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peterman-spideyparker · 2 years

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Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Happy Halloween, everyone! Yes, it’s still technically Halloween, so I’m getting this in while I still can. I kept meaning to write this all month, but I never actually remembered to--one Hocus Pocus viewing later, and voila! Enjoy! :)

Summary: Getting in the holiday spirit, you, Matt, Karen, and Foggy to a themed Halloween costume, enjoying drinks at Josie’s after work when you make a passing comment. Come the end of the night, an opportunity arises that lets both you and Matt explore your words from the bar.

Warnings: Fluff (friendly banter, Matt and Reader are close, Reader knows about Matt’s hobby), swearing, smut (oral- f!receiving (cuz Matt can’t help himself), cowgirl, praise, p in v unprotected sex, more smut insinuated), bad plot because I wanted to write this so don’t @ me

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson and Karen Page

Word Count: 2,363

“Well, if I do say so myself, we look good,” you sigh as you lean against the bar counter. “I think we need to do an office theme group costume every year.”

“I don’t know about that,” Matt he says, clearing his throat before sipping his beer.

“No, I agree with (Y/N)—we look damn good,” Foggy seconds, tipping his hat.

“Agreed,” Karen sighs. “Best law firm in the west.”

“I just don’t remember agreeing to the Western theme,” Matt adds with a shrug.

“Well, it is what it is. And, think of it this way: we’ll be an economical option for any new faces that wander into the bar or we meet in passing tonight.”

“I’m not following,” he trails.

“Well, you know what they say, Murdock. Save a horse, ride a cowboy,” you tease, lightly bumping your hip into his. Matt clears his throat as he shakes his head in amusement and annoyance while Foggy and Karen double over in laughter.

“It wasn’t that funny,” you say with furrowed brows. “How much have you two had to drink?”

“We might have started at the office while you guys wrapped up at court,” Karen admits, but you can tell there’s something off in her response.

“Well, don’t go too nuts, yeah? My liver hurts at the idea of how much you two might drink tonight.”

“And I don’t think (Y/N) or I want to have to maneuver the streets of New York on Halloween to make sure you get home safely,” Matt adds.

“Mm!” you hum, cutting your drink short to agree with Matt. “And don’t even try to counter with cabs and ride-shares—never on Halloween.”

“Fine,” Foggy concedes. “We won’t get too sloshed, I promise. Scouts honor.”

“You weren’t a Scout,” Matt interjects.

“Just take the sentiment, hm?”

Matt and you turn to one another, speaking in your longtime friend telepathic bond before you turn back to your friends and tip your hats in unison.

“Sounds good, partner,” Matt says with a twang.

“Yeehaw,” you second.

“You should really wear flannels more, Matty,” you tell him as you walk arm and arm down the sidewalk, Foggy and Karen having broken off to walk towards their apartments.

“Thanks,” Matt nods. “I’ll make sure to add some to my shopping list.”

“Come on, it feels soft, and it must be keeping you nice and warm.”

“It is. You good? Staying warm?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Anyways, I have a human radiator walking next to me. It’s just a bummer that your apartment is before mine.”

“I’m not letting you walk home alone. I thought you knew me better than that.”

“And I’ve told you I don’t like you walking home by yourself, either. You might have all your abilities to back you, God forbid anything ever happens, but to the rest of the world, you’re just a blind man walking the street. I worry about you, Matty.”

“Well, how about you just stay over tonight?” he suggests. “We don’t have to worry about each other. I’ll even throw my Columbia sweatshirt in the dryer since you’re chilly.”

“What, no cuddles?” you joke.

You don’t need to have Matt’s super hearing to hear how his breath hitches at my words.

“I mean, if it’s a dealbreaker, I guess I can cave on it,” he chuckles.

You move to take off your hat, holding it in your hand as you rest your head in his shoulder. “Okay, Matt. You’ve got yourself a deal, lawyer-man.”

Matt laughs lightly a little more, holding your close as you round the corner to his building. When you make it up the stairs and into his loft, you hum in delight as you feel the warmth of Matt’s apartment wrap around you like hug, the lights from the billboard bathing the entire place in glorious reds and blues.

“Let me go get some clothes and throw them in the dryer for my chilly best friend,” Matt smiles, putting his hand lightly in the small of your back as he moves behinds you. The movement brings goosebumps to your skin and makes your cheeks burn hot. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “Still a bit cold, I guess.”

“Then it’s good I’m going to warm you up, then.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose and bit the inside of your lip, trying to keep the tingliness you feel at bay. While he does that, you sit on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself as you wait for him.

“Those should be good in fifteen minutes,” he says with a smile, glasses off, sitting next to you. “You’ll have to suffer just a bit longer, I’m afraid.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you sigh dramatically, resting your head in your hand, your elbow propped on the back of the couch.

“You have fun tonight?”

“I always have fun with you guys. The question is if you had fun.”

“I did,” he smiles, copying your body language. “But I think you want to tell me something, though.”

“That’s not fair you can tell things like that,” you grumble.

“But spot on,” he smirks.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry if what I said at the bar crossed a line.”

“What did you say?”

“The horse and cowboy thing.”

“It’s okay. You saw the opportunity and took it. It’s a good joke. And it’s okay to be a little horny on Halloween.”

You swallow as you feel your heart begin to tick up. “Are you saying you’re horny tonight, Matty? Is that why you invited me back?”

“No.” You’re suddenly very aware of how close he is. “But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it.” His forehead rests on yours. “Please tell me you’ve thought about it.”

Leaning forward, you close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours, soft, warm, and welcoming. His hand cradles your cheek, slowly moving to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. You sigh into his lips, focusing on the way his scruff scratches against your skin and how his mouth moves against yours. While you get yourself lost in the fluidity of his lips, you’re unaware of how his body reacts to you. When his hands move to grip your waist and bring you on his lap, you gasp, your lips opening into an “O” as a bright smile spreads along his face. You bring your hands to hold his face, pulling him back in for a deep kiss, your bodies rocking back and forth on the couch. Matt’s finger scrunch up the blend of your shirt in an effort to hold you impossibly close to him, pulling his lips from yours to press large, damp, needy kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. You whimper as his mouth secures around your pulse point, feeding on the flesh like a hungry animal.

With a grunt, Matt lifts your bodies from the couch and takes purposeful steps toward the bedroom, his mouth never once faltering from its work on your flesh. Matt leans over on the mattress, locking your body between him and the bed as he moves his fervent kisses from your neck back to your lips, but not before retracing the path he initially took. When Matt’s mouth reaches yours once more, he slips his tongue in, exploring how you taste, smushing your noses together. Your legs latch around his waist, pressing the strained tent in his jeans against your core that you feel growing wetter with each passing embrace.

You clear your head long enough to pull your lips from Matt’s, placing quick and sloppy kisses all over his face before moving to tug at his earlobe. The moan that escapes Matt’s lips is sinful, dipping his head just so to kiss your chest.

“Matty,” you whisper in his ear. “Matty, please. Let me takes these off of you.”

“Yeah angel?” he hums, dragging his nose up your throat.

Removing his body from yours, Matt doesn’t waste any time, ripping open his shirt and quickly discarding the material to his left on the mattress. While he works to get his jeans off, you mimic his movements and take your clothes off as fast as you can when you get an idea. Your panties come off with your skinny jeans and you quickly remove your bra, but not before Matt lowers his lips to your bare stomach and right to your pussy, waisting no time. Judging by the pace that he laps and sucks at the skin, he’s either incredibly horny, or he has thought about doing exactly this for a long time—the manner that his hands palm and squeeze the meat of your spread thighs make you inclined to believe it’s the second one.

Abruptly, he pulls his lips from your core and brings them back to my lips for a deep kiss and letting you taste how you mix with him. The embrace is sloppy and raunchy, making your head spin with delight. Feeling how his rock hard cock presses against you, you take advantage of the situation, rolling you around on the bed and moving down the length of his body.

“Not so fast, Matthew,” you chuckle, gently taking hold of the base of his cock, the heavy weight of his length nothing short of glorious in your hand. Tentatively, you lick the tip of his pink head, tasting the saltiness of his precum and spreading it around before slowly take him in your mouth. Matt lets out a throaty moan, and you hear his head drop onto the pillow. What you can’t fit into my mouth you supplement with your hand, moving up and down him at a steady pace, using your tongue to feel the veins and minute contours of the muscle. The more excited you get, the sloppier your movements become, and the faster the whimpers and whines fall from his lips.

“Angel,” he pants. “Fuck, you’re doing so good for me. Good girl, good gi—fuck. Just like that.”

With a delighted hum, you move back up from his length and release him with a loud pop.

“If you liked that, Matty, I think you’ll like what comes next,” you smile.

Giving him a few more pumps, you move to straddle this hips, hovering just slightly. Sliding on his discarded flannel, you tie it tight just under your breasts and lean forward to take the cowboy hat from his head that has managed to stay on this entire time, putting it on your own. A dopey, lopsided grin spreads across his face.

“And what do you have planned, exactly?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“What I said earlier tonight,” you tell him, positioning his cock right at your entrance. “I’m going to ride a cowboy.”

With that, you sink down on his length and feel a glorious stretch. Your eyes close in delight, and you can only assume Matt’s expression matches yours from the way he interlaces his fingers with yours. Taking a moment to adjust to his length and girth, you slowly begin to move up and down him. Your moans and pants slowly start to fill the room, the sound making your heart race and your skin grow warm.

“So big, Matt,” you moan as you switch from up and down motions to rocking your hips back and forth. The change makes Matt cry out in pleasure, pulling his fingers from how they’re clasped to hold tightly to the flesh of your hips, guiding you to keep a steady rhythm. One of your hands moves to rest on his abdomen while the other holds onto the hat to keep it on.

“S-shit,” he curses. “You feel so good for me, riding me like that, sweetheart. So wet, baby.”

“Matty,” you moan as you move my hips faster.

“I know, I know. Give me those curves, baby.”

Leaning forward, you move down and kiss him, allowing him to continue guiding your hips.

“Fill me so good,” you mutter into his skin. “Hit the spot.”

“Yeah? You like how I feel in you? Huh? Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The pace and angle starts to become too much, your breathing becoming more erratic and your cries more desperate.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” Matt grunts in your ear, placing kisses wherever he can on your face. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes,” you pant, focusing only on Matt’s skin and how his heart thunders in his chest. It’s just enough to push you over the edge, and you squeeze his cock, your hands desperately clutching onto his shoulders while his hands maintain your momentum. “Matt!”

“I know, I-I’m clo—ohh, fuck!” Matt moans, his hips slapping hard into you, filling you with his load. “Fuck, angel!”

As you ride out your highs together, you collapse on his chest, your chests heaving from the exertion.

“Howdy,” he chuckles, pushing the hat back to kiss your forehead.

You giggle before you return the greeting: “Howdy.”

“You’re really good at that, you know.”

“You’re not half bad yourself, Murdock.”

Bringing your lips back to his, you kiss him once more, the sweetness and slow nature of the embrace different than the heated passion from your other exchanges. Matt takes the hat from your head, putting it somewhere to the side as he rolls you over, somehow staying inside of you in the change of position.

“Still want those clothes from the dryer?”

You smile and shake your head in disbelief. The sass of this man is incredible.

“I think I might be okay, especially if you let me stay in your arms for the night.”

Matt’s fingers ghost up to the knot of his shirt on your body, letting the cotton blend fabric fall to the side and expose your breasts as he lets his lips hover just over yours, teasing you as the corners of his curl up. “I don’t see that being a problem at all, angel. In fact, I don’t have any intention of letting you go.”

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop@itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione

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lou-struck · 9 months

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Girl Dinner?

Katsuki Bakugo x reader

~Your quiet night gets interrupted by the unexpected arrival of your boyfriend who disapproves of your dinner plans

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: Food, swearing, eating , slightly suggestive insinuations

A/n: Hopefully now I can get that damn Tik Tok Sound out of my head

Girl Dinner; ‘a dinner that consists of many different kinds of small snacks rather than just one entree’

There is nothing like a long, hot shower to steam off the effects of a long day. The water soothes your aching muscles and prunes your skin as you belt out show tunes until your voice becomes hoarse.

By the time you turn off the faucet and step onto the plush bath mat, the whole room is filled with steam despite the steady humming of your bathroom fan above you. A quick tug frees your fluffy towel from its hook on the wall, and you quickly pat the remaining water droplets from your skin and throw on the best set of pajamas you own, which includes one of Katsuki’s faded t-shirts and some light blue linen sleep shorts you got in a twin pack at Costco.

You, clean and comfortable, are hit with an emptiness in your stomach. It wines for you to feed it; the setting sun through the window tells you that dinner time has long since passed without you refueling.

Your hair is still damp as you pad through the house, the springy carpet warm against your feet as you make your way to the kitchen. It’s a short journey, but by the time your hand rests on the off-white handle of your noisy refrigerator, you realize that you do not have the energy to actually cook up a meal for yourself.

Tonight will be a night for some sweet, sweet Girl Dinner for sure.

You tug open the door to see what you have ready to eat inside. Katsuki may not live with you, but he comes by and cooks for the two at least four nights a week. The first thing that catches your eye in the flickering fridge light is a lone butterscotch pudding cup that sits unevenly atop a half-finished bottle of wine.

Your brows furrow as you take the little snack pack off its pedestal. “When the hell did I buy this?” you say aloud, checking the expiration date just to be safe. To your satisfaction, the little snack is still safe to eat.

Placing the pudding on the countertop behind you, you search for a few more things to add to your plate. You see a black to-go container from last night’s dinner and open it up to find a small breaded chicken cutlet.

Protein?

Nice!

You add that to your plate and return to the fridge, opting to look in your pull-out produce drawers to find something else. It’s the bright red from a half-empty package of cherry tomatoes that catches your eye. You take the package and toss the rest of them on your plate chucking the empty container across the room onto your overflowing recycling pile.

You look between your plate and the fridge, trying to find one more thing to add to your plate to make your meal more filling but come up short. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you take your plate over to your dining table.

Just as you are about to dig in, your door swings open aggressively. The sound makes you jolt as you stare at the entrance with wide eyes. A familiar mop of spiky blond hair steps through the entrance, and you immediately feel at ease.

“Hey Baku-babe, ever heard of knocking?” you sigh, getting up from your place at the table and meeting the crimson gaze of your Pro Hero boyfriend, who looks more than a bit irritated with you.

“Lock your door next time, you idiot,” he scolds, kicking his shoes off. “It’s like you’re just asking for trouble.” His nostrils flare in annoyance, but he has a tenderness behind his eyes that tells you he is just worried about you.

“Noted,” you giggle, sending him a suggestive smile. “Lock the door, then shower.”

“Wh~, you little.” he tsks, The tips of his ears flushing pink at your playfulness. “God, you never quit with the teasing,”

“Only with you,” you beam, giving him your full attention now that you have had a better look at him; you notice there are a few scrapes on his face that weren’t there when he left this morning, and his eyes look tired. “How was patrol today?”

“Today was a pain in the ass, some extra with a porcupine quirk got locked on the roof of their office building, and I had to get ’em down.” he sighs, “They were so damn freaked out they ended up pricking me with those damn quills.”

“That sounds fun,” you giggle, imagining some poor guy squirming in Bakugo’s arms while the hero helps him off the roof.

” Not fun, just annoying. I’d rather just spend the day actually beating up some villains.” he replies, looking at you with a softness in his gaze. Which disappears when he glances at the plate behind you. “Huh? What the hell were you eating?” he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at your plate of food with disdain.

“It’s Girl Dinner?” you giggle, wrapping your arms around him. He has such a cute look of confusion on his features as you reach around him for the cold chicken cutlet from last night’s leftovers. Before you reach it, he lightly stops your hand and slides the plate away from you.

“That’s not a real meal,” he grumbles, popping one of the little tomatoes into his mouth.

“It’s real enough for me,” you say, leaning forward and reaching for the plate, “Now give it. I’m getting hangry.”

He slides it further out of your reach with a look of smug satisfaction. “I can’t let you eat this shit. Hang tight; I’ll make you something better than that crap.”

“B-but my Girl Dinner.” you sigh, sinking into your seat, watching helplessly as he begins to walk your plate back towards the kitchen; your stomach grumbles again as if calling out for the food that has been so lovingly taken away from you.

“Pfft,” he laughs, letting his hyena-like cackles fill the room before looking at you with a spark of merriment in his eyes, “was that your stomach? It sounded like a bear.”

“So what if it is?” you pout, leaning back against your dining chair and crossing your arms over your chest. “I told you I was hungry, and you took away my food.”

He chuckles and walks over to you, sliding the butterscotch pudding in front of you and kissing you lightly on the forehead. “Here, just eat the damn pudding until I’m done. I don’t know what Girl Dinner is, but you deserve better than cold leftovers when you’re with me.”

“My pudding!” You cheer as he slides a spoon in front of you, his words uncharacteristically sweet as he washes his hands of today’s trials with a soft smile on his face. He’d be glad to get pricked by Weird Porcupine Guy one million times over if it meant he gets to come and see you at the end of the day and treat you to a proper meal.

“So what do you want for real dinner?” he asks, moving about your kitchen as if it is his own. “We need to use up that chicken before it goes bad.”

You peel off the lid to your pudding and dip your slightly bent metal spoon into the caramel-colored treat before looking up at him gratefully, “Surprise me.”

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Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#bnha x reader #my hero academia #bnha #bakugou katsuki #x reader #mha #bakugo fluff #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #Bakugo Katsuki #girl dinner

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penny00dreadful · 9 months

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This is so fucking stupid and I'm not sorry. Inspired by this video of the two guitarists from DragonForce taking the piss out of Sabaton(affectionately).

Jeffington: Just ended your whole career on live 😘

Eddie scrunched his eyes closed then wrenched them open again, trying to make sense of what he was seeing on his screen. It was too early in the fucking morning for this shit.

Whatever.

He buried his face back in between Steve’s shoulders and allowed himself to fall asleep once more.

Corroded Coffin had only started making it big in the early 90’s when they split right down the middle. As time went on they started to drift towards different subgenres. Jeff and Grant had wanted to explore a more international sound, while Gareth and Eddie were happy to stay in the power metal scene with just a touch of neoclassical.

They had tried to make it work, but the sounds were just too different and while Eddie and Grant wanted to continue on with lyrics full of fantasy and gothic romance, Jeff and Grant had wanted to focus more on ‘the human condition’.

So they separated. Eddie and Gareth had kept the Corroded Coffin name while Jeff and Grant travelled, exploring their sound.

There was no animosity. They were all still the best of friends. Even as Jeff and Grant had settled in Stockholm, where they had quickly shot to stardom with their new band members, Eddie and Gareth made their home in California enjoying their own success. They met up as often as they could, whenever tour dates aligned or they were booked into the same festivals.

Eddie and Steve were godfathers to Grant’s youngest daughter.

He and Gareth had been groomsmen in Jeff’s wedding.

They were solid.

Which was why the text from Jeff was more exasperating than worrying.

Plus it was like… nine in the morning which, granted, wasn't early, early but Eddie was a damn rockstar.

And he might have lost track of time reading last night and stayed up until four but that's besides the point.

But then Steve was handing him his morning coffee with a kiss, saying Robin had sent him a link to something and fine. He’d go watch whatever stupid shit Jeff pulled.

Eddie settled back into bed because he could and it was a Sunday.

Sue him.

But he couldn’t decide if he should be fake-mad or wildly entertained because the link Robin had sent opened the VOD about an hour into the stream, just in time for Grant to say “Should we do Corroded Coffin?”

Both Jeff and Grant were sitting in Jeff’s studio space in front of Jeff’s computer with a range of instruments behind them, grinning at each other.

“Oh shit, definitely!” Jeff stood and seemed to think about it for a second before picking up one of his guitars, a bright acid green with black tendrils running throughout. “The most dramatic of the bunch,” he leaned into the mic, gesturing at the guitar before taking his seat again, “just like their frontman.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

“You think you can shred like Munson?” Grant asked, leaning forward and starting to tap out drum beats on the laptop.

Jeff scoffed. “Yeah right. Let me just play at five-fucking-thousand bpm and sing at the same time. It’s gonna be an approximation at best.”

Surprisingly enough the music they came up with did sound very close to Corroded Coffin’s sound. Grant relied heavily on the kick-drum and high hat to a ridiculous degree for Gareth's part and yeah, fair.

Gareth did love his high hat.

Jeff played the fastest guitar riff he could muster which honestly wasn’t that bad. He couldn’t go quite as hard as Eddie could but guitar was always Eddie’s first love and he was a master at his craft. Jeff gave the camera a cheeky wink as he used the computer to speed the guitar solo up, making it sound far more complex.

“I swear to god,” Eddie muttered to himself, “if they insinuate that I do that, I’ll fucking-”

“Eddie would never.” Jeff said, responding to someone in the chat who’d asked that very question.

Grant looked up with a sly smile. “Oh, god no. He’d never. He’s too proud for that.”

Cheeky bastards.

“You know what this needs?”

“Female backing vocals?”

“Yes!" Jeff snapped his fingers. "Exactly. Like something pulled from Jackson’s Lord of the Rings!”

“Oh come on!” Eddie pouted, but even still he could tell they weren’t actually making fun.

A notification popped up on Eddie’s phone.

Gare-Bear: Have you watched the stream?

Eddie: Watching right now. They’re starting on the lyrics.

Gare-Bear: Did Robin send you the link?

Eddie: Yeah.

Gare-Bear: Okay, keep watching.

Eddie: 👍

By the time the guys had hashed the lyrics out, punctuating them with high falsetto points that freaked Jeff’s cats out, Eddie was giggling into his coffee. The lyrics were so comically bad but they were so Corroded Coffin at the same time.

I wear armour and I am sad. I'm all alone and I am sad. Such a lone wolf am I. Except I'm not because here comes this hot man who's totally not my husband. Bats and demons and darkness and death. Bow down to me. Kneel before me. I am your master. This is about sex. Oh, look, a dragon! I'll suck your blood then I'll fuck you through the wall. Except I won't because you're an allegory for my husband again. I'll fuck him instead. Every song involves him in some way. Because I'm a big fucking sap.

And then it happened. That crafty wench.

A message popped up in the chat.

BuckyBirdie: Needs more dick sucking lyrics.

“Holy shit.” Grant whipped out his phone. “R- Birdie? Is that you? Stay right there, hold on.”

While Jeff continued to play through the guitar, Grant disappeared, raising the phone to his ear before coming back a few minutes later and whispering something to Jeff.

Jeff’s whole face split into the most mischievous of smiles and Eddie only had time to think oh no before Robin’s face appeared, joining the stream with a tired if not slightly manic expression, all topped off by her yummy sushi pyjamas.

The first thing Grant said to her was “What fucking time is it over there, Birdie?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged, looking down at her watch. “Like half six in the morning?”

“Oh. Could be worse then.”

“I haven’t slept yet.” She said with a bright smile.

“Dude! Why not?”

“I got into cryptography again last night and I haven’t stopped. Don’t tell Steve.”

Oh, I am so telling Steve. Eddie thought to himself.

“God. What a fuckin’ nerd.” Jeff punctuated his statement with a loud strum of his guitar.

Robin stuck her tongue out. “Takes one to know one.”

“Ouch. Right in my middle schooler heart.”

“Anyway, a little birdie told me you boys need some backing vocals?”

Eddie didn’t know how he was going to get her back for this, but he was sure he’d be able to figure something out eventually.

Like banging pots and pans in her hallway while she slept off her cryptography binge.

Though it was almost worth the hilarity because noted lesbian Robin Buckley happily sat there, singing about dick and tongues and assholes in a high ethereal voice that was then layered behind Jeff's.

By the end, the chat was going wild asking when it was going to be available to stream because even though it was a parody song, it was annoyingly catchy. Just before they signed off, Jeff and Grant let their audience know they’d ask Eddie and Gareth for permission before they’d do anything.

Eddie minimised the video and opened up his chat with Gareth.

Eddie: You wanna let them release it?

Gare-Bear: Fuck yeah!

Eddie: Awesome.

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting.

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens.

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen.

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business.

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts.

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux.

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic.

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes.

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair.

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest. “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him.

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah.

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm.

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage.

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires.

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-”

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying.

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen.

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile.

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.”

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater.

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.”

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out.

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication.

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?”

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks.

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.” Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time.

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet.

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips.

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist.

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges.

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped.

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples.

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them.

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met.

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change.

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done.

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about.

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs.

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore.

With Eddie.

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger. “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve’s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens.

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff.

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right.

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #thank you all for reading along on this series!#ao3 has alllll the tags if you're curious before reading #have a lovely day! xx

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angelickks · 2 months

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ex-wife - francisco ʻcatfishʻ morales

drabble - ex-husband! francisco ʻcatfishʻ morales x ex-wife! reader warning(s): divorce (obvi), longing, insinuation to drug use, like one swear word, nickname "mama", a very sad and lovesick frankie this was definitely just something i was playing around with, just a short little drabble. i havenʻt been as active much BUT I have been working on some things. feedback is always appreciated loves,my inbox is always open! it could be a potential series?? who knows. slightly proofread, muah!

“francisco?”

he hadn’t heard that voice in almost two years, that soft angelic voice he had missed since the ink on his divorce papers dried.

he betrays his mind when his heart tells him to face you. he can’t help the way his lips part in surprise, his ex-wife as he lives and breathes, just beautiful as the day she left him. he can’t help but crack a sad smile at the beautiful woman that still takes up every inch of his heart.

“hi mama” he utters softly, unsure if he’s even allowed the pleasure to call you that anymore, he simply can’t help it. you purse your lips together at the endearing nickname from your ex-husband, still, you give him a smile as you’re genuinely happy to see him.

frankie doesn’t fully register that you’re moving towards him, wrapping your arms around his waist and planting a greeting kiss on his cheek. he blinks a few times before wrapping his arms around you, he’d dreamt of the day he’d feel your arms again and here he is not fully registering it.

“how are you francisco? what brings you here?”

you ask kindly, genuine concern and curiosity laced in a voice he’s yearned for. he rubs the back of his neck nervously, still not believing that you’re here and looking absolutely radiant, you pick up on his nervous tell like it’s second nature.

“oh…meeting the guys in a bit actually, pope brought us out. you know this isn’t usually my scene, mama.”

he can’t help your infamous nickname from slipping out, he’s called you it long before your marriage and seeing you again is bringing back memories of it.

you nod knowingly, chuckling slightly at the mention of santiago and his endeavors.

“i know that. i’m sure this is certainly awkward for you frankie, i just hadn’t seen you in a while and it would’ve been rude of me not to say hello.”

always so kind and considerate his girl, he guesses that even after the two years of being separated that never changed, just the fact that you weren’t his anymore.

while yes, you certainly wanted to talk to frankie, it brought back memories. not to mention, his nickname for you made your heart flutter for your ex-husband but that certain fondness and memories were just that, an old flame and memories. at least you tell yourself that, one of the many things you and frankie have in common.

“speaking of which uh…what brings you here? business calling, i assume?”

you look down as you smile, frankie’s memory impeccable as always. when you two were together he remembers the dreadful business meetings held at more prestigious bars such as this one. they were never your thing, usually feeling like it was a waste of both time and resources.

no ethical amount of business is done over expensive seafood and booze.

“thank god, no. in fact i quit working for that company, i’m currently the project manager for their competitors. no more cocktail business meetings for me. i’m just out with some friends, i secured a partnership so i’m celebrating.”

he nods understandingly, admiring the way your face lights up at the mention of your new job. he loves how happy you look, picking up on how well-rested you look and how healthy you’ve been as you practically glow. it’s downright criminal how breathtaking you look right now, and while he will take any chance to admire his ex-wife’s beauty, he can’t help but feel guilty.

“well i’m happy for you mama, you deserve it all. you always did.”

his voice is low and endearing, there’s a tinge of sadness laced behind it and he prays you don’t pick up on it. you open your mouth to respond, but are quickly cut off by a ruckus only identifiable as the only men frankie trusts with his life.

“catfish, you sorry fuck! where the hell have you been?”

it’s almost ironic how hothead benny miller steals the show. you giggle at the stares and the frustrated frown frankie adorns, squeezing the bridge of his nose. it’s comical how ben’s brows quirk up, head whipping around as he hears a laugh he hasn’t heard in a long time. in a flash of blonde hair and pure muscle, you’re engulfed in a hug by none other than the younger miller.

“look at you mama! gorgeous, as i live and breathe, where have you been all my life?”

for a brief moment your heart soars, and if seeing your ex-husband didn’t help, this brings back memories of all the times spent in your old home.

“oh benny, look at you!”

you both pull away but your hands remain on his broad shoulders as you take him in, that infamous cocky smirk ever present on his lips.

“do a spin for me will you handsome? lemme look at you”

he gives you a flirtatious “yes ma’am” before doing a slow spin, blabbering on about taking it all in. as if you needed more reminders from your past, you see a group starting to form around you.

your eyes land on will first and you swear you could cry at the sight. he pulls you into a reassuring hug, sensing your nerves, mumbling a greeting into your shoulder. while benny was well loved by you, will always was your favorite miller. at one point in your life, he was your rock when frankie fell back into using. so far you’ve had nothing but pleasant memories but with one look it had turned bittersweet, reminding you of the weight of your divorce.

“alright we get it, there’s enough of her to go around. c’mere woman, i missed you”

you pull from will, rolling your eyes as they land on santiago. you shove him back playfully before pulling him into a tight hug.

“hey mama” he chuckled out, pulling back for a second to plant a kiss on your forehead.

you were over the moon to see the boys again, the divorce in itself was painful, but having them go away for the time being only added salt to the wound. meanwhile frankie did what he always does, fall back and observe quietly.

he sighs quietly, his mind still in shock at seeing you again, but god did it make his heart wrench seeing you with his friends. it was eerie how natural you fell back into their dynamic, not because it irked frankie, but because of how much it reminded him of you both.

of how much time was spent with the very people surrounding him, how many beautiful memories were shared, how beautiful the memory of his marriage was.

this entire ordeal opened the floodgates to the months spent longing, drowning out what was left of you, and having to live with his mistakes.

if he didn’t have as much willpower, he’d find the nearest exit and simply breakdown. he lingers on the thought until broken out of his trance by the woman that still plagues the very idea.

“it’s lovely to see you francisco, you look handsome as ever. i’d love to take you all in but it would be rude to abandon my own entourage..” your voice trails into a teasing tone as you playfully flirt with the guys, all in good fun.

frankie blushes at the sentiment, silently cursing how warm and red he feels without even touching a drop of alcohol.

“i mean it when i say you look stunning ma, thank you.” he says lowly, meant for your ears and yours only.

he doesn’t quite thank her for the compliment, he thanks her for her kindness, her short-lived company, for simply even being in his presence.

her eyes shine at his response, causing her ex-husband to melt at the sight.

she knows, she always knows. my smart, beautiful woman.

while he doesn’t voice his inner thoughts, she reads him like an open book and for a split second looks at him like how she used to.

she sees the man she fell in love with and has said many times even after their separation, that she will always love him.

during that split second she sees a husband, a best friend, a partner, and most importantly the source of her love and adoration.

but as quickly as it comes, it goes. eyes looking away to avoid his lovesick gaze, reminding herself of why she left and why she will stay away.

with that, she kisses them all on the cheek sweetly, says goodnight and to always be safe. as she approaches frankie she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight embrace.

it stands a reminder, that she’ll always have love in her heart for the man that was hers long before their marriage, that he’ll always love the woman that was his long before his mistakes ate away at him.

she pulls away, still in his arms and places a soft kiss to his lips. it’s meant to be soft and forgiving, still it wasn’t long enough for either of them.

as quickly as she came, she was gone. lost to a sea of people that crowd the pretentious place that’s far too nice for his taste.

his reality comes back and the room isn’t as bright as it was when she walked in, faced with the harshness of his predicament just as it was two years ago.

santiago claps a hand on his shoulder, sensing his sudden distress.

“life is unpredictable. maybe another time, in another place”

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vendetta-if · 1 year

Note

Okay... Every. Single. Time. I see the hickey ask on an IF blog I follow, I feel the NEED to post this follow up:

What if very shortly after that, the ROs catch / hear the MC asking someone (or even if the MC asks THEM, depending on the context) if they have something to soothe mild allergic reactions to mosquito bites, because they got one on their neck.

So basically, how would they react when faced to the reveal it wasn't a hickey at all but a dumb mosquito bite!

Here goes out to all of you hickey anons and non-anons 🤭❤️ Also, the link to the infamous hickey ask is here for those who haven’t read it!

Ash

“Wait, wait, Ash!” They hear MC calls out to them and they stop in place. Oh, how they just want to bolt away from this nightmare, but maybe this is also a chance to just face it head-on.

“Ash, what’s wrong?” MC asks as Ash turns around to face them. Ash doesn’t really know what kind of face they’re wearing right now.

“Who was it, MC?” They ask, voice hoarse.

“Who, what?” MC asks in genuine confusion, which just irritates Ash even more.

“The one—The one who gave you… those marks!” They gesture at MC’s neck.

MC’s eyes widen. “What?! No! Nobody gave me these marks. These are goddamn mosquito bites,” MC explains as they scratch their neck. “I swear once I get my hands on those bastards…” They mutter under their breath.

Ash just stands there dumbfounded. “M—Mosquitoes?” Those are not… They glance down and just notice MC is holding a can of bug spray. Oh… Oh no… How could you think the worst of MC, Ash?

“Yeah, pesky bastards. Don’t tell me you didn’t have any in your room last night?” MC says, scanning Ash up and down for a second before concluding, “Oh, you didn’t, don’t you?”

“N—No,” Ash replies truthfully.

“Motherfuckers probably thought your blood is too hot to drink or something,” MC mumbles irritatedly. “Well, I’m gonna spray the whole penthouse now, if you don’t mind.” MC raises the can in their hand like a weapon.

“Uh… Yeah, please do that,” Ash says stupidly. “And, uh… Just forgot what I said earlier…” A surge of relief washes through their whole body, but it soon gets tainted by embarrassment.

“Aww, were you jealous?” MC smirks teasingly.

“Uh—Um…” Ash stammers. “I—I gotta go! See you later, MC!” They splutter in panic before bolting away for real this time.

Oh my God, MC is not gonna let them live this down, won’t they…

Rin

Rin decides not to embarrass themself further and chooses to just ignore MC, pretending not to see or notice them entering the room. They’re not going to lower themself to ask MC about the marks.

Honestly, they’d rather MC leave them alone for now. But of course, the opposite of what they want always happen. They groan inwardly as they see MC walking over to where they’re standing from the corner of their eye.

They steel themself for an unwanted conversation. They’re good at that.

“Hey, Rin,” MC greets them and they just grunt softly in reply. MC doesn’t even notice their curt reply, seemingly distracted by something else.

Oh, I bet their mind is still filled by whatever happened last night…

“Uh, this might be a weird question,” MC begins sheepishly as Rin just keeps staring at them unamusedly. “But, do you know any kind of salve or medicine that can help with these mosquito bites?” They ask, scratching at the marks on their neck.

Rin blinks. There’s no way that excuse would work on them. “Really?” They reply skeptically as they gesture at MC’s neck. “You’re bitten by mosquitoes in your penthouse?”

“I know right? I don’t even know how they managed to get in considering my penthouse is like… at the top floor of a skyscraper,” MC agrees, missing the point Rin is insinuating. “Probably through the elevator or the air vent or something. Anyway, Uncle Luka said he’ll personally get a professional pest extermination service to deal with that.”

Well, Rin did catch their father talking with Luka on the phone about choices of professional pest extermination services available in the city. For some reason, Luka asked their dad as if he knows anything more about it than Luka does. Maybe MC is telling the truth and it’s their paranoia and distrust running rampant once again…

Rin uncrosses their arms—when did they even cross them in the first place? “Uh… Tiger balm works wonder for bug bites,” Rin advises.

“Tiger balm, huh?” MC repeats. “Alright, I’ll just go get it at the nearest drug store. Be right back,” they say before swiftly making their way to the elevator.

Meanwhile Rin is left standing there, still processing what has just happened in the span of a few minutes.

Santana

“Hey, Santana!” MC greets them as they walk over to where Santana is standing.

Santana is already cringing inside at the potential awkwardness of the conversation. They’ll still try their best to try talk normally with MC, but it’s kinda hard with the hickeys still heavy in their mind.

“Um… Hi, MC,” they greet back cordially.

“So, how was your night? Had enough sleep?” MC asks them.

“Well, like usual,” they answer distractedly. “How about you? Seems like you had a wild night…” They gesture at the general direction of MC’s neck.

Oh my God, Santana! What the heck are you doing? Asking about the thing you wanted to avoid talking in the first place?! You idiot!

“Oh, you won’t believe this,” MC begins enthusiastically. “So, I was sleeping pretty soundly for like half the night, before my neck started to feel really itchy. I kept getting dragged out of sleep as I scratched at it. Woke up the next morning, and lo and behold, I just got frickin bitten by the most vicious mosquitoes of Elysium City,” they complain, tilting their head a bit to show them of the “hickeys” which turn out to be mosquito bites.

“Huh?” Santana remarks intelligently as they stare at the marks. Okay, now that they can see them better and closer, they do seem like bug bites instead of hickeys.

“I know right?” MC agrees, with… what? Santana is not sure because their mind is blank right now. “Don’t ask me how the mosquitoes managed to break into my penthouse, which, mind you, is located at the top of a skyscraper.”

“That… That is indeed weird,” Santana replies, chuckling in a mix of amusement and relief. It seems like their fear is unfounded after all.

MC continues their rant about the pesky mosquitoes and their plan on eradicating them from their penthouse. Santana just smiles softly as they listen to every word.

Skylar

Skylar quickly makes their way to MC before anyone else manage to make a conversation with them. MC stops in their track as they notice Skylar approaching.

“Hey, MC!” Skylar greets in faux-cheeriness.

“Oh, hey, Skylar,” MC greets back. “What’s up?”

“Well, I should be the one asking you that,” Skylar says, the grin on their face feels very strained but they hope it won’t show and that it still looks charming on the surface. “Who’s the lucky person?” They ask straight to the point, gesturing at the general area of MC’s neck.

“Certainly not me,” MC groans as they rub at their neck. “Just had one of the worst nights of the month.”

“Oh?” Skylar prompts, hopefulness crammed into that one single sound.

Inside, they’re gleeful though. It seems like whoever MC was sleeping with last night must’ve sucked balls—no possible pun intended. Well, this is their time to shine! Skylar would be more than happy to show MC how it’s really done!

“Yeah! I kept waking up at the middle of the night because these annoying mosquito bites were so damn itchy!” MC complains, scratching at their neck again.

Skylar nods before stopping. Wait, what? Mosquito bites? “What?” They ask, dumbfounded. The marks… they’re not…

MC doesn’t seem to notice Skylar’s confusion as they continue ranting, “I don’t even know how they managed to get in! My penthouse is located at the top of a fricking skyscraper!”

A sense of relief floods through Skylar, and their strained grin has shifted into a mischievous one. “Well, I know of a remedy to help with the bites.”

“Wait, really?” MC looks at them curiously. “What’s that?”

“I heard kisses can work wonder.” Skylar winks before pursing their lips and making kissy noises. “I’m always available to help, you know. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready.”

Skylar can practically see the blood surging up to MC’s cheeks. “Y—You—” they stammer. “You idiot! T—That’s not real! If you’re not going to help, then I’ll go to buy some real medicine for these bites instead!” MC harrumphs adorably, turning away to walk to the elevator.

Aww, MC is soo cute! It makes Skylar feels warm and gooey inside as they chuckle to themself. “Well, my offer will always be open! Whether you have more bug bites in the future or not!” They call out to MC’s receding back.

MC doesn’t even turn and just flips them the middle finger instead before stepping inside the elevator. Oh, they love MC.

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catsfor2 · 1 year

Text

hit me, part 1.5 (bonussss!)

wc: 1.5k, largely unedited warnings: swearing/language, very very light talk of smut, drug use (alcohol) a/n: hi everyone. the feedback on part one made me so so happy that i wanted to drop this for ya'll. i hope u like it ;) tags: @elliewilliamsmunch@intrnetdoll@me-and-your-husband@3zae-zae3@milahnoz@elliescumm

For context, this chapter takes place 4 years before part one, or where *reader is 16 and Ellie is 19*.This part is simply to explore an interesting friendship dynamic, teenage sexuality, and some backstory to Ellie + reader.

*I do not condone underage relationships and there will be no insinuations, assumptions, or even words that would suggest Ellie being romantically interested in reader at this point considering their age gap.*

I know this makes it sound super serious but i PROMISE YOU its not. i had to put in a disclaimer simply for respect and safety reasons. enjoy!

-j

part 1

"'Natty Light'? What the hell is that?"

"It's beer," Ellie reassures you. "it's what the college folk drink. Want some?" She says, offering out the can in her hand.

"I think I'll wait until I become...college folk." You remark, unsure.

Ellie liked being around you. When your dumbass boyfriend wasn't trying drown you with his spit every six minutes. God, he's such a dick. Ellie couldn't wait for you to grow up and see the scum of the world without youth clouding your eyes. Scum not just including your boyfriend, obviously, but mainly him.

You sit on Ellie's bed, flipping your phone back and forth between your hands like you'd been doing the entire hour you've been here.

Ellie knew what that meant. It meant that he hadn't responded for a couple days, and you're just starting to get anxious about it.

Fucking. Dick.

"What do you do in college?" You ponder.

"Fuck girls, get high, get drunk, and maybe learn. Not sure." Ellie says mindlessly. She didn't see the point in college. Thought it was a waste of time and energy. She also didn't have the money to attend.

"Or at least, that's what I would do." Ellie finishes, snatching your phone from your hands.

She chugs around half of the can after she finishes talking, topping it off with a burp.

"Give it back, Ellie." You demand.

"Why? If he hasn't texted in four days he's not gonna start now."

Ellie regretted saying that almost immediately. Sometimes you seemed so...grown up. It was hard to censor herself around you. Especially when it's something she's been trying to tell you forever.

She sees your face fall, head turn swiftly towards her window. You liked how she had a bunch of sketches up there, and when the sun shined through it you'd always say it 'looked like all of her drawings were glowing'. Ellie smiled so hard when you'd said that. One million watts for sure.

Some of them were of her current girlfriend. Some of them of her ex-girlfriends. Some of them of Dina. All you really wanted was to see yourself up there.

You were too nervous around Ellie to ask her to do anything like that. Like drawing you.

"Y'know he wasn't that way in the beginning. I used to really...like him, I think." You mutter, still facing the window.

Ellie scoffs.

"You think?"

"I'm being serious, Ellie. It's like you don't listen to me cause you think you know everything. You're not even that much older than me."

"Oh yeah? What's a condom?" She asks, eyeing you.

You don't even say anything.

"So is that because you don't know? Or--"

"Shut the fuck up. Give me my phone back already." You huff, frustrated.

"Oooh shes swearing now?" Ellie teases. She watches as your face gets all pink as you get more irritated. You cross your arms hastily. It was fun to make you mad, Ellie thought.

"You should break up with Cat."

Uh, what?

"I'm sorry?" Ellie questions, less upbeat than she was a moment ago.

"I'm tired of you nagging me about my boyfriend. Cat's not very much better than he is. In my opinion."

"Christ, you sound like Joel," Ellie spits.

If there's one thing Ellie never expected from you, it was this. You usually never breached the subject of Ellie's love life. Ellie didn't mind not talking about it, she knew you weren't homophobic or anything. She just thought, honestly, that you were disinterested. So she never really...brings Cat up.

"If you can talk about my boyfriend than I can talk about Cat. It's...fair."

"It's fucking different. You don't get it."

"Why?! You always say that," You retort, sitting up a little taller on the bed. "Just—just because I'm dating a guy and you're dating a girl?"

"Yes. Literally, yes. It's fuckin' different, I don't know what else to say." Ellie remarks, throwing the can she emptied minutes ago onto the floor. She grabs a new can from the pack, cracking it open on the spot.

"Tell me, then." You say. "Tell me how it's different."

"Well, first of all, no dicks—"

"Ellie."

She huffs out a big sigh before starting again.

"I don't even—" She burps.

"I don't even know why you wanna know. And like, right now, of all times."

When Ellie asks you that, you freeze. Obviously, noticeably, freeze. Because, well, you didn't even know why you wanted to know. You just did.

"I—I just wanna know more about you, I guess." You stutter out.

Ellie's eyes narrow. Are you...nervous?

"I know he's not a good boyfriend. I know that, Ellie. You think I'm stupid and I'm not. But I can't break up with him."

Ellie still feels like that's total bull.

"Why not."

"I just can't! It's like—it feels, like, safer, to be with him."

"That guy is anything but fucking safe—"

"You know what I mean." You say quietly.

"No, I don't." Ellie says, trying to look into your eyes.

Your head was faced downward toward the bed. Ellie practically screamed through her thoughts. You couldn't even look at her. Had she been too mean to you? In Ellie's mind, it always feels lighthearted. She didn't always take the time to make sure other people took it that way.

Finally, you look up, meeting Ellie's eyes.

"You...don't? You don’t get what I mean?”

"No, y/n. I have zero fuckin' clue. Am I...supposed to?" She questions, clearly starting to get confused.

Safe? Safe? It feels safer?! Ellie was fucking lost.

How could being with that piece of shit feel any safer than being fucking alone?

"I—y'know what, nevermind. It's dumb. I don't even know what I mean. I just thought that you would get it—for some reason. It's stupid. Sorry." You mumble out, trying to forget whatever miniscule things you were telling her.

"Don't say sorry, you didn't even fuckin' do anything," Ellie quips. "Why me?"

"I don't know. I just...thought of...you." You trail off, rubbing at your shoulders.

Yeah, whatever you were talking about? It made you really fucking nervous.

"Hmm..." Ellie hums, hopping off of the bed and beginning to rummage through a desk drawer. "Here."

"...What."

"Would you like to hear the story of my first gay crush?" She grins, knowing absolutely that you'll want to hear.

She hops back onto the bed, sitting a little closer to you.

Ellie knew she was a good storyteller, but you were by far her best listener. It's endearing, how engaged you get. Never even daring to take a glance anywhere but at Ellie.

"So her name was Riley. And I was...youngish, but—I knew for sure that my feelings were...gay feelings, y'know?"

"Well how'd you know?" You ask bluntly.

"Well I wanted to like, hold her hand? And stuff? I wanted to...to take her places. Like, cool places I found outside, and like, dumb little lookout points. I'd draw her tiny pictures of things she liked. Write stupid little notes and shit. I would make her...bracelets and, things she could wear. Stuff that didn't really cost anything. I don't know...I just kinda...knew."

You don't respond. Your eyes are glossy, barely gazing at Ellie.

"Y/N, you good?" Ellie laughs, grabbing your shoulder and shaking it a bit to get your attention.

"Yeah! I'm fine, sorry. Got in my head a little."

"Right, right, wanna see somethin' stupid?" She says, awaiting your response.

"Sure."

She picks up the item she was rummaging for a minute ago. It's a post it note.

"Oh! Can I read it?" You beg, excited to see the parts of Ellie's life you're so unfamiliar with.

"Hah, yeah, go for it. I promise you it's...underwhelming." She hands you the blue paper, drawing side down.

You begin to read.

"You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen. I drew you a penguin wearing a hat that says, 'you are the prettiest…princess…ever'. Best wishes, Ellie." You smile without meaning to.

You give her the post-it note back.

"I wish I got notes like this. Do guys...do that?" You ask.

"Um, maybe some? I wouldn't know." Ellie admits.

She wanted to say no, y/n, no guy will do that until you get married, probably, because that was the truth. However, seeing how happy you were at somebody else's love note, she didn't have the heart to say it. Ellie didn't mind letting you be sheltered a little longer if it made you happy.

Before the two of you could say anything else, a phone chimes.

Your phone.

It's him.

"Oh thank god. Ellie, I have to call him. Can I call him? I'll be back in a second I swear," You ramble, basically sprinting out the door to talk to the meathead in your phone.

Fuck.

One day you'll grow up. Ellie knows this. She sees how you change every day. It still makes her feel funny to see you so...dishonest with yourself.

The day you break up with that dick is the day I fucking win, Ellie thinks.

And that day occurred exactly a week later.

After Ellie had already left.

#ellie fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #lesbian #tlou #tlou part 2 #tlou fic #catsfor2

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wild-lavender-rose · 1 year

Text

Freak

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

Category: Hurt Comfort

Summary: When Billy saves you from your abusive ex, you slowly realize that he is much more than the arrogant bully you first took him to be.

Warning: toxic relationship, physical and verbal abuse sequence (if this bothers you at all please scroll on), sexual abuse insinuation, description of injuries, cannon typical swearing

“Hey, angel.”

You jumped as Billy banged his shoulder against the locker next to you, looking up from where you had been twisting in your code sequence.

“They tell me you’re best friends with the king,” he crossed his bare arms and looked you up and down. “May he rest in peace.”

“He’s still king,” you gave him a look before returning your attention to your locker. “Steve’s just had a change of priorities.”

“Yeah, a ball and chain’ll do that.” Billy smirked.

“They say you’re gunning to take his place.”

“Actually I’m going for the title of god.” Billy leaned closer, his voice lowering. “Most of the girls already call me that anyway. Shouldn’t be too much of a stretch.”

“You mean most of the cows?” You opened your locker door so fast he barely had enough time to pull away before it smashed into his face. “Word travels fast, Mr. Tight Pants. I know who you’ve been fooling around with.” You began to absently paw through your locker. “Get the opinion of someone who actually has standards, then we’ll talk.”

“Yeah well, they say that you could be queen of the school if you weren’t such a freak.” Billy scoffed, waiting for you to respond, continuing at your silence. “Must be hard, wanting to get with Steve and him going off with a little miss prim and proper which you clearly can never be.”

“Get lost, Billy.” You breathed, gaze fixed on your locker.

“But getting under your skin is just so damn fun, baby. Are you Stevie’s little guard dog, defending his title? The king is dead,”

“Get away from me, I mean it!” You slammed the locker door so hard it banged shut and flew back open.

Billy caught it, brow furrowing. “Did I strike a nerve or something?”

You didn’t respond, fists clenching as you looked back at your locker. Billy followed your gaze, taking in the thing that had made you so upset. There, half-hidden among your books and jacket, was a piece of torn notebook paper. On it, scrawled in pencil, were the words ‘Tonight at nine’.

“Well, well, well,” Billy looked between you and the note. “You’re freakier than I thought.”

“Shit,” you grabbed your books and closed the locker, making sure it clicked into place this time.

“Hey, hold up,” Billy grabbed your arm before you walked away. “Are you bein’ blackmailed or somethin’?”

“And here I thought you were stupid.” You jerked away from him. “Leave me alone, idiot.”

Strangely, Billy obeyed, staring after you as you hurried to your next class.

# # # # #

“Let me go, Brandon, let go!” You squirmed and thrashed, desperate to get out of his hold. “I’m sick of this, I want out!”

“Aww, you’re so cute when you play hard to get.” Brandon released you, smirking as you fell to the ground. “Why’d you come if you don’t want it, baby?”

“I came to tell you I’m done, Brandon.” The leaves crunched under your hands as you tried to crawl backwards, never taking your eyes off him. “I’m done with the drinking, done with the parties, done with you!”

“Turning soft just like Steve, aren’t ya?” Brandon grabbed you by the front of your shirt and yanked you back up, grinning when the fabric ripped under his grip. “Too bad he’s not here, baby. Maybe he’d get some lessons on how to handle a girl like you.”

You gave a muffled cry as he smacked your face and jerked you around so that your back was pressed up against his chest. “We’re done, Brandon,” you clawed at his grip on your hips. “We’re done,”

“You’ll be screaming for me to keep you in a second.” Brandon pushed your hair aside and bit your neck, hard.

Your cries echoed through the woods, fighting to run in a place you had once met Brandon in for fun. It was dark and too cold for hunters to be out. No chance for anyone to hear you. Before this had been the reason you had chosen such a private spot in the woods. Now it was nothing but the biggest mistake in your life.

“Taste so good,” Brandon took a hand off your hip to wrap around your neck.

You took your chance, twisting around and punching him in the face.

“Shit!” Brandon released you and stumbled back with a hand to his nose.

You broke into a run, heart pounding in your ears louder than Brandon’s yelling. You headed for the road, dodging trees and jumping over roots and rocks. Just get to the road and find the car, you told yourself, forcing your panicked thoughts to focus even as you ran at breakneck speed. Get to the car, get to the car, get to the car.

You burst out onto the road and fell, knees throbbing painfully as you scraped yourself up from the gravel. This wasn’t where you had parked the car. Brandon was close behind, you could hear him crashing through the trees. The moon was bright but not bright enough. You looked around, trying to figure out which way to go. A car sounded in the distance, coming fast. You started towards the sound, only to scream as Brandon grabbed you from behind.

“I’m gonna kill you!” He whipped you around to face him and grabbed your hair, slapping you hard. “You broke my nose, you little freak! You’re dead!”

“Brandon, stop!” You raised your hands up, shielding yourself from his blows.

Car headlights shown on you both, causing Brandon to release you instantly. You stumbled away as the car you had heard in the distance now screeched to a stop in front of you both, headlights staying on as the driver stepped out and slammed the door behind him. “What the hell are you two doing?”

Your beating heart twisted into your stomach. It was Billy, his tall figure monstrous in the light of his car. Before you could think you were limping towards him, pretending that it wasn’t a bad idea, knowing that you had no other choice. You could see his face in the headlights, see his eyes slowly take you in. Your face was bleeding. Your clothes were ripped and covered in dirt and blood. Tears blurred your vision. Your body trembled.

Billy’s expression softened with surprise and something you hadn’t seen before. Something like pain. Then it hardened and he was pushing you behind him as he stepped between you and Brandon. “The hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it is, Bill.” Brandon shrugged as if his nose wasn’t dripping blood. “Dumb cows need training.”

“Well she’s mine now, so get lost.” Billy looked over his shoulder at you. “Get in the car.”

You blinked at him for a second but obeyed, looking at Brandon as you limped over to the passenger’s side and got in.

“That’s my girlfriend, Billy, you can’t just take her!”

“I can take whatever the hell I want, and you’re gonna stay out of my way!” Billy growled before turning away.

You watched as he slid back behind the wheel. “You’re gonna run him over.” You weren’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Damn right I will.” Billy gunned the engine and slammed down on the gas, giving a war whoop as Brandon just barely jumped out of the way.

You shivered and scrunched down in the seat, thoughts spinning so fast it made your head hurt. You were in Billy Hargrove’s car. This should not make you feel as safe as it did. Where was he taking you? Why had he been driving out in the middle of nowhere to begin with? Why was he alone? You pressed a hand to your head and made a small noise, looking to see your fingers covered in blood illuminated by the moonlight.

“Are you all right?” Billy’s voice sounded rusty, as if he was unused to asking such things. “Let me see.”

You tensed as he touched your chin, allowing him to shift your head so he could look you over.

“Jesus, he did a number on you.” Billy’s thumb brushed over your cheek before he pulled away, gaze flicking between you and the road. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Not worth it.” You rubbed your hands together and shivered again. “But if anyone could get away with it, it’s you.”

Billy smirked at that, reaching over to crank up the heat and shift the vents towards you.

You looked at him, taking in his slicked back hair, his unbuttoned shirt, the smell of expensive cologne. “You’re going on a date.”

“Not anymore.” He glanced over at you. “We gotta get you cleaned up.”

# # # # #

“Come on,” Billy opened the hotel door and flipped on the light, stepping back so you could walk inside. “You’re all right, I promise.”

“You want me out when your date shows up?” You regarded the double bed before looking up at him.

“I’m gonna call her and tell her to beat it.” Billy shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto a chair. “You wanna shower or somethin’ while I go get the med kit? Maybe get something to eat, there’s a diner right down the-,”

“I’m not sleeping with you, Billy.” You hated the tremble in your voice as you said it, knowing full well that you were too weak to resist should he make a move.

“Eww, gross.” Billy grimaced. “And you say I’m the one with low standards? You’re not doing anything you don’t want to ever again, not with me or anyone else.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Now go shower.”

“What if I don’t want to?” You asked, giving him a look.

“That doesn’t apply to self-care shit.” Billy pulled his keys out of his pocket and left, closing the door behind him and leaving you alone.

# # # # #

The shower felt amazing. You kept making it hotter, hot enough to wash the dirt away, hot enough to burn the open wounds. So hot that you couldn’t think about the way Brandon grabbed you and pushed his body into yours. About the fact that you had been stupid enough to meet him in the first place. You hated him so much.

“I put some soap on the ledge.” Billy’s voice caused you to jump.

You peeked out around the shower curtain to see him close the door behind him, giving you the privacy you needed. Accepting the bottle, you couldn’t help but smirk as you realized it was Billy’s personal soap. Of course he would have soap, and everything else needed for a sexy overnight. The silky suds filled the room with a warm, fresh, musky scent. You slipped your hands over your skin, enveloping yourself with him, pretending it didn’t make you feel safe. That the scent of the man you had despised from day one was calming your racing thoughts.

# # # # #

You walked out dressed in Billy’s shirt and a pair of his sweatpants, trying not to limp when he looked up at you. “Thank you. For the soap.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” Billy smirked as he looked you over. “You, uh, you look good.”

You looked down. “Thanks.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Here, come sit down.” Billy moved the first aid kit he had been sifting through and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Why do you have a med kit?” You did as he asked, easing your aching body down with your back resting against the headboard.

“Susan wanted me to have one in case Max fell off her skateboard.” Billy noted the way you flinched when you moved your legs up onto the bed.

“Smart of her.” You watched as he tore open a packet of antiseptic wipes with his teeth.

Billy grimaced. “Pretty much the only smart thing she’s done.” He moved to sit on the edge of bed next to you, gaze focused on your cut lip. “Hold still.”

“What do you mean?” You cringed as the wipe touched your cut, fingers curling into fists in your lap.

“Easy,” Billy’s voice was soft, softer than you ever thought possible. “Well, she married my dad, and that was dumb. She moved us from Cally, also dumb. There’s a whole list.”

“That’s why you’re mad at everyone.” You watched as he finished with your lip and got another wipe.

“What’re you, some kind of shrink?” Billy scoffed and pressed the wipe to the cut on your cheek. “What’s up with you, dating scum like Brandon?”

“Wasn’t always like this,” you hissed at the pain.

“Almost done.” Billy’s hand pressed over your fists, his ring cool against your skin still hot from the shower.

You didn’t push him away. “It was fine starting out. Then he started pushing, asking for things I didn’t want to do,” Your throat tightened as the events of the evening flashed through your thoughts. “Not as bad as tonight.”

“What was different about tonight?”

“I broke up with him, like the idiot I am.” Your gaze fell to hide tears gathering in your eyes.

“Hey, he’s the idiot here.” Billy squeezed your hands before pulling away to get a band-aid. “And it’s over now, you’re gonna be done with him.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Mr. Tight Pants.” You gave him a look.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Billy tucked your hair behind your ear and held your head still as he pressed the band-aid over the cut. “We’re dating now.”

“What the-,” you cut yourself off with a hiss of pain.

“I’m done, it’s okay, I’m done now.” Billy caught your hand as you reached up to touch the band-aid. “Don’t mess with it.”

“I’m not dating you, I can’t.”

“Mmhmm, yeah you are.” His attention averted down to your knuckles, thumb brushing over the bruises starting to form from where you punched Brandon.

“Why?”

“Gotta keep an eye on you.” Billy’s eyes met yours as he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “If you want me to.” Another soft kiss. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything.” Kiss. “Your choice, angel.”

God that made your heart stutter. You looked down, heat flooding your face. No wonder he had charmed so many girls into one-night stands that they talked about for days. But this, what he was implying, sounded long term. It sounded like a relationship, one that felt safe and warm and what the hell was this man doing to you?

“Look at that,” Billy was smirking proudly. “The freak is speechless.”

“You can’t call me a freak if we’re dating, Billy.” You looked up at him.

“Don’t call me Mr. Tight Pants and I’ll think about it, baby.” Billy’s hand moved down to rest on your leg, expression softening once more. “How’re your knees?”

“I got most of the dirt out in the shower.” You bit your lip, careful to avoid the cut. “I think…I think my ankle is twisted or sprained or something.”

“I’ll look at it, angel, don’t worry.” Billy slowly pushed the fabric of the sweatpants up to reveal your bruised and bloodied leg. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t…Never had anyone say that before.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy grinned. “Well get used to it.”

# # # # #

“Hey, angel.”

You looked up as Billy leaned against the locker next to you, smirking as he looked you up and down. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Better.” You nodded, glancing around at the people watching you as you closed your locker. “Brandon’s been talking, telling people I’m a…I’m a,”

“Don’t worry about it.” Billy pulled you close and draped an arm around your shoulders. “Brady and I’ve got a little hangout planned for after school. He’ll make sure to set everyone straight.”

“You’re not going to kill him?” You started to walk to class with Billy beside you.

“Do you want me to, princess?” Billy looked down at you, smiling as you bit your lip and took a second to decide. “Nah, I won’t. A little freak I know told me he isn’t worth it.”

“God you have got to stop calling me that, baby.”

Billy chuckled. “Love it when you call me that.”

You came to the doorway to your class and stopped. Billy wasted no time in leaning down to kiss you right in front of everyone. “See you later?”

You nodded with a smile. “See you later.”

Billy was grinning like a fool as he walked away, you and several other girls in the hall staring after him.

“I can’t believe it.” A blonde girl looked between you and Billy. “You? Billy chose you? What do you have that makes you so special?”

You shrugged. “You know what they say, Delores. I’m just a freak.”

And with that you turned on your heel and walked into the classroom with a smile on your face.

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Special shout out to @billysbabyy. Our conversations inspired me to write this <3

Writer’s Haven Taglist: @alexxavicry @captainsophiestark

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove imagine #billy x you #billy x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #hargrove #stranger things #stranger things billy #stranger things billy hargrove #billy #billy hargrove whump #billy hargrove hurt comfort #billy my beloved #st

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ghosts-bandwagon · 9 months

Text

Ghosts That We Knew

fluff, comfort fic, mentions of survivors guilt and trauma Memories are a bitch sometimes. You thought bitterly as you stood against the rail, lit cigarette slowly turning to ash between your fingers. It was a job well done, everyone’s fine, you can rest now. So why can’t you? Is it because you’re remembering all the times it didn’t go well? Because the memories of fallen comrades and coppery last words hang heavy in your heart?

That was a different time, a different team, a different place, a far inferior version of yourself. You tried to remind yourself of that.

Why couldn’t you do what you can now back then? What was stopping you from being who you are now?

You brought the cigarette to your lips, goosebumps raising on your skin as the cool night sent a cold breeze your way. Fitting. You shuddered as you took a deep drag, tonguing the smoke in your mouth before letting it out into the breeze. You were so deep in the trenches of your survivors guilt that you barely registered something soft and warm slipping over your shoulders,

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to get sick on purpose.” Ghost broke the silence as he leaned on the rail beside you,

“Good thing you know better.” You chuckled dryly, he took in your appearance and it only took him a fraction of a second to know what was keeping you awake and far from the team,

“You keep carryin’ your ghosts with you and they’ll never go away, you know that right?”

You opened your mouth to argue but you knew better. So you opted to take another drag instead.

“We need you here with us, sergeant.” He hated taking his official tone with you but he knew you needed to hear it in an official capacity, “It’s because of you that Soap’s still with us today.” You knew it was meant to bait you into warming up and you fell for it nonetheless as you chuckled at his begrudging tone,

“Suppose I’ll be summoned to your office for that one, sir?”

“Damn right you will.” You two laughed softly, the air warming up as you both gravitated towards the other, arms touching one another on the rail until you leaned on him completely, resting your head on his shoulder. Simon watched as your tired eyes settled on the horizon, nimble fingers tapping the ash off your cigarette, bringing it to your lips before stopping. He watched you open your mouth, close it again, and then open it once more,

“It does.” He answered your unspoken question, one that you were ashamed of even asking in the first place, knowing your role as the pillar to the task force, “It takes time, and effort on your part, but it does, in fact, get better.”

“Effort?”

“You think it comes easy?” Simon scoffed, your head moved with his shoulders when he made the noise, “Shit, Soap might’ve been luckier than I thought.” He teased, you elbowed him in the ribs with your mouth agape at the insinuation,

“Not that much luckier, asshole.” You laugh, “You just don’t want to admit I’m a better shot than you, but you’re gonna have to live with it whether you like it or not.”

“In your dreams, sweetheart.”

Your laughs died down and you almost forgot why you couldn’t sleep in the first place, at least until you felt your fingers almost burn. You reflexively threw the cigarette butt away from your hand then crushed it with your boot once you realized what just happened.

“Like I said, carry your dead but don’t let them bury you. We need you here.” I need you here. He could taste the words on his tongue as they sat heavy in his throat. And from the way you looked at him, the reflection of the moon in your eyes, like he held everything you loved in them, he knew you could taste the words too.

“I don’t know, having some ghosts is ok, I think.” You argued with a gentle shrug,

“I swear to God, if you’re setting up for what I know will be a shit pun at my expense, I’ll make you regret it.” His eyes narrowed but they didn’t hold any malice, not towards you, never towards you. His chest fluttered as he watched you purse your lips and try (and fail) not to smile,

“What? No! I was going to say, uh, that um…” You tripped over your words as you tried desperately to think of something else to say,

“Christ, you’re terrible at this.” He hung his head with a dramatic sigh,

“I’m thinking! Shut up!”

“Don’t think too hard, I just said I need you in one piece.”

“You’re unbearable.” You shook your head as you bumped his hip with yours, a comfortable silence settled and you leaned against him deeper. He folded his arms so he could stretch his fingers out to touch you, you sighed as peace began to flourish in your chest. You mimicked his movements until you were able to thread your fingers with his, warmth flooding your veins as you stifled a yawn,

“There you are.” He said with a small laugh,

“Thank you, Simon. Almost got lost there.” You turned your head to kiss his shoulder,

“I know. I’ll always bring you back. Least I could do.” He pecked the top of your head through his mask,

“For what?” You yawned,

“For bearing with the unbearable.” He teased, “Now go sleep, if I hear you moanin’ about how tired you are tomorrow, I’ll give you somethin’ to be tired about.”

“Oh no, anything but that!” You feigned shock and fear,

“Not the threat you’re hoping for, pervert, you can count on that.” He nudged you off of him with his hip, hands on your shoulders as he guided you back inside,

“I mean it, Si, thank you.” Your voice was soft, almost scared to leave that tender moment behind. Scared to rejoin what you know awaits you behind your eyes and in the tired and frightened recesses of your mind, he knows because he was scared of the same thing.

“Anytime, love, you let me know.” It was as much an invitation as it was a plea,

“I will.”

“That's all I ask.” He knew you’d need him when you both got back home, could basically hear the knocking at his front door already. He didn’t get much sleep to begin with but he’d gladly lose sleep if it meant bringing you some semblance of peace. “Good night, sergeant.” His voice was soft and held every ounce of intimacy that you’ve ever shared with him as he dropped you off at your room,

“Good night, Ghost.” You begrudgingly parted but spun on the ball of your heel before you two got very far, your hand shot out to grab his arm and he stopped in his tracks,

“By the way, you’re the only ghost I don’t mind being haunted by.” You quipped, biting your lip to keep your smile from getting any wider,

“You’re so fucking lucky I need you alive.”

“I’m counting my stars, Ghost.”

a/n: I’m still alive! I’m hoping to come back to full capacity eventually but I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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robinofinashiro · 10 months

Text

"it's like your Bonten's mother! how sweet!"

characters/fandom: rindou haitani x reader

request status/note: closed /

pronouns: she-her

"oh my god my eyes are burning," you murmured, trying to stop yourself from continuing to rub them. sanzu gave you a look, insinuating that the smoke was more than likely the problem, "some of us got allergies you dick," you replied, throwing him a few pieces of ash that were on the table.

you weren't very keen on hanging out with sanzu but rin, ran, nor mikey were in the building and your brother was out of the country for the moment with a few of your partners.

between you and sanzu, the two of you acted like siblings that constantly argued with each other. it came off as a surprise to everyone in bonten when you appeared with rin's arm around your shoulder. never in a million years did ran think his dorky younger brother would have bagged you of all people but in his own brotherly way, he was proud.

another big surprise was the life you lived. when rin first saw you, you didn't seem like you were the type to be in such a lifestyle. you had finished up your schooling, even did some college classes and tried to finish up a degree for it but your real lifestyle got in the way of it all and stopped it.

he hadn't realized who you actually were until he got a good look at who were. rindou was shocked to see who your family was and who you were connected to.

you were sitting at a table in a bar on the outskirts of Roppongi. you were with a couple of friends that you had met in college. they weren't exactly excited to be at a bar like this but you knew that if all of you minded your business, the patrons who frequented the bar would leave you all alone.

"how did you even hear of a bar like this? it doesn't seem like your type," one of your friends said. you giggled, not wanting to give them the real reason, "oh, uh, my brother comes here all the time with his friends! it's not as bad as it looks, i swear!"

they all remained silent, taking your word for it. you ordered another round of drinks for your table and handed the bartender what seemed like a debit card. you all continued to drink and sing to the songs that were playing through the speakers. being that you came here often under different obligations, you knew this place like the back of your hand; however, certain pair of a eyes had just noticed you for the first time.

rindou and ran had walked into the bar, going immediately to the back to start handling their business. rindou had ordered a couple of beers for all of Bonten when his eyes landed on you. you were laughing at something hysterically, holding the beer against your chest as you tried not to spill it.

ran had noticed his brother was not paying very much attention to the matter at hand but figured he didn't need to pry unless it was extremely distracting.

rin wanted to go up to you, he really did, but figured that you must've ended up at the wrong bar and had no idea what this entire place was actually about. when all of you got up to dance, he noticed what looked like an outline of a tattoo on your shoulder but knew that unless you were in gang affiliated business, tattoo's weren't common with just regular ole' people so it must've been his eyes playing tricks on him.

"rin, are you paying attention or did you come here to just stare at random people all night?" ran exclaimed, snapping his fingers in front of his brother's face. rin rolled his eyes, not bothering to play into his antics and finally composed himself. he knew he had no chance with you and decided to finally stop being a creep.

"rendai, do i really have to be here? i'm going to be the only girl in this dong fest," you exclaimed.

he laughed knowing that you were right. you were going to be the only girl in a country mile but you were needed in this situation and there was no way you could have gotten out of it, especially when you held such a high position in your familie's gang.

you picked at your nails, wanting to get this stupid gang fight over with. now that your families number two had stepped down, you were prompted up to be right under your brother. you were making more important decisions for your gang and although it upset you that you'd eventually have to drop your college courses, you knew it was your fate. it wasn't everyday that a girl ranked higher than most men in a gang and you were told from a very young age that you and your brother were eventually going to inherit your families gang.

as you and your brother arrived to the dirty and abandoned parking garage, you noticed several of japan's most prominent gangs in attendance. you greeted those that you had alliances with and didn't spare a second glance at those who you didn't know.

the both of you got comfortable on top of a car and waited for the shitshow to start. you didn't bother to care for who was fighting but you knew that these types of meetups usually meant making some kind of connections with other gangs in the area.

rin, ran, sanzu, and mochi arrived to the scene, scooping out the area and finding a place to sit down at. they had zero need to be in attendance but figured it gave them something to do for the rest of the night. a fight like this never hurt anyone.

as soon as they sat down, rin looked all over the place to see who was here. his eyes widened when he locked eyes on you. what the hell were doing here? several questions ran through his head and he turned to his brother.

"who's the girl and the boy sitting on the car?" he asked. ran chuckled, "that's ( your name ) and rendai, they're brother/sister duo from the ( last name ) family. they're the ones that had taichi killed last year. ( your name ) was the one that called for the death and rendai was the one that executed it," rindou's eyes widened.

the death that ran was talking about shocked almost everyone last year. they heard it was a pretty gruesome death to those who witnessed it but hearing that you were the one who called for it was surprising.

"since when did she become so high in the gang?" he asked. ran shrugged, "i think someone stepped down and she immediately was put into his place. she's pretty sadistic from what i heard from others. negotiations are pretty hard to come across with them in general so not many of the people here know them well. plus, she does the dirty work others don't want to do without actually having to do it herself so you can see why they're successfull."

as the fight started, you kicked your legs up, laughing at how ridiculous these men looked. you knew that nothing was going to come out of it besides bragging rights so you when you locked eyes with a blond and blue haired boy, you smiled at him shyly. rin shot you a head nod before looking over to ran.

"i say we start some negotiations with them," he stated. ran shrugged, "i don't know, ask mikey about that, " he replied. rin nodded as you jumped off the car when you realized that the fight was coming closer to you and your brother.

you gave the men in the fight a dirty look as a few specs of dust got on your clothes.

"watch where the fuck you're going you dumb fuck, i really don't need to involve my people over this useless fight."

rin laughed seeing the way you jumped onto a different cars hood and wiped yourself off. you crossed your legs and leaned against your brothers shoulder, wanting to fall asleep but fought against it.

from that day on, it become history. bonten and your family were bonded through yours and rin's relationship making the tokyo gang scene a lot more scarier now that your gangs were somewhat combined.

"by the way, where is rin and the rest of them? they were supposed to be here an hour ago," sanzu pointed to the garage insinuating that they were following through with a drug deal that had went wrong. you nodded, "ugh, it doesn't take this long for a punishment. i'll be right back."

sanzu shot right up, trying to stop you but you grabbed your gun from the back of your pocket and walked into the room.

"rin, we're going to be late for our date tonight if you continue your little torture game," mikey chuckled as he and ran looked to half dead man sitting in the chair. you aimed your gun at the mans chest and shot off a singular bullet to his chest making his body hit the floor instantly, "see, it's all done, now lets go before i fall asleep talking to sanzu."

ran shook his head in slight disbelief. he never understood how you were able to do such insane things like quite literally murdering a man without hesitation and act like it was second nature.

"are they coming over later for dinner? if they are, i need to stop at the store after lunch," you stated to rin. he nodded in agreement as you felt ran's shoulder come across your shoulder, "it's like your Bonten's mother! how sweet!" he teased.

you gave him a look, wanting to say something sarcastic but rin had beat you to it. he started screaming at his brother to take his filthy hands off of you. you looked to mikey, shaking your head in disbelief as he laughed at how ridiculous the two brothers were being.

#tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyo revengers imagine #rindo haitani #rindo x reader #rindo haitani imagine #rindou x y/n #rindou x reader #rindou x you

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