#i wrote this in like 15 min | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silkscream · 2 years

Text

ੈ✩ warnings: smut (18+ minors dni), fingering, bullying, toxic relationships, perv!eddie kinda

okay but.... bully!eddie who isn’t much of a bully -- just has an intense personality that grants him that freak reputation. he’s actually not that bad, at least to his friends and anyone who isn’t you.

you don’t know what it is about you that makes you such an easy target for him, nor do you know what you’ve done. nancy wheeler insists that it’s probably because eddie never got over that middle school crush on you years ago, but you doubt that it had even existed no matter how many times she tells you.

you don’t get it -- why he likes to run his ringed fingers through your hair long enough for you to get a little sleepy in class, only for him to tug on a strand hard, making you gasp while he snickers quietly behind you.

he is so goddamn annoying, that eddie munson. loves to tease you, poke you, steal your belongings, block your locker, call you condescending names like birdie and bubblegum and mary sue for that idealized reputation you’ve got. you think of yourself as harmless, a good student, head of the newspaper with nancy, but eddie loves to tease you for being a perfect good-two-shoes.

what you don’t know is that your innocence turns him on a bit. no one would ever take you as eddie munson’s type, but whenever he gets a whiff of your lavender shampoo or sees a bit of your thigh from your high-waisted pleated skirts rising up more than usual, he feels almost feral. he needs you like a drug, maybe, and he wouldn’t handle you as prettily as you look. he loves to imagine you at night on your knees for him, desperate and climbing onto his body like a kitten while your tiny skirt rides up. how badly he wants to stick his fingers in that plump, pink mouth of yours. how badly he wants to ruin you.

but he can’t tell you that, not exactly. so he teases it out of you. riles you up to make you mad just so you can shoot him one of your glares. eddie loves to play with you. he could only imagine how he’d toy with you in his own bed.

there’s a moment when he goes too far, confronts you outside of one of his gigs just because dustin had dragged steve and robin and nancy, who felt the need to drag you as well. eddie doesn’t mean to get his beer all over you -- he was trying to fake you out, fall-but-not-fall the way that david byrne does. but then he actually does stumble and get PBR all over your brand new white skirt.

“can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” you seethe.

before eddie starts to apologize, he sneers in reaction. “didn’t know princess swore.”

“y’know, munson, you shouldn’t be hounded for your reputation of being a freak, because beyond that, you are the most insufferable, annoying, perplexing little shit that i’ve ever had the displeasure of--” he interrupts you with a kiss. with his fucking mouth on yours while your eyes are wide with shock, but you can’t pull away -- it’s like a spell has bound the two of you together. the brush of his knuckles onto your cheek makes your entire body shiver. the kiss is greedy, inflamed, that you think you might have whiplash the moment he pulls away.

“i’ll buy you a new skirt, alright?” eddie smiles at you with his teeth razor-sharp, hand still gripping your neck softly. “or you can borrow some of my clothes and i’ll make it up to you while you call me any names you want, huh?”

you hate how easy it is to say yes to him. hate how easy it was for you to make up an excuse to go home early while everyone inside is still having drinks and playing pool. you despise your vulnerability and his stupid charm, coaxing you into his van just so he can eventually take off that soiled skirt of yours.

once it’s real, once eddie actually gets his hand on your bare thigh while you look up at him with doll-like eyes, he realizes he’d probably kill anyone who tried to touch you. you were his, now, he’s decided. and he marks you as such.

gets his teeth on your neck and on your breasts while you gasp like a wounded thing, rubs your clit to extricate a forbidden pleasure that he’s sure you’ve been hiding from him this whole time.

“eddie! i- fuck!”

“you forgive me now, sweets?”

“y-yes,” you whine, breath quickening as he fucks into your dripping cunt with his fingers. you watch in admiration how he plays with you like one of his instruments, the moans coming out of your mouth as music to his ears.

when you cum, the look on your face does it all for him. he nearly cums in his pants from the sight of you -- pretty mouth all wide and gasping, pretty face ruined by debauched craving. eddie’s wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it.

#i wrote this in like 15 min #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson drabble #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut

1K notes · View notes

enha-stars · 3 months

Text

✧ take a break, angel

pairing: soft!jay x reader (fluff)

summary: it’s midterm season, and jay wants you to take a break. if not for you, then for him

warnings: mentions of stress, food, kisses

a/n: lmao this is sooo self indulgent it’s crazy. i am currently writing this during my 20 minute break. i look like gollum

staring at his phone, jay let out a long sigh. he had texted you four times today and you hadn’t responded to a single one.

he knew you were studying and you had specifically told him that you would turn your phone off, but it didn’t stop him from texting and checking up on you.

he shook his head and pocketed his phone, smiling at the cashier as he relayed your food order, having memorized it after the third date. he paid and stood by the door, foot tapping unconsciously.

he wished he could do more to help you; ease your burden somehow, but this was all he had. all he could do was make sure you were eating and taking breaks, even if you specifically told him not to bother you.

you had a really hard time focusing whenever he was around, regardless of how small he made himself. there was just something distracting about him; about his presence and his pretty face and broad shoulders.

once the food was done, he made his way to your apartment. he could already picture how he’d find you; hunched over the dining table with papers and textbooks spread out. he was sure that he’d find a bunch of coffee cups in your sink and cans of energy drinks hidden in the garbage under the sink.

he wasn’t sure why you bothered hiding them, he could always tell you’d have one by your eyes. they were always slightly brighter, a tad bit shinier. although he advised against them, he knew how important certain indulgences were.

he stood in front of your apartment door with bags of food. he felt a sliver of doubt as he stared at the brown door. he wanted to help, but he didn’t want to make you angry or frustrated. still, he took his chance and knocked on the door with his foot.

he knocked five times, lips turning upwards at the familiar beat. it was something you both had come up with early on in your relationship, a secret code that he’d tap on his heart whenever he missed you.

he heard shuffling on the other side before your voice, slightly breathless and slight annoyed spoke against the door.

“jay,” you sighed out, head leaning against the door. “what are you doing here?”

jay laughed, a goofy smile overtaking his face. it didn’t matter what you said to him, he loved your voice.

“open up, angel. i brought food.”

he didn’t mind having a conversation with a door between the both of you, as it had become a normal occurrence you both during this time of the semester.

jay grinned at your groan and raised an eyebrow as you slowly unlocked the door and pulled it open, a frown on your lips.

his heart began beating faster as you slowly revealed yourself to him. he hadn’t seen you in two days and it was already too much to him. you were so beautiful.

his eyes trailed your body; taking in your eye bags and tired features. his heart warmed when he recognized his shirt and sweatpants on you, knowing you missed him just as much as he missed you.

“jay,” you frowned. “you can’t be here. you promised.”

despite your words, your heart warmed at the sight of him, soft and bright. you wouldn’t admit it, but you were so glad he was here. you had missed him greatly.

instead of answering you, jay pushed past you and smirked to himself when he eyed the dining table, littered with papers just like he knew it would be.

he set the food down on the corner of the table, making sure none of the containers touched any of your work. he slowly turned, taking in your dark apartment. he eyed the candle and smiled when he realized it was the one he had given you all those months ago.

you sighed and shut the door, knowing that there was no way you were getting rid of him now. as he scanned your apartment, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to grace your lips.

jay turned and faced you, a hand on his hip as he raised his eyebrows. he knew you were trying your best to stand your ground, but he didn’t miss the twitch of your hands or your soft smile.

“we should eat while the food is warm, angel.”

feigning annoyance, you crossed your arms. “jay, i have to study. thank you for the food, but i don’t have time right now.”

jay simply stared at you and you felt your hard exterior crumble, wanting nothing more than to eat something other than packaged ramen.

he spreads his arms and tilts his head. you let out a long sigh before shuffling over to him. he gently wraps his arms around you, one hand on your lower back and the other on your neck. you limply wrap your arms around his waist, and breathe him in.

he smells like home; like comfort.

he rubs your back and presses a kiss to your forehead. “take a break, angel. you’ve been studying all day and i promise you that a small break will only help.”

your hold on his waist tightens and he smiles against your waist, glad he had listened to his gut. you both stand there for a few minutes, just holding each other. well, he’s holding you and you’re clinging onto him.

your stomach grumbles and jay laughs as you frown at him. he kisses your cheek and pats your butt, ignoring the way you rolled your eyes.

“go sit, y/n. i’ll grab some plates.”

he unwraps his arms from around you and steps back but you grab the front of his sweater and pull him towards you, smashing his lips against yours, swallowing his noise of surprise.

jay blinks before his hands immediately cup your face, kissing you deeper. he lets you control the pace, glad to be used in any way you want.

you pull away and breathe heavily, smiling at his pursed lips and closed eyes, before pressing a softer kiss to his lips.

“thank you.”

hazily, jay opens his eyes and nods. he’s still trying to taste you in his lips so he doesn’t notice your wide smile. “anything for you, angel.”

you pat his cheek and it snaps him out of the daze your kiss had pulled him in. he blinks and quietly walks to the kitchen, a giddy feeling in his chest.

he finds you sitting on the sofa, organizing the food the way he always does. dry items on one side and everything else on the other.

you smile at him and he’s very glad you’re taking a break. he missed you, and with the way your eyes crinkle, he knows you missed him too.

taglist: @karinasbaby @pprodsuga @ak4e7a @moon7jay @jaeyunluvr

201 notes · View notes

butmakeitgayblog · 7 months

Text

Always, Lexa has loved her.

In every lifetime. In every iteration of her.

Forged in the fires of hell and phosphorus embers of perdition, Lexa, a demon, walks among them. From the dawn of man crawling from their caves on bended knee, to the concrete skylines of the new world, she watched them flourish, thrive, and crumble. Smelled the smoke of their burning Eden while sipping their sin like the finest opulent wine.

"Kiss me harder," Lexa whimpers against the heat of Clarke's milk and honeyed mouth as hands work their will below.

In every lifetime she is different. A different face. A different name. Golden blonde bleeding to silver, burnt amber to black. A village healer who seeks to comfort. A coven leader who works her incantations in vain. A conjurer, a shawoman, a witch by so many shifting names. From the days when beasts roamed free and she, only a nomad protecting her clan through a veil of ancient mystics, to Clarke Griffin of the new age, the midwife with a strange knack for saving lives already thought lost to this realm.

"Fuck, Lex," Clarke sighs, rolling her hips into the thrust of Lexa's fingers hard enough to rattle the bones.

From the beginning, Lexa has watched her hone her craft, over decades and centuries and long lost millennia. Has watched her conjure and harness death in the smoke of fire-stoked chants, as her beating heart burned at the stake. Has kissed the choked, 'May we meet again' from the blue of her lips, felt the cold of her skin as she drowns on the riverbanks by their righteous hands in the never ending cycle of loving her, and losing her, and patiently waiting for that someday when she is reborn again.

"I've missed you." Lexa feels her tears turn to ash in the chalice of Clarke's kiss; quenching and searching and chasing after so many years without.

Hell doesn't burn quite so lovingly in the lifetimes when she loves her back, returning Lexa's kisses and aching for her touch with equally wicked smiles. When she breathes her passion and pleasure against the warmth of Lexa's lips and lays her body among the ruins of their blasphemy. Back arched and legs spread as she pants for Lexa to fill her more, to take her rougher. To pour her sinister lust into her. The lifetimes where Lexa gets to hold her, taste and touch her, to feel her wrapped tight and wet around her fingers… Those are lifetimes that bring color to the grey of Lexa's damnation. When power seeps from her like a sieve of midnight fury, tasting of blood and summer sweet dandelions on Lexa's tongue.

Clarke gasps in pants and sacred salt, hands breaking the circle upon such consecrated ground. "Don't let me forget, baby. Don't let me forget you."

Beyond her earthly bindings, the truth of her remains. The unwavering essence that calls to Lexa from the four corners of the Earth whenever she returns to her.

Her soul remains true in every lifetime, in every iteration

And always, Lexa has loved her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or, Demon Lexa falling for every reincarnation of Witchy Clarke over the expanse of eternity, but mostly I'm just here for the aesthetics 🎃

#clextober23 #Clextober #clexa #i wrote this in like... 15 min don't come for me please #im just here for the aesthetics

167 notes · View notes

kil-luna · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

Most people tend to forget that his quirk is literally an explosion. He is like a bomb, if you want to make a clear comparison. This alone can help you conceptualize how dangerous he can be.

Katsuki knows this better than anyone else. And he may act like he is brash and extremely careless when it comes to using his quirk... but lately, because of you he is realizing how scary he can be. He is dangerous. His hands can cause destruction. His hands can hurt you and that is the last thing he wants to happen. Sometimes it gets to him and he overthinks. Whenever he is around you, especially when he touches you, he worries. Sometimes it even haunts him before he lays down to sleep while holding you. What if I suddenly activate my quirk while I am hugging y/n? What if i have a bad dream and then when i wake up i see that i already hurt y/n?

He grows restless sometimes, but him being Katsuki Bakugou, he hides it perfectly. And in days like this.. he thinks he may no longer have to hide anything anymore. In days like this, he understands even more why you are the perfect match for someone like him. You love him, and you will stay; no matter how dangerous of a man he can be.

Today he was tired, as usual. And to be frank, you were as well. It just so happened that you came home a little bit earlier than he did, so you had the time to whip something up so that he can eat something when he comes home. You were kind of irritated because you did not anticipate him to come home a few minutes after you had just put on your apron. “Dumbass. I will do the cooking instead! Your food tastes weird!” he always overreacts when you do something for him. Your food tastes okay, but he just doesn’t want you to do more work. But after a long day... Katsuki’s food sounds delightful. “Okay. I just thought I can cook something before you arrive.”

After cooking, he served you the meal he made in the couch. You two never really eat in the dining table. You always use the little lap desk he bought and sit in the couch instead so you can be in front of the television while eating. It is much more comfier and better that way.

You were feeling really drained already so you ate up all the food in a matter of minutes and he did as well. After that, you just plopped down his lap, finding a position where you feel the most comfortable. “Were you really that tired? hey, y/n, SLEEP IN THE BED.” it was too late. You were already asleep.

Katsuki couldn’t do anything but to stare at you. He couldn’t believe it. You really fell asleep the moment you found your desired position. IN HIS LAP. On the couch, nonetheless. He paused for a moment to take in your sleeping form. You looked so peaceful. You were sleeping like a baby, with a little smile on your face, like this is where you belong.. like this is your safe place.

That is when it hits him. Yes, his hands can be dangerous. His quirk can be scary. He possesses a power like non other. But as he caresses your face while you’re asleep, he realized how much trust you put in him.

Because you know that you are the safest in the hands of the man who will burn the whole world to the ground for you. He can never hurt you, and the fact that he is so scared to do so is the proof that he never will.

#what is this #i dont know anymore its a quick drabble but I AM NOT SATISFIED #SIGH #anyways #bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #slight angst #bnha #boku no hero academia #anime #angst #fluff #aly tries to write #this isnt proofread i wrote it in like 15 mins

2K notes · View notes

thebigoblin · 4 months

Text

On The Dance Floor

tags: Not Scott McCall Friendly, Inspired by a Song, Oneshot, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Getting Together, The Hale Pack 2.0, Fluff, Minor Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall

a/n: found this in my drafts tagged as "complete." figured i'll post this as a lil weekend treat <3 so cleaned it up a bit. i'll post this on ao3 tomorrow ig. also, real enemy is giving fics a fucking title.

now you can also read this fic on ao3.

White, marble tiles are eaten up by his black, formal shoes, his movements a little hurried as he veers off another corner of this event hall, almost braining himself against the wall. He stops just at the right moment, curses his clumsiness, and continues walking down the empty hallway to the dressing room. Everyone else is already in the main hall, sitting on the chairs, and Stiles Stilinski was there only moments before, so he knows they're waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Except, his dad is getting cold-feet, and despite Scott's attempts at being normal around his soon-to-be stepfather, and being a shoulder to lean on, the cold-feet is getting worse. At least, that's what Derek texted him, a short, concise depiction of whatever the hell must be happening in the dressing room.

And he trusts the Alpha, so he's quick in his steps and quicker with his breaths when he does open up the door and finds his dad pacing around the decently-sized room, his suit on, and complemented by a look of absolute panic on his face.

Scott is standing off to the side, like he always seems to be these days, and he's on the opposite side of Derek, far from him, like he always was and always will be. Some people don't change, and Stiles has learned that through experience he would rather not repeat.

"Dad," Stiles says, and that's all it takes for the dam to break. His dad gives a quick glance to Scott, his once-favorite son, and then pulls both Stiles and Derek towards him, his hands a little sweaty with dread. His dad knows being close and talking low wouldn't make a difference, but it's the principle of the thing, and for one split second he wonders what 16 year old him would have thought of this fact, of Derek being his dad's chosen son, and him himself being this close to his dad. And Scott not even being privy to the beauty of this relationship.

"What if she doesn't want me to? I love Melissa, I do, but Claudia- I don't know. I had a dream yesterday, Stiles, and she was just, she was just there! Just sitting on the beach, where I proposed to Melissa, right where Melissa was sitting. Was that, like, one of your supernatural dreams? Derek, you must know something about these sort of things. I don't think she wants me to—"

Derek cuts him off with a firm, "She wants nothing but happiness for you." He gives Stiles a quick look, asking silently if this is okay, because out of the four people in this room he's the only who didn't actually know her when she was alive. Stiles nods, and Derek continues, and his dad hangs onto every word out of Derek's mouth. "Today is a big day for you, and you're nervous, and it's okay, John. That dream was just a way for your subconscious to show up — this isn't the first time you've had this thought, have you?"

"No."

"That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just your nerves."

Stiles smiles softly at his dad. "Mom loves you," he moves forward to bring his dad in for a patented Stilinski hug. His voice is muffled when he insists, "She loved you when she was beside you, and she loves you now that she's watching over you. And she loves Melissa, too. I know she'll be the one smiling the biggest when you say 'I Do,' today."

His dad holds on for a little longer, and Stiles knows he's holding back tears when his dad says, "Okay," with a rough voice. He pulls back, takes a deep breath, pats Stiles on the shoulder twice, the way he always does, and gives a wobbly smile to Derek. He says, "Thanks, son," to both of them before looking at himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing."

"I'm so glad Lydia's mom was able to modify your original suit into this," Stiles adds to Derek's compliment, and Derek nods, repeats the sentiment of his dad looking amazing.

Scott chimes in, too, and his dad gives him a small smile. The relationship with him is strained, and if it was any other day Scott wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, but it's his mom's wedding day, too. Stiles allows this one day, and if he didn't, he can't really stop Scott from being here. This is his hometown, too. They have their differences, yes, but they also have a past, together and also not, stemming from this same town.

Stiles has no right to where Scott does or does not go.

Derek, on the flip side, with his red eyes and ancestral blood running through his veins, roots sprouting from this town's soil, has no such qualms. Derek and Scott share a past, too, and it defines their present more than anything else could have.

Stiles' dad says he'll be out in just a minute, can they wait outside please, and all three of them step out. Once the door is closed, Derek turns to Scott.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott is instantly angry. He has always hated Derek, no matter the truth. Logic was always Stiles' friend first and Scott's second, and without Stiles, Scott is just a ball of emotions being hit by the bat of daddy and authoritative issues.

Derek has a right to know. It is his prerogative. This is his land, his territory, his packmate's wedding. Scott was banished — run off, really, and now he's back. Derek has a right to know when he'll leave, irrespective of Scott's hesitation to tell him.

But, the years have done Scott good. Instead of yelling, making a scene, he takes a breath in. Stiles wonders what or who his anchor is, and promptly decides it's not something he cares to know. He watches Scott get himself under control, enough that when he speaks his voice is almost emotionless.

All or nothing. That was what Scott was, and still is. He's changed, but not really.

"Mom leaves for her honeymoon tomorrow, and I need to take stuff from home."

Derek raises his right eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

Scott gives a tight smile. "It is if you just learn to stop when you should."

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is taking the two steps to stand right beside his Alpha, disbelief coloring his face and words as he lets out, "Are you seriously threatening him?"

Scott just looks at him. The look is unreadable. It hurts, this distance between them, when Stiles remembers fantasizing about being not two feet apart on a porch in their late, late years, drinking to the years and cheers they must have had in their shared lives. Derek shakes him out of that thought with a gentle touch to his hand, their arms trapped between their bodies, and he relaxes.

Derek looks at Scott. His eyes turn red, brilliant red, and he orders, "Leave by Wednesday afternoon."

Today is Sunday.

And his dad's wedding day. His dad, who chooses this moment to come out, looking much better, and happier, and assured. He looks at the scene in front of him, the three of them, Scott on one side, alone. Him and Derek, side by side, on the opposite side of Scott.

He claps his hands.

"Who is ready to cry today?"

They all cry.

The ceremony is simple, but beautiful. The whole town is here, the wedding off their Sheriff, and the nurse who is so lovely, so kind. They are an inspiration, they all murmur, Derek tells him; second chances at love are rare, and this is beautiful, and who knew there exists beauty in the depths of tragedy?

His dad cries when he watches Melissa come down the aisle, Ms. Martin on one side and Scott on the other. Her best friend and her son, and for once, Stiles doesn't mind Scott's presence.

Melissa is smiling, eye to eye, her wedding gown fitting her perfectly.

She stands in front of his dad and says, "Oh, John," with such reverence, it's hard to not cry. Stiles has to put his hand in front of his mouth, but it's futile. Derek, the jerk, repeats those words, the ones he is hearing from every corner of the hall, and by the time Stiles has a dad and a stepmom officially, he's crying happy tears.

Lydia hugs him and tells him now it's his turn to find her mom somebody, too, and he agrees, only half-listening to her. He's staring at the big, gigantic grin on his dad's face, a matching one on Melissa.

Everyone congratulates him and the newlyweds, and then it's food and chatter and toasts, and everyone is surprised when Derek gives the first toast instead of Stiles, and Scott is supposedly not giving one at all.

Derek's toast is short, but no less lovely. He calls John a great man, one with utmost patience, and of course Derek would find a way to make a dig at Stiles; he says he has no clue how John and Claudia had strength enough to be patient with Stiles around, and that perhaps it is that tenacity, that will, that has brought about the proceedings of today. Of not giving up, even when the world is stacked against you. Of staying strong, in the face of everything falling apart. Of falling apart but coming back stronger, steadier. Of finding love after all of that. And coming from Derek, of all people, it means a whole lot, and Stiles' dad hugs Derek post-speech tightly.

When they pull apart, Derek says into the mic, but with eyes on Stiles' dad, "She's just as proud of you as Stiles is. As I am."

And then it's his turn to give a toast, and he's not sure how he can outdo Derek; as he stands up in front of the mic, he realizes he doesn't want to.

He gives a few funny anecdotes of his childhood, of how his dad taught him to always have hope, because good people get good things, even if it takes long. And how Melissa was always there, a second mom to him right from the start, and how much he loves her and is glad she's still in his life, despite the years, despite the circumstances. The crowd gets intrigued at that, aware of the distance between Scott and his mom, and Stiles too; all of Beacon Hills knows about the rift, but only a hand few know the cause of it as well. So, for him to mention the distance, to publicly acknowledge it, is a big thing.

He moves right the fuck on, makes jokes and smiles and cries, admits he'll always miss his mom, but that he'd always hoped, deep in his heart, that when the grief becomes tolerable he'd be the one to make the two of them marry each other.

"You got there first," he jokes, "Had the ring all picked out even before I could start trying to convince you to ask her out. Honestly, that might have been the second best decision you've ever made." None of them have to ask what the first was. It's obvious; Stiles knows his mom's wedding ring sits inside his dad's shirt, on a necklace, his own beside it.

Melissa gives a toast, too. She reminisces the first time she met Claudia, how they became friends, and how, at the time, it was impossible to imagine a life without her.

Before her little speech, to everyone this was her and John's day, but it's clear to them now that it's not just that. To the newlyweds it's a promise to Claudia; Melissa's once best friend and his dad's first love. To be happy. To live.

There's more hugs, more cheers, the champagne popping, and a quick, impromptu speech by Scott, who was fuming at being outdone like this by not just Stiles, but also Derek.

His speech is not bad, per se. Angry jerks of his chin, wild eyes and noticeable pauses. It's not bad. It just looks bad in comparison.

Stiles will definitely rot in hell for finding this funny, but at least he won't be the only one. The whole pack is trying not to laugh, and Stiles has to hide his own in the lapels of Derek's suit, who in turn hides his laughter in Stiles' hair.

Stiles feels bad, once or twice. But Scott made his bed and he's lying on it.

And then, after that, there's the first dance. There's the open dance floor and little kids asking Derek sweetly if he'll dance with them. He's their favorite, and it's adorable, and Stiles takes a thousand pictures.

Derek is in a sharp suit, and the juxtaposition of him dancing with young children, in princess dresses and printed suits — one kid had a yellow, minion-print suit, and honestly, that kid, Darren, pulled it off well — all colorful to his black shirt, black blazer, and black pants, is just so...

Good.

Derek's whole face is lit up, the golden glow of the lights all around them putting him in an ethereal spotlight, his eyes soft, mouth curved up, and nose adorably scrunched as he tries to decipher the babbling of a two-year-old.

The mom of the kid comes to get the boy, profusely apologizing, but Derek just smiles and says it's okay. It was no issue, it's okay, no need to apologize at all.

"Right," she says, eyes flicking between Derek and Stiles. "I'll let you get back to your partner then." And it's clear she means him.

Derek doesn't correct her, and neither does he. She leaves, and in this corner of the room, it's just them now. Most kids are tired, now, and most guests have left. It's mostly just the closest friends of Melissa and his dad, and the pack, of course, who are here.

Derek turns to him, his eyes still soft, which somehow get more soft when he looks at Stiles. It takes his breath away, and he lets out a squeaky, "Let's dance?" He's almost 25, the "adult" age according to the internet, and he still acts like a high school kid with a fucking crush.

Derek just makes him feel that way.

Derek, who is going to be 30 in less than a week, the big decade, the big, bad wolf. Derek, who blushes, his cheeks pinkish red behind his stubbled face, and puts out a hand.

Stiles takes the offered hand, his heart dancing inside his ribcage. And onto the stage they go, to the applause of the pack, and his dad's, "Finally!"

Stiles blushes, too. It's just their luck to get on the floor when it's a slow dance song.

Derek wastes no time, like he can't think or he'll explode, and puts his left hand on Stiles' waist, his right on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles puts both his hands around Derek's neck, and the alpha leans into the touch. This, the blatant trust, the welcomeness of it, is what bolsters Stiles.

They move to the slow beat, their eyes on each other's like white on rice, and everything else just doesn't exist. It's just them, and only them. No one else exists, not when they do, this close.

They move closer still, their hips touching, their foreheads against each other's. Noses touching close.

"Hey," he says, and grins when Derek does.

"Hey," Derek says back, so close that Stiles feels in his bones the word shape itself in Derek's mouth.

The music changes, then, and Stiles recognizes this one from the very first beat of it. Of course he does. It's Derek's favorite song ever.

"Did you bribe the DJ to play Apocalypse?"

Derek laughs, a quick, short one, and Stiles watches the movement of it, the beauty of Derek Hale laughing. "What if I did?"

Before Stiles can say anything, the line, "kisses on the forehead of lovers," comes on, and Derek takes a step back, only to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles' breath stops in his throat. Derek closes the gap between them again, and sways them to the beat. Stiles just follows his lead, his face having stuck itself on an astonished smile, and by the time the song is over he's just hugging Derek, tight, close, forever and ever and ever close.

Derek hums the song right in his ear, and it's perfect, Derek's breath on him, his grip, his eyes on him.

Stiles takes a step back and just looks into Derek's eyes.

"Hey," Derek says softly. They don't need words. Just this, a moment to themselves, where nothing but them exists.

Stiles doesn't even have a clue what song is playing. All he hears is Derek. His unspoken trust and devotion, his soul half of Stiles', Stiles' own soul half of Derek's. Their mingling breaths, because they're still close, just a hair apart from being one.

"Hey," he repeats, and they're both moving forward, Derek's hands on Stiles' waist, his own around Derek's neck, and they kiss.

It's gentle and slow, like time doesn't exist, could never take from them, this moment infinite, their love defying the laws of the universe and stopping time.

Because this is it. This is love, theirs and theirs only, part of its definition somewhere in the noises Stiles is making, part of it in the way Derek is touching him, moving his hands around Stiles' body, up and down, up and down, caressing him close and closer still.

Because isn't that what love is? Finding meaning in another?

After what feels like a lifetime, Derek pulls back. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Derek hums against his lips, and they're so close, one breath two beings close, Stiles feels the movement of Derek's lips against his.

He lets out a small laugh. Derek swallows it down with another kiss, this one urgent, and time stills, again. Nothing exists, but this, and this moment only. Them. Arms around one another, devouring lips, tight grip, closed eyes, and peace.

They pull apart, foreheads resting against each other's, and Stiles opens his eyes to Derek's soft gaze. On him, through him, for him. He smiles, takes Derek's hand in his, dislodging it from its previous position on Stiles' waist, and brings it up to kiss the open palm of this man, who is radiant in this moment, glowing, almost, with happiness.

"Best day ever," Derek says, and he hums only the tune this time, and this time, Stiles sings the lyrics.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse."

"We did think it would take, like, a severe life or death situation for you two to get your shit together."

The sudden reality of a third person existing, and slowly, the reality of them being in the middle of a public dance floor in front of people has them flinching and moving apart.

"Kind of glad that didn't actually occur," Lydia continues, unperturbed.

"Definitely glad," his dad agrees.

"I do prefer you two getting together on my wedding day instead of my ER room, actually." Melissa adds.

Derek and Stiles both stare at their pack — Lydia, grinning eye to eye, a wine glass in her hand. John and Melissa beside her, their hands clasped, laughing at Derek and Stiles' wide-eyed gaze. Isaac clicking a hundred pictures of them, Erica with her full-red lips and a plate filled with food. Boyd beside his wife, hand on her shoulder, and Jackson leaning against Danny, smirking at the two of them. Cora is looking at them, that Hale look of absolute mischief. Kira and Malia have probably gone home — and nope, here they come, with a...

"Is that a banner?" Derek asks, aghast, and Stiles is right there with him. Because that fucking banner reads STEREK WINS.

"What the fuck?"

Peter comes out from the shadows, and Stiles tries to be happy about the fact that his appearance surprised everyone else present too, not just him and Derek.

"Thanks for making me win the bet. Really appreciate the $5."

"Bet?!"

His dad answers his unasked question. "We all figured you two would get together sometime during our wedding. Maybe during or after. It was just a matter of when." He points to where Malia and Kira are putting the banner up, right beside the one that says, JUST MARRIED!!! "Most of us figured the week following today, but Peter, Lydia, and Kira are the only ones who doubled down on the day being today itself."

"We're going to share our anniversary!" Melissa exclaims, happy.

Derek and Stiles just stare.

Derek turns towards him. He cocks an eyebrow up. Stiles nods with quick movements of his head.

"We, uh, are gonna go," Stiles says to the hall at large. "Have fun with your... bet, I guess. Dad, Melissa, love you guys, the rest of you, fuck off." Everyone laughs.

"We'll talk about anniversary plans later, Melissa," Derek says, and Stiles finger guns at her before realizing how stupid it looks.

Luckily, Derek picks him up, fireman carry style, and swoops him away.

Stiles groans against Derek's back. "Doofuses. Serious doofuses."

"Us or them?"

Stiles thinks. "All of us," he decides. "All of us, Derek. How the fuck were we so stupid to wait so long to get together?" They don't need to really discuss it — the kiss was just a precursor. "And why the fuck do they have to be so... ugh."

"They're still laughing," Derek says, as if that would help. "Doofuses," he agrees.

And then they're in the Jeep, Derek's camaro probably to be taken home by Isaac, and they're alone and when Derek drops him gently on the seat, Stiles lunges up to kiss.

"You make me fucking feral," Derek admits against his lips, and hey, Stiles loves where this is going. "I love you."

The words are nothing, really, but an arbitrary combination of English lexicon. But there is a meaning it — so many touches, so many moments shared between the two of them. Time spent in presence or in thoughts. All of it, leading up to this. These three words that make Stiles giddy.

"I love you too, and we really were doofuses."

"Wanna be doofuses on my bed?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Stiles speeds it out of the parking lot of the event hall, and they do, in fact, act like doofuses on Derek's bed.

They make-out, they throw down their clothes, and they pour out their hearts with every touch, every caress, every moan; they kiss and laugh and confess, touch and worship and love.

They map out each other's bodies and lean in, snuggle, and sleep.

If all apocalypses could be so lovely, it would be great, really.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fics #sheriff stilinski #melissa mccall #the hale pack 2.0 #ahhh spent like 15 mins trying to come up with a title and i give up #it's 3 am rn and i'm going to SLEEP #gotta wake up in like 5ish hours too aanxbsjshjs #bYE #sh.rambles #sh.writesonmain #hopefully y'all enjoy this weekend treat #i wrote this a good few weeks ago and so glad i found it in the piles of wip

42 notes · View notes

theshireisburningg · 1 year

Text

[rated E]

Eddie is so in the zone playing his video game that he doesn’t pay much attention to Steve padding around the room, only vaguely registering the tape being switched out and a Television song starting to play. He smashes at the keys and hums along to the music quietly, not taking his eyes off the screen. That is until Steve is standing in front of him momentarily blocking his view, dropping to his knees before Eddie can protest.

Eddie stills immediately, eyes rapidly bouncing between the TV and Steve, who is quietly reaching out to undo Eddie's belt.

“What are you…”

“Shh…” Steve whispers, fingers working to unzip Eddie's jeans, tugging on the corners in a silent demand.

“I uh-“ Eddie freezes to watch Steve, fumbling with the controller when he leans in, breathe hot though Eddie’s boxers.

“I can’t really pause this level but if you just wait like- two minutes I can give you my full attention.” Eddie is rambling, eyes trained on Steve and fingers hitting buttons off of muscle memory.

“It’s okay,” Steve mumbles, patting Eddie's hip with another pull to the denim.

“Seriously like- two minutes. I promised Henderson I would have this level beat and-" Steve cuts him off (probably for the best).

“Keep playing.” His eyes raise slightly to meet Eddie’s, and then with a grimace, he tacks on, “and don't mention Henderson again.”

Fuck. Eddie lifts his hips off the bed, enough for Steve to tug his jeans and boxers down in one motion and let them pool around his ankles.

Eddie half-heartedly glances at the screen and tries his best to do what Steve asks, but just as he starts to get some semblance of focus back, Steve takes Eddie into his mouth.

It’s… fucking torture. Eddie almost drops the controller on Steve twice because he’s doing some shit with his tongue, making it impossible for Eddie to stay still.

He doesn’t think he’s ever done this and not had his hands buried in Steve’s hair. He’s usually in control, setting the pace because that's how Steve likes it, but the roles are reversed today, and Steve seems set on killing him.

“That’s- fuck, Steve.”

It's clear to Eddie now that Steve is putting on a show, which doesn’t seem fair considering he pulls off every time Eddie tries to just put the fucking controller down. He’s making obscene, overly enthusiastic noises, letting his spit drip down his fist, the slick sound loud even over the music.

Steve pulls off but keeps up the pace with his hand as he catches his breath.

“Did you beat it yet?”

Eddie looks down, see's Steve lips bright red and shiny, and immediately needs to look away.

“What- no. You actually expect me to be able to focus on this shit?” As if on queue, the telltale womp-womp of Mario walking straight off the cliff echoes around the room.

“You better if you wanna come.” And with that, he dives back in.

Eddie can only be so strong when Steve is suctioning his cheeks and picking of the pace of his hand, doing a twisting motion that has Eddie spiraling. He makes it about thirty more seconds before he’s cursing again.

“Gonna- Steve m’ gonna come I can't..”

Steve doesn't pull off, just looks up at Eddie through his lashes- and shit that's a sight of its own. He slows down to a torturing pace at Eddie’s words, shaking his head slightly, a silent wait.

With the sheer fucking nerd power of the part of Eddie that spends an embarrassing amount of time playing video games, he's able to concentrate enough to win, doesn’t even let the screen change before he's tossing the controller aside, winding his hands through Steve's hair as he shifts, raises his hips for more.

He’s on the edge and Steve can tell, moans around Eddie’s dick, let's the vibration be felt.

“Steve, Steve, shit-"

He sees fucking stars when he comes, has never been so keyed up from not being able to touch Steve in his life. He falls back against the sheets immediately, trying to remember how to fucking breathe as his heart pounds in his chest.

Steve stands with a smirk, wiping his chin off with the back of his hand.

“What… the fuck was that. Jesus Christ.”

Steve shrugs, “Just wanted to try something.” He turns to the TV then, surveys the screen.

“You’re kind of shit at this game.”

Stev cackled at Eddie's i'm going to kill you, and strides out of the room.

#rated e for exquisite bj #jk. kinda #wrote this in like 15 mins so ignore typos but uhh #i just couldnt stop thinkin about this ok #eddie is such a nerd LMFAO i stand by that. steve blows his mind fr fr #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #steddie fan fiction

188 notes · View notes

needylittlegirl · 2 months

Text

why do i have all this soft skin if nobody is gonna kiss it huh!!

#it was very hard to word this without having it sound like a serial killer wrote it #theres too many skin related killings #if anyones curious its officially lay in bed and listen to music and probably cry time #ive been listening to no surprises by radiohead on loop for like 15 mins now #im fine tho i swear #mytxt

33 notes · View notes

zutaranation · 3 months

Note

Hi🌻💜

Zutara × 37. Wanna dance

Zuko was standing in the corner, smiling softly as he watched his friends laugh and sway about in the glow of the sunset. For the first time in a very long time, he felt at peace. For now, he didn't have to think about the fact that he was just coronated as fire lord and the road that lied ahead. He could just be Zuko.

He took a sip of his tea, leaning against the wall as he watched Sokka overdramatically dip Suki back to the rhythm of the music his uncle was playing on his tsugi horn. Zuko shook his head, then looking back down at his teacup as he caught his own wavering reflection in an opaque-brown. For the first time in forever, he didn't completely hate what he saw.

"He's ridiculous, isn't he?" a voice popped out of nowhere, startling Zuko— his head shooting up from looking down at his teacup.

"Ridiculous and happy though, the both of them, so I guess that's what counts," Katara added with a smile, joining Zuko in leaning against the wall.

Zuko smiled, comforted by Katara's presence. She still had the pink peony he'd given her and put in her hair. She looked so beautiful in the sunset like this, dressed up in that pretty pale green. He blushed thinking about her, and hoped that she wouldn't notice.

"He better not hurt himself with that leg, hopping around like that," replied Zuko with a smirk, rolling the teacup around to watch the liquid swirl in the cup as a distraction from his fluttering heart.

"He probably will," Katara quipped, then flicked some water up above her hand. "Good thing I'm here this time."

Zuko moved his free hand over his own chest. If Katara had been with Sokka at that time… Zuko wouldn't be. The twists of fate were a funny thing to mull over.

Katara caught Zuko's gesture from the corner of her eye and placed her hand on his shoulder as the water she held fell. "I'm glad I wasn't though," Katara said with a smile, giving his upper arm a squeeze. "Sokka will be just fine."

"I know," said Zuko, smiling. "Everyone will be, thanks to you."

Katara smirked, nodding. She looked out at the scene before her. Her heart warmed seeing her friends so joyous— so safe. It was all she could ask for.

The only thing weighing her down was the glum look on Aang's face. She could tell he was trying to hide it, dancing with Toph and Momo, but he wasn't fully himself and she had herself to blame for that. But, she couldn't lead him on… kiss him back when she didn't feel the same. It wouldn't be fair to either of them.

Katara sighed, her eyes moving to Ty Lee and Mai who were dancing together. Ty Lee's head was resting peacefully on Mai's shoulder as they held each other close. She then looked to Zuko.

"Wanna dance?" asked Katara.

Zuko thought he'd drop his teacup he was so startled by Katara's seemingly sudden suggestion. "Dance? With me?"

"No, the teacup you've been nursing for an hour," she said in jest. "Yes, you!"

Zuko laughed lightly, blushing even harsher this time. He threw down the rest of the tea quickly and set aside the cup.

"I'm better than you'd think. They had us in dancing classes at the royal palace," teased Zuko, accepting her invitation.

"And, who ever said I thought you weren't a good dancer? I saw you and Aang back at the Air Temple," she joked.

Zuko pouted before playfully rolling his eyes as he stepped out to the balcony with their friends. Katara followed along, taking his breath away as her face illuminated in the full sun. He extended his hand for Katara to step into and when she did, it felt so natural he thought all his troubles would fall away then and there.

Katara easily melted into Zuko's arms, clasping his callused hand and letting her head rest on his chest. She was careful not to press against his bandages — the ones he had on account of saving her. The thought made her breath catch and she moved in even closer to him, snuggling her head against Zuko's shoulder.

She couldn't believe how close they'd become in this time. Now, she couldn't picture her life without him in it.

Just as the music slowed and the two forgot the world around them, Iroh leaned over, whispering so just Katara and Zuko could hear.

"I always told you… destiny is a funny thing… and I'd say it is all of our friend."

#zutara #zuko #katara #zutara fanfic #drabble #oop I'm a little rusty #and did not proofread #and wrote this in like 15 mins before work #so hopefully it's decent #went on a lil #but I hope you like!#thank you for the ask!!

32 notes · View notes