ah yes..can i get an order of pancakes,please?"I answered the boy,who promptly wrote it down,hurrying off to go ready my order after I told him that would be all,
It didn't take too long for him to return with my order,placing it down on the counter in front of me.
I stayed quite close to close,the cafe was much more quiet now as opposed to the bustle from earlier in the day.
I was one of the last in the building,the others being the sole worker and a few remaining customers,
I had conversed with the worker as he did what he needed to do for the day,quickly becoming acquainted with the other.
I was a bit surprised when the boy approached me with some bandages,offering to patch me up from the injuries that were surprisingly still bleeding,hours after they were inflicted.
His hands were soft and gentle as he cleaned and patched my scratches,how he did so reminded me of a mother tending to her child,
'Perhaps,i will stay a while longer.'i told myself.
#Fic#Babbles#Corrupts reverse multiverse#Fluffydust#Ig#It got real close to that#Fluff#Its really long-#Lore
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𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡ 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬 ����𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘦
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❥ REQUESTED: Anonymous
❥ REQUEST:
"[could be yandere] Self aware Dark Choco Cookie x reader.
Headcannons like what kind of voicelines he'd say, heck maybe his voice even sounds softer, or when you open up CRK you hear him say hello to you or something..."
❥ WARNINGS: Some angst, self doubt. spoilers for Episode 13 + 14
[I've never wrote for self aware before so I hope this is good 😭 P.S; It isn't yandere!]
♬𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠♬
"𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝙸'𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎"
0:00 ───|────── 0:00
◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷
Volume: ■■■■■□□□
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♡ You had been playing Cookie Run Kingdom for quite some time now and how a certain Choco cookie had caught your attention during one of the many cutscenes, Dark Choco Cookie!
♡ You had found his backstory and lore very interesting, far different than the rest of the other cookies and it was no lie that you were one of the many players to fond over him
♡ Dark Choco had no idea why you would treat him better than the rest of the cookies. Like you had all these other options that were far greater than he was such as Madeleine Cookie, or Raspberry Cookie, yet you chose him, but why?
♡ Has someone finally understanding all of the pain he went through, the destruction he had not meant to cause in all of his stories?
♡ It had made Dark Choco feel guilty that you would waste all of your coins and spend it all on decorations just for him, how you made him his own area, how you had completely maxed him out from his level, power, then stars
♡ Dark Choco would never mention anything about you to the other cookies he thought that the other cookies would believe that he had gone crazy so he kept all his thoughts to himself
♡ Everytime you'd open up the game Dark Choco would immediately greet you! Even if you had not tapped on his character, you thought that you had gotten some sort of leak from the game or a new set of voice lines so you had thought it was normal. He'd always say something along the lines of "Good morning...", "Sweet Dreams"
♡ "Oh I long to be by your side," You thought that he was referring to his father Dark Cacao. It saddened Dark Choco how you wouldn't get the hint
♡ He loved the absolute joy in your face when he had finally gotten his redemption arc while you had finally beaten all of the Dark Cacao Kingdom Area, you were proud of him!
♡ Oh how Dark Choco wanted nothing more than to be with you in your world, or would it be you in his?
♡ He would defeat all the vicious cakehounds, travel all of Earthbread, live a thousand times then die a thousand times, all to be with you
♡ But, that would not be possible. He was nothing but a couple thousand pixels on a screen, in a video game where he was just nothing but a fictional character. He could not be there to love you
♡ Again, he was nothing but fiction so he only hoped that someone in the real world, your world, would show the true care, affection, and love that he would give to you if he was actually real. Some unknown lover to take his place where he would've been with you
♡ This was his reality. All he could do for you was tell you unscripted lines of affection, do his best in all the battles, and watch
♡ Watch you get older, mature, find that lover, quit playing the game you once loved, and then he too would become a forgotten memory
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#cookie run x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookierun x reader#crk x reader#cookie run sfw#headcanons#dark choco cookie x reader#dark choco x reader
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drown your misery. - pt. 2
yes i did decide to make it a short little series! theres probably going to be one more part, two at max!! also vincent signs in this fic. i didn’t use italics or bold to indicate it, so unless otherwise specified, vincent is always signing
vincent sinclair x gn!reader
word count: 1,937
part one
***
The radio cuts in and out, static increasingly taking over the nostalgic crooning of Emmylou Harris. You gently smack the old thing, hoping to hear her song more clearly but static overtakes what was left. The dog’s head perks up in alertness when you smack the radio again to no avail. You huff and place your hands on your hips.
It was going to be one of those days.
You turn out of the kitchen, headed towards the living room when you step on a loose floorboard that creaks and shifts against your weight. Vincent will have heard that. You sigh and continue on your path to the bookshelf and reach for the black book you kept on the passenger seat with you for your entire road trip.
When you finally make your way to the kitchen, Vincent is there, shoulders heaving and a hand over the pocket of his potter’s apron, a silent threat.
You’re not surprised. You may have free reign in the house again, but it’s just as big of an illusion as Ambrose. Vincent listens beneath you, stalks your movements, keeps you contained. Any sudden movements or deviation from your routine earns you this threat. And depending on the time of day and the seriousness of the offense, Bo or Vincent will watch you like a hawk to make sure you stay on track and don’t wander too far.
Vincent caught you stepping out to the porch one night which, in his worry over the thought of you leaving and the desperation to keep you with him, led you to being shackled in his workshop again. He cooed and whined, his face buried in your neck and wrapped you in his arms tightly. The next day had been less than pleasant for you; punishment for an escape you never planned on.
“Just grabbing my CDs, Vincent,” you state calmly, trying to coax him out of his aggression. He’s always on edge when he makes these unplanned appearances, anxiously waiting for a wrong move or look or tone, waiting for a betrayal of his trust. “Do you want to help me?”
Keep an eye on me? is what goes unsaid.
He follows you into the kitchen and hovers behind you as you search through your black book, flicking through the pages carefully. you’ll never see the CD cases again, all stacked neatly on a wall mounted shelf. They’ll sit empty and collect dust for as long as they’re around. Maybe your sister took them, cleared out your apartment as you’re sure you are presumed dead after all this time. Maybe your mom packed them up and put them on her own wall to have them waiting for you, hoping you’ll come home and help you put the CDs in their respective cases. You pause, halfway to turning the page, there’s so much you’ll never see again, so many people. You’re starting yourself down a miserable path again. It’s easier not to think about it, but harder to stop.
Vincent taps the back of your hand with two fingers.
“Just a second,” you sniff. pull out a CD and place it in the player. You push the cover down. It’s nice to listen to your own music instead of Vincent’s opera. It can be oppressive and overwhelming listening to songs that you can’t tell the start and end to, with the volume he plays it at in his workshop, it leaves your ears ringing and head spinning.
“Here,” you tap a cutting board that’s seen better days. “Cut up some potatoes.”
It was much easier than you thought it would be to be around him when he doesn’t have you chained up down in the workshop. You’re almost friendly with each other. Almost. You’re still on alert though, you know who holds all the power here, and as easy as it would be to just give in and settle into a friendship or companionship, whatever reason he decided to keep you, there is still a primal part of you that knows you can’t.
You’re not ready to give up hope.
He watches you. You can’t see it, but you’ve gotten good at feeling his stare.
“What were you thinking about?”
Reluctantly, you ask, “Why?”
“You looked sad.”
“I’m not.”
He grabs your chin, not unkindly, but his fingers dig into the meat of your cheeks and he turns your head to face him so he can look you in the eye.
His voice is raspy with disuse and he speaks slowly, deliberately, like it takes work to speak to you, “Don’t lie.”
You lick your bottom lip and squirm in his grasp. He doesn’t speak that often, maybe only twice that you can think of in all the time you’ve been here, and he doesn’t speak without good reason.
“My mom and sister.”
His eye squints at you and he harshly pulls his hand away from you, jostling your head in the process. He’s done talking it seems when he begins to sign again, “You won’t see them again.”
It’s meant to put a stop to the topic. He doesn’t like when you talk about your life before Ambrose. Before him. You’re supposed to be happy here with him—he wants that validation that he is all you need.
“I know. That doesn’t mean I can't think about them.” you square your shoulders to mirror his body language. “They are still my family. You’ll just have to deal with it, if you want me to stay.”
It’s an empty threat. You’ll never really leave. He wouldn’t let you.
“I’m your family.”
The sound of the knife hitting the cutting board is more pronounced, more punctuated. You’re skating on thin ice with him. one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s possessive. He doesn’t like when you talk about your old life, it’s only supposed to be about him. He's your whole world now, he’s made it that way.
You don’t want to say anything to acknowledge it. So you don’t.
You swipe the back of your hand over your forehead. Summer’s come early—at least for you. You’re not used to the scorching heat so early in the year, if you were home you could have gotten away with wearing long sleeves just a few weeks longer. You're not sure how Vincent can stand it with his sweater and his loose hair. Must’ve just adapted to it.
Working over the hot stove makes it no better.
You glance over at Vincent, who, seemingly unaffected by the heat and humidity in his oversized sweater and mask, has finished dicing his second potato.
You don’t know the full story behind the mask but the house has left you clues. Newspaper clippings and aged masks that seem so grow with age lining Dr. Sinclair’s office. You would never ask though, that would be much too personal and toe the line of whatever boundaries exist– he may say you’re family, but you know there’s only so much love or safety you’ll get from him.
“How can you stand wearing that mask?” you ask while swiping at your brow.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see him go deathly still, just like his wax statues. There’s a tense moment, his knife still hovering in the air, mid-chop, and his breathing coming out harsher through the holes of his mask. You flinch back, almost expecting to be dragged back to the workshop and chained up again for your comment, breaking one of the most understood, unspoken rule of the house. Don’t mention the mask. It’s not your place. Hardly ever do you see Bo mention it to Vincent and vice versa, so why should you be given that special privilege.
You keep your eyes forward, continue working like it will save you from whatever wrath he might be conjuring up. You wait for something. Nothing comes.
Vincent drops the knife, turns around and stalks out of the kitchen, disappearing into his workshop.
***
The house is dead silent. Bo is off tinkering with whatever heap of junk that’s caught his attention this week, Lester hardly ever comes by, and Vincent—you haven’t really seen him in four days. Since the incident in the kitchen, he’s kept a low profile, only coming up for air when he thinks everyone is in bed. You caught him once, eating out of the tupperware container you’d packed his dinner in, but you hadn’t approached him, you’d tried that not long after breakfast was finished and you ventured down to his workshop. He ignored all attempts of apologies, turned away from you if you tried to face him, even walked away from you once. He would come to you when he was ready.
That doesn’t mean you don’t miss him.
Bo’s movie collection is an odd one. Dozens upon dozens of VHS tapes of recorded movies and TV shows, some of the titles are just dates and little descriptors; you don’t want to know what’s on those ones. You’ve been sifting through the collection for a good five minutes now trying to decide what to watch to fill your time but none of them stand out to you.
You’re about to give up and just head straight to bed despite the live wire crackling in your head that would make it impossible to sleep. It’s too damn frustrating. There’s not much to fill your time with and with Vincent giving you the cold shoulder, there’s nothing more to do than clean.
You sigh and gather up the tapes you pulled out and stack them back onto the shelf.
Something behind you makes a noise, indistinct and almost like a whine, possibly the fridge. The thing is old as hell and just like every other appliance in this house, on the brink of giving out.
But the hand delicately placed on your shoulder is not what you’re expecting.
“Fuck!” you shove the hand off of your shoulder and whip around, heart beating wildly, expecting god knows what but only finding Vincent.
He flinches away from you and hunches his shoulders, tries to make himself smaller and less threatening.
“Fuck, ‘m sorry. Just scared me is all.”
He offers you a hand when you try to get up by yourself. You take it without hesitation, anything to get back to that almost peaceful flow you’d had with him. The tension from the last few days had been more oppressive than the humidity pressing down on your chest.
Vincent leads you back to the couch, nudging you to sit down and when you make yourself comfortable, he lies down next to you, propping his head on your lap and bringing your hand down to play with his hair.
“I’m sorry for–”
He quickly pushes a finger against your lips. You furrow your brow. You are just trying to apologize after finally getting the first chance in nearly a week. You don’t like it, but he’s content as is, being showered in your physical affection instead of hearing a verbal apology. If that’s what it takes to make up, then you suppose it will do. You’re not the one waiting on an apology, if this is what he wants, then he can have it.
It makes sense though, that this is his own way of reconciling. Quality time means a lot to him, why some days he won’t let you leave his workshop.
You push your fingers deeper into his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp and he keens. His one eye is closed and his free hand draping around your waist to pull himself tighter to you. You smile.
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Loud music be like: makes you sleepy noises
#yup#at first i was tappin bc i tap when i concentrate on music#but now i really do just be sleepy huh#hh i. kinda dont wanna stop listening to music at max volume bc then ill start hearing noises again#pros: i wont hear things#cons: it might take too much of my brain and i might not actually Fall Asleep#see this is why dream scape be like: im the only person left in the world and its quiet
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