Hello and welcome to my first fic! A huge thank you to everyone who hyped me up when posting snippets of it (and all the other WIPs I've been working on), I hope the finished product lives up to it <3
Word count: 6.8K
Rating: Explicit
Tags: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Porn with Feelings, Emotional Sex, Smut, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Dacryphilia, Crying, Vulnerability, Aftercare, Established Relationship, Post-Canon
Summary: "I know what comes over you when we do this sometimes," he declares, the revelation taking Mickey by surprise, outstretched arm dropping to his side. "You don't have to fight it anymore."
Mickey gets emotional during sex. Ian encourages him to embrace it.
could you maybe to a thomas thorne x reader ? like the other ghosts always notice and comment on their flirting til one day he finally admits to it. love your writing btw :)
thank u anon for the compliment AND THE THOMAS REQUEST!! <33
im so sorry this took so long i’m not very good at writing dialogue for thomas and that kind of put me on a break for awhile lol hence why the ending is so abrupt… anyway enjoy!
you hate to say it, but you’re oblivious. you’re not sure how to fix it or how it happened but you are, and if someone said the word gullible was written on the ceiling, you’d probably believe them, too.
and yet when julian settled in next to you and claimed thomas was in love with you, you burst out laughing.
“what’s so funny?” his face twisted into some sort of sour expression.
“he’s not in love with me! we just… like complimenting one another.” your laughter died down, hand reaching to itch the side of your neck in semi-embarrassment.
“really.” julian frowned, unamused.
“really!”
“and you would consider him calling you the ‘fairest and most effervescent visage he had ever laid eyes on’ a compliment, yeah?”
“well…” you trailed off.
“kitty!” he shouted.
“no, no! don’t!” you’ve sat through one to many rose-colored rambles on how thomas and you had been “meant to be” and enough stories about how lovely it would be if the two of you were together to fill a library. “just… leave it?”
“i’ve bet on you, you know!” julian frowns as you get up to leave. “and i never lose!”
you huff, fleeing to the one place you knew you’d be alone. you hear an indignant “never!” right before you leave the room.
“y/n! my faithful and incomparable companion!” a voice called as you exited the house. thomas— who else would it have been? “whatever is the ma-“
“do you love me?” you blurt out, interrupting him.
“what?” thomas replies, his mouth failing to catch up with his brain as it flounders open and closed.
“julian said you loved me and i had to know for certain it was true.” you clench your fists. tight enough to bleed, though you supposed being dead had it’s perks that way. silence rang over the lawn and you could swear you caught figures in the window behind you. let them look. you needed to know.
“ah, well…” thomas searched for something to say. he had so many flowery sentences prepared and yet being out on the spot caused everything to just, well, disappear.
“if he’s lying, i am so-“
“no!” the poets hands fly out in front of him. “no. he’s, ah, he’s correct.”
“he,” you blink. “he is?”
“well, i hadn’t exactly planned it to happen this way, but, ah… i can improv it!” his hands wiped nervously on his waistcoat, resting on his bullet wound once done. “y/n. you have me completely enamored. i have been yours as i hope you have been mine and there is not a second i do not think of you; your smile, your voice, you. the sun and moon pale in comparison to just how much you shine.”
now it seems as though it was your turn for speechlessness, hand frozen in the air in some sort of silent invitation for thomas’ to grab yours.
“i would really love to hear you say you love me too, dove.”
dove? love?!
“you… love me?”
“well, i had hoped it was obvious by my speech that it was but yes, i do.”
“well, you didn’t say it in your speech.” your hands grasp the other’s. “if it means anything, i love you, too?”
“it means so much.” thomas murmurs, leaning in as the two of you hear loud cheering from inside the house.
could you please do an edward teach x reader? maybe they get stuck on an island together somehow and feelings ensue? :)
sorry for how late this is! i got sick right after adopting a new dog and it threw everything off course. any way, enjoy, anon! i hope i characterized ed okay, i watched the show twice but im still a little nervous.
your hand lay in your lap as you huffed, the other rested gently above your brow bone in an attempt to block the excruciatingly hot sun.
“fuck,” you groan, squinting as the boat you arrived on gets smaller and smaller in the distance. “fuck!” the hand blocking the light slams into the sand you sit on before moving to cover your face.
“is my company that bad?” the man besides you teased, his boot lightly nudging your side as you look up. truthfully, no, it wasn’t. blackbeard- ed, rather- as he requested you call him- occupied most of your thoughts, and imagining him next to you here frankly made your head spin and the butterflies in your stomach cause a storm.
“no.” you huffed, moving your head away from his gaze. was it warm here? the sun felt especially hot as your face got even hotter (it had definitely been that, not the equally hot captain beside you.)
“cheer up! i’ll think of a way outta this. always do.” he said, resting beside you as one of his knees hits yours. “we just need to, uh, wait it out awhile.”
“wait it-“ you floundered. “wait it out?! ed, we’ll starve!”
“cannibalism’s a nice option.”
you shot him a withering glare before lying on the sand with a huff.
“brighten up!” he called your name, tugging you upright, his hand tied with yours as a teasing pout replaced the smile. “c’mon, sunshine!”
…sunshine..? you supposed you inquired out loud, as edward’s expression had morphed into one of surprise.
“oh. uh, yeah,” edward scratched his head with his free hand. “well, you remind me of sunshine… you’re all… bright n’shit.”
“really.”
“yeah, really.”
“huh, never knew blackbeard was so poetic.”
“i’m not fuckin’ blackbeard!” he groaned, ignoring the way your other hand began to envelop his. “‘m edward.” he almost whispered, eyes downcast as the two of you gravitated closer.
“well, i think i quite like edward.” you smile.
“i reckon edward likes you, too.”
perhaps the boiling sun wasn’t as grueling, circumstances considered.
Heyyyy bestie,if it's not too much trouble I would like to request a Tommy fic,maybe centred around camp (minus all the murder death kill stuff lolz) and he and the read just can't keep their hands off each other/keep trying to find ways to be physically together, methinks that would be very cute and fun. Idk if explained this well at all but honestly go ham,I just love ur writing :)
a/n: please note (as always) i no longer write for fear street! i am clearing out old requests.
"tom," you murmur, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you attempt to cease the onslaught of affection from your boyfriend. "we're going to be late."
tommy hummed, clearly disinterested with your faux complaints, continuing to press lasting kisses on your neck.
"tommy!"
"what? can't i kiss my adoring partner? who loves me and wants to spend the day being pampered?" he teases.
"no, you can't. i have to go on lifeguard duty. you'll see me later." you reassure, making an effort to rise from your uncomfortable (and quite small) bed as your boyfriend groans once more.
"fine. you know i can't resist you."
"and i thank myself every day for that." you joke, pulling him up as you press a soft kiss on his lips. "now get outta here, i gotta change."
leaning in for another, tommy smiles, lingering at the doorway. "see you tonight?"
"sooner, if you're lucky!" you call, watching his retreating figure as you continue getting ready.
hours later, you find yourself hissing under the harsh summer heat, cursing yourself for taking this godforsaken job as you feel yourself almost literally burning to a crisp.
"enjoying yourself, babe?" a voice emerges from beside you.
"how could you tell?" you reply sardonically, the orange sweater in your periphery confirming your suspicions as to who it was. it was either that or the hand making its way to yours, your pick.
"your lovely expression." he said, giving you time to notice the intense furrow of your brows (and to unclench your jaw)
"how're you?" you respond, ignoring his retort and turning your attention directly to him.
"better, now that i'm with you." tommy smirked, gesturing his free hand downwrd in an attempt for you to level your head with his.
"flirt." you roll your eyes, leaning off the side of your chair to appease his request, kissing him. "you know, you're really distracting me on the job."
"i'll take that as a compliment." he smiles, leaning in again.
"hey, lovebirds!" a voice interrupts- ziggy, you assume. "you two're gross! fuckin', go somewhere else!" she complains, storming off once more. weird.
"you heard the lady," tommy begins, "wanna go cuddle?"
"sure, let me just get somebody to take over." you confirm, hopping off the chair to find your coworker, leaving tommy to think of just how lucky he was to have someone like you.
hey, can you write a simon x reader where the reader goes with him in the bathroom during the school scene (before their plan to blow up the killers) and they confess their feelings and its just cute fluff? so when they get out and simon claims they also went to 'pound town' the readers just laughing like 'no we didnt'. theres a lack of simon fics on here and i am totally in love with him, thank you!
a/n: hi anon! thank you for the request, i changed the ending a little for the sake of the length and the fact i couldn’t properly end it </3 im sorry!
this whole plan was stupid, you thought, furiously rubbing your hands together under the hot water. of course you get chased by undead slashers- just your luck.
“i think your hands are clean, y/n.” a voice chimed in beside you. right. simon. you weren’t alone.
“right.” you murmur, withdrawing your hands from the sink to meet eyes with simon’s. despite the dark circumstances, his eyes held sunshine (they always did), glimmering under the dingy lights. “sorry, i’m just-“
“stressed? i think that’s pretty justified.”
“yeah, i suppose it is.” your eyes met the floor again.
“hey,” he began, his hands making their way to yours. with a raised brow, your eyes met his again. whatever this was, it didn’t feel very platonic. “if this is our last night together i-“
“it won’t be.” the hands within yours squeezed.
“if it is, i need to tell you something.”
“all ears.” you confirmed. you had seen enough movies to know where this went. you hoped you knew, at least.
“i love you.” simon confessed, straight to the point. “and i- i don’t know how to do the sappy confession shit you deserve, and i don’t know if we’ll make it out alive but god, do i love you.” words overflowed, his eyes boring into yours. with a breath in, he flicked his gaze back to you. “well?”
the sight greeting him would be something he swore then and there he would never forget. you, in your beauty, looking at him as if he had been the moon and stars.
“i love you, too.” was all that was whispered, and suddenly, the distance between you both had become nonexistent.
the cold, twisted world waited outside that bathroom, full of undead killers, uncertain futures and fates- but here, under the soft flickering of the old lights, you found warmth in the arms of simon.
Hi! I hope you’re doing wonderful! 🤍 I was wondering if I could please request a Tommy Slater x reader where reader does first aid while nurse lane is out and Tommy comes in to get patched up after a tumble in the woods? They are already friends so she tries to joke and make him feel better but they’re both very flustered/heart eyes ahhh! Thank you for your time and consideration! It is very much appreciated! Sending you love! 🤍🤍🤍
the sound of boots on the creaky wooden floor snapped you out of your pseudo-sleep.
“hello?” a voice had asked. you recognized it well- how couldn’t you? it was the voice that had been plaguing your every thought. tommy slater. your assumptions had been confirmed when his head ducked in under the doorway and oh-
his eyes. you’d forgotten how easy it was to get distracted by them.
“yeah- um, yes!” you clapped your hands together, rising from your chair (not without checking your appearance in the nearest shiny surface) and leaning one hand on the worn desk. “what can i do for you, thomas?”
“tommy.” the man corrected with a cough, a blush dusted lightly over his face- something you had mistaken for a flush from the sun. “i- ah, stumbled,” he explained. “cut up my leg.” tommy cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch his cheek, only to wince upon realization that it had been cut too. “and my face, i guess.”
“c’mere.” you ushered him to a seat, worry etched into your brows. “stay.” flying off to the supplies, you fished for a first aid kit, thanking the stars nurse lane wasn’t here while you were at it (she’d always been quite suspicious of him, you never cared to figure out why.)
“jesus, y/n, i’m not a dog.”
“you follow me around like one.” you shot back, looking over your shoulder with a grin.
“whatever!” tommy sputtered, his mouth opening and closing while his eyes followed your form making its way back to his.
“okay, now sit still. this’ll hurt… only a little, i hope.” your voice lowered to a murmur, tending to the cut on his leg first, avoiding the obvious fact that you, y/n l/n, the one with a permanent home in the friend zone, would be touching tommy slater- the (secret) love of your life’s face. “jeez, tom, seems like you didn’t just stumble, looks like you collapsed off a cliff.”
“eh, stumble, collapse, same thing.” tommy shrugged, leaning into the palm of his hand as his arm rested on the desk. his eyes didn’t leave yours though you didn’t dare look into them. you were working- no distractions, and all that.
“ahem- nerd.” you coughed, finishing up the bandaging. “now for your erm, face… area.” you gestured around your face for emphasis.
“ah yes, that. i forgot i had one of those.” it was tommy’s turn to smile smugly, pushing the hair out of his face to allow better access.
electing to ignore his statement, you got closer. it had been hard to look anywhere except his eyes, now. it had also been quite difficult to ignore the soft breaths on your cheek, or the hand lightly grasping your arm (which admittedly gave you butterflies.) but after awhile, you rose a cotton ball up to his cheek, dabbing it with disinfectant, pausing at the hiss tommy made at contact.
“i’m okay. keep going.” he reassured. and so, you did, taking in more features of his face, committing those tiny, speckled freckles littering his face to memory. he would never know how truly beautiful you thought he was.
“done.” you whispered, the brightly colored bandage (you had chosen it specifically to irk him, though the two of you found it hard to think of or look at anything besides the other) placed delicately on his face. none of you moved, and it felt as if time had stopped, the universe urging the two of you to make a move, inching you two closer and closer until-
“y/n?” nurse lane. just your luck, you thought to yourself. just like that, the moment had been broken, the two of you darting away and stumbling upright.
oh well. perhaps there would be a next time, the both of you thought, cherishing the way your fingertips touched one last time.
hey hey, if you don’t mind could i hey larry trainor x a non-binary reader?? (they/them pronouns) and maybe like they’re immune to radiation so like fluff of them seeing him with no bandages for the first time?? please and thank you!!
A/N: OMG THANK U FOR THE LARRY REQUEST ive just started season 3 he’s the love of my life rn
larry was nervous, he never was nervous. scratch that- yes, he was, but there was always this sarcastic comment that eased the venom of the crippling worry he felt daily. that was what was missing.
“larry. it’s fine, we know i’m immune, yeah?” y/n assured, their hands rested politely in their lap. no sudden moves, sometimes that made him worse.
“yeah, but what if you’re not immune.”
“then i’ll melt into a puddle.”
“y/n!” they assumed he was frowning. there was a cadence in his voice they picked up on after awhile that showed his unrest.
“what?! i’d be a pretty puddle. would you still love me if i was a p-“
“enough.” larry interjected, and with a sigh he put his head in his hands. “it’s time.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.” he sighed again, and y/n’s hands inched their way to his.
“hey,” they began. “you know i’ll love you no matter how you look.”
“do i?”
“you’d better, asshole!” y/n hissed, lacking malice. “anyway, i’m not pushing you to do this. if you’re not ready-“
“i’m ready.”
“okay. take your time.” they pressed a kiss to his bandaged cheek, their hands leaving his as y/n waited patiently. he began unraveling the bandages, beginning with those wrapped around his head. embarrassed for this being their first thought, all y/n could think of was, ‘holy shit, this must be the worst thing ever to put on.’
“larry,” their tone sounded sympathetic, head tilting to the side and eyebrows furrowed. “you’re still the same person with or without bandages.” y/n frowned.
“yeah, but,” larry’s mouth turned downward, and y/n found even when he frowned they loved it. “i’m not…. ugly?”
“never.” no longer able to stay still, their hand rose to touch his face, electing to ignore the flinch larry made. it must’ve been years since someone did that. in turn, larry leaned his face into y/n’s palm, sighing in a reassured sort of fashion.
“that’s good.” he affirmed, a clumsy smile washing over him at the sensation of your lips at the side of his face. he could get used to this, and so could you.
would thoroughly appreciate a fluffy simon kalivoda fic, maybe simon wears the readers clothes or is being endearingly clingy or something? anyways, thank you! i rlly like your blog! <3
a/n: thank u for the kind words anon i hope ur pillow is always crisp and cold and i hope ur phone never loses a charge.. also i headcanon simon wears eyeliner…. pls let me think about it pls pls pl
the first thing you realize when you wake up is that it’s cold. very cold. the second, you were late for school. very late. third, the side of your bed where your boyfriend slept is empty. very, very empty.
“simon?” you ask, though it sounds more like a raspy croak. okay, first order of business, water.
after a short trip to the kitchen and a glass of water, you call out again, “si!”
a half-grunt carries through the house, coming from where you can only assume (very astutely, might i add) to be the fully lit bathroom down the hall. with a tip-toe to the doorframe, the sight before you is nothing short of eyebrow raising.
“is that…. my sweater?” you ask, glancing at your boyfriend in the mirror, his face contorted in concentration.
“is it?” simon asks, finally breaking his attention to look at your shirt, then back to you. “hadn’t noticed.” the boy continued with a shrug, refocusing on himself only to swear upon noticing he had messed up his eyeliner.
“need any help?” you asked smugly.
“please.” simon groaned, his hands already circling around your waist to pull you close. the two of you fell into a pleasant silence, only interrupted once you finished his makeup.
“all done.”
simon only hummed in return, his arms still around your waist. “stay a little longer.” he pleaded, pecking your face lightly in an attempt to persuade you.
“will i get my sweater back?” you asked amusingly, hands rising to play with the hairs at the back of his neck.
“i’m sure i could make a compromise.” simon smiled goofily, his eyes crinkling as he led you back to your room, a promise of sleep and warm embraces.
“good enough for me.” school could wait, you supposed.
