#queue can have my back any day
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ON THE TOPIC OF BARNABY. as well as his relationship with Wally.
So. To kick this off - Riv (@funonion) and I were Speculating, and they introduced me to the johari window:
They put Barnaby in the “facade” section, and I entirely agree. To quote them;
“So he’s Wally’s guide, right? He’s the “knowledgeable” one of the two and is always the one teaching him new things. And you know, it’s one thing if you’re just teaching him how to laugh or how to tell a joke. But.
Clown has given us two doors. One says that Barnaby understands Wally in a way the rest of the neighborhood doesn’t, and is willing to do his dirty work so to speak. The other says that their friendship was not a natural occurring thing and had to be enforced repeatedly within the show. HOW THAT’S BEING ENFORCED IS ANOTHER THING ENTIRELY but it is worth it to note.
What is Barnaby willing to keep? What is he willing to bury for his little buddy? I can’t say anything definitively yet, but the fact that I even have to ask is telling. The class clown archetype is usually used as a way to cover up for something else a character might be experiencing”
And my response, (I won’t directly quote because I have little things in the phrasing & elaboration to add / tweak );
Barnaby being a Comic Relief Character immediately raised so many alarms in my head. I love comic relief characters. They’re always so fucked up in one way or another, and Barnaby is almost certainly SO inauthentic. He’s wearing a comedy mask just as opaque as Wally’s own mask. In everything we’ve seen about him so far he’s either Teaching Wally, wisecracking/joking, or… pretty much nothing else. We got that moment of concern in audio 14-14, but that doesn’t reveal anything beyond genuine care for Wally.
Comedic characters have the best disguises. Their poker faces & ability to deflect is always top tier [and practiced], and just look at comedy-focused actors and entertainers - so many of them have severe issues, either with their mental health or life. From what i’ve observed both in that aspect & with fictional characters, they play it off & work hard to entertain/deflect [one in the same] right up until the end. Sometimes it’s a coping mechanism. Usually it’s both. If they laugh loud enough and make people think they’re lighthearted fools w/ nothing underneath, no one will look any deeper and thus they’re “safe”.
& I’m a little suspicious that Barnaby’s red/orange/yellow spots aren’t naturally those colors. While yes, he could be (in-universe) designed that way to echo Ms. Beagle, there’s a strong possibility that that’s not it. What if he paints them to feel a connection to her, or it’s a physical manifestation of Barnaby covering up his insecurities/issues - what if it’s part of him striving to convince the world that he is what he paints himself as.
The laidback funnyguy with a loving mom and not a problem in the world.
And I mean, Barnaby claims to be a natural blue and I believe him! But the other colors? I’m doubtful
(I was going to include the Cast As Lil Kids Designs in this since Barnaby has all blue spots, but given how early in 2021 it was posted and how there seem to be little discrepancies from the ~official~ designs, I don’t want to provide it as evidence.)
& on the topic of Wally and Barnaby’s relationship being both real and not - disclaimer, this conversation happened before my Updated Thoughts On Them post, so there may be some minor rephrasing here from what I originally said - I’m sure that the relationship started out as inauthentic. Wally was assigned Barnaby as a best friend and technically vice versa, but I don’t doubt for a second that it became real to some extent. Clown wouldn’t treat their relationship outside of “canon” WH stuff the way that he does if they weren’t actually friends. They’ve said that Wally & Barnaby would be friends in every universe (which melts my heart <3 platonic soulmates my beloved <3), so then I have to agree with Riv. what WILL Barnaby do for Wally? I touched on this in the Milk Theory, but especially if Barnaby prides himself on “knowing Wally better than anything else”, what would Barn do to preserve that?
This relates to another conversation we had - Barnaby possibly having abandonment issues. It’s such a choice to have him of all characters be explicitly stated as an orphan. That and while every other Neighbor with a mentioned family have a somewhat large one (Howdy and his gajillion relatives, Julie and her three siblings, Poppy and her crowded tree [note: Eddie has a mentioned mother, but that info is tenuous and who knows if there are other Dears]), Barnaby has also explicitly stated that Ms. Beagle is his only family. That’s it. And farm life can’t be a sociable way to grow up, not with all the chores he must have had and how rural he might have grown up. Barnaby jokes that Home is the “Big Apple”, which could just be a joke - but jokes often come from a place of truth, and Home might be the most populated area Barnaby has lived in. Who’s to say!
Either way, Barnaby was orphaned one way or another, and I don’t doubt that it weighs on him. Especially if his birth parents really did abandon him. That added to a possible life of loneliness… I wonder if he’s latched onto Wally emotionally, which would hit all the painful places if it turns out that my “Barnaby is more attached to Wally than Wally is to Barnaby” theory has merit. Abandonment issues could also strongly back the apparent walls he’s plastered over with circus tent fabric
Back to Barnaby & Wally: the fact that, at present, Barnaby and Wally seem to have the best disguises / strongest masks. That. looking at 14-14, i suspect that Barnaby is excellent at keeping his up, but as soon as Wally’s mask cracks, so does Barnaby’s.
And then there’s the side of their dynamic that we could look at - it seems to be a very multifaceted relationship. The way that Barnaby genuinely cares yet in the 00 Halloween audio Wally was left off to the side and Barnaby was just “checking on him” while socializing (then again, this could be part of Barnaby understanding Wally & respecting his space / Wally wanting a break from that socialization). Barnaby is patient with Wally and yet he seems to sometimes treat Wally as his sidekick / let him fade into the background and yet Barnaby kept checking in on Wally during the 14 bug audios (this last one I could tie into the abandonment issues theory).
Then there’s how Barnaby calls Wally kid & can tend to treat him like one despite both of them being in the same age group. The way that all of this could, in a way, relate to the infantilization of autistic people (no matter how well-meaning or unintentional) & internalized ableism.
Note: Riv pointed out that Barnaby does seem to be doing the best with what he has, and that this can connect to the Johari Window’s blind spot / unknown.
I do agree with this wholeheartedly! And I have to mention that - and making a Very educated guess here - the interactions we’ve seen take place in the very late 60s / very early 70s, so Barnaby’s behavior towards Wally is actually pretty fucking stellar given the time period. We can’t expect him to be perfect or do everything / say everything right. That would be boring I think! And one thing I deeply appreciate about the Neighbors & their dynamics is that they feel like real layered people, not cardboard cutouts being perfect caricatures of what people are “supposed” to be like.
Riv also presented this:
We likely are going to reach a point where Wally asks Barnaby something that he can’t / doesn’t want to / won’t answer. And like.. Ok. This is a slight tangent but I swear it’s related! When I first discovered WH and learned the Wally basics, I wondered two things.
Are we going to watch Wally “discover” new emotions? Because he certainly has them. Clown has said that Wally only ever feels happy, and a lot of people took that to mean that Wally can’t feel anything else. I don’t think we should take that answer at face value, because. I mean. Look at the project & creator we’re talking about. Layers, guys. Indirect direct answers. I think that Clown meant that Wally only ever feels happy in the Neighborhood because he has no reason to feel any negative emotion. Everything is as it should be. Until it isn’t - and I think that’s where he’s going to have to struggle with new emotions as he encounters them through new situations/events unfolding as the “story” starts to deteriorate. We’ve actually seen this a little bit - in Wally’s record audios (i believe the chronological second to last?), the way he says “Let Me In” so insistently. That’s definitely not a positive emotion being expressed.
How will the topic of death be handled - because it will be handled, it’s stated in the project warnings. I was wondering this even before I read the list, because I was presented with a blank slate puppet character and so went “oh fuck, this dude doesn’t know about death, does he?” Obviously I wanted to know how that would go. I want to know how it Will go!
How would Barnaby explain emotions that Wally doesn’t know how to convey? How would Barnaby explain death in a way that Wally would understand - given that Barnaby (& all the Neighbors sans Wally) knows what death is - and would Barnaby be willing to explain such a thing? I have a feeling we may find out.
And in a way, I suspect that if none of them know, Wally will find out himself and have to process it without help. But then again, how can something die if it was never really alive in the first place? Unless the death warning relates to human characters… I’m currently assuming it relates to both humans and puppets.
In conclusion: Barnaby has a carefully fabricated facade, he's doing the best with what he has but it likely won't be enough, and uh. shits fucked!
#AGH I HOPE IM PUTTING THESE POSTS TOGETHER CORRECTLY.#I HAVE TWO DAYS TO WRITE AND POST THEM ALL#but anyway another thing i was wondering in relation to barnaby & wally having an imbalanced relationship was#the possibility of:#howdy < barnaby < wally < home#as in the <[x] character is more important to the [y]< character than [y] is to [x]#because howdy does seem to like barnaby a whole hell of a lot but we don't know if barnaby feels so strongly back#idk. i feel like i might be seeing a little domino line being set up here. and im Nervous <3#what happens if the first domino falls? who will it be? how hard will it fall.#who's to say if that has any merit i just wanted to mention it! its intriguing to me#(& to be clear since im aware of my laughingstock rep - im not talkin about shippy dominoes)#(i take off the shipping goggles for analysis. howdy can fully cherish barn as a Friend while still being [y]<)#homebogging#welcome home speculation#wh speculation#i feel like i have more in my brain but. im dealing with minor flu symptoms and im exhausted <3#today was a Lot <3#so i'll queue this for around 10 & hopefully I'll be awake & with the next post written for you guys!
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Being a writer is weird.
#it's tough fighting that human visual bias on a platform like this#my queue ran out and i haven't posted any vp because i was trying to crank out that last chapter for my long fic#and like i get it maybe most people aren't interested in reading it#different strokes for different folks#but like the discrepancy between how people interact with photo vs writing posts is wildly disheartening sometimes#and i've been see-sawing back and forth all day about this#riding high and wallowing in the mud#this is literally the creative project that i've been pouring myself into for the past month and a half every spare moment i have#and i've been doing this for the past year and a half#it's weird pouring so much love into something when the vast majority of people won't even give it two seconds#i love writing but it is also a mentally exhausting craft and people don't seem to acknowledge that for some reason#it's why i try to reblog stuff from my writing mutuals when i see it because it's usually the artwork that gets the least amount of love#anyway just felt like getting that off my chest#i'm sure my fellow writers can commiserate too#i'm not mad or anything i just had thoughts and perhaps voicing them is better then stewing on them i suppose#also i feel bad for not reading more stuff from other people but i've got like zero beans to give atm#no need to worry or anything i'm still gonna keep writing and posting my shit#more vp comin in over the weekend#also god the new tumblr ui for desktop is fucking ugly absolutely atrocious#man i really don't want to have to set up shop on another social media outlet it's tiresome#i don't want to keep up i just want to blog in peace
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ohmygodddddd i am a fucking genius...👁️ the fic idea i just came up with. the Specific Line i thought up. its such a random idea but its so so cute and sweet and ugh its gonna plague me forever. kinda proud of myself to be honest so lets just hope i can Actually write it soon🧎
#mmm brain isnt always bad sometimes i guess.#its some unapologetic jake fluff btw#bc he deserves it#also i forgot i cant really spend time on tumblr today bc ill be busy again lol so tomorrow it is (hopefully)#but its gonna be a good day bc me and my bestie are going to see love lies bleeding And immaculate together😋😋#and probably get some lunch and maybe ice cream too#excited#have been looking forward to today#and then after today im looking forward to finally crawling back into my little tumblr cave#hopefully i can Actually Read.#and yk. writing would be nice too.#also im goin back on sertraline today and apparently it can be used for ocd too so i will try to see if any of That feels different as well#raaaaaa#still havent fully researched ocd tho🧎ive been procrastinating🧎as i do🧎#anyways goodnight its 5am.#shouldnt have had that 8pm iced capp#i downed that shit fr#ok bye bye love yall#talkin shit#FUCK YES THIS POSTED LIKE ON THE VERY SECOND 5:15 WAS ENDING YESSS#sorry i actually like am distressed when the minute(s) of my posts arent posted on a 0 or 5 or like the same as the previous number#and when it is i feel like actual relief and joy#and when it isnt i contemplate deleting and waiting until the desired minute to post again.#anddd sometimes i actually do.#i also will just wait several minutes to post something when its not the exact minute i want yet#or ill queue it for like. literally a couple minutes in the future.#yeah i have many issues#okay gn thank you for reading if you read🧍🫶#i always either suck my own dick or beat my own ass.#rarely ever is there an in between
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OPEN STARTER | Patrick Finch
"I condone lying. I encourage it, even. I recommend it. I could hardly live without it."
#;open starter#the wolf;patrick#the wolf;open#he's always the most difficult one GOSH#also you must envision he's saying this with this weird open deadpan stare where he#well how do i put it: he's clearly fucking with you but he does it with such an open genuine expression#i mean he does condone lying he's not lying here (LKDSG!!!) but he is also fucking around#so this is Patrick he's 37 or anywhere around that age he's agender primarily he/him pronouns bc whatever yknow#the agender vibes of WHATEVER i know what i'm talking about trust me i have a phd in agenderism#anyways he's an informant but about as unorthodox as you can imagine he's just fucking around and finding out frankly#very depressed very jumpy very good at hiding it lmao he's my darling ♥#he is very motherly somehow i can't explain it#he has somewhat of a history in accidentally attempting to adopt powerful young women i don't know why he???#knee-jerks into wanting to be a mother figure i don't know him that well you guys#like he met suki (ferre's kamipyre) for a few minutes one time and#days after he was wondering if she'd wore a jacket because it was cold out like--#men don't get the same kindness if you're a charming kind-hearted competent warm and humorous DAD kind of guy he's unfortunately#emotionally attracted to you? unfortunately because he hates it~ but if you're any other kind of guy you're just... you're some guy to him#yes if you're young he'll adopt you too but begrudgingly-- KLDGFGKLFDHGJF#if you're a they/them you're his kid already are you kidding that's your mum#OH I JUST HAD A TERRIBLE THOUGHT so do you know om*g*verse?? regardless of how you feel about it#it do be a thing and i just had this horrible thought about how if pat were a real guy in an established canon#he'd probs get the feminisation treatment amiright?? NO LISTEN HE USED TO BE A HUGE WOLF#AND HE'S ACTUALLY FILLED WITH SO MUCH RAGE AND WRONGED PRIDE#patrick is gentle when he likes you and because he's Smart he doesn't just BITE out of nowhere he's always been like that#Fenris was known for being INCREDIBLY well-spoken BUT ALSO A HUGE PROUD WOLF#LIKE BIG WOLF-- it doesn't show but he's Very Proud and STRONG and ??????#;queue#i picked a gif came back and realized i lost it there for a sec NO MATTER makes for good entertainment
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"No queuing is allowed in front of the entrance nor in the streets around the venue"- trinity college's concert rules are my new villain origin story
#fuck you fuck you fuck you#wtf do you mean no queuing up allowed#as if people sitting around for 7 hours in front of a venue would be disruptive#i fucking hate my routines and plans being disrupted#wtf am i supposed to do the entire day then#enjoy dublin? certainly not while being all nervous about that concert and now not being there hours before to get accustomed to the people#this is seriously the worst#i need the goddamm control#when are we allowed to fucking queue up then#at 7?? when the doors open? you kidding me?#I'm probably gonna be lurking around there the entire day then#i hate this#concert hate posting#new tag lol#I'm very normal about concerts#i love not having any control over where i end up#i don't care at all ahahaha i love being as far in the back as possible and not seeing a single thing#also i don't believe people aren't gonna queue up somehow#idk how many and idk how popular bastille is in ireland but there's gotta be some people who wanna be there early#alright i can take a walk through the city then#haven't been there in 4 years so i should be happy about the opportunity#also it would help me to be more flexible about things so this is a great learning opportunity 🙃#void screams
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Tag Dump
#A Born Fighter {Visage}#c;; Eddie Diaz#h;; Eddie Diaz#Eddie things#v; Army Medic Trying His Best {Pre LA}#v; A Fresh Start {Season 2}#v; Always Going to Come Home to My Family {Season 3}#v; The Universe Does Not Scream {Season 4}#v; I Have No Idea {Season 5}#Dog Tags and Firefighter Turnouts {Wardrobe}#You Can Have My Back Any Day {Eddie and Buck}#I'm Never Leaving You Again {Chris and Eddie}#gif tw#Queue of Legends
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psych institutions should be awarded for being the most unfriendly places for nd and mentally ill folk. funnily enough. do they not know what demographic uses their services?
#vent in tags#the fuck wdym i need to CALL you so many times bc i need to schedule my assessment date#(bc first of all i asked to be put into psych ward to get evaluated bc i thought it'd be faster and id save money and stress of even getting#there bc it's 2+ hrs drive away and they told me they'll call me 'next week' bc in summer the waiting queue is not really long#but they didn't call!!!!!!!!!! and i called them on literally friday and said i want to do just the assessment whatever i'll get a bus there#even if it's 3 times bc i couldn't wait any longer since i was starting a job#and they said 'well the doctor is now on vacation since YESTERDAY so you'll have to call this number when he's back in the middle of july'#so like they never even meant to call me 'next week' as they said in the first place???#i said ok will do so and then i called on the 14th and they said the doctor's not back yet he's starting work from the 18th#tf!!! why not tell me exact date in the beginning#and the fucking receptionist or whatever was so judgemental bc i didn't know the doctor's name#and i said 'yeah idk bc i saw him for the first time ONCE last time' and i just happened to see him bc the doctor i had the appointment with#apparently got sick the exact day i was meant to arrive and no one from the staff knew that they were sick??????#so they quickly arranged a doctor that was available#and he didn't even introduce himself#but that receptionist got my blood boiling so much i was like 'cant you like check what doctor i had an appt with by my name???'#ITS LITERALLY NOT THAT HARD AND THEY WERE SO 'how can you not know your doctor's name [insert diminutive form to call me]'#eng equivalent would literally be 'little girl/boy' yeah they literally called me like that and also misgendered me#so that felt like double the insult#and so i have to call for the fucking third time today and im procrastinating it so bad like im so anxious#double the anxiousness that the last times#; words generated by me
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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru’s love for you has never diminished—even after being your husband for a few years now. in fact, his love for you continues to increase with each passing day.
wc. 500-ish
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff. satoru being clingy as per usual. reader gets called ‘sweetheart, my wife.’
“and my lovely wife right here will have the vanilla flavour,” satoru announces to the ice cream man. he’s smiling from ear to ear as he shamelessly puts emphasis on the word ‘lovely’.
it’s embarrassing to you. especially because everyone in the queue - plus the vendor - is staring at you. some giggle at the affectionate display from your husband, others just stare or roll their eyes.
satoru does not care about any of them. all he cares about is expressing his love to you in any way he can—whenever, wherever. this time he went for a much more. . . direct approach.
“you didn’t have to say it like that,” you mumble under your breath. you tug at satoru’s arm, clinging onto him whilst hiding your face against his bicep.
you get even more flustered when the man behind the counter nods at your lover’s words—telling you he ‘agrees that you’re indeed a lovely woman’.
satoru feels a sense of pride in having you with him. he always does. seeing the reactions of others when he’s boasting about having a pretty wife makes him feel all giddy.
“why? i’m proud of my wife,” satoru shrugs nonchalantly. he lowers his head to yours, looking you in the eyes from behind his sunglasses. he giggles once he sees that flustered expression of yours from up close.
the sorcerer ruffles your hair before over excessively nuzzling his cheek against yours. perhaps he’s actually experiencing what’s called a love surge, “my girl, my sweetheart.”
you cringe at the cheesy moment that’s happening. you love satoru and his clingy affectionate gestures, but when you’re surrounded by a bunch of people, it can become overwhelming.
you whimper and scrunch your nose up, “mghhh, stop it—we’re in public, ‘toru.”
a futile attempt to stop the white haired man. though, after a few seconds, he actually halts his movements. satoru pouts dramatically whilst holding your face in his hands. he squeezes your cheeks together, “awww. . . but what if i want the world to know that i’m the luckiest man ali—ow!”
you bite satoru’s thumb the second it teasingly rubs with your bottom lip. he’s always so touchy and knows no boundaries when it comes to pda. however, it does make you happy to know that he’s not afraid to show you off to the world.
you playfully frown at your husband, his thumb still between your teeth. it’s cute how easily flustered you get. it makes him want to play with you some more—to tease you some more.
“alright, alright,” satoru gives up and sighs deeply. his head is held low as he steps back to give you some space, “i jus’ wanted to let my girl know how much i adore her, y’know.”
“hah, i’m not falling for your dramatics this time,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. you grab your order once it’s done and walk out of the shop without waiting for your pouty but lovely husband.
you hear him whine out your name. satoru hurriedly grabs his own ice cream cone before rushing after you. once he’s caught up, he wraps his arms around you from behind and lifts you up.
“hey! you can’t just leave your hubby like that. c’mere,” satoru smirks and you can hear it in his voice. you kick your legs, though to no avail.
“gojo satoru! don’t you dare,” you warn whilst holding tightly onto your dessert. satoru ignores your warning and spins you around in circles with him—laughing at your high pitched shrieks.
he doesn’t stop until you’re both dizzy and have to hold onto each other to prevent from falling. satoru kisses your neck gently and you can feel him smiling against your skin, “i love you, sweetheart.”
his love for you has and will never fade. many may say that the honeymoon phase will end sooner or later in a marriage, but that’s definitely not the case with your marriage.
satoru will always be head over heels for you and his affection for you will never stop. even if you’re both old and grey; he’s going to love you all the same.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#gojo x you#female reader
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HALLOWEEN GAME TIME!!! WE'RE GOING TRICK OR TREATING!!!
ON THE DAY OF HALLOWEEN ask me or anyone else that's reblogged this, "trick or treat" and you shall recieve a random thing in your trick or treater bucket! What thing?
THAT'S UP TO WHO'S BLOG DOOR YOU'RE KNOCKING ON!!
A little doodle of their blorbo? An incorrect quote? A drawing of a little cat? A fun fact about bees? A little drabble (100 words I mean but do as you will) for a random thing? A photo of their pet dog? A headcanon? A fic recommendation? A random meme? An OC? A link to their current favourite song? A nice, virtual slap in the face? A trick? A treat? WHO KNOWS!!! NOT YOU OR ME THAT'S FOR SURE!!! (Just no screamers or shit like that of course lets not forget that lmao)
Why am I saying this now instead of on the day of the game? So anyone else that wants to play has plenty of time to prepare a little handful of things for the trick or treaters!!
Remember, it doesn't have to be anything big!!! You can be the blog that's giving everyone images of rotisserrie chicken you found on google, or you can be the blog that's giving everyone pictures of your cat if you want!! This is a low spoons and low stress game so do whatever you want to do that's easy for you!! Be a mix of everything or just give a 'hi!' it doesn't matter, it's all in good fun!! And we can trick or treat each other too, of course. Not as fun if you can't get any tricks or treats too, right? Anyone can trick or treat and anyone can be trick or treated!
I recommend making/queueing a post on the day so everyone knows you're playing btw (anyone that reblogs this post will get one off me too if they don't say otherwise in tags and if I remember I said this)
FOR TRICK OR TREATERS!!!
All you gotta do is send an ask with 'trick or treat' in it on Halloween! Halloween day!! 31st of October!! Day of spooky!! That's it!! (And if you go on anon no one will know if you come back again but I didn't tell you that lmao) I'll be answering any I get when it's Halloween in my timezone and I'm sure I won't be the only one so if you ask earlier, hang tight! It's probably not Halloween yet or they don't have time just yet cause it's a Tuesday! I believe that's everything so...
Have fun guys!!
#halloween game#yeah I know this is the kind of thing that circles every year btw#but I can't for the life of me remember anyone actually doing it :(#so here's a game!!#I will try my damn best to do it so stay tuned for that!!!#I'll make a little mix of things to share it'll be fun!#plenty of time to build up a little collection of low spoons stuff I think#honestly a great way to get myself back into things probably#we'll see!
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I Have Needs Too
Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri
Summary: an old sports superstition claims that abstinence can help maximize athletes’ performance … your boyfriends decide to give it a try, much to your chagrin
Warnings: 18+ content
“I’m going to explode!” You whine dramatically, flopping down on the couch between your boyfriends. They exchange amused glances over your head.
“What’s wrong, love?” Lando asks gently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.
You huff in frustration. “You know exactly what’s wrong! It’s been weeks since we ...” You trail off meaningfully, raising your eyebrows.
Oscar chuckles, slipping an arm around your shoulders. “Come on now, it’s not been that bad.”
“Easy for you to say!” You retort. “You two have your racing to distract you. I’m stuck here all day, bored out of my mind and craving attention.” You pout at them.
Lando shakes his head in mock exasperation. “We talked about this, darling. The abstinence has really helped our performance lately.”
“I know, I know,” you sigh. “And I’m so proud of how well you both are driving this season. But ...” You bite your lip, gazing up at them beseechingly.
Oscar brushes a thumb over your cheek. “We understand it’s not easy, babe. But just be patient a little longer. We’re doing this for the team.”
You nod reluctantly, nestling into Oscar’s shoulder. His warmth and familiar scent are comforting, even as your body craves more.
“Why don’t we watch a movie to take your mind off it?” Lando suggests brightly, grabbing the remote.
You suppress a grumble. As if anything could distract you from the delicious men on either side of you. But you acquiesce for their sake, snuggling into Oscar’s side as Lando queues up an action comedy.
Twenty minutes in, you’re fidgeting restlessly, acutely aware of Oscar’s fingers trailing idly along your arm. You glance over at Lando to find him watching you, mirth dancing in his eyes. Your breath catches at the heat in his gaze.
Unable to resist, you reach over and trail a finger down his chest suggestively. Lando inhales sharply, his eyes darkening. Beside you, Oscar goes very still.
You bite your lip coyly. “Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider this whole abstinence thing?”
Lando swallows hard, his eyes raking over you hungrily. For a moment you think he might give in. But then he shakes his head ruefully. “You know we can’t, love. Just try to be patient.”
You huff in frustration, crossing your arms over your chest. Oscar squeezes your shoulder sympathetically. “It’s only a few more weeks till the season ends.”
“A few weeks too many,” you grumble. “I have needs too, you know!”
Lando chuckles, the sound sending a spark down your spine. “Believe me, we know. And we intend to take very good care of those needs once the season’s over.” His heated gaze leaves no doubt as to his meaning.
You bite back a whimper, arousal coiling hot and heavy within you. “Promise?” You breathe.
“Promise,” Oscar murmurs lowly in your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps on your skin.
You suppress a shiver with effort, knowing you won’t get any further with them today. With a dramatic sigh, you settle back against Oscar, trying your best to focus on the movie.
But as the minutes tick by, you grow increasingly restless. Oscar’s solid warmth against your side only fuels your rising frustration. You shift, crossing and uncrossing your legs in an effort to relieve the building ache between your thighs.
Oscar glances down at you, one brow raised knowingly. “You alright there?”
You bite your lip. “I’m fine,” you reply tersely.
His mouth twitches in a hint of a smile and he resumes watching the movie, his arm a tantalizing weight across your shoulders.
You do your best to keep your eyes on the screen, but your thoughts keep drifting to much more pleasurable images — memories of your boys’ hands and mouths lavishing you with attention. You clench your thighs together, suppressing a whimper.
Gradually you become aware of your hand drifting higher up Oscar’s thigh, seemingly of its own accord. You freeze, snatching it back, your face flaming.
Oscar looks down at you, his brown eyes darkening subtly. “Y/N ...” he begins, a note of warning in his tone.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” you babble, avoiding his heated gaze. “I just … I can’t help it, Oscar, I need ...” You trail off helplessly.
His eyes soften and he brushes a stray lock of hair back from your face. “I understand, love. Just try to hang in there a little longer.”
You bite back a whine of frustration and force yourself to sit on your hands, determined not to let them wander again. But as the minutes pass, you grow more and more antsy and on edge. Your whole body feels like a live wire, hypersensitive and aching for their touch. Unconsciously, you press your thighs together again, seeking some form of relief, but it’s not nearly enough.
Abruptly you get to your feet, ignoring Oscar’s questioning look. “I just … need some air. I’ll be right back.” Before he can respond, you hurry from the room on shaky legs.
In the bedroom, you begin pacing agitatedly, running your hands through your hair. This is torture, plain and simple. You’ve never felt so pent-up and on edge in your life. Surely no one could expect you to hold out much longer under these conditions?
Your gaze falls on the bed and you freeze, a reckless idea taking shape in your mind. No … you couldn’t possibly … could you?
Before you can talk yourself out of it, you shut the door behind you as quietly as you can. Then you begin shedding your clothes hastily until you’re down to your underwear.
You stand there a moment, nibbling your lip uncertainly. But the throbbing ache between your legs wins out over your hesitation. Taking a deep breath, you slide your underwear off and climb onto the bed.
Propping some pillows up against the headboard, you lean back and let your legs fall open. Your fingers trail teasingly up your inner thighs and you have to suppress a needy whimper. Slowly, watching yourself in the mirror across from the bed, you begin to stroke along your slick folds.
A breathy moan escapes you at the exquisite sensation. After weeks of deprivation, your swollen flesh is so sensitive that the lightest touch sends spikes of pleasure through you. As you work yourself higher, you let your eyes slip closed, losing yourself in the building bliss.
You’re so consumed by sensation that you don’t hear the bedroom door open. But Oscar’s sharp intake of breath jolts you back to awareness. Your eyes fly open to see him standing frozen in the doorway, his shocked gaze riveted on where your fingers are buried between your legs.
Heat floods your cheeks but you don’t stop, biting your lip coyly. “I tried … I really did. But I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
Oscar makes a strangled noise low in his throat, his eyes blazing. He takes a step into the room just as Lando comes up behind him.
“Oscar, what ...” Lando begins, then trails off as he peers over Oscar’s shoulder. “Bloody hell,” he breathes, his eyes going wide.
Your flush deepens at their rapt expressions but you hold their heated stares boldly. Oscar takes another step toward you, clenching his jaw.
“Y/N,” he warns in a strained voice. “What did we say about patience?”
You pout up at him beseechingly. “Please … don’t make me stop,” you whimper.
Groaning under his breath, Oscar rakes a hand through his hair. You can see his restraint hanging by a thread. Lando moves up behind him, gripping his shoulders.
“How can we resist when she tempts us so sweetly?” Lando murmurs.
Their hungry eyes devouring you makes moisture flood your aching core. Emboldened, you spread your legs wider, giving them an unobstructed view. Oscar makes a choked noise, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warns through gritted teeth. But his eyes are riveted on your fingers sliding slickly along your slippery folds.
Your strokes increase in urgency as your climax builds, whimpers escaping your lips. “Please,” you gasp pleadingly. “I need you ...”
With a growled curse, Oscar surges forward, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. His body covers yours and you sigh in bliss, finally getting what you crave. His tongue plunges past your lips, tangling fiercely with yours. You can feel his restraint hanging by a thread in the urgency of his kiss.
Lando joins in moments later, his clever hands trailing fire over your sensitized skin. Caught between the two of them, you’re surrounded by hard muscle and greedy mouths. The sweet relief of their touch after so long has you reeling.
You clutch desperately at Oscar’s back, urging him closer between your thighs. But he resists, keeping maddening inches between your bodies.
Pulling back from the kiss, his eyes bore into yours, dark with desire but firm. “Not yet, babe. You’ve been a naughty girl. Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily.”
You whine in frustration, arching up against him beseechingly. But Oscar grasps your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head.
“Ah ah, patience,” he chides with a smirk.
Lando chuckles, trailing kisses down between your breasts. “Our minx deserves a bit of torment, I’d say.”
You whimper as their hands and mouths worship every inch of you except where you need them most. They lavish attention on your breasts, your neck, your inner thighs — everywhere except for your poor aching and dripping core.
“Please,” you gasp, writhing beneath their exquisite torture.
Lando looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes dancing wickedly. “Tell me, do you regret being a brat yet, darling?”
You shake your head desperately. Oscar tsks, tweaking a stiff nipple to make you arch sharply. “I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson quite yet.”
They continue driving you right up to the brink only to back off again and again, keeping you suspended in agonizing arousal. You’re a writhing, pleading mess beneath their skillful touches.
Just when you think you can’t take another second, Oscar’s fingers finally find your slick heat. You cry out sharply, cradled between them as he strokes you with knowing skill. Lando’s teeth graze the tender spot on your neck and you shudder, right on the precipice.
“That’s it, let go for us,” Lando rasps in your ear. His voice combined with Oscar’s relentless rhythm pushes you over the edge with a breathless wail.
You’re still trembling through aftershocks when Oscar captures your mouth again, kissing you deeply as his hands fumble at his belt. Understanding dawns through the pleasured fog in your mind and you still his movements with a hand on his chest.
“Wait,” you gasp out. At his bewildered look you offer a coy smile. “You two still have your little abstinence pact to uphold. Can’t have you breaking it on my account.”
Oscar stares at you incredulously for a moment before huffing out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
Lando groans behind you. “Y/N, love, don’t be cruel ...”
You silence him with a finger to his lips, giving them both a mock stern look. “What? You made a commitment. I won’t have you compromising your performance for me.”
They gape at you in sexual frustration and dismay. Taking pity, you lean in and place a placating peck on each of their cheeks.
“There now, that will have to hold you over. Only a few more weeks till the season ends!” You pat their shoulders consolingly before sliding off the bed on shaky legs. Sashaying your hips, you head for the bathroom, their heated stares like a brand on your bare skin.
Pausing in the doorway, you glance back alluringly. “Of course, once the season ends, we can all properly celebrate … if you’re good boys for me.” You shoot them a cheeky wink over your shoulder, “Cold showers might help until then.”
You suspect you’ll pay dearly for such exquisite torture later on. But their reactions were well worth it. And the countdown to the end of the season has never seemed sweeter.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris#oscar piastri#lando norris imagine#oscar piastri imagine#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lando norris fic#oscar piastri fic#lando norris x you#oscar piastri x you#mclaren#lando norris one shot#oscar piastri one shot#landoscar
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♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡
Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡
Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.
Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)
A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).
Masterlist || Spotify Playlist
Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence.
“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried.
“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly.
“But I'm not a woman.”
“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again.
“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.”
“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter.
It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.
The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down.
Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again.
“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter.
“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise.
“And your name is?”
“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.”
You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body.
“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?”
Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up.
With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub.
He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason.
“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest.
“Good observation, Spencer.”
“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head.
“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor.
His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again.
Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him.
A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that.
When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours.
You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election.
You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace.
“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.”
Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you.
He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together.
You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet.
So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway.
“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him.
“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin.
He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him.
“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-”
“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?”
His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape.
“I-I'm not a student, and-”
“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.”
His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist.
His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex.
Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you, desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you.
Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper.
He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him.
His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley.
“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?”
“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him.
“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.”
His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin.
You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched.
You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him.
He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust.
You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin.
“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock.
“Did it hurt?”
“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.”
He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving.
He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for.
With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to.
“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him.
“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure.
“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.”
“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier.
He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you.
You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there.
You weren't.
“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?”
You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today.
There was always tomorrow.
He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed.
“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder.
He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there.
Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up.
He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.
“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.”
You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words.
The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs.
It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.
“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?”
He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely.
Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened.
“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.
“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs.
He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head.
Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch.
“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out.
“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug.
“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.”
“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer.
“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.”
You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him.
“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.”
The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal.
Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake.
“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.”
He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts.
“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?”
“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be.
“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?”
Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there.
“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?”
His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct.
You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer.
“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again.
His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning.
“You knew the entire time? Who I was?”
“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”
“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.”
You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest.
“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled.
“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.”
He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again.
“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his.
“Y/N, please let's be sensible.”
“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?”
“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans.
“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.”
His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit.
“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut.
He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly.
“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.”
He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him.
“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?”
“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue.
“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?”
He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them.
“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper.
“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth.
“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.”
But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry.
“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again.
This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock.
You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock.
It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so.
“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time.
Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair.
“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.”
His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for.
#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x y/n
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𝟸𝟻𝟶 𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ꨄ
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Gojo was a big fucking spender, whether you liked it or not. Almost every clothing item he owned ranged well over the price of 150 000 yen, even his shoes; sometimes those were more expensive. Coming home one day from work, there’s a pink gift bag (complete with a lil bow and all) sitting pretty on the ottoman for you. As you opened it, black expensive lace peeked back at you and so did the price, zeros going on for miles on the tiny tag.
warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!gojo, rich!gojo, dirty talk, lingerie (and the tearing of it), grinding (if you squint), fingering, cunnilingus, slight breeding kink, p in v intercourse, creampie, insecurity (about how much gojo spends), corny pick up lines, sayings, & jokes, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, pretty, princess, good girl), lovedrunk, feral, & pussywhipped gojo (man loves you, would hang the moon for you fr), a surprise near the end (i said he loves you goddammit)
a/n: happy february 1st (finally can say it without the queue messing up my schedule) anyway, here's my second valentine for you loves! i hope you enjoy, until next week! 💌 wc: 3.4k. v-day m.list | m.list
a/n pt 2: p.s. i'm such a sucker for writing gojo kinda cringey. alsoo its not my best work but i did what i could!
divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics
Coming home was the biggest mistake you had made in your entire life, because what the fuck was this? Your fingers held up a piece of lace material, black in color and you puzzled at it as you noticed that the lingerie piece barely looked as though it’d cover anything; thanks to your million dollar boyfriend.
“It’s gorgeous, huh?” You heard his promiscuous voice ring out through the living room at just the right time, when your voice cursed him to the high heavens. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the lingerie falling near your feet and you turned quickly to face him, his hip popped against the doorframe.
“Satoru!” Your face was bright red, the blush spreading down your neck and you hid your face underneath your sweatshirt sleeve with a scowl. Gojo was in his usual sorcerer uniform, complete with the black blindfold covering the vivid blue and you still tried to shy away from him even though you knew you couldn’t. Not when his eyes saw all, saw the way yours glistened at the thoughtful gift.
“Hey sweetheart. Like the gift?”
“I told you not to buy me any more lingerie…” You huffed, glancing at the tag as you went to put the set back in the bag. There was an infinite amount of zeroes littering the price tag and you almost dropped the lingerie piece again– in utter shock that the fucking price was over 250,000 yen. “Oh my God…”
“Oh, please. I know you, you don’t wear lingerie sets more than twice. And last time I checked, I tore the last one.” He smirked, walking towards you with a tiny skip in his step and your hands trembled as you smoothed the lace over with your delicate fingers. “Besides, your favorite store was having a Valentine’s Day sale and I just had to have you in that.”
Right, it was Valentine’s Day soon.
“A sale?! This doesn’t look like a price tag for a sale. More like someone’s monthly rent, -toru.” You frowned, feeling Gojo’s strong arms fold underneath your waist and he took the fabric in his hands. Unfurling it from its tangled confines, he draped it over you with a gentle hum of a tune evading your surroundings.
“Hold it like that for me.” Gojo murmured as he stepped around you, standing in front of you while checking behind him as he backed up slightly. He focused on you, his fingers coming up to ‘snap a picture’ and you blushed profusely when you saw the dopey smile that mustered up on his face. Your blush turned into another scowl though as you remembered the price of it, how could he just spend money so fruitlessly?
Gojo lifted his blindfold for a few seconds to glance at your figure; you could see the gears turning in his head and you wouldn’t be very surprised if he sprouted an erection right then and there. But he also noticed your glowering eyes and his lighthearted demeanor faded away, a worried look washing over his face.
“What’re mad for, baby? I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spoil you.”
“You spend so much on me, I’m not worth that much.” You muttered, starting to fold the lingerie set to put it back in the bag; away and out of sight from you.
You usually liked Gojo’s sweet gestures, gifts piled at your doorstep like it was Christmas every month normally but this time it just seemed a bit out of place– you knew him to flaunt his wealth alot but this? He’s never gotten you something so expensive. You couldn’t accept such a generous gift that would be soiled within minutes of wearing it.
“Excuse me? Where’d you learn that crazy talk from?” Gojo said with an exasperated gasp, coming to embrace you and you didn’t answer him as he pulled you close. His hands feathered through your hair and honestly you couldn’t breath through the fabric of his jacket, the turtleneck part of it threatening to strangle you as he squeezed himself around you in a tight hug.
“Don’t ever think that! I would buy the world for you if I could manage to fit it inside a gift box.”
You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, his words souring after they sat for a minute. “That was so cringey, Satoru.”
“You still love me though, perks of being me… I think?” Gojo let go of you, holding you by your shoulders now and you reached up to slip his blindfold fully off. He blinked through the dimness of the apartment, his eyes fixating on you once more.
There was something that just made you feel so in love with him, everytime you managed to zero in on those hypnotic eyes of his– almost every bad thought melted away and yeah, you were definitely overreacting.
Let the man spoil you, if he so wishes.
“Yes, I still love you.” You fonded, planting a luscious kiss against his lips and he had no qualms, his mouth instantly moving against you eagerly. Gojo softly moaned into the kiss, one of his hands snaking down your back towards your ass and you squeaked out as he gave you a tiny swat against the plushness of it.
“Great, now go try on the lingerie.” Thrusting the bag back into your hands, he grinned at you and there was no way in hell you could deny him– not with the way he looked, so ecstatic to see you in the precious lace garments he bought you.
Putting it on wasn’t much of a struggle, it fit you nicely in all the right places. The full length mirror did you just enough justice, staring back at a body that had devious curves and everything in between the skimpy lace that barely covered your intimates. You weren't all that self conscious, though you weren’t sure what you’d do once you were in front of Gojo. Where would he look first?
Would his eyes lay against your breasts that bobbed in the lace, perched up prettily or would they drag to your soft thighs, cuffed in the garter belt holding up the thigh highs that accented the set? Would they focus on your mound and in the middle, your drenched pussy staining the thin fabric or would he drool over everything all at once?
“Baby… Are you done yet? I’m getting lonely.” You heard him mewl outside the door, a soft tap from his knuckle echoing through the bathroom and you nodded to yourself, adjusting little bits and pieces of the thread to make sure it sat perfectly for him.
You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Why were you so goddamn nervous?
“You have it on? C’mon, let me see already.”
As you opened the door, Gojo wasn’t in front of it anymore. Instead, he was seated on the lavish sofa that met in the center of the room, his head lying lazily against the back of it with his arms extended. His thighs were spread apart on the cushions, his legs folding outwards and you could already see a lush bulge in his trousers, peaked with interest as he waited impatiently for you. You wanted to skip the shame of twirling for him and just sit yourself right against it, sit yourself down on it and just–
Gojo’s head snapped up– he must’ve sensed you– and his bright eyes zeroed in on your face first. Then they trailed down towards your body, drinking in the adorned curves of the lingerie on you and his mouth fell open in a quiet sigh. “Y/N…”
You walked towards him, a small sway to your step and his hands pressed down against the sofa as you neared him. They nearly white knuckled it, his mouth still open and his eyes flickering over every crevice of the threads decorating you– his knees had quickly pressed together and you’ve never seen him so flustered in your entire life. Sure, you’ve modeled for him here and there with other gorgeous sets; but this was different.
Was this your Satoru? The ego induced maniac who could and would knock you off your feet with a single flirtatious remark? It was refreshing to see him like this– reduced to nothing but boyish clouded lust.
“You going to say something other than my name, baby?” You asked, pureness reining your voice and you purred inwardly when he was still speechless. You eyed at the seam of his trousers, noticing the way it tented up considerably just from a few seconds of gazing you over. “Satoru?”
“Hi, yes sorry. Come here.” Gojo’s hand faltered slightly as he reached for you and you happily obliged, straddling his lap. A low hum escaped him as you sat flush with his clothed cock against your heat, his legs spreading apart again to let you sink down onto him comfortably. “Holy hell, is this heaven ‘cause you look like–”
“So help me if you finish that sentence, I’ll take this off.” You interrupted, getting ready to move off of him but his hands grasped your hips greedily.
“That’s what I’m hoping for, angel.” A naughty grin crept up on his face as he pulled you into a warm kiss. Yeah, it’s definitely your Satoru.
His tongue slid past your lips easily and his eyes slipped shut, drawing you closer to him– faintly aware of the slickness that roughed up his trousers. You bit his lip seductively and a startled moan spilled into your mouth heavily, his hips subtly rocking up into you. It was needy and desperate and everything you ever wanted to hear and feel from him, because of course he was already riled up– just look at you.
His fingers looped inside the lace of your panties, rubbing his fingertips against the seams of it and you hummed as they curved towards the where you needed it most. His other hand fondled your breast, the flesh of it spilling out over the cups and all he wanted to do was press a tender kiss to your nipple, sucking it in between his teeth to nip and tug til it reddened with overstimulation.
“Are you going to touch me or…” You shook him from his daze, earning a sarcastic snort from him.
You moaned quietly as his hand immediately slipped underneath the fabric, toying with your nipple until it hardened and a gentle finger swiped through the slick that collected inside your panties. He tsked, “Already ruining the lace, so filthy…”
You let out a tiny huff, intending to apologize when two of his fingers sunk through your arousal and you leaned into him with a whimper. Gojo didn't hesitate to mark up your neck as soon as you moved forward, his teeth grazing alongside the nasty bruises and your hips jutted out as he expertly curled his digits into you. You whined into his ear– a glorious symphony if he must say so himself– and his thumb pressed into the swell of your clit. Sucking a languid hickey against the near front of your neck, he noticed you had started to move against him– fucking your perfect cunt down onto his pliant fingers.
Every roll of your hips, his cock got some action as well; as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock that threatened to burst out of his trousers now. Holy fuck, he was straining too– he knew you could feel it as you sat right against it. He was losing his train of thought more and more by the second as you panted out, he needed more– so much more, his dick was nearly crying as it leaked out tiny droplets of precum in his boxers. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure at the moment, you would’ve noticed the small wet spot forming in the fabric– his jujutsu uniform’s probably going to need to be dry cleaned.
He would finish his pick up line if he could speak, his voice not quite there anymore– you looked like a heaven sent angel veiled in the lingerie of a hell spawned devil.
From his angle, Gojo could see the swell of your ass lightly jiggling, the lace barely covering it and the flesh of your thighs sat beautifully against his own and honestly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, his vision blackening with lust as you worked yourself fully open on his fingers now. His cock ached so fucking badly and he vaguely noted to get you crotchless lingerie next time so he could just slide right in without needing to fumble with the weird straps.
When your breath hitched in your throat as your clit spasming directly against the frenulum of his cock, his tip desperately trying to dip into the lace through his thick fucking clothing– he lost it.
“Fuck it…” You heard him growl against your laced breast as he popped it out of its cup, the entire bralette tearing on impact. You gasped at the ripping sound, but you were too delirious to scold him as his fingers started fucking faster into you to keep you quiet about the torn lingerie. Gojo snagged your nipple in his mouth with a frantic moan, his fingers coated with slick as he pulled them out quickly to tear off your panties. They shedded easily and you were left with remnants of lace pristine against your body, another gasp coming from you as you realized what he did.
“-toru, what are you–?!”
Before you could finish your sentence, your entire figure was thrown against the cushions of the sofa and his shirt and trousers were stripped from his body. His eyes were trained on your ripped lingerie and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head until he yanked the rest of it off, excluding your thigh highs. And now you were exposed in front of him and he was out 250,000 yen; because he just couldn’t keep his composure.
“I’ll buy you another set, I swear– though I can’t guarantee it’ll survive…” Gojo said under his breath, planting kisses down the span of your chest. He trailed them towards your tummy, innate circles rubbing into your hips and he shuddered at how the garter belt sat snug against your waist– and how easy it was to tear off, his teeth latching on it with fervor. You gasped as you felt the band snap, your thigh highs falling down slightly where they sat as they were no longer held up by the precious lace.
He grabbed the extra lace from his mouth and threw it somewhere across the room, his tongue immediately delving into your tight heat. A broken whine was coaxed from your throat as he fucked it in and out needily, quiet pants breathing over your cunt. Gojo’s hands grabbed at your thighs, pressing his nose straight into your clit as he lapped at everything he could reach and you couldn’t help the wanton moans that leaked from your mouth, your hands grasping at his snowy hair.
He was downright animalistic at this point. You carved his shoulder blades with your nails, desperate for him to drive you over the edge; your impending orgasm making your legs tremble. “Satoru, shit– c-close…”
“C’mon, cum for me, pretty.” He murmured into your cunt, slightly muffled and you keened up into his mouth– ultimately fucking yourself on his tongue. And God, did he groan at that; his hums of utter satisfaction basically sent you spasming through your climax. Your hands flew to the edge of the sofa, clutching tightly as you rolled your hips into the insane pleasure– into his mouth that lapped up every drool of arousal that leaked out from your convulsions. He was vain with it too, looping out his fucking name against your folds to claim you as you whimpered his name.
“T-Take me with you to shop next time.” You managed out as you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him while you came down from your high. “I’ll decide what you can and can’t rip.”
Gojo tutted out a laugh, coming up to hover over you– his chin glinted with your juices and you reddened at the sight of how goddamn needy you were. “Fine, baby– now arch your back f’ me.”
His cock prodded your entrance, slender fingers wrapped around the base of it as he guided it into you greedily and you threw your head back against the arm of the sofa with a whine. You did exactly as he said; you arched your back into the intoxicating pleasure, his cock stretching you out and filling every bit of space you could give him. He fit perfectly within you everytime, which made you dizzy with lust as you hooked one hand around the back of his neck.
“Always take me so well, princess.” Gojo purred, not bothering to let you adjust as he started to snap his hips into you. “Fits like a glove, huh?”
You were so sore already– from the last orgasm wreaking havoc– but you couldn’t get enough of his long cock drilling into you, every thrust kissing your cervix and making your walls clench around him with whimpers drowning out the riveting squelches. You managed to look up at him, his fingertips nudging into the plush of your thighs, against the sleek material of your thigh highs and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.
His eyes were already rolling back into his head at every fill of his cock dragging against your walls, his jaw slack and you were surprised at how pussy whipped he was– normally he’d watch you religiously writhe underneath him. His hair was disheveled as he ran his hand through it before frantically gripping your thigh again, panting out curses and you inadvertently squeezed hard around him at the action with a high pitched moan.
“Oh– fuck, holy shit..! Keep squeezing me like that, we’re g-gonna have to go shopping–” Gojo groaned out, his cock pounding into you harder now, pleasure coursing through your entire body as he hit your sweet spot dead on.
“F-For more lingerie?”
“No, for a fucking crib.”
“Fuck, Satoru– faster.” You whined out, completely obsessed with the thought and you felt your second climax tremble through your thighs, straight towards the throbbing of your cunt. ‘Cum in me, -toru…please.”
Gojo didn’t answer you, too wrapped up in your pretty pussy with hefty moans pouring out of him and his fingers slipped down towards your clit. He rubbed circles against it, interchanging his angle to fuck you deeper, faster– and you could feel how close you were.
“Got another surprise for you on Valentine’s Day, baby…” He started babbling, his chest rising and falling as he rutted into you. His eyes slipped from his cock, creamy and wet from your arousal, to your eyes now. “Involves a little jewelry piece, think you’ll love it… Think you’ll love me even more.”
You didn’t hear him though, too caught up in your release caving in every sense you had and replacing them with pure euphoria. You couldn’t fucking see, hear, even think as it overtook your body. You came so hard around his cock, clenching and unclenching which brought Gojo to his own release rather quickly. He stilled in you with a harsh whine and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, white ropes leaking out rather abruptly.
He repeated soft praises like ‘good girl, take it all…’ and ‘gonna make sure none drools outta you, so good for me’ a few times in a needy tone, collapsing against your chest afterwards. Gojo buried his face into your neck, smoothing his hands over the thigh highs you had on.
“I’m so sorry about the lingerie, Y/N…” He apologized, his eyes glancing up towards yours as he moved over to litter kisses on your cheek. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I promise. You’ll pick out your Valentine’s Day lingerie set and I’ll watch you model it for me–”
You interrupt him with a soft kiss, humming against his lips. “It wasn’t my money, it was yours, you idiot.”
Gojo blinked at you, then a mischievous look crossed his face. “How about a nice pink set this time? Frilly, rose hearts covering your perky nipples and–”
“Satoru.”
a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!
#𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝑒'𝓈 𝓋𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 ꨄ#𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 •┈••✦#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk gojo#jjk x fem!reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x female reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo x reader#gojo x f!reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo smut#gojo jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x female reader#gojo satoru smut#fem reader#𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 ✰
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“you still mad at me?” while balls deep with rafe 😵💫😵💫.
GODDDD U ATE W THIS PROMPT 😩 like my jaw dropped
rafe was always doing this.
he’d make empty promises, plans even — talk to you all sweet with a warm hand on your back whispering suggestion of “that was the last time i’m getting involved with all that crazy shit, baby. i swear. s’just me you n’me now, you hear me?” and you being the fool, believed him.
until of course you’re catching him pulling back up to the drive on his motorcycle, yanking his helmet off with that ill-tempered expression of his that just tells you enough that somethings gone on, you know, the one where his teeth are grit, lips pressed together like they’d been sewn shut. that’s not even where it ends, because often times barry is close behind, pulling up alone side so they can debrief loudly in the living room, stinking up the place with pot. even if you were mad, you know the rules. no coming down the stairs when barry’s over.
you almost had started to enjoy the feeling of sulking when rafe would eventually skulk up the stairs after barry had left, shoulders heavy and ready to grovel. naturally, you put up quite the fight — and what might surprise you is that rafe let’s you mouth off, even if he knows you don’t understand the importance of his situation and likely never will.
“again and again rafe! how many times am i gonna have to put up with you just running off to god knows where when you promise me you’re not doing all that anymore! you were supposed to be with me today!” you nearly stomp your foot, that last sentence coming out childishly like an abandoned middle child. he nods, jaw ticking as he stares at the ground scratching his forehead, waiting for his lashing to end. once the tears start to roll, that’s his queue. like clockwork.
“come on, hey. y’know i love you, sweetheart. i’m sorry, okay?” he rushes to your side, sliding right up next to you on the bed and thumbing at the first batch of tears on your cheek, his hand so large it cups your skull at the same time. you want to preen into his touch, so elated with any affection after a day of missing him, worrying about him — but you don’t, because you’re still mad. be strong, you tell yourself.
you’re weak. you hate yourself.
not even 10 minutes of your sobbing and complaining later and he’s got your legs over his broad shoulders, balls slapping lewdly against you whilst he all but pumps you. his hands that are on your waist, using you as leverage reposition themselves so that he’s holding himself up over you more. a large hand wraps gently around your ankle as he does so, making sure your leg doesn’t slide off the strong slopes of his shoulder.
squeals and more tears are being punched out of you with each thrust, but he can see you physically relaxing, he can see you reaching out to him with a wobbling bottom lip so that you can hold onto his arms like you always do when he fucks you. it’s neutralising you.
“fuck, that’s m’girl.” he pants, mouth gaping at the way your pussy flutters around him. you’re so reactive to his voice he can’t believe it, never having met anyone who is so enamoured with everything he does. shit, maybe he should treat you better after all. he keeps talking, because he thinks you deserve to cum a whole bunch tonight, after putting up with all his shit. having a girlfriends made him gone all soft.
“you still mad at me?” he tilts his head, and you’re not sure if it’s intended to be mean or mocking, because it certainly doesn’t come out that way — his voice kind and eyes kinder, rolling the well kept muscles in his core to grind his cock against that spongey spot deep within. you don’t answer his question, clinging onto that last crumb of dignity and restraint. you pout through your whimpers, turning your head a little. he takes that opportunity to burrow down into your neck, his open mouth panting against your tepid skin as he speaks lowly again. “dont be mad at me baby. i’m only tryna look after my girl, you want that right?”
“mhm…” you reply before you permit yourself.
he slides his arms under you now, letting your legs down from his shoulders to hook around his waist instead. he’s holding your body close to his as he grinds, his pelvis smushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re so god damn close it hurts and you’ll do anything to cum.
“so good to me, baby.” he sighs and you cry out, arching your body harder to his. “i know. let it out. i’m so bad to you sweetheart s’the least i can do.” he mutters self pityingly before letting out a groan, cock pulsing inside you. you remember thinking about how right he was about that when you fell over the edge into a white hot orgasm.
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Hi! Can I request a smut imagine with prompt 48 and trope 8 with Theodore Nott.
She’s a slytherin too and a badass bitch who everybody wants to be or date
Thank youuu!
✧ theodore nott x fem!reader x jealousy x "you. are. mine."✧
(this request is a part of my writing event, here is the link to the masterlist of the fics i'll be publishing from said event:) )
this took longer than i expected, thank you for your request anon! x
told u guys i’d post smth… surprise!!!!
warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, p in v sex, some swear words, some slight cedric x reader, theo being bitchy ig, fingering, general sex stuff, orgasm denial, ummmmmm yeah i think that’s it
i’ll reread it later to fix mistakes cuz rn it’s 2 am where i live and i’m going to bed bye
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Your relationship with Theo was complicated. At least in your mind that was the most suitable word for this dynamic, you could never find anything else that would quite describe it. You were friends, that’s for sure, this was the only thing you were certain of. Some days you had found yourself tangled in his bedsheets, his soft fingers caressing your back as you lingered in his scent. But, there were also days when you didn’t speak to him at all, strolling through the halls and seeing him tug a piece of hair behind the ear of some Ravenclaw girl while simultaneously giving her his infamous smile. Even though you also flirted and went on dates with others, something inside your guts sunk down each time you saw him with a girl who was not you. And you could barely handle it. Every time you promised yourself you’ll never sleep with him again or give him your attention, you’d always end up doing the opposite. There was something about him that lured you in, it was toxic, but so divine. So, whenever his lips connected to yours in a hungry kiss, you’d forget about all of the other women he probably does this with. It was just you and him and your only thought during these moments was to stay with him like that forever.
‚-it’s not like it’s that important.’
‚Huh?’ You lifted your head and met Pansy’s annoyed face. ‚Sorry, what were you saying?’
¨What is going on with you lately?´She shook her head and sighed. ´I asked if you have a date for the ball.’ She then added.
‘Oh, well, not really.’ You shrugged.
‘Seriously? Is this about Theo again? I’ve told you multiple times that there is a fucking queue of guys just waiting for you and all you do is always go back to him.’ She huffed. ‘What about Mason? Louise? Henry? They were all head over heels for you, I don’t believe they didn’t ask you at least once.’
‘They did. I just said no.’ You mumbled and avoided her angry gaze.
SShe groaned and took a sip of her butterbeer. ‘I was not going to tell you this, but I see there is no other option.’ Pansy took a deep breath. ‘I heard the boys talking about the ball and Nott wants to take Arisa.’
You swallowed a big gulp in your throat and looked down into your drink. You expected that something like this would happen, you just didn’t think you wouldn’t be prepared to hear it.
‘’M sorry.’ She looked at your numb expression with caring eyes.
‘It’s okay Pans.’ You gave her a soft smile. ‘Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s time to move on.’
Even though you tried to not think about him for the next few days, it was unusually hard. He was on your mind non stop, like a song playing on repeat. On top of that, everyone was talking about the upcoming event. While walking through the halls you overheard people gossiping about the pairs, discussing what they are gonna wear and you were also a witness to roughly 7 performances of the boys creatively asking their crushes to go with them.
You walked into the courtyard and took a seat on the nearest free bench. You pulled out your sketchbook in hopes to finally draw something. Truth is, you didn’t remember the last time you practiced your beloved activity, not that you didn’t have time, you just didn’t have any ideas. This time wasn’t different, you looked around and then your gaze rested on the empty page before you. You made a soft line with your pencil and stopped, it was like your hand didn’t want to listen to your mind. You groaned and closed the sketchbook to put it in your bag again. While doing this, you felt a presence in front of you. Looking up, you saw Cedric Diggory, a charming smile plastered on his face.
‘Hi, do you have a moment?’ He asked and you stood up to face him.
‘Of course.’ You smiled.
‘I have a question.’
‘If you want my help with something, then no. I can barely finish my own essays and-‘
‘No, that’s..’ He chuckled. ‘I was wondering if you’d want to go to the ball with me?’
‘Oh..’ You bit your lip softly from the inside. ‘I.. I’ll think about it. Is that okay with you?’
‘Surely, just don’t take too long, darling.’ He sent you a wink and walked out of the courtyard.
Later that night you were studying in your dorm, soft music was playing in your headphones as you scribbled some sigils for one of the classes. Your back was turned to the door, so you didn’t hear that someone came in. It was the feeling of being observed that made you move your head to inspect the room and there he was. Theodore Nott stood next to your door, his arms were crossed and you couldn’t quite read his expression. You grabbed your headphones and took them off.
‘Knocking exists.’ You told him.
‘Not for me.’ He replied sternly.
‘What are you doing here, Theodore?’ You fixed your position on the bed so that you were fully facing him. ‘Don’t you have any other hoes to tend to?’
‘Are you going to the ball with Diggory?’ He avoided your question.
‘Why do you care?’ You stood up.
‘Answer me.’ He took a step closer to you.
‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.’
‘For fucks sake, stop being a brat and answer the question.’ He said through gritted teeth.
‘It’s none of your business.’ You replied while stepping closer to him and poking your finger into his chest.
His scent filled up your nose and you felt this forbidden feeling again. Your body was lustful, for him, but you couldn’t let him win again.
He chuckled, ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong.’
You scoffed, ‘Fine. Yes.’ You spat at him. ‘I’m going with Cedric. Is that what you wanted to hear?’
His eyes darkened at the confession, which wasn’t even true. You just wanted to get on his nerves and see what he would do. You didn’t even have time to react before he pinned you to the wall and hovered over you. Your breath hitched and you tried your best to avoid his eyes, because if you looked into them, you’d lose.
‘No, you’re not.’ He stated. ‘You are not going with anyone.’
‘Why? Why the fuck do you care so much?!’ Your eyes were glued to the ceiling.
He gripped your face with one of his hands and forced you to look at him. You closed your eyes.
‘You.’ He whispered and brought his lips closer to yours before breathily adding the rest. ‘Are. Mine.’
The sound of his voice was angelic and it sent a certain feeling down to your core. You tried your best to resist but your eyes fluttered open and met his. You lost.
He grabbed your face and connected your lips in a hungry kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and cursed yourself in your mind. Why was he so addictive? Why couldn’t you quit? He just felt too good to be true. Kissing you in all the right places, his fingers touching where you needed him most, every time you felt him inside of you, it felt like heaven.
He took a few steps back and tried to not break the kiss. He pushed you onto the mattress and with one of his hands he pushed all the books off the bed. He left wet kisses along your jawline and you moaned at the feeling. He discarded both of your shirts and attached his lips to your chest, leaving a couple love bites along the way.
‘I want you to say it.’ He mumbled into your ear.
‘Hm?’ You were brought out of your trance.
‘I want you to admit you’re mine.’
‘But am I?’ He stopped kissing your neck and gripped your throat.
‘Are you?’ He raised his brow and smirked challengingly, knowing you’d fold under him.
You stared deep into his eyes and swallowed harshly because of his grip, before replying, ‘I’m yours.’
‘Good girl.’ He let go of your neck and connected your lips once again.
Soon enough both of you were a sweaty mess, clothes laying somewhere on the wooden floor, soft sounds escaping your lips as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. His breath on your neck and occasional kisses made you feel dizzy, his fingers making you squirm from the pleasure, but it wasn’t enough.
‘I need to feel you.’ You breathed out and Theo didn’t waste a second.
He positioned himself on top of you and slowly entered your aching pussy. You threw your head back and he used that to immediately attach his lips to your neck once again.
‘’S okay, darling. You’re doing so good f’me.’ He whispered to help you relax.
His voice made you let go of the tension in your lower body, finally allowing him to move at a pace so perfect for both of you. He lifted you up and spinned both of you, so that you were on top of him. His thrusts became quicker and stronger, one of his hands was caressing your breasts, while the other rubbed your clit so deliciously. You cried out his name a few times when you were close, but he always stopped just then. He just smirked every time and continued his actions, it turned him on, watching you whine on top of him. He felt he was getting closer to his release, so he sped up again, and this time his hand stayed on your sweet spot. You reached your high with a loud moan and threw your head back, your hand grabbing Theo’s arm. He released inside of you with a loud groan and you used that to push away his hand which was still rubbing circles on your bud, too sensitive for more. You collapsed on top of him and gave him a peck on his collarbone. Theo reached for the blanket and covered the two of you.
‘I lied.’ You mumbled.
‘What?’
‘I’m not going with Cedric.’ You replied softly. ‘I told him I’d think about it and..’
‘Good.’ He interrupted. ‘You’re going with me then.’
‘Am I?’ You looked up at him playfully. ‘I thought you were taking Arisa.’
‘Who?’ He replied and you giggled. ‘She asked me to go. But I refused.’
‘Why? She’s a nice girl.’
‘Maybe. But she isn’t you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. ‘And I belong solely to you.’
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
@ girasollake 2024
#imagine#x reader#🤍 - girasollake writing event ☾ ⋆*#theo nott x you#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x fem!reader#theo nott smut#theo nott imagine#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x fem!reader
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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
part one | part two | part three
summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue lunch break visits, rocky road ice cream, a too-big bouquet, and the rainbow connection.
warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, tw talk of dying (and past lives)
𓆩❤︎𓆪
You're dozing against the back wall in the kitchen when Benny clears his throat. The grease back here while he's cooking tends to get pretty thick and you're tired to begin with. It's a recipe for nodding off.
Flinching into a proper standing position, you give your boss an apologetic smile. "What?" you ask, blinking hard.
"Your boy's here."
"My boy?"
"Curly hair, tattoos. Looks like he hasn't showered this week. Or any week, actually." Benny laughs, a chesty, self-satisfied chuckle.
You rush to his side, careful of the spitting hot grill, and follow his gaze out of the kitchen window. Eddie's about two seconds away from opening the glass door, clad in his smart work uniform.
"He's not my boy," you say.
Benny scrapes his spatula across the grill's bubbling surface and flips a burger. "If he's the reason you're tired today, you can consider him banned. He's ruining my best waitress."
"I'm your only waitress." The door opens. Eddie stops in the doorway and casts his gaze around the room. You hide behind the wall and fuss with your hair. "And no, he's not keeping me up. It's Junie." Isn't it always Junie? She's your baby and you adore her, but that doesn't mean she's getting any easier to handle. The terrible twos are persevering with a ferocity you can't quite withstand, or at the very least sleep through.
"He eating?" Benny asks.
"I'll go find out."
You wipe the oil from your nose and grimace as you walk out into the actual seating area of the diner. It's empty but for one person and Eddie, who grins when he sees you.
"Hey, sweet thing."
You try not to show how much you like being called 'sweet thing'. Your face must betray you somehow because Eddie's grin turns smug and he approaches until he's basically stepping on your toes.
"How's it hanging?"
You snort. "Benny asked if you're eating."
"What's today's special?"
"Cheeseburger."
He fixes your shirt collar. You can feel the warmth of his fingers and the cooler metal of a ring grace your throat. "Yeah, I'm eating."
You report back to Benny with his order and find the cook's already added two burgers to the grill. He points his spatula at the now grilled and constructed burger for Darren. If you hadn't taken it you'd still know who's it was; Benny's regulars are loyal to a fault. The same old guys come in here day in and day out, and they all want the same thing.
Quarter pounders.
You take it, twist around a childish Eddie trying to trip you up and deliver it to Darren, a frowny-faced farm-hand that Benny swears is a nice guy deep down. You've yet to dig far enough.
Eddie tries to trip you up again when you come back. You glare at him, stepping on his toes gently – more a threat than a real show of aggression – and disappear again through the kitchen door.
"So." Benny throws down a basket of fries before moving to the chopping board with a fresh tomato in hand. "He's your boyfriend?"
"Do we have to do this?" you ask, joining him at the chopping board. You try to snag a slice of tomato and are quickly tutted away.
"Is he?"
"No," you say, trying again for some tomato.
"Kid, if you don't wait."
You pout and set back on your heels.
The burgers sizzle. Benny throws a slice of cheese over Eddie's and lets it melt. Quicker than you can believe, Benny constructs two burgers and fills a red plastic basket with fries.
He offers them to you. "Lunch break."
Free food. You smile at him sheepishly and try to take them. He pulls his arms back.
"Wha-"
"If he's your boyfriend, you better tell me now."
"Benny, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an adult. Already got knocked up once."
"And where is he now?"
Chastised, you mumble, "He's not my boyfriend," and Benny finally hands over the food. He looks like he might try to ruffle your hair if you stick around, so you knock open the kitchen door with your hip and make a speedy exit.
"What's with the face?" Eddie asks as you sit, reaching for the hot plate balancing across your forearm.
"I think Benny just tried to give me a dad talk."
He laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Really? What did he say?"
You shake your head. That's not a bag of worms you're interested in delving into right now. Your brains too fried, and the food smells great. Your stomach aches with hunger.
"You want a coke?" you ask.
Eddie stands up. "I'll get them. Sit down, okay?"
You sit down and shove a greedy handful of fries into your mouth, turning in your seat to watch Eddie talk.
He leans over the metal ledge of the kitchen window. It's quiet enough to hear him laugh, hear him say, "No, sir," in a tone that borders sarcastic.
He wields a five dollar bill at Benny, who shoots him down.
"Put it in the Junie jar," Benny says.
"Junie jar?" Eddie questions, though he's smiling.
Your eyebrows furrow at the expression. You've never heard it either.
"I don't bother pretending she spends it on anything else."
"You got that right."
You flush with heat all the way to to the tips of your ears and turn back to the table before Eddie can catch you watching.
He throws himself into his seat like he's collapsed. The twin cokes in his hands upheave and then splash back into themselves, an impressive and ridiculous show of skill that makes you gasp.
"For you." He shoves a glass down next to you. The ice cubes clink.
"Thank you," you say, and don't waste any time digging into your food.
He squints at your eager eating, though he waits until you've taken the worlds biggest bite of your burger before he asks, "Hungry?"
You swallow before you mean to and have to take a big sip of your drink to avoid choking to death. "I didn't eat breakfast."
"How come?"
You can't take his concern. Your eyes drop this hand where it picks through fries, no rings in sight. He’d told you once he can’t wear them at work, because he gets really warm and the rings are costume jewellery. His hands look bare without them, but they’re very nice hands. You follow the stark line of a bone down from his knuckles and focus in on his simple wrist watch as you explain.
"It took me an hour to get her to finish a slice of toast this morning. I usually wouldn’t make her finish, but she's not eating well."
You don't have to say who. Eddie tips his head back to eat a handful of fries like a courtesan eating grapes, all grandness.
"Teething?"
"She has all her teeth already," you say. A laugh bubbles up, delighted at his suggestion.
"What do you think it is?"
You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin and shrug. Eddie sees straight through your forced nonchalance.
"No, seriously. What do you think?"
"I don't know. Maybe she's gonna come down with the flu. She didn't sleep all night either, and…" You rub your tired eyes with the backs of your hands. "I don't know. I hope she's feeling better at pick up, but I doubt it."
"How are you feeling?" He says 'you' softly, almost crooning.
"Tired, Eds."
"I can see that."
The door opens and a breeze whips your ankles. You hide them further under the table and cringe when you kick Eddie straight in the foot. He only raises his eyebrow at you and kicks you back. "What's your problem?" he mumbles under his breath, smiling.
When the burgers are gone and there's only a couple of cold fries left, you and Eddie fall into conversation about tonight. He's finally playing a gig after months without one, and you're riddled with guilt.
"I wish I could come," you tell him, feeling gutted that you won't see him in action.
You wonder what he looks like on stage. Sometimes it's hard to coalesce the Eddie you know and the other Eddie, rocker Eddie. He's so sweet. The image of him on stage and sweating, rocking out, you can't summon it.
You clear your throat. "I'm sorry we can't."
Eddie shakes his head quickly, fingers playing with the chain around his left wrist. "Don't worry about it. Junebugs's gotta sleep. You gotta sleep."
You pick at your nails, shame-faced. If you were a good friend you'd go and see him perform, but you're a good mom so you can't. Maybe you could get a sitter… only you don't trust anybody to look after her. Not the way you would. And people can be evil.
Maybe I could take her to the Hideout, you think tentatively.
You couldn't. It's too loud, it's too rowdy. You're not sure they'd even let you in with a baby.
"Sorry," you say again, dropping your cheek into your palm.
Eddie doesn't smile. He turns his wrist, the back of his hand to the table and his palm open between you.
"Don't be sorry," he says. He watches your face and slowly, slowly, mischief creeps into his expression. "How about I give you a private show?"
Your breath catches in your throat.
"You and June've never heard me play. I could bring an amp. June can play drums. You'll sing."
His allocation shocks you out of your thoughts. "Why can't you sing?"
"What will you do, then? If I sing?"
You flounder.
He lifts his coke to his lips and smirks at your silence. "Exactly."
"Eddie, I can't sing."
He waves his hand at you rather than answer.
"I won't sing."
"Oh, you won't?" he asks, tone enough to make you cross your legs under the table. He rolls his eyes.
"No. Let Junie do it. She's always singing."
"And you'll-? What?"
You shrug. He imitates you, over-exaggerated enough to make you gasp a laugh.
“Is that supposed to be me?"
He ignores your question in favour of his own. "You'll do nothing. Typical."
"You're getting too big for your boots, Munson," you warn, sliding his plate on top of yours.
He stacks your empty glasses. The two of you stand and linger. He should go back to work. You should too.
"I'll come over tomorrow?" he asks finally.
"Okay." You look over him in his clean clothes and neater than usual hair and can't help smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say quietly, opening your arms just slightly.
Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms quickly around your shoulders, careful of the plates in your hand. He rubs them once, a good, grounding pressure across the breadth of your back. Your nose presses against his neck. He smells like aftershave and cigarette smoke and skin.
Before you know it he's pulling away, the end to an amicable embrace between friends. Almost disappointing, not quite what you want anymore, but a relief and a comfort all the same.
He chucks your chin. "Tell Junie I miss her."
"I will."
"Okay." He turns to walk away. "Bye, sweetheart," he shoots over his shoulder.
"Bye!" you call.
The door shudders in his wake. You stand there watching until Benny clears his throat pointedly and asks you to come and make some more coffee.
You rush through the rest of the day. You finish earlier than you should because Benny's in a gracious mood, thrusting your tip jar into your arms with a command to get some sleep. You promise you'll try your best and head out for the daycare.
Junie's asleep in a bean bag by the baby gate when you get there. You stop dead in your tracks. She has her shoes and coat on already, her backpack in her lap. You look up at the childcare worker in charge today, a nice lady called Deborah, quizzically.
"She's been like that for an hour. I'm sorry we couldn't keep her awake."
You pout at Junie. "Why she got her coat on?"
"She insisted. Screamed bloody murder. Think she was excited to see you," she says, smiling softly.
You smile in return. "Thank you, Deborah. Have a nice weekend.”
Deborah nods and disappears back into the play room. You open the baby gate with likely less dexterity than you should have as a mom and drop to your knees in front of the beanbag, careful not to make too much noise. You're wondering if you can carry her to the car without waking her up when her foot moves, then her arms. They fall to her side as her eyes open.
"Hey, baby," you say, feeling weirdly emotional. She looks so lovely and pretty, and if she's sick that's gonna pluck your heart strings (and cause a boat load of problems).
"Mommy," she mumbles, eyes bleary.
"That's me." You reach out to squeeze her little thigh. "My poor girl, what's the matter? Does your tummy hurt?" you ask carefully.
She blinks.
"Why're you sitting here all by yourself? You didn't want to play with Adrien? Or Lucy?"
When she doesn't reply you take her backpack and thread your hand through the strap, offering your open arms to her. She can barely sit up, her movements slow and sluggish.
"Here," you murmur, sliding your hands under her armpits and pulling her into your chest.
She finally smiles, hands bunched up at the collar of your shirt. You leave some room to look at her and she looks at you. You're surprised she's not whining or crying.
"Hey," you say again, amazed at her droopy smile. "You look like you've had a good day."
Her head drops forward. You think she's nodding, though that might be wishful thinking. You don't even know if toddlers can nod.
Of course they can nod, you think to yourself scathingly. I mean… can they?
And Junie isn't like most toddlers. She hasn't really done anything by the book. She meets milestones when she wants to, sometimes early, sometimes really, really late.
You pat her back, her nylon coat crinkly under your hand. "Ready to go home?"
You stand up with her clutched to your chest. Usually you'd have her say goodbye to Deborah or the other daycare workers but Junie doesn't look like she knows her own name right now. You frown at her and encourage her forehead against your chin, trying to gauge if she's a little warmer than usual.
"I missed you," you tell her honestly. You miss her every single day. "I want to know everything you did today. Do you remember what you did?"
Junie pushes against your chest with her hand as you walk out of the daycare centre and into the parking lot.
"Did you do… colouring? Or… building blocks? Did you sing?" you ask, grinning.
You cross the road, and when you look back she's staring at you, straight into your eyes.
"Hi," you say with a laugh.
Her hands rise to your face, fingers thankfully clean and warm against your wind-bitten cheeks. You slow, gazing down at her expectantly. She raises her chin as high as she can and smiles big.
"You want a kiss. I can tell," you croon smugly.
She kisses you. It's a little drooly as baby kisses always are, but it's the best thing that's happened to you all day. It's always so surprising when she initiates affection. That she loves you just as much as you love her.
You steal another kiss.
"Guess what?" you ask, reaching a hand to stroke a little baby hair back.
She says a word that isn't real. It sounds like 'mod'.
"It's payday today, which means…" You beam at her. "Ice cream!"
That grabs her attention.
-
Eddie can't believe it. "You had what without me?" he asks over the phone.
Junie herds your knees, arms around your legs and face turned to the TV. You stand slumped against the wall where your phone is plugged, curling the landline's coiled cord around your finger so Junie can't grab it.
"Ice cream," you supply helpfully.
His voice isn't easy to understand. The Hideout is a very loud place. Eddie's practically shouting down the line. "I can't believe it."
"It couldn't be helped. She needed to be tempted."
"Tempted! Has she eaten anything else?"
You look down at the girl in question and reach down to rub her back. "Oh yeah. She ate like, an entire bag of lays, one of the big ones. She still smells like honey barbecue."
"Nothing else?"
You sigh, that creeping, ringing thought edging in. You're a bad mom.
"I made her cereal, and celery sticks and sandwiches and little cut up peaches and- and she won't touch any of it," you say, like you're promising. Your tone begs to be believed.
There's a loud racket. Eddie shouts, "What did you say? I can't hear you!"
You repeat yourself. You miss the start of what he's saying, but you catch, "-not your fault! She's probably just having a moment. You remember when she kept throwing her bottle? She doesn't do that anymore."
You nod. "Yeah, maybe it's like that. She's figuring she has choices." Not the best timing for your kid to decide she's gonna get picky.
"Exactly! Or maybe she is sick. Does she look sick?"
You look back down at Junie and feel across her smooth forehead for the twentieth time today. "She doesn't feel warm."
"Good. I'm sure she-" You miss the rest.
"I can't hear you," you say with a small laugh. "I can hear the drum kit though. Are you going on soon?"
"I said, 'I'm sure she's fine.' And yeah, couple of minutes."
"Okay. Um. I'll let you go, then."
"Okay." A small gap where you think he's hung up, but then, "Can I talk to her?"
You bite back a smile. "Sure."
You kneel down. Junie looks a short fall from suspicion, though her arms quickly reach out for a hug.
"June, d'you wanna talk to Eddie?"
"Eddie?" she asks, turning to the door.
You catch her hand before she can walk away. "No, babe, on the phone."
You sit down flat with your legs crossed and encourage her to do the same. She doesn't not want to be encouraged, eyes still trained on the door.
"Baby," you say, though you're bringing the phone to your mouth as you do. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Okay, I'm gonna pass her the phone and you're gonna have to talk straight away, because she doesn't know how it works. Alright?"
"Yeah, alright. Bring on the junebug."
You press the phone to Junie's ear. She looks startled and then annoyed, shoulder hiking and head moving in like she might push it away. You can see the moment she realises Eddie is on the other side, her lips part and her eyes widen in wonder.
She listens for a while, flabbergasted. You think you might be able to hear his voice. Not what he's saying, but his bubbly baby tone.
"Eddie," she says suddenly. She looks at you, says a bunch of nonsense words and babbling punctuated by Eddie Eddie Eddie.
"Are you listening to him?" you ask, excited at her recognition.
She grabs the phone out of your hand and stares at it. You try to wrangle it back and put it back to her ear. She is not happy.
Hardly news that your toddler's mood may swing, you shove the phone between your head and your shoulder and wrap her up in your arms with a placating shush. She starts to cry regardless. You think they might be crocodile tears.
"Eddie?"
"Sweetheart, I gotta go, okay? I'm sorry if I upset June–"
"You didn't, you didn't, she–"
"– I'll make it up to you, I swear."
"– misses you, I think–"
"See you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Good luck!" you say. The line's already dead. The dial tone makes your ear prickle.
You feel upset for a second. It's a mess of feelings. You're too tired to deal with any of them.
"Eddie?" Junie asks, hands pulling at the hem of her nightie.
"Just mommy," you say with a smile. The longer she looks at you the easier it gets. "You wanna go to bed and cuddle?"
She laughs and runs away from you.
"I'll take that as a no."
-
Eddie knocks the door and doesn't get an answer.
He pauses, a bouquet behind his back and his acoustic guitar heavy around his neck, a grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. It's a very heavy grocery bag. He'd figured he has a lot of apologising to do this afternoon.
It seems like there's no one home to apologise to.
"Girls? It's me."
Still no answer.
"Eddie," he adds, like a loser.
He thinks he can hear small footsteps.
"Eddie!"
He laughs to himself. "Junebug? Where's mommy?"
"Hello?" you call finally.
"Hey, can you let me in?"
He keeps the flowers hidden firmly behind his back as you open the door. He hears the deadbolt, the chain slide free and then the regular old lock unlocking, and you pull the door open and suddenly he can't breathe. You look that pretty.
"Eddie!" Junie shouts, to his pleasure.
You grin brilliantly as he steps over the threshold.
Junie's arms are quickly around his legs. She's in a sweet blue dress and frilly socks looking almost as pretty as her mom does, hair neat and tidy, face pristine.
You're nearly matching her. You've a soft white shirt on, tucked into a simple blue skirt and a cardigan to match.
You barely stop to look at him, flitting back to the kitchen where you’ve brown paper bags upended, the fridge and freezer doors both wide open. "Sorry, I'm just putting the groceries away. How did the gig go? Did you rock the house?" You giggle to yourself.
Eddie wants to scream, you’re that endearing. “It went great. Awesome. Not sure I rocked the house, but it was metal.”
"Amazing! I- I'm sorry I didn't hear you, I was in my own head," you say as you go, stepping over toys and frozen peas and Junie's Muppet Babies backpack like a natural. He notices your small white socks and feels himself slipping that little bit further into a terrifying feeling.
He doesn't have time to tell you it's okay, or that he wishes you’d been at the gig, or to watch your step. Junies's babbling for his attention and he'd rather die than not give it to her, moving the grocery bag he has hanging from his hand over her head and tossing it toward the couch, where it lands and spills.
"Okay, June, I'm gonna pick you up," he says quickly, pulling the guitar over his head. He props it up by the open doorway, Junie tugging at his jeans the whole while.
"So demanding!" he teases, scooping her up to prop on his hip and unveiling the flowers at the same time.
You aren't looking. He nudges them towards her face and shakes them gently.
Junie can't decide what's more fun, the flowers or Eddie. She wraps her arms around his neck as best as she can but stares at the flowers with a dawning comprehension.
"What are these, baby?" he asks, holding them lower so she can see them all in view. They're mostly red. There's some whites too, big round roses among other flowers he can't name.
"Red," she says quickly. "White. Yellow, blue, green."
She's not right, there aren't any yellows or blues, but he can only blame himself for drilling them into her the way he had. She's showing off that she knows them all, and she deserves some praise.
"Good job! Red, white," he shakes the bouquet enough to reveal a few small pink ones, "pink flowers. They're pretty, don't you think? Pretty as you and mommy?" He hums to himself, patting her back thoughtfully. “Maybe not that pretty."
You're not listening. If you were he's not sure he could say it, not while you're looking like you do. You're always pretty, always, but right now he feels like he did the first time he saw you. Just gone.
Junie tells him something, a more factual tone and air about her. He rubs the top of her upper arm encouragingly, asking, "Is that right?"
"Do you want food?" you call.
He sets June down on her feet and she hates it until he wraps her hands around the bouquet's neck. "Can you give these to your mom for me? Please?" Junie stares at them. "For mommy," he adds, pointing at you where you're closing the cabinet door.
Junie, the tiny smarty-pants that she is, runs to you. Eddie's a coward for it, but he doesn't think he can give them to you himself under honest pretenses, doesn't think he could admit that he'd been thinking about getting you flowers for a while now. Much easier to have her give them to you.
You make a sound like you've swallowed a gasp and stare at them.
"They're nice, right? I saw them and I thought they'd make a good apology for last night."
You don't take them. You can't contain a smile, but you don't take them.
"I'm sorry if I made any trouble for you," he says tentatively.
You drop your hand on top of Junie's head. Your tone is warm, each word reassuring. "No, you didn't. She just… you know, she has a routine, and she loves when you come around. She missed you. That's not your fault."
"Okay, good. I missed her too. Nobody can jam out like she can.”
Junie whacks you in the thigh. Eddie's starting to think he did something wrong because you still haven't taken them from her, your eyes as unreadable as the way your hands move, rigid and curling.
You shake them out and finally take the flowers.
"Thanks, baby," you say. Then, looking at him. "Thank you."
"You can get me back," he says.
Shell shock turns to eagerness. "Yeah, anything."
He picks up the spilled groceries and brandishes them at you. In one hand is this week's dessert, a huge carton of rocky road ice cream, the fancy kind with big chocolate chips and fluffy marshmallows on top. In the other, a plastic jug of your favourite drink.
"Find room for these in the fridge?"
Since accepting them, you've yet to put down the flowers, holding them protectively to your chest as you take what he’s offering and carry them into the kitchen.
June runs full pelt at his legs and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up.
"You're so happy today!" he cheers, saccharine sweet as she burrows her little face into his collar. "Have you been having a good day with mom? I love your matching outfits."
You try to hide how the compliment affects you, face buried in the freezer. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that your freezer has ample room, you don’t need to look for space. and he can see the way your hand tightens around the bouquet. He loves how shy you've become lately over his compliments, no matter how small. It's worth the possibility of making a fool of himself to see you flustered.
Junie reports back on the day. Eddie listens intently for words he might understand but finds none.
He doesn't let this bother him, leaning against the counter behind so he can hold Junie low on his stomach to watch her expressions flicker, hands encapsulating her back. She looks happy, obviously, but she also looks very intent on something.
"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head toward her knowingly. "Was the grocery store exciting? Did you do anything else?"
"Duckies!" she says.
"Duckies? You saw ducks?" he asks curiously, looking to you for confirmation.
You're still holding your flowers to your chest.
Junie chatters. "Duck, duck, duck."
"What's she talking about?" he asks, pulling her up enough for her head to rub against his chin.
"Oh, we went to the duck pond. She was obsessed," you say.
"Right, right. Can't say I blame her.”
"Trying to explain why they weren't yellow took some dedication."
Eddie smiles at you softly. "You can put them down, you know."
Your eyes flicker between him and the flowers. "I- nobody's ever got me flowers before. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do with them. I don't… have a vase."
He hadn't realised he'd be the first guy to get you flowers. It makes him wanna wrap you up and hug you, because how is it fair that a girl like you never got flowers? Not once?
"Shit," he says instead.
He flinches hard and looks at Junie. She's too busy with her hands in his hair to notice what he's said. He apologises anyways.
You roll your eyes. Eddie's relieved to see it's with obvious fondness, a funny lopsided smile to your lips.
"If she starts dropping s-bombs, you're the one who has to deal with it," you warn.
"I will.”
He takes a step toward you and you take a step toward him.
You hum and hold the flowers up to Junie as he had before. "Aren't these just something else? Look how pretty they are! Why don't you pick one, baby?"
Eddie shifts her onto the right side and you both watch her touch them, hands adorably careful as she feels the leaves between her fingers and pokes the fuzzy yellow centre of a flower with white, round petals.
"That one?" you murmur, pulling it out from the rest with the same adorable carefulness.
Junie accepts the flower and immediately shows it to Eddie, ecstatic.
“Yellow," she proclaims.
"And white," he says, ruffling the petals with his index finger.
She smells like talc and you, that soft jasmine perfume, and her hair is fragrant where it tickles his face. He indulges and hugs her that little bit tighter. She indulges him in turn and hugs him back, the flower petals cold and silky against his neck.
"How do you…" You scratch the base of your neck. "Do you think I could squeeze all the stalks into one glass?"
It's only a bunch from the grocery store but he thinks a glass might be a little too small. "Maybe you can split it? Have one in your room, one in here."
You set about following his suggestion, snipping away the cellophane with a pair of scissors and acquiring two tall glasses. The stalks are tall. You trim them down and begin arranging them. Eddie has no clue why you're being as particular as you are but he's happy for you to do as you please, traipsing into the living room where Junie seems to have been running rampant before his arrival with intentions of cleaning up.
He closes the front door and bends at the waist to let Junie back on her feet.
She goes down easy enough. Eddie turns on the TV to keep her occupied while he whips around the room. He wants to clean (as best as he can) before you see him and tell him to stop. He puts your small handbag and Junie's backpack at the sideboard by the door. He sweeps up all of her toys and tucks them under the television as you would, then moves onto the rogue dirtied pajamas on the floor. They're Junie's favourites, the ones with tiny strawberries that she always chooses when given the option.
Your laundry basket isn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. He attempts to sneak past you where you're still arranging flowers intently. The sight of you stops him in his tracks.
I need to get her a vase, he thinks. And another bouquet.
You turn to him, a pleased expression turning your features from pretty to chest-achingly lovely.
He holds up the pajamas and then keeps on down the hall to the bathroom, even as you chasten, "Eddie," with a fond exasperation.
You showcase your first bouquet upon his return, sheepish, awaiting judgement. You're conflicted tonight, a handful of emotions shaken and stirred.
"Tada," you sing.
"Looks sick, sweetheart. If this whole waitressing thing doesn't work out for you, you could definitely be a florist."
You huff a laugh. "Oh, for sure."
"I'm serious. It looks really nice."
He thinks maybe he can see the way you might've been before, in that moment. There's something so young – and you are young, as he is, as he keeps forgetting – about your face and how you take praise. You look like you want desperately to brush it away, and you look like you want him to give you more.
He stands close enough that you're forced to turn back to the counter where the second bouquet is taking form. "This one looks nice too."
"I thought I'd put the prettiest one out here." You lean back and your shoulder presses to his chest. "And then the reject in my room," you say, chin lifted to look him dead in the eye.
He feels heat crawling up his neck and decides to fight fire with fire, even if the fire is entirely imagined. "Do you often have rejects in your bedroom?" he questions with a smarmy smile.
You laugh. Far from the polite and prim giggling you'd used when you first met, though that was cute, too, this laugh is something else. He wishes he had a tape deck with him to record it, play it back.
"Only if they're very pretty," you say. You place the last of the flowers into the second bouquet. "And these ones are beautiful. Thank you, Eddie. You didn't have to get me flowers."
"I wanted to."
Your head falls gently against the top of his shoulder. He stands very still.
The faucet drips. The TV plays. If he listens, Eddie can hear the sound of kids outside on their bikes, shouting and jeering.
Like this, he can see the curve of your neck, the hill of your chin. He can see the pillows of your lips and the slopes of your cheek. The darling shape of your nose. He knows a kiss would fit there well, fit there perfectly, if he would only raise his hand to your shoulder. Turn you ever so slightly.
Even the flat of your forehead begs for affection. He can almost feel it from looking at you – the warmth of your skin under his lips. He can't decide whether he'd kiss you from temple to temple, or smack dab on your crown. Between your brows, at the tail of them. The corner of your eye might work.
Anything would work.
Eddie lifts his hand. Careful not to startle you, he cups the side of your waist like he had before a hundred moons ago when you'd cut his hair in this same kitchen. He spreads his fingers wide and inches over your soft abdomen, feeling for the shape of you.
You turn your cheek into his shoulder. He lets his lips touch the back of your head.
Plinking echoes from the living room sudden enough to startle you in tandem. Kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you and Eddie both turn to the living room and come away from one another. You're more confused than Eddie at the sound; a split-second and you're out of reach.
He closes his hand and follows you. Now past the obscurification of the cabinets, he can see that Junie's finally noticed his guitar and has pulled it down flat on the floor.
She plays with the strings enthusiastically. Eddie can't bring himself to care at her roughness when she looks the way she does, curious and entertained, giggling her contagious baby laugh.
"I forgot you brought that," you say, looking to him, he suspects, for a cue. A silent, Is she allowed?
Of course she is. “I told you I'd give you a private show."
"What happened to the amp?"
"My hands were full." Eddie sits on the floor to Junie's left. "Whatcha doing, trouble?"
She hits the neck.
He takes her hand in a gentle grip and encourages the side of her finger across the strings.
She laughs thick and sweet as honey. "Brmm," she imitates, lips pinching between giggles as he helps her do it again.
"You're a total rockstar," he says.
You kneel opposite. "She's gonna lose her mind when you play something."
Eddie feels very smug at what's to come.
You let Junie play for a time, and then you open your arms and she walks around to your side, sitting on your thighs. She continues to reach for the guitar, seems sulky when Eddie picks it up, and quietens when he plays an experimental note.
"Are you gonna sing? I've heard you sing before, you know? You're not bad."
You wrinkle your nose.
First, he plays the Muppet Babies theme tune for June. She gets excited and starts to hum. You have to hold her in your lap to stop her from messing him up. He wouldn't mind if she did. He's hoping, maybe one day when she's old enough to understand, he could get her behind her own guitar. He's not kidding about starting a band.
He drops his eyes to his fingers, shaking his head on instinct to try and shake away the thought.
June sings and sings and eventually, quietly, you start to sing too. You’re purposefully not trying but any flatness is easily made up for by the familiarity of your voice alone. The way you talk, so charming and careful, the sweetness of your newfound shyness and the rough hint of ever-present tiredness you carry, it all seeps into your singing. Eddie adores it.
Junie almost gets some of the words right. It's very exciting for you, Eddie can see it in the tilt of your head. You enunciate precisely and he slows the tempo to give you time.
"It really sounds like she's almost there. She definitely said 'dreams come true,’” he says as the song ends.
"You think?"
"Definitely. Do you want to sing it again?" he asks, words falling into a high-pitched sugar, eyes on Junie.
"More?" you add, a slight correction. Junie doesn't know what 'again' means yet, but she understands 'more'.
"More," she says seriously.
You go through it one more time. If he plays slow to drag out your reluctant singing, that's his business.
He unveils his next song with a dash of edgy stage presence. "For my next song, I'll be playing what can only be described as the absolute pinnacle of music."
He sounds legitimate.
Your eyebrows pinch together at his sombre attitude. "Sure."
"I'm gonna play it as true to form as I can, but… I don't have a banjo. So…"
He plays the first few seconds of Kermit The Frog's The Rainbow Connection.
When he sings, he does it after an internal pep talk consisting of a scathing, Be brave, idiot.
"Why are there so many, songs about rainbows. And what's on the other side?" he sings, trying and failing to sound like Kermit. He abandoned that pursuit immediately in favour of his regular voice. Thankfully it's a slow song. Simple. It doesn't take much to play, either. The real challenge are the lyrics, which he doesn't really know. "Rainbows are visions, but only… illusions?"
You bob your head appraisingly, hands crossed over Junies front, cheek pressed to the top of her head.
"And rainbows have nothing to hide."
You’re making it impossible to concentrate, looking as earnest, homespun, and ridiculously pretty as you do. Pretty in more than just your looks. The way that you watch him, the way you rub a pattern over Junie's ribs, it’s all so indicative of your heart.
He fucks up the rest. Bad timing, amateurish fingering over the struts, lyrics that escape him. You'd never know he could play Master of Puppets a month after it's debut from the way he performs now.
You cheer, gathering Junie's hands into yours to help her clap.
He blushes like a fool.
—
Dinner tonight – take out.
You're prouder than you should be when Eddie asks, "Can I help you cook tonight?" and you get to say, "No, you can't. I'm not cooking."
You'd never shake your head at a frozen pizza but there's an irreplaceable satisfaction that comes from getting hot food delivered. Maybe it's the convenience, maybe it's that you don't have to cook it yourself. It might even be the grease. Whatever it is, it tastes better than any freezer food ever could.
You've trapped Junie in her high chair. Diaper changed, pajamas on, bib in place. You rolled her sleeves all the way up and gave her two slices of cheese pizza cut into small pieces that have been blown on for a more than generous amount of time and tell her to go ham. She doesn't bother with her plastic fork and you don't blame her, eating your own pizza in a similar fashion.
Rather than sit opposite you or next to Junie, Eddie has opted for the chair on your left. Junie on your right, your daughter eats with an animated little grin that apples her cheeks, giving her that chubby baby-like smile.
"You see her smile?" you ask, taking a big bite of perfect crust. You have to stop yourself from sighing happily, fingers covered in crumbs.
"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pizza sauce or his face like a little kid.
You sit back in your chair so he can really see her. "She's always been a smiley baby, and when she was much smaller all her smiles were so chubby cheeked. She was chubby cheeked. Now when she smiles like that she makes me remember her when she was a baby."
"I'm not surprised she was a smiley baby if she had you… D'you miss having a baby?"
"Watch yourself," you say, and then giggle as all the blood drains from his face. "Kidding. I don't know if I miss having a baby baby. I mean, she's so little, she's practically still a baby. But I do kinda wish I could go back and hold her as a newborn."
Eddie wipes his cheek and stands up to get some paper towels. He wipes his face and hands and grabs the juice from the fridge to fill his glass (that's basically still full) and then yours (the real reason he'd stood, you reckon).
"Was she heavy?" he asks.
You worry for a moment he's humouring you. It's clear how much you love Junie, you know it is, and that shows in how much you want to talk about her. You'd never expected that part, though of course it makes sense – sometimes she smiles and you wanna call the newspapers – and you don't think Eddie's insincere. He seems like he genuinely wants to know and that's enough for you to want to round the table and throw your arms over his shoulders.
"I think…" You pick up your glass and hesitate with the rim to your lip. "I think if you'd held her back then, you wouldn't think she was heavy."
He practically smolders, bringing an arm up to tense his bicep. "Thank you."
You laugh at him. "Shut up! I just think, you've been good with her ever since you met her. When I held her for the first time it's a good thing I was laying down. I probably would've dropped her."
Eddie takes Junie's sippy cup to fill. You'd say it was a waste if he hadn't bought it himself, she's too busy eating her weight in cheese to care about something as rudimentary as juice.
"You would not have dropped her."
"I would've."
"You wouldn't have! And if you did, it would've been an accident. Next point, they don't have skulls, right? No harm, no foul."
"Who told you babies don't have skulls?"
"...I'm not at liberty to say."
You eat the rest of your crust and shake your head at his misguided education. "They have skulls, Eddie. The scalp is super soft and fragile for ages, but they definitely have skulls. You know what they don't have?"
Eddie squeezes Junie's shoulder as he walks behind her. "What?" he asks in alarm, passing you to sit down again. His knees touch the side of your thigh.
"Kneecaps."
His hand stops on the way to the pizza box, body frozen.
"What?" he asks, his alarm doubled.
"Swear down. No knee caps."
"Don't they need them? For crawling? I feel like knee caps are more important than skulls."
"If you didn't have a skull you wouldn't be able to breathe," you say, though you're guessing.
"What use is breathing if you can't move?"
You turn to him to take him in properly. You beam, because this is an outlandish conversation and you're enjoying every second of it and he looks just as happy as you feel.
"Do babies need to move? June could never move again and I'd still look after her,” you counter.
"Sweetheart, you're cheating."
"I can't exactly breathe for her-"
"What are you talking about? Of course you could. I don't know how but you'd find a way, Y/N, I know what you're like."
Your teeth click together, a funny retort squashed down by his unexpected admittance of faith. He always does this; Eddie loves to tell you the kindest things anyone has ever told you like they don't cost him a thing.
"I would," you agree, blinded by love rather than supported by any logic.
"Mommy," Junie says, like she knows she's the topic of your hypothetical devotion and she wants in. "More pizza"
"Please?" you tack on, though her small sentence had impressed you to the point of elation. You turn to her already with your hand in the pizza box.
"Pizza," she says. You love the way she says it, like the 'zuh' sound at the end is a complete surprise.
The pizza's cold enough by now to give it to her intact. She's amazed at the big slice you put on her plate, picking it up with a coordination you know is taking a lot of effort for her.
"Good job, baby," you praise, using her distraction to pull a little string of cheese off of her messy cheek.
She takes a huge bite. You watch her worried she's gonna choke, and feel Eddie's knees press deeper into your thigh as he moves forward to join in.
"Is it weird that she's impressing me right now?" he asks.
You giggle and roll your shoulders back until you can feel the brush of his hair against your shirt. "No, she's awesome."
For dessert, you insist on plating up. Or bowling up. You scoop a more generous than she should really have portion for Junie, something similar for Eddie, and a normal portion for yourself.
"On the couch?" Eddie asks.
You can see him cleaning up Junie out of the corner of your eye. You wish he wouldn't but you're grateful that he does. His attentiveness makes your hands feel heavy in that you remember you have them, and you remember what it's like to want to hold someone else's.
"Yeah," you say, though eating on the couch makes you nervous. You don't want to ruin it. You're lucky you even have one.
Eddie scoops Junie up easy and pats her back.
“You put away a lot of cheese, kid. A lot. Was that yummy or what?"
She burps. His laughter is roaring and boyish as he applauds her.
"You're patting her back, she's gonna keep burping.”
"That's what you're supposed to do for babies, isn't it?"
He stands under the harsh kitchen light with his face turned away and down toward Junie, hair a mess of flyaways, t-shirt covered in shiny toddler fingerprints over one shoulder and jeans slipping down low on his hips. Your explanation comes breathlessly. "When you give a baby a bottle they suck in too much air and it gives them trapped wind. You burp that kind of baby. Not greedy almost three year olds."
"She is not almost three."
"I think I'd know, Munson."
"She's like, two and a half at most."
"I'm rounding up for emphasis," you say, and glare at his eyebrows rising.
He pats her back some more anyways. She burps again and he laughs even more. "Juniper The Burpiest," he says to himself as he walks away, voice fading as he settles down across the way on the couch.
Junie has crashed and burned, warm thick cheese and dough putting her quickly into a close to listless state in his lap. He faces her out toward the TV and she leans heavily against his chest with his hands around her torso, propping her up. You shepherd in the desserts.
"Gimme Junie's," Eddie says.
"She's gonna fall asleep," you say, but pass it over anyhow.
Eddie places the bowl of rocky road in her lap with a hand between to stop from making her legs cold and starts to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She accepts. It's adorable to watch. His face over her shoulder, Junie's face slowly deflating, eyes bleary and blinking as her lips close lazily around the spoon. She barely flinches at the cold.
You eat your own ice cream in the seat next to them and wonder if this is forever.
Eddie wipes her chin with the side of his hand and watches her head fall. He wears a loving smile. It makes you want to cry, to know someone else loves her.
You let all your weight fall against his shoulder and eat your ice cream casually. This is the least casual thing you've ever done. Spoon in your mouth, you press your cheek to the top of his arm and glue your gaze to the TV.
You swear you can feel his eyes on you, but when you chance a look he's watching the TV, head inclined to yours ever so slightly, a hand brushing Junie's hair from her dozing face. You're weak. You give yourself over to what you want and turn your nose to his arm. He smells lIke he always does, warm in the truest definition of the word.
You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel Eddie take the bowl from your hands and set it next to Junie's. You want to open your eyes and say sorry but they’re heavier than you'd thought, and you can only manage a murmur of sound.
His hand sliders under your elbow and curls around your arm. His head drops on top of yours so softly you almost don't feel it.
You doze, digging your face further into his arm, feel the curve of it under your cheek and the cut off of his sleeve rising.
A frayed thread tickles your cheek and you complain without thinking, sighing your annoyance.
"What?" Eddie asks.
You raise a hand to rub at your face and eyes. "Tickled me."
"Did I? M'sorry."
"T-shirt. Did you cut them yourself?"
"You know it. Was going through a phase."
"Going through."
"Say it to my face," he says. Soft, teasing.
You lift your head and find him smiling at you.
He has a beauty mark under his eye, occluded near completely by his eyelashes. You can't believe you've never noticed it before.
"You have a freckle," you whisper.
"Where?" He nods. "Under my eye?"
"Yeah."
You sit up and stare at him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I've never seen it before," you continue, still whispering. "It blends in with your eyelashes."
"I think you're the first person to see it who isn't my mom. No one ever looks at me this long,” he says quietly.
If his eyes weren't closed you'd never have had the courage to do what you do next. You raise your hand with his cheek, thumb pressed to the skin beside his nose and fingers slipped under his ear. You turn his face toward the light. Eddie lets you without complaint, his breath warm where it fans over your thumb. You push your fingers further until they've threaded into his soft hair, your thumb brushing up under his eye. You part his mess of dainty lashes with your thumbnail until the beauty mark is clear in view.
"That's so sweet," you whisper, awed.
Eddie readjusts Junie in his lap with an overabundance of caution and doesn't speak. He's lax under your touch.
"It's really pretty. You had it since you were a baby?"
"I think so."
You laugh under your breath.
"What?" he asks.
"It suits you." Something pretty hiding in plain view.
"I heard," he says hedgingly, "that freckles are a sign of how you died in a past life."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Bet it was something really gross, like a parasitic worm-"
"Ew."
"Or someone stabbed me. Or shot me. With an arrow."
"You're only twenty. Your past life would have still been in this century."
Eddie opens his eyes just to glare at you. "Don't deprive me of a badass past life. How would you have had me die?"
You push his hair from his face. "You know what I heard about them?"
"What?"
Fun to whisper with him like this. Like you’re younger than you are, trading secrets in the dim light.
"I heard they're kisses from a past life."
You raise your second hand to his cheek and cradle his face.
Eddie leans into it. “You wanna give me one for the next?” he asks, a short fall from salacious.
Your breath doesn’t catch. Your hands don’t shake. “Is that what you want?”
He falters. Bravado slips. Your heart skips a beat, worried maybe he doesn’t like you the way you’re thinking after all.
“Y/N,” he says.
You can’t hear his rejection. You won’t.
You close your eyes and kiss his cheek. Your nose slides over his skin, the heat of his blood under the surface warming your palms, and you steal a second there, two, breathing in his smell. If this is all you get, you can be okay with it. Eventually.
You pull away.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter
if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
please forgive any mistakes and how long it took, i have been a bit unwell! hopefully it won’t be too long before part four :3
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x afab reader#mom!reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#stranger things fanfiction#fem!reader
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Romance is Dead, Isn't it?
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Notes: Sweet and fluffy, little bit of angst. Based around Valentine’s Day because I’ve had this is in my drafts for a minute.
The smell of cheap, overused aftershave and five dollar bouquets, currently lingered throughout the aisles of Family Video. Loved up couples filling the store, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings and pressing kisses to their lovers blushing cheek as they scanned the shelves of the romance section.
Love heart decorations hung from the ceiling, pink foil curtains draped over the entrance and Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time blared from the speakers while you completed sellotaping the balloons you’d only finished inflating ten minutes ago. You weren't exactly sure why Keith was making Valentine's Day such an extravaganza this year but you were absolutely hating every second of it.
February fourteenth had never been kind to you. Not when you were ten years old and the card you thought had been from your childhood crush was actually written by your Mom. Not when you were fifteen and you went to the movies with Jackson Taylor, who made up a rumour that he had gotten to second base with you and definitely not last year, when Derek Cooper had taken you out for dinner, only to be caught by his girlfriend that he had surprisingly forgotten to mention.
Yeah, Valentine's Day could suck it.
“If one more person asks if we have another copy of Sixteeen Candles, I swear, I won't be held responsible for my actions.” You warn, jumping down from the step ladder with a loud huff.
“Yikes, what’s gotten your panties in a bunch today babe?” Robin questions with a teasing smile on her face as she serves the next customer.
“My panties are not in a bunch thank you very much. I'm just saying, what kind of moron waits until Valentines Day to rent the most sought after romcom?" You ask, taking a gulp of water in an attempt to erase the taste of rubber from your mouth.
Fake laughter echoes from the other side of the store where some girl has been flirting with Steve for the past fifteen minutes. You'd noticed her outside before she walked in, glossing her lips and pushing her boobs up just enough to get the attention she was obviously desperate for. She's annoyingly pretty, with perfect hair and sun kissed skin and when she raises her well manicured hands to rest on his bicep, you can’t help but grit your teeth at them.
"Is he planning to do any work at all today?" You point, rolling your eyes as Robin looks over at her other best friend and then back to you with a frown. She can sense the irritation in your voice and she knows why, even if you would never admit it. The signs have been there for quite some time and she wonders how much longer you can keep up the charade of not having feelings for Steve Harrington.
"Hey Dingus! A little help over here?" Robin demands, directing him to the queue of customers waiting for assistance at the counter. Steve nods his head, apologising to the girl who makes sure to write her number on his arm before waving goodbye.
“Yeah, thanks for calling me over, I've been trying to get away from her for like, the last ten minutes.” Steve breathes a sigh of relief, gesturing for the next customer to approach.
“Yeah, you really looked like you were being held against your will there, Harrington.” You scoff bitterly, stacking up a pile of returned tapes.
“Seriously, did you guys not see me trying to signal for help when she started touching me? I mean come on, desperate much?" He jeers, shaking his head.
"She did seem disgustingly eager." Robin interjects, scrunching her nose.
"Since when has that ever stopped him?" You reply, motioning towards Steve, who seems a little bit offended by your words.
"Jesus, why does it look like Cupid came all over this place?" Eddie chuckles as he enters the store, getting his jacket caught in the foil curtain, almost ripping it off of the door.
“Hey, careful Munson, don’t mess up my masterpiece!” You warn, carrying the tapes into the back as he slowly untangles himself.
"Because dear Edward, it is the day of love and romance!” Robin squeals excitedly, clapping her hands.
“Can you tell she has a date with Vickie tonight?” You tease, her cheeks turning pink at the mention of her new girlfriend.
“Alright, way to go Buckley.” Eddie high-fives the girl who couldn’t contain her happiness.
“We’re just going to the movies but I’m so nervous! Like, what if I make a total doofus of myself around her? She might not be as accepting of my clumsiness as you guys. I could fall up the steps when we’re walking to our seats or choke on the popcorn or…”
“Robin relax, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” Steve interrupts, hearing the conversation from the till. His eyes meet yours, both of you sharing a disapproving look at your friend’s lack of confidence in herself. It was something you often discussed between yourselves, trying to figure out ways to help her see just how great she really was. Robin had always been good at hyping other people up, telling them how awesome or pretty they were but it was a completely different story when it came to herself.
“Steve’s right, you need to chill out. Vickie’s already heard you doing god awful karaoke, not to mention witnessing you hurl all over the bathroom floor at the Hideout and she’s still drooling over you. The girl is putty in your pretty little hands.” You jokingly reassure with a smile and it seems your light hearted words put her somewhat at ease as she takes a relieved breath.
“Hey, do you guys have a copy of that new movie with Molly Ringwald? Sixteen something?” Eddie shouts from the romance section of the store earning a scowl from you.
“Shit out of luck Munson, we’re totally sold out.” Steve replies, the curly haired metal head letting out a dramatic groan as he walked back to the counter, causing some of the other customers to flinch.
“Didn’t take you for a romcom kinda guy Eds.” You mock as he gives you a toothy grin. “Sweetheart, if it helps me get laid by the end of the night, I’ll watch anything.”
“Ew, gross Eddie, I really don’t need visions of you and Chrissy getting it on.” Robin shivers in disgust.
Although you share the same sentiment as your best friend, you can't help but think how nice it is that Eddie finally found someone that truly loves him for who he is. You couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy and a little part of you was jealous that you didn't have that with someone too.
"Harrington, did you get a tat dude?" Eddie quizzes, pointing to the digits on Steve's arm. You're taken out of your thoughts upon hearing the question directed at your coworker. Steve's eyes fall to you for a brief moment but you busy yourself with some paperwork, trying your best to pretend you're not paying attention to them.
"Oh, um no man, just a customer earlier, gave me her number." Steve brushes off with a shrug.
"Sweet, you gonna call her?" The hellfire leader interrupts and you hate yourself for wanting to know the answer too.
"God no, she was way too forward." Steve says, shaking his head, hoping that would be the end of the conversation as you relax again.
"What's wrong with forward? Come on man, it's Valentine's Day, call her, ask her out." Eddie encourages, wondering why Robin was shooting him a killer look as Steve shifts uncomfortably.
"Actually, I kind of already have a date tonight." He states, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The relief you felt moments ago, quickly vanishing, being replaced with a gut wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach. Steve had someone and it wasn't you. It would never be you.
“You do? Since when, why wasn’t I informed about this?” Robin quizzes suspiciously.
“I don’t have to tell you everything, Robin.” He huffs, rolling his eyes.
“Do we know her?” Eddie smirks and you wish you were anywhere else right now.
“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.” He answers coyly before serving the next customer.
“So what about you sweetheart, who’s the lucky guy that’s taking you out tonight?” The metal head grins, raising his brows suggestively.
You see Steve and Robin turning their heads, attention on you as Eddie waits for your response. For a moment you consider lying, trying to think of a name and a place just to save face on being the only one without a date for tonight and maybe a little part of you wanted to see what Steve’s reaction would be too. But Robin already knew you had no plans, she had probably already told Steve the same.
“There isn’t one.” You answer, looking down at the ground, wanting it to swallow you whole.
“Bullshit, every time I’m in here there’s a guy asking you out.” Eddie spits, frowning at your response.
He’s right, guys do ask you out. It’s not like you were some sort of prude who never had a sex or never went on dates but lately, you just hadn’t been feeling it. Not when your heart belonged to someone who didn’t even know they had it and until you could get over Steve Harrington, it wouldn’t be fair to start something with someone else.
“Yeah, just not the one I actually want.” You reply, refusing to look Steve’s way as you walk to the back.
You figure now is a good time to take you break, needing a moment away from your friends to regain your composure. The restroom door locking behind you as you drop to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest. How had you gotten here? How had you been so stupid to fall for your friend? How had you allowed this to happen?
You secretly wondered who Steve’s date could be, knowing there was a number of viable contenders. Was it the brunette from last week who asked him to explain how The Lost Boys wasn’t a Peter Pan spin off or the blonde that always laughed at his jokes even when they weren’t even funny. Or maybe it was the raven haired girl who openly discussed her recent porno rentals with him every week.
One thing you knew for sure, it certainly wasn’t you.
The sound of footsteps brings you back to your shitty reality and the sudden knock on the bathroom door has you standing on your feet again.
“Hey, it’s just me. Are you ok?” You hear Robin ask from the other side. You straighten yourself up, wiping your clothes down before unlocking the door to face your friend.
“Yeah of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You question, doing your best to give her a reassuring smile but she sees right through you.
“I honestly didn’t know dingus had a date, I would have told you if I did.” She mutters nervously as you shake your head.
“Why? It’s not like I care what he does.” You state as Robin gives you an unconvinced glance.
“Babe, it’s me you’re talking to right now, no one else. You forget I used to be the master at hiding my feelings, so I know all the signs. You’re totally crazy about him aren’t you?” She quizzes, as you shrug your shoulders. There was no point in hiding it from her anymore, she could read you like a book.
“I’ll get over it.”
“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” She suggests as you let out a bitter laugh. “Did you not just hear what he said out there? He has a date, Robin.”
“Yeah but maybe if—”
“No. I’m not telling him alright? So please, just drop it.” You beg, letting out a deflated sigh.
Robin decides not to push you any further, realising you didn’t want to talk about it right now but you know this won’t be the end of it and eventually you’d have to answer the many questions you were sure she was going to have, taking a mental note to purchase alcohol before you talked about your feelings for Steve with her. But for now, you were grateful that she was leaving well enough alone so you could get back to work and pretend that everything was fine.
The remaining hours went by painfully slow, the romance section almost bare and you were counting down the minutes before you could go home to your bed and shut out the world while you waited for this shitty day to be over. Once the store got a little quieter, Steve offered to man the counter while you did Robin’s make up in the back, helping her get ready for the long awaited date before her girlfriend picked her up.
By 7:45, you were left with Steve and Keith who had been in his office doing paper work since he ordered you to decorate the store earlier. Steve had noticed you were quieter than usual, trying his best to joke and make light conversation but all he was met with was one worded answers.
“It was really cool of you to do Robin’s make up, y’know?” You hear Steve mumble as you restock the confectionery stand.
“That’s what best friends are for, right?”
“Yeah of course but you saw how nervous she was all day and I think you helping her out by making her look all pretty and stuff, just gave her the confidence boost she needed for tonight. I just thought it was really sweet of you.” He compliments, a warm look on his face that has your frosty demeanour melting.
“Alright, I’m done for the day. You two ok to lock up?” Keith asks, dousing himself in cheap cologne as Steve shoots his boss a glare knowing it was his night to close.
“No, not really. I have a date.” Steve argues as Keith grunts unsympatheticly. “You’re not the only one lover boy.”
“Online chat rooms don’t count, Keith.” Steve fires back as you try not to laugh at the expression on your boss’s face.
“You want to be out of a job, Harrington?” Keith threatens, looking less than impressed.
“No, but I really need to—”
“That settles it then, you two will lock up. Happy Valentines Day.” He smirks, throwing Steve a set of keys before exiting the store.
“What an asshole!” Steve groans, throwing the keys on the counter, putting an irritated hand through his signature hair while his plans hang in the balance.
“Now I get why he wanted me to decorate so badly.” You mutter, thinking back to how you spent the first couple of hours of your shift, blowing up balloons and getting sticky tape stuck in your hair. Keith was loved up like the rest of your friends. Cupid had gotten another one.
“Do you actually believe he has a date?” Steve asks, frustration still apparent in his voice as you nod your head, groaning.
“As much as it pains me to say yes, given that I myself don’t actually have a date, when have you ever seen him put on cologne?” You question as Steve lets out a heavy sigh.
“Good point. I hope she stands the son of a bitch up though.” He grins playfully and you can’t help but smile back at him. He was so breathtakingly beautiful and you kind of hated him for it.
“Hey, look at that, I finally got a smile out of you.” He teases, poking at your cheek as you lightly push his hand away.
“Steve, quit it.” You giggle as he shakes his head.
“Not a chance, you’re just so pretty when you smile.” He admits, cupping your face momentarily, locking his eyes with your own and your breath hitches as his warm hand rests on your face, his thumb carefully caressing your cheek and you hope to god you’re not blushing right now. Your eyes wander to his lips, pink and plump and a little chapped from the cold weather Hawkins was currently experiencing and you couldn’t help but wonder what lucky girl would get to kiss them later on.
For a moment as Steve gazed at you, you considered telling him everything. How you’ve been crazy about him since you worked at Scoops Ahoy together, falling hard for him when you saw how kind he was to the kids he watched over, knowing he wasn’t the same selfish guy you’d known in high school. Steve Harrington was selfless, brave and caring and as you looked into his caramel coloured eyes, all you wanted for him was to be happy because that’s what he deserved more than anything, even if it would never be with you.
“Steve…”
“Yeah?” He whispers, looking at you in a way that made your knees weak.
You knew this was your chance to tell him, the perfect night to admit your feelings but previous Valentine’s Day disasters prevented you from saying what you really wanted to, afraid Steve would have to let you down gently or worse, laugh in your face.
“You should go home and get ready for your date, I’ll lock up here.” You swallow hard as he finally removes his hand from your face, seemingly taking him out of his own thoughts.
“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He replies, shaking his head.
“You didn’t ask me, I offered.” You reassure, feeling guilty for how you had treated him all day.
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t. The place is quiet now anyway and there’s only an hour left. Plus I’ve been looking forward to destroying all those damn decorations all day.” You joke, attempting to hide the sadness you were currently feeling from him, terrified that you’d break down in tears if he stuck around much longer.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” He grins as you playfully roll your eyes at him. “So I’ve been told.”
“Got any advice for a successful Valentine’s date?” He questions, grabbing his car keys as you let out a sarcastic laugh.
“You’re really not asking the right person. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good Valentine’s experience. Why are you so nervous anyway, you’ve been on hundreds of dates?”
“Yeah I know, but I really like this girl, like a lot. More than I’ve ever liked anybody and I really don’t want to mess this up.” He sighs and you wonder if he can hear your heart smashing into pieces.
“Wow, she must be really special.” You breathe as he nods his head looking like a schoolboy with a crush.
“Yeah, she is.” He admits and it’s like a fresh bullet to your chest.
“Well then I hope she knows how lucky she is. Any girl who can’t see what an amazing guy you are would have to be a complete idiot.” You reply honestly, almost certain you see a hint of pink in his cheeks.
“Thanks, honey.” He whispers, before walking towards the exit, the nickname causing your brain to short circuit. Honey.
“Steve?”
“Hmm?”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, walking out the door as you feel a tear slide down your cheek watching his car pull out of the space, taking your broken heart right along with him. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, cursing under your breath, pondering if you were really doomed to face every February fourteenth in utter misery.
The last hour of your shift had gone by quicker than expected, having no customers during the final thirty minutes, giving you plenty of time to dispose of the shitty decorations that had mocked you throughout the day. When you finished vacuuming the floor, you wondered how your friends were fairing on their dates. Had Eddie gotten through a rom com without passing out? Did Robin make it up the steps of the movie theatre without falling? Was Keith really on a date with an actual woman? Had Steve already managed to get his new girl into bed?
That last thought made you want to throw up.
At 8:50 you decided to call it a night, dreaming of your warm bed and the cheese pizza you were going to order the minute you got home, wanting nothing more than to wallow in self pity. The money had been cashed up, the shelves were organised and you figured you had earned the extra ten minutes after everything you had endured today. Once you grabbed your handbag and jacket from your locker, you did a final check of the place before clocking out, switching the open sign to closed before you shut the door behind you, turning the key in the lock and pulling the shutters down, thankful you were off for the next couple of days.
As you tossed the keys into your bag, pulling on your jacket to prepare for the short walk to your apartment, you noticed a familiar maroon BMW parked up and Steve Harrington leaning against the hood, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Steve?”
“Hey you.” He smiles, eyes sparkling in the glow of the moonlight.
“Is everything ok?” You worry, wondering if something had happened to one of the kids or your older friends.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve reassures as you let out a sigh of relief.
“Well for starters, aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” You quiz, confusion apparent in your tone.
“I was just waiting for her to get off work actually, I’m picking her up here.” He smirks confidently, pushing himself off of the hood.
“You’re meeting her in the Family Video parking lot? Isn’t that a bit creepy?” You tease, raising a brow at him, trying not to focus on how good he looks in a grey sweater that you’ve never seen on him before.
“Well yeah, I guess it would be a little creepy if she didn’t work there.” He jokes, hoping he’d given you enough clues to figure out the rest for yourself. When your eyes begin to widen, mouth parting as you try to speak, he knows the penny has finally dropped.
“Steve I—”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl.” He grins, repeating the same words he'd said earlier, handing you the prettiest bunch of daisies you’ve ever seen and it’s not until his fingers brush yours that you realise it isn’t a dream. Steve Harrington was here, waiting for you.
“These are for me?” You ask, breath catching in your throat.
“Of course they are, who else would I get them for?” He teases as you try to hold back tears.
"Steve, I…I can’t believe you got me daisies. they’re so beautiful.” You smile, suddenly feeling very dizzy.
“I know I probably should have gotten you roses but I remember last summer when we took the kids to the park and you made Max and El daisy chains. You said they were your favourite.”
“You remember that?” You blush looking up at him as he nods. “I remember everything about you, honey.”
Your stomach is doing somersaults now, palms sweaty and shaking with the way he’s looking at you and it takes everything in you not to kiss him silly.
“Did Robin know about this?” You quiz, wondering if you were going to have to murder your friend tomorrow for letting you go through a shift thinking Steve was going on a date with someone else.
“Are you serious? You know she can’t keep secrets. I couldn’t take the risk that she wouldn’t telll you. Plus, I was afraid she’d never let me live it down if you rejected me.” Steve jokes, flashing his pearly whites at you. How could you ever reject him?
“I don’t understand, if Robin didn’t tell you, how did you know I had feelings for you?”
“Not to sound totally arrogant but I’m not completely stupid. I see how flustered you get around me sometimes and how jealous you get when a customer tries to flirt with me, like today. But mostly I’ve seen the way you look at me and then I knew for sure—cause it’s the same way I look at you.” He whispers, his warm hand cupping your cheek.
“And how exactly do you look at me?” You challenge, swallowing hard as his lips inch closer to yours.
“Like I’m totally crazy about you.”
#steve harrington#steve stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#king steve#steve harrington imagine#steve the hair harrington#steve harrington smut#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#djotime#djo#joe keery#gator tillman#kurt kunkle
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