#Max Making Wax

[rastronomicals]

9:43 PM EDT July 31, 2024:

Charlie Parker - "Max Making Wax" From the album The Complete Dial Sessions (1993)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

★★★★★

Recorded June 23, 1946.

Yes, Charles Parker, Jr., alto sax, but to be completely honest, Bird was drunk and in withdrawal. He's still a genius, if a hobbled one, but he comes in late, then later on, misses a break.

For me what makes this track is the piano playing. A cat named Jimmy Bunn (who doesn't even have a Wikipedia page) gets the credit. He starts the track at breakneck speed, comps wonderfully in odd time underneath during the horn solos, then plays the best solo of the song when his turn comes around. Brilliant brilliant stuff that points out the kind of talent genius attracts.

[sunmontuewrites]

So... dinner was nice. We enjoyed the experience. But Wax had a carbonara dish, which he has been learning to make from scratch (pasta included) with Uncles Wax and Max. He's been learning how to make it because it is his favourite dish.

Yeah - it was quite disappointing tonight, and we asked him how it was and he said "a bit bland" (which is DAMNING from a kid who usually finds nice things to say about everything - complete opposite of Max). But he was dead on (we all tried it). Needed both salt and pepper, and some more parmesan for the sharpness.

Anyway, Hubs went up to pay and the hostess (owner) asked him how everything was, and he asked her if she wanted brutal honesty.

(Those of you who know Hubs, he is a sarcastic MF and can be very cutting with his tongue - Max gets it from him in SPADES).

Anyway, she said yes, and then Hubs said that while the entree was delicious, and three of the mains were equally great, the pasta was really disappointing and then he said "one of my sons can cook a better carbonara then that". He then went on to say it was edible, and not bad enough to send back. Just disappointing.

Then we find out it's a new chef.

But yep, Wax had an interesting night in that he learnt that he can cook a meal better than a professional chef (with help from Uncle Max and Wax).

[0scarp1astr1]

Wax Appointment

જ⁀➴ Desc: || In which you tell them about your brazilian wax appointment, they just have one problem, your waxer is a man. ||

ᯓ★ Featuring: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Fernando Alonso.

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Fluffy (slight humor)

ᯓ★ Warning: Suggestive humor/themes

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: First official writing, remember inbox is open! I hope you all enjoy. And if you want another part of this, you can just tell me what drivers you would like to see in this same scenario. My pinned tells you all the drivers I write for.

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Max Verstappen

It was halfway through the day when Max caught you freshening yourself back up. At first, he brushed it off, assuming maybe he worked out while he was gone and needed a shower. He was never the type to press you on the matter unless it was something that caused you discomfort, and he needed a reason to beat up someone for you. He was sweet in his own way, but a kind, gentle soul when he needed to be.

"Alright, I'm leaving," you said, reaching for the keys. Max had looked over from his spot on the couch, raising a brow. "You're leaving? "I didn't know you had plans?" he questioned. He knew deep down he would be safe. He trusted his friends, plus most of them were other wags. You always got along with Alexandra.

Letting a soft chuckle slip from your lips, you shook your head, looking at him. He looked even more confused before you explained. "I'm going to my Brazilian waxing appointment." You smiled at him. Max's brain took a moment to process. "And that is what exactly?"

You sighed, figuring you would have to explain the basics to your lovely boyfriend. "It's waxing, they do everything, front, back, and everything in between." You winked playfully. He blushed for a moment before nodding his head. "Have fun!" he replied, eyes adverting back to the television.

"I will. "I have to go, or he's going to make me pay extra! "If I’m late,” Before you have the chance to prance out the door, your boyfriend was right behind you. "He? "It's a GUY?!" he said rather loudly, moving to block the door. You looked at him, almost offended. “Yeah? "It's a wax, this is his job," you tried to reason.

Max shook his head. "No, I can do it!” he said as his eyes widened at his suggestion. "Max, you can't wax me down there" you shook your head in protest. Max scoffed. "Schatje! I've seen every inch of you naked. I know my way around your body. In fact, I know my way in! "I'm waxing you! End of story!" he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"his job? I'm your boyfriend. this is MY job."

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Charles Leclerc

The crazy thing about Charles is that you told him about your Brazilian wax appointment, but it seems he forgot. Which isn’t a surprise considering he wasn’t paying much attention when he was spoken to, but you loved him regardless.

Opening the door, your eyes landed on Charles, who was playing his sim racing, giving a soft smile towards him as you spoke up. “Okay, I’m heading out for my Brazilian wax” you said as Charles hummed with a soft smile. “Enjoy yourself mon amour, give her a tip I like when she does your waxing” he stated.

 “Ah. "Amy’s out of town, I have a new waxer, but he said he knows what he’s doing” you assume, with a shrug. Charles forgot everything at that point, his head turning fast with an expression of disbelief. “He? Mon amour! It’s another man! He can’t see what’s mine!” 

“Charles, it’s just his job. "If I was uncomfortable, I’d never book this waxing” you shook your head, he let out a sigh. “I know that, trust me I know” he assured, silence falling over before he hummed to break the tension forming. 

“Just don’t get a waxing at all..personally, I don’t need this guy investigating you like some temple”, he said, causing you to chuckle, “It’s nothing like that.” Let me get my wax so you and I can have a good time. "I feel it ruins the mood if I’m not up-to-date with my self-care!”

Charles shook his head. “Fine…but let me fuck you first before you go. "I need to leave behind something,” he said as you slapped his arm. “Charles!” You shook your head, he shrugged.

“What? I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine! At least let me label it before you go mon amour!”

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Lewis Hamilton

Fairly respectful guy, so you honestly have no issue with him, and he knows half the people you see anyway. He pays for your hair, nails, anything really. He just didn’t realize you had a man doing the waxing instead. 

Lewis casually lounged on the couch, Roscoe resting next to him and the TV playing some random film he found when channel surfing. When he saw you walk towards the door, he finally spoke up.

"Brazilian waxing, right?" he asked, wanting to double-check as he nodded your head in response to him. “You should be back in time before our date tonight. I know it’s not far from here,” he smiled softly. 

"Actually, it’s a new place I'm trying. They have me booked with some guy," you said as he nodded his head. "So how much did they-wait a guy?" he looked at you as if you had just insulted Roscoe himself. Which only caused you to giggle in response to his reaction. “Yes. A man is doing my waxing.” 

Lewis raised up from the couch as Roscoe looked over, his rest now disturbed. “I can live with you not waxing, you can just shave” he said as you cringed. “I hate shaving. "I need to be nice and pretty” you said as he groaned. “I’ve eaten it before! "Why does it matter now?” he said as he shook his head, Roscoe barking. “Lewis! "Roscoe is right there!” You gestured. 

“Excuse me baby doll, you know I love Roscoe but I’m more worried about the man waxing you!”

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Lando Norris

It was a pretty simple day with Lando playing games with his best friend Max and you rummaged through the bathroom and digging through makeup. “Lando!” You shouted from the bathroom. He excused himself from the game, walking to the bathroom. 

He opened the door as you looked at him with a frustrated expression. “Have you seen my makeup brushes?” You asked, earning a headshake from him. “I haven’t. "Where are you going anyway?” he asked. Lando didn’t mind you dolling up, but he also knew you rarely did. “Brandon is waxing me today. I scheduled my Brazilian wax for noon.” 

Gears turned in his head as the bathroom door was fully open now, his weight leaned against it. “Excuse me? Brandon? "What kind of womanly name is that?” He asked as you snickered, shaking your head. “Not a woman,” he said as he gasped. “You’re cheating on me?!” He shouted. Earning a rather offended expression on your part. “That’s not cheating!” 

“Letting him see MY woman’s elegant body is cheating!” He said as you groaned. “It’s a wax!” You scoffed. “Same thing.” My eyes only. "He’s going to try to steal you from me. "I know this because you’re absolutely sexy in my eyes and everyone will try.” He bickered back. A small smile broke out onto your face. “Are you sweet-talking to me?…” She smiled. 

Lando sighed. “Yeah. "Is it working?” He raised a brow, hating to admit how it was working, you caved in. “Kinda yeah,” You said as he grinned. “Excellent.” "You are going to get that waxing, cause now I feel bad.” He said as you, awed at his sudden change. 

“Thank you, Lando…” you smiled softly. “Of course.” "Now where are the wax strips you use?” He asked, scooting you out the way to rummage for them. “What?” he asked as he sighed, his eyes speaking for him. “Not happening Lando.”

“Do you want the wax or not? You don’t even have to pay me. You get a free Brazilian wax and I get to see you naked. It’s a win.”

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Carlos Sainz

The crazy thing is, Carlos looked into the booking since he was fine paying for it and just wanted a basic booking list to look at. It lined up perfectly with the vacation he booked for you two for the anniversary on the way. Everything was a miracle for him. 

“You sure you want to come to the room?” he asked as Carlos chuckled, nodding his head. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before cariño”, he smiled softly. You kissed his cheek, gave a soft sigh and walked into the room, knowing exactly what to do already. 

Overtime, Carlos had been texting on his phone and waiting, so when the door opened, he looked up and his smile dropped as he looked at the guy rather closely. “Who are you?” He asked suddenly, causing him to side eye his sassy tone given. “Ah, I’m doing the waxing today, my name is-“ Carlos had quickly moved from his spot.

“You? "No offense, but you can’t wax my woman,” he said. You glanced at him for his boldness. “Carlos-“  "No! I want a woman! I don’t exactly trust this process.” He glared at the guy. The man clears his throat. “I can assure you it’s a fast process,” he said. 

Carlos crossed his arms. “I want a woman to wax. If not, "We’ll be taking our leave.” You looked at the guy, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry about that,” You said as the guy walked out of the room. 

Your gaze shifted to Carlos, who looked more relaxed and comfortable, only giving you a silent shrug in return. “You scared him away…” you said, but you smiled lightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but you can’t scare away people I need for my wax”, you said as Carlos kissed your forehead. 

“Dios mío, relax. I’ll make it up to you during our anniversary vacation. In the best way possible”

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Fernando Alonso

Dramatic, you knew how dramatic he was capable of being when you first started dating, and he damn near scared the waiter away. So with the waxer, you knew it was no different. 

It was the usual morning of you both lounging around the bedroom, wrapped in the warmth of your cuddle session. “I don’t want to get up, but I can’t miss my wax either” you said as Fernando hums, his arms still around you. “Schedule it another time” he suggested, and you figured maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, so you did it. 

Sadly, you lost track of time and when you finally got up two hours later, you internally screamed at yourself. Fernando only propped himself up on his elbows, watching you move around the bedroom in a panic. “You’re only a bit late,” he said. “A bit?! Fernando, I’m hours late! I had to call to make sure I could go!” 

“And?” he sighed heavily. “The original waxer is out. Luckily, this one guy made time to squeeze me in today for a Brazilian wax”. At the moment when you said that, Fernando was well awake and jumping out of bed. “No! Absolutely not! "Do you hear yourself, Mi amada?” he asked, eyes wide. A part of you was aching to laugh just because of how dead serious he was. 

“Who needs a wax anyway? "I can manage” he shrugs, causing you to snicker. It’s not funny! "He’s going to see you! "Every bit of you! "I can wax you! "I’m your husband!” He said as you giggled. “Boyfriend.” You corrected. “Soon to be husband! "My point is, you’re laughing, and I’m offering to wax!” He pointed out. “You’re such a drama queen Alonso,” You said. He stood in front of you, silence taking over, who was going to cave in? Only time was capable of telling. 

Now here you are, lying down at home. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into letting you wax me at home,” You said as he shrugged. “I was helping you”, he said as you rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re lucky the world loves you.” He gave a satisfied smile. 

“Happy to help, I’d be a fool to allow another man to touch you. Call it dramatics but you love it.”

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[kaidasdesires]

“Your Eyes Only.” : Heeseung

☾ grouping: Heeseung x afab reader

☾ rating: 18+, explicit content

☾ wc: 7.6k

☾ content warnings: aphrodisiac, altered state, y/n feels like she's been drugged, explicit sex, wax play, light choking and hair pulling, brief oral

☾ summary: Heeseung calls y/n to the studio to show her a new song he's working on. He thinks y/n is as beautiful as a piece of art and wants to show her what that looks like to him.

Or, Heeseung is a siren and uses his voice to seduce y/n and show her how good he can make her feel.

☾ author note: This story is fiction and does not reflect the personalities or desires of those it is written about. This story has some scenes that may be uncomfortable for some readers, read at your own discretion.

☾ taglist: @who-tf-soddhi , @imnotyizhuo , @deobitifull , @ochaluver , @jakeswifez , @helenngxz , @enhalusional , @d-dilemma , @heerinnie , @qeeun-didi , @capri-cuntz , @strxwbloody , @jungwonloverr , @b3tt7boop , @zara2318 , @simbabyj , @gnvi-eve , @babygirlskz98 , @nshmrarki , @50-husbands , @peonywon , @moonpri , @binneulton , @leeheeso , @roslayy , @tunafishyfishylike , @fancypeacepersona , @irenic-max , comment below to be added! <3

It had been a few weeks since the night you got drunk and Jungwon told you everything. Jungwon had still tried to avoid the conversation when he could so you didn’t get much more information out of him. However, as you predicted, nothing had changed. Even with the confession, all of the boys continued to act the same. Sure maybe a little more handsy or flirty than before but nothing crazy. 

It was late in the evening, you had just gotten out of the shower, the steam clinging to your skin as you reached for your phone. A notification lit up the screen, and your heart skipped a beat as you saw the sender's name: Heeseung.

Hey, are you awake?

You cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. It was unusual for Heeseung to text you in the evening like this. He was usually busy with practice or working on new music.

I’m awake. You okay? 

As you waited for his response, you dried your hair, a towel wrapped around your head. Your mind raced, contemplating why he would be texting you like this suddenly and at this hour.

A moment later, your phone buzzed again.

Can you come to the studio? 

A slight pang of nervousness hit you. Heeseung didn’t answer you if he was okay and normally his messages weren’t so short. Your hair was dry enough so you quickly changed into a tank top with a cardigan and leggings. 

I’m on the way. 

You texted him back, a sense of urgency hitting you as you left your house and locked the door behind you. The walk was only about 10 minutes and you quickly stopped by the convenience store to get some snacks and coffee for Heeseung. You knew he would appreciate the gesture, as he often spent long nights in the studio working on his music.

Once you got to the building you rang the doorbell and Heeseung buzzed you in. You headed to the elevator and quickly hit the close door button behind you. As you waited for the elevator to arrive on the right floor you thought briefly about how you could cheer Heeseung up if he was having a hard time. Maybe these snacks would help. 

You headed down the hallway to the studio door and when you knocked Heeseung let you in. 

“Hey!” You said a little bit out of breath from your walk and carrying things. When you sat down on the little couch you noticed that Heeseung was alone in the studio. “Where is everyone? Is everything okay Heeseung?” You asked concern in your voice was evident.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted you to hear something I was working on before I showed it to the rest of the guys.” He responded, closing the door behind you. 

“Oh!” You nodded before giving him a sweet smile. “It must be something important to you. I’d be honored.” 

He smiled back. His eyes trailed to the bags you brought with you. “What’s this?” He questioned. 

“I brought you some coffee and snacks. I was honestly a little worried Hee, you don’t typically text me this late at night.” You responded, pulling the snacks and a canned coffee drink out of the bag. 

The studio was a bit cramped. A small couch, a desk that held the music mixing equipment and Heeseung’s computer, a swivel chair, and then the mixing booth. Heeseung sat on the swivel chair in front of you. He took the coffee drink, popped the tab with one hand, and took a sip. 

“I’m just fine. Better now that you're here though.” He said. When you met his eyes he was eyeing you up and down before he took another sip. 

You couldn’t help but blush as his eyes trailed down your body. Your tank top was exposing your chest more than normal but you had just grabbed something that wouldn’t stick to your damp post-shower body. 

Heeseung stood up and pulled a lighter out of his desk before using it to light a few candles around the studio. Heeseung preferred it to be dark when he sang or was working on writing something. You remember he had mentioned before that he didn’t care for artificial light either which is why he opted for candles instead. 

“I hope you like it, I wrote it with someone I like in mind,” Heeseung said, a smirk on his face even though he wasn’t looking at you. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever shown me something I don’t like Heeseung.” You complimented him in response. Then you sat back on the couch getting more comfortable while Heeseung went into the booth and put on his headphones. You assumed his comment wasn’t about you. He started the music and your ears were met with a slow sensual beat. You closed your eyes and listened as Heeseung sang. 

My body is burning up because of you

My heart thirsts because of you

Like a fever, fever, fever, fever

His voice was so beautiful that it seeped into your ears like warm honey. The smell from the candles only heightened your senses as you listened. The smell was something like cedar, a comforting woody smell but with a hint of cinnamon. It was a nice smell. You wished that you could smell this sort of scent all the time. 

I want to embracе you

I want to embrace you

Push me away but my firе still burns

Turn to ash but the flame still rises

You opened your eyes to find that Heeseung was looking right at you as if he was singing to you. You blushed, not realizing he had been watching you. A second after your eyes met his you felt your head spin. You leaned forward and clutched onto the couch to help stabilize yourself. You weren’t the type to suddenly get dizzy like this. Maybe the smell from the candles was getting to you. Heeseung continued to sing, the melodic tune washing over you. He was still watching you but he didn’t seem concerned. 

Like a fever, fever, fever

I want to ache for you

I want to ache for you

Your body started feeling hot and tingly. You were worried you were getting sick suddenly, but you didn’t feel bad per se, just a burning sensation against your skin and a bit dizzy. If it wasn’t so sudden you argue that it felt kind of nice in a way. You lifted your head back up, and everything seemed to be moving a little bit slower than before. You looked back to Heeseung, he was still looking at you, watching you. 

Don't stop 

Yes, all day, all day burn me

Please stop 

My sun, stop baby, oh baby

I beg you, do something, anything

His voice was like fire in your veins, every note he sang you felt like an electric pulse through your body. You felt an overwhelming feeling of desire, a craving for touch and closeness. You pulled off your cardigan, the heat becoming too much for you to handle. 

You didn’t notice when Heeseung had stopped singing and exited the booth. You were still trying to understand why you suddenly felt so weird. He sat beside you and gently patted your head. His hand coming down to rest on the back of your neck. 

“It’s okay, you’ll get used to it soon.” He said, once again glancing over your more exposed skin. “It’s not too much is it darling?” he asked looking at the goosebumps raised on your arms. 

“Heeseung– what– what did you do?” you asked, head still spinning. The sudden pet name almost manages to go over your head. You wanted him to be closer, touching you, anything to help ground you. You grabbed onto his sleeve hoping it would help the feeling. 

“I know Jungwon told you about us. But I noticed that nobody has had the guts to make a move on you yet. Unsurprising really.” He replied, insinuating that the other boys were weak or scared. “This is… just part of who I am. But you're okay, don’t be afraid.” 

“You drugged me?” you asked, feeling even hotter now. That was the only thing that made sense in this situation. Or did it? How could he have possibly drugged you when all he did was light candles and sing to you?

Heeseung laughed before he placed a hand on your chin and pulled your face up to look at him. “I would never do that pretty girl. Don’t you remember what I said? I told you not to worry and that none of us would ever hurt you.” He reassured you, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. 

That voice you had heard in your head at first the other night had been him. Now you felt crazy. A little scared and surprised by the way you couldn’t but help want Heeseung to kiss you. He was so close and you wanted more. 

“Come here, you can sit in my lap until I'm done working on this.” He spoke up, obviously aware that you didn’t want to let him go considering you still had a death grip on his sleeve. The older boy pulled your arm gently to get you to let him go before he grabbed both your hands and helped you onto your feet. Your knees threatened to buckle below you as you followed him to the chair.

This wasn’t something you normally would ever do. Of course, you found Heeseung handsome but he was always so calm and mature. You never dared hit on him because all his flirting seemed like just something he’d say to make someone feel good. You were sure he had someone he was seeing or that he wasn’t interested in you. But then again you felt that way about all the boys before Jungwon’s confession. Why would they be interested in you when they could have any girl they wanted? 

Heeseung guided you to the chair with care before he sat down. At first, you went to sit in his lap with your back pressed against his chest but he stopped you. 

“Turn around.” He said, gently turning you by the waist. His tone was somehow soft but firm at the same time. You knew he wouldn’t tolerate any pushback you gave him, so you obliged his demand. Then he guided you to staddle him and sit in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and adjusted your hips which resulted in a quiet grunt from the older boy. You couldn’t help but press your face into the crook of his neck. Normally you wouldn’t be this bold but you just wanted to be touching him. The smell of his cologne only fueled the heat you felt as you breathed against his neck.  

After a minute of listening to Heeseung clicking on his keyboard, he instead opted for filling the room with the sound of his humming. The vibrations against your face and the sound so much closer to you made you want more of him. Why was his singing making you feel this way? 

You felt worked up, and hot. You just wanted him to touch you. It was almost subconscious when you made the slightest shift against Heeseungs hips.

He responded with a quiet “mmm.”, not giving you the response you had hoped for. 

You pressed your lips against his neck, giving him a few small kisses. Maybe that would get him to react.

Again, there was almost no response from the older boy. Instead, he just continued to hum. 

Your pussy was starting to throb. This whole thing confused you. You didn’t understand why you were so ungodly horny. You didn’t understand why your body was reacting this way. You sat there, contemplating between letting the feeling overtake you or maintaining the image Heeseung had always seen you as. At most, the boys had only ever seen you making out with a guy or in your bathing suit, besides the other night, nothing of this level of intimacy had happened between any of you. You were sure they saw you as a bit modest and shy, which wasn't necessarily true, but that's all you ever showed them.

You pushed your forehead into Heeseung’s collarbone in defeat before using your hips to grind into him. 

“Oh, what’s this?” Heeseung teased as he stopped typing and placed his hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing small circles on your skin where your tank top had risen on its own. 

You huffed a bit. You were desperate for him to do something at this point, but he wasn’t giving you anything. But you were too stubborn to blatantly give up your still somewhat respectable appearance. You did the same action again, except this time, you could feel that he was getting hard underneath you. 

“Darling, I’m not done yet.” he cooed, trying to act like your actions weren’t getting to him. 

You couldn’t help but let out the smallest little whine. You felt him smile, probably a cocky one. Nonetheless, he continued with his humming and typing while you continued slowly grinding against him. His cock twitched in his sweatpants begging for more friction. You obliged, tightening your arms around his shoulders to get more leverage as you pushed harder against him. 

This earned you another quiet grunt, followed by the sound of Heeseung’s laptop being shut suddenly. The noise caused you to jump. 

“You’re lucky y/n,” he said, his voice much darker than before. “You’re lucky that I'm going to go easy on you since I’m the first.” 

You felt his hand slide up your back and his fingers tangle into your hair before he tugged your head back suddenly. You squeaked, not expecting the sudden action nor the pain tingling across your scalp. 

He looked over your face. It was red, flushed with desire. Your eyes were glossy and round, begging him for more. Mouth slightly parted as you processed his actions. He smirked. 

“Look at you, so pretty and desperate for me already” Heeseung whispered, leaning into your ear “I should make you ride me right here like this.” 

His hot breath tickled against you and sent shivers down your spine. His sudden change in demeanor was intoxicating and his words made you only want more. 

Instead, Heeseung reached both hands under your ass and lifted you and himself from the chair before moving you to the couch. You clung onto him, not wanting to lose the feeling of his body against yours. He kept you on his lap, but this was more comfortable for the both of you than the swivel chair. 

You looked at him, he too looked a little bit flushed and needy, not that he would admit that. 

He reached up to grab the nape of your neck, and he finally gave you the attention you had wanted. He pulled you to him and kissed you. His kiss was much harder than the kiss at the party but it was still slow and drawn out. He kissed you passionately like he was savoring every single movement. 

His hands found your lower back again but slowly started to push up the fabric. Then they roamed over your sides leaving trails of tingling heat behind them. The kiss deepened as Heeseung’s tongue licked its way into your mouth and you started to rut against him again. 

“Fuck,’ He cursed as your clothed pussy rubbed against him. You could tell he was holding back because of the way his fingers pressed deeply into your sides, almost as if he was trying to ground himself. 

You pulled away from him, briefly taking over the lead to reach your fingers under the hem of his shirt and pull it off. You looked over him, his muscles and toned body surprising you. You hadn’t expected his body to be so nice. 

“Your turn.” He said after giving you a second to look him over. He lifted your shirt slowly over your head, keeping eye contact with you the entire time until he threw your shirt onto the floor.

Then his hands roamed the softness of your exposed body fingers gliding over your sides and under your breasts. He pulled you back down into the kiss before slowly kissing along your jawline and onto your neck. He sucked and bit on your neck not hard enough to leave any lasting marks but enough to elicit quiet whimpers from you. You ran your fingers through his hair earning a hum of satisfaction. As he continued to kiss your neck, you felt his hand travel up your back until it reached your bra, and in one smooth motion, he unclasped it. 

Heeseung pulled back from you, still maintaining eye contact with you. “Can I see you, darling?” He asked, not wanting to do anything that you were uncomfortable with. 

You nodded and let the bra fall off your shoulders and into your lap exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened quickly at the change in temperature earning a smirk from the older boy who was already admiring you. 

“Wow y/n, you’re beautiful.” He whispered, reaching out to knead the soft mounds in his hands. You blushed, suddenly feeling shy and exposed. 

“Such a pretty girl.” He continued with his compliments, now taking your nipples in between his fingers. He played with them for a minute, rubbing them and pinching them causing you to shiver at the feeling. 

He looked over your features once more, and seeing that you maybe felt a little shy or nervous he started to hum again. This time humming quietly while he leaned down to suck on your nipples. The vibrations and the sound cause that dizzying hot feeling to overtake you again. He continued like this for a minute, swapping between his fingers and his mouth before he gently pushed you over to where you were lying back on the couch. 

You watched him as he stood up and pulled down his pants. Leaving him in just his underwear. His cock was hard and his underwear was wet where he had already begun to leak. He didn’t seem embarrassed by this and it only made you more aroused, knowing that he was just as worked up as you were. 

“Please.” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. 

“Hmm? Please what darling?” Heeseung replied, leaning down over you and reaching his fingers into the band of your leggings. He kissed down your stomach as he slowly pulled your leggings down. He continued to hum between the kisses, the humming keeping you intoxicated and warm. 

He pulled your leggings off, leaving you exposed except for your panties. You were so hot, but also the tiniest bit cold since his body wasn’t touching yours anymore.

“Have you figured it out yet?” Heeseung asked, stepping away from you momentarily to the other side of the room. 

You couldn’t see where he had gone since he had disappeared behind your line of sight. 

You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking, your mind consumed with just wanting him to fuck you already. “Hee,” you whined, “want you.” The second part came out much quieter than his nickname.

“Oh, I know you do pretty. But you just need to wait a little while longer. There was a pause before he continued.”You know how much I love to make art right?” He asked, voice now coming back closer to you. 

You could only nod in response. 

“Close your eyes.” He demanded gently. You did what he asked, shifting your thighs back and forth to give yourself some sort of friction, the heat and need unbearable between your legs. 

“You’re so breathtaking y/n, that I can’t help but use you as a canvas.” He said, a smirk evident in his voice. 

It was hot. Incredibly hot as it trickled down your chest, in between your breasts, and towards your belly button. You yelped, surprised by the sudden pain that quickly turned into pleasure. 

And again, burning hot down your thighs, trickling over the edges towards the couch. You fidgeted, unable to hold back the surprised squeaks every time the feeling came. 

You opened your eyes to see Heeseung standing over you, the pine and cinnamon candle that he lit earlier in hand. The red wax left hot trails across your body. He tipped the candle again, watching your face as the wax trickled inwards on your thighs towards your heat. He enjoyed watching your face squeeze up in pain followed by a wave of pleasure. 

He continued this for a while, trickling hot wax across sensitive parts of your body while admiring you. By the time he was done, red wax that almost looked like a pattern of lightning or tree branches covered your body. 

“There, now that I’ve painted my beautiful canvas, it is also up to me to ruin it.” He said, voice laced with a darkness that you hadn’t anticipated. 

He placed the candle back on the table before inviting himself between your legs. He was quick to pull off your panties, not giving you a chance to be shy or nervous. It was obvious he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He admired your pussy. Using one finger to trace between your folds and tease your clit before running back down. 

You gasped, begging him for more without asking. 

He slipped one finger in with no resistance, and then a second. He was lacking the same patience he had had for hours beforehand. His eyes were full of a hungry lust. 

You mewled as his fingers pressed into you, the feeling relieving your aching heat just a little bit. “Ah– Heeseung,” you moaned quietly. 

He curled his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you, reaching for the spot he knew would have you squirming under him. He leaned forward over you, took one hand, and wrapped it around your throat. He didn’t squeeze enough to really choke you, but enough to make sure your attention was solely focused on him. 

“Tell me what you want darling.” He said, speeding up his movements and purposefully hitting the sensitive spot over and over. His dark eyes peered into yours as he waited. 

You moaned as your body tensed up to his touch, both hands coming up to grab onto his arm that was still around your throat. You could barely catch your breath with the way your body was tensing up, hips arching off the couch, but you knew he wouldn’t give you any mercy until you gave him what he wanted. 

“Heeseung–ah– please,” you whined, little gasps coming out between each thrust of his fingers. 

“Ah, so pretty for me honey, but not enough.” he cooed, fingers continuing their assault. 

“Nngh– please Heeseung, please fuck me,” you begged, tears pricking at your eyes. 

He chuckled, slowing his fingers down and watching you as you panted. He released his hand from your neck before pulling his fingers out and sticking them into his mouth to clean them off. 

“Good girl,” he praised, “I thought you'd never ask. All this time you’ve been trying to keep this side of you hidden from me. But look at how good you are, listening to me and doing what I ask. Do any of the other boys know you’re such a slut darling?” 

His words overwhelmed you. Sure you weren’t a virgin, but you’d never done anything with the boys. Gotten off to the idea of fucking them before sure, but that was a secret that you kept to yourself. You never wanted to risk harming them by getting caught or hurting the bond that you had with them. 

You shook your head, giving Heeseung an honest answer. 

“I’m so lucky, getting you all to myself like this, even if it's just for a little while.” Heeseung smiled, the dark glint of desire ever present in his eyes. He pulled away from you again, standing up to take off his underwear. You watched as his cock hit the skin of his stomach. You found yourself surprised once again, his cock was bigger than you anticipated. 

He pumped his length in his hand, running a finger over the head to smear the pre cum along his shaft. He looked so good like this.

With a sudden wave of desire and determination to earn more praise you sat up and replaced Heeseungs hands with your own. You stroked him a few times before leaning over and kitten-licking the top. You didn’t hear any reaction from Heeseung, so you decided to push it further. You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. When you sunk down on him you finally looked up at him through your eyelashes. 

“Fuck–ah fuck,” Heeseung groaned as you took him into your mouth. You had caught him off guard and were rewarded by his surprised reaction. It took him a second to compose himself, his eyes opening to meet yours. He watched you for a moment as you bobbed up and down on his cock slowly. You could tell he was savoring the view and the feeling of your mouth on him.

Then he reached forward to run his fingers through your hair, an affectionate action before his fingers tightened around the strands and pushed you farther down onto his length. 

“You’re so pretty like this y/n,” Heeseung cooed as he held you down on his cock, far enough down that you felt your throat starting to spasm around him.

You tried your best to not gag as he held you down. Tears welled in your eyes as you looked up at him. His words were gentle, but his actions were stern and dominant. 

“You’re so good darling, showing me how badly you want to please me. But,” he paused before pushing you all the way down onto his length till your nose hit his stomach, “I don’t think you could handle it.” He whispered, before releasing you completely. 

You choked as you pulled off of him, followed by a gasp for air and a few tears running across your cheeks. You hadn't been prepared to deep-throat him like that, but the action turned you on tremendously. How his words were so sweet but his actions only made you want to egg him on. To see how rough he would get with you. 

Heeseung interrupted your thoughts as he leaned over to kiss your forehead before laying you back on the couch. He got on top of you and your heat clenched around nothing as you felt his cock slide against you. 

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time y/n,’ Heeseung whispered into your neck as you felt him reach down. He ran his cock up and down your folds, sliding easily because of how wet you were. 

You gasped at the feelings before reaching up to grab onto his shoulders. 

He teased you like this for a moment, watching you carefully in between leaving kisses on your neck and jaw. 

“Tell me you want me darling,” Heeseung urged, pushing the tip against your entrance. 

“God– please Heeseung, I want you… so bad Hee,” you begged, raising your hips in an effort to coax him into you. 

With your consent, the older boy groaned, slowly pushing himself into you. He rested a hand on your cheek as he did so, watching carefully for any indication of pain. 

You leaned your head back, mouth parted in a silent moan as he bottomed out before slowly pulling back out and repeating. 

He continued to fuck you slowly, leaning down to kiss you passionately as he thrust into you. Your fingers entangled into his hair, tugging gently which earned you a moan from Heeseung between kisses. Your tongues fought for dominance, and occasionally Heeseung took your bottom lip in between his teeth. 

After a minute of this, Heeseung dipped his head back into your neck before speeding up his thrusts. He fucked into you faster and harder and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His thrusts brought out continuous strings of lewd moans from you. 

You opened your eyes in surprise when you felt Heeseungs hand press over your mouth. “Your noises are so beautiful darling, and I so badly want to hear them. In fact, I wish all the boys could hear you moaning for me baby. I wish everyone in this building knew who you belonged to tonight,” he paused, taking a moment to peer into your eyes. “But I can’t have you letting the whole building know what we are doing in here hmm? That might get me in a bit of trouble.” He finished his thought with a quick raise of his eyebrow. 

You could only nod in response as he continued his motions, a spring of tension coiling in your stomach with every thrust. 

With his hand still over your mouth, you could only listen to the sound of his panting and quiet grunts. His voice was still beautiful even in this situation. 

“Oh, by the way,” Heeseung spoke again suddenly, “I’m a siren.” 

He removed his hand from your mouth and instead moved to pull your legs up to your chest so he could get a deeper angle. Gasps and whines left you in quick succession, this position only tightening the coil in your stomach further. 

You were having trouble processing what Heeseung had just said to you and of course it was hard to believe any of what Jungwon had said was real but the new information gave you clarity on what made you feel so aroused tonight. Heeseung’s voice. It intoxicated you and consumed you and it was all at Heeseung’s will. 

You moaned quietly at the idea of this. How he could get you so worked up with just his voice. 

After a moment, Heeseung reached down in between the two of you and his fingers found your clit. He rubbed small circles as he continued to fuck into you harshly. 

You dug your nails into his back and began to tremble from the overwhelming stimulation. You knew it wouldn’t take you that long to cum considering how worked up you had been. Heeseung knew this too. 

“You know what that means?” He asked, sweat causing his hair to stick to his forehead slightly. 

You shook your head, giving him a curious look in response. 

“It means,” He smirked. “From now on, every time you hear my voice. You’ll be reminded of this moment. You’ll be reminded of how good I made you feel, and how desperate you were for me. How you trembled underneath my fingers darling.” 

The idea of this sent you into a spiral of arousal, you heard Heeseung singing all the time. He practically never stopped singing. How would you ever be able to sit in on any of their practices or concerts? Heat rushed to your core at the images and scenarios in your head. You whimpered, a small pathetic noise of desperation. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned as his fingers and thrusts continued. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, the sound of you calling his name obviously getting to him. 

You couldn’t hold back much longer and you knew he couldn’t either. His thrusts were becoming a bit sloppy and rushed. 

His eyes met yours again, neither of you saying anything for a moment before you spoke up. Your orgasm was approaching quickly now. 

“Heeseung, please, please don’t stop.” You begged, your head rolling back again as you allowed yourself to be consumed by the feeling of him fucking you. 

He picked up speed with determination and he leaned down once more kissing the side of your jaw and then your ear. 

“You’re so pretty y/n, I know you want to cum for me.” He said, his voice though not singing, sent that dizzy wave of overwhelming arousal over you again. 

“Hee—hee, please.” You cried as you were thrown desperately toward the edge, the coil so tight you could barely breathe. 

“Cum for me. Cum nice and hard for me darling. Show me how good you feel.” He all but commanded into your ear, his thrusts and fingers maintaining a slower but consistent speed and motion. 

And you did. Unsure if it was from his voice or at your own will but you came hard. You came so hard that no sound escaped your lips, you were breathless, air stolen by the waves of pleasure as they cascaded over you. Heeseung fucked you through your orgasm and kept fucking you until you shook from overstimulation. Once he finally pulled his hand away from between you he was able to focus on his own climax. 

His pace quickened, and your body still clenched around him, overstimulation causing tears to brim at your eyes. 

“Heeseung,” you moaned, and it was lewd. You sounded almost straight from a porno and that was all he needed. 

“Fuck—,” he cursed, surprised by what you had just done. His thrusts became uneven and frantic before he pulled out and came over your stomach. His quiet groans alone were almost enough to get you fired up again. 

Your head was floaty as you watched him come down from his own high. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed happily. Then his eyes met yours and he looked so much different than before. He looked at you endearingly and lovingly, any sadistic dominance gone from his eyes. 

He was quick to get up, grab tissues, and wipe you off. You looked down and saw the wax that still covered your body. That was going to be a pain to clean up but it was so worth it. 

Heeseung helped you back into your clothes before he got back into his own clothes and settled back onto the couch sitting beside you. 

There was now somewhat of an awkward silence as you didn’t know what to expect next. You honestly just anticipated that you would go home from here and it would be just like a one-night stand of sorts. 

You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a slight twinge of disappointment at the ideas your head was creating. 

Heeseung grabbed your hand and laced his fingers in between yours. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry. For being so quiet that is.” He said, obviously having sensed your anxiety. “I’m just honestly speechless. You’re so beautiful and I feel lucky to know you and get to experience and share a friendship and… this…with you.” His other hand motioned vaguely not sure what to consider your relationship at this moment in time. 

You couldn’t help but smile at his words and nod in agreement. 

The older boy took your hand and pulled you up. He grabbed your cardigan and helped you slip it on before leading you to the door and turning off the lights. 

“Let’s go.” He said, hand still entangled in yours. 

He grabbed a sweatshirt from a hook by the door and slipped it on pulling up the hood over his head. Then he pulled out two black masks from the pocket and handed one to you before putting on the other one. He looked over to you, his eyes showing a big smile.

“Where are we going?” You asked, having enough comprehension skills to realize that he was taking you somewhere and that’s why you both needed to have your identities covered a bit. 

“Home of course,” Heeseung replied, pulling you out the door and closing it behind him. He led you towards the elevator. 

“Oh—, Home?” You questioned. It wasn’t often that you went over to the dorms so late at night. Did he mean back to your place? The boys never came over to your place either and it definitely wasn’t in good shape for any guests.

“Mhmm.” He replied as the elevator doors closed. He was still holding your hand tightly, almost as if he was worried you might not want to come with him. 

Truth be told, you were still feeling the post orgasm high and you didn’t really care where you went right now as long as it was with him.

He continued leading you outside of the building and when you made it outside he turned to head towards the dorms. 

“The dorms?” You questioned. Obviously, you knew this was the likely answer but it somehow still surprised you. 

“Yep!” Heeseung replied, not giving you anything more than short answers that way you couldn’t argue or try to change his mind. 

“But Heeseung, uhm… why?” You asked. It was late, and coming over just to hang out wasn’t really the best idea. You’d need to leave soon before you got too sleepy. 

He chuckled, his fingers squeezing yours for a moment. “I’m not going to just let you go home after that y/n. I’m not a fuck boy.” 

“Well, I didn’t say that.” You replied, whacking him on the shoulder with your free hand. He laughed again and you wished you could see his smile instead of the mask. 

The rest of the short walk was quiet except for the various sounds of isolated cars or chit-chat of other people walking around. The city truly never slept around here. 

Heeseung unlocked the door when you arrived, finally releasing your hand before pushing open the door. The dorm was quiet except for the TV in the living room which was playing some sort of anime. You slipped off your shoes and cardigan welcoming the comforting warmth of the dorm. 

Heeseung went into the kitchen to grab you both some water. As you waited you noticed that Jake had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled and walked over to turn off the lamp that was shining in his face. 

When you turned back around you jumped, surprised to be somewhat face to face with Jungwon. He was wearing a tank top and sweatpants. His muscular arms caught you a bit off guard as he normally never wore exposing clothes like that. 

“J-Jungwon!” You whispered, trying not to wake up Jake. 

“What are you doing here so late?” Jungwon asked, his brows furrowed a bit. 

“Oh- I was just-,” you stammered.

Obviously, you weren’t going to tell Jungwon what you had been doing. But coming up with something else was impossible, your brain wasn’t awake enough to come up with anything quick enough. 

“She came with me,” Heeseung spoke suddenly from behind you once again causing you to jump. 

Jungwon looked at Heeseung, and then to you, and then back to Heeseung. Then Jungwon looked back at you and your skin prickled as you watched him eye you from top to bottom. The look in his eyes changed, but to what you couldn’t tell. His eyes stopped on your chest briefly before he nodded and his facial expression went back to normal. You flushed, Jungwon didn’t normally steal glances at you so obviously like that. 

“Ah,” he paused his tone unreadable, “That’s good. I was worried about you y/n, showing up late like this.” 

“Don’t worry,” Heeseung replied, “She’s safe with me Jungwon.” 

Jungwon nodded again before walking away and into the kitchen himself. Heeseung handed you a glass of water before he took your hand again and pulled to towards his bedroom. 

You were surprised, however, when Heeseung stopped and pulled you into the bathroom. 

“I’ll grab you some clothes of mine you can wear to sleep in. I can shower with you if you want, or you can shower by yourself if you’d be more comfortable,” he said before turning to head towards his bedroom, “Oh, and use whatever shampoo or body wash you want, everyone has different tastes so there’s a few to choose from.” 

You nodded and closed the door behind him. Processing everything that was going on was overwhelming but the idea of staying in the dorm made you feel a little giddy inside. You took a few sips from the glass of water before sitting it down on the counter. 

Heeseung’s knock brought you out of your thoughts as he slowly opened the door. In his hand were some sweatpants and a T-shirt. He smiled at you before setting them down on the counter beside the glass of water.

“Do you want me to shower with you?” He asked. Heeseung’s eyes also trailed your bare skin. “You might need some help getting all that off.” He continued pointing to your chest. 

You looked down and suddenly your face started to burn. How the fuck did you forget the wax! It’s not that Jungwon was looking at your tits but instead, he was looking at the wax that covered your chest and cleavage in tiny trails. 

You looked back at Heeseung, the mischievous look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking about right now. But it was too late now, there was nothing you could do about it. 

“I think that would be nice actually. Thank you, Hee.” You replied. 

Heeseung was happy to help. He helped you undress and got the water going for you so you could get in and enjoy it for a moment while he brushed his teeth and undressed himself. 

You let the warm water trail down your body washing away any other stress and anxiety you had about the situation. 

When Heeseung joined you couldn’t help but admire him once more. The way his bronze skin glistened in the water as it cascaded over him. The older boy took your hand and placed it on his chest.

“Don’t be afraid.” He said quietly. You tilted your head confused but when you looked up and met his eyes you saw they were now bright blue with small slits in them. The blue color was so bright it reminded you of glaciers as they floated in the ocean. His skin twitched under your fingertips as small silvery blue scales pushed through his skin in various places the water was hitting. 

“Oh—wow.” You responded, shocked by what you were seeing. 

You looked up again and saw small spikey fins that had grown out from the tips his ears. Everything else about him stayed the same. 

“Heeseung. You’re stunning.” You said, blown away by what you were seeing. When he released your hand you noticed that his fingers had become webbed too, obviously to help him swim if he was in the water. 

He smiled. “You’re not scared right?” 

“No not at all just… do you... have a tail fin?” You questioned, giving him an innocent but curious look. 

The older boy laughed. “Of course I do. I can just control it better than my scales and fins. It would be quite awkward if I just grew a tail and fell over right now wouldn’t it?” He responded, chuckling again at the image he had created in his head. 

You laughed with him at the scenario. 

Then he helped you wash and made sure to get all of the wax off your body before also helping you wash your hair. You allowed yourself to be pampered by him even just briefly. You wondered if you’d ever get to see his tail and watch him swim. 

After you both finished washing, Heeseung helped you towel dry your hair and get into his clothes before he took you along into his bedroom.

You chuckled as you watched the older boy flop onto the bed and tuck himself under the covers. 

“Well,  come here darling.” He said, patting the bed beside him and holding up the covers for you to get in. 

You got into the bed with him and he opened his arms for you to get comfortable and lay on his chest. You were surprised by how quickly his siren features disappeared after getting out of the water and drying off. It was silent for a moment besides the sound of his heartbeat in your ear

“Are you sure this is okay?” You said, breaking the silence. 

“What? Cuddling with me?” He questioned you. 

“Well, just all of it.” You replied anxiously. 

His arms tightened around you. 

“Don’t worry to much y/n. Do what makes you happiest and we will all be happy. You should know that I will— well, we all will do everything in our power to keep you happy.” He replied, his tone a lot more serious now. You could tell he was being genuine. 

You nodded, before leaning up to give Heeseung a kiss. Even though it was dark you could tell he was blushing by your sudden action. 

When you laid back on his chest, he began to hum once again. Except this time, instead of arousal you just felt warm and fuzzy. His humming enveloped you in a soft blanket of safety and comfort. You felt loved and appreciated and beautiful in his arms, and you weren’t sure you’d ever want to leave them. 

The warm cozy feeling Heeseung was creating for you was quick to whisk you to sleep but before you drifted off you wondered briefly how you had gotten so lucky to be sought after by this group of boys. You wondered if this was a dream and if you’d wake up soon. You wondered if you’d figure out what monsters the other boys were, and secretly you hoped you’d find out just like you did with Heeseung tonight. 

☾ author note: thank you for reading! this chapter is arguably the tamest out of them all so please look forward to whats to come next! can you guess who is what monster?

chapter two

chapter directory

[strangersteddierthings]

Jealousy Looks Different On You

Title wonderfully suggested by @shoujo-wizard! Thanks so much because I was struggling to title this.

[Part One] ✨ [Part Two] ✨ [You Are Here] ✨ [Final Part]

It is not often in Eddie's life that he's left without words. So rare it is that Eddie can remember them all and tally them on one hand.

The first was when his mom died. He was so at a loss for words that he didn't speak for over a month, too lost in grief. And looking back on it older and wiser, a little bit was him knowing that it wouldn't have mattered if he'd spoke, his dad wasn't around to answer.

The second was when Wayne got The Call from his dad, when Wayne had to tell Eddie that he was going to be moving in with him permanently. That his dad wasn't coming back 'round for a long time.

The third was the first time a guy kissed him. Eddie was eighteen and had just learned he wasn't going to graduate the first time. He'd gone to Indy, ending up in gay bar that clocked his fake ID and wouldn't sell him alcohol but did let him in so he could be surrounded by other queers for the first time in his life. Eddie'd ended up in conversation with a guy old enough to drink and when he'd kissed Eddie there were no words, just a surprised gasp and then more kissing.

The fourth time (and this one is arguable due to him being in shock) was when Steve, Dustin, Robin, and Max had found him in the boathouse. It had taken him a while to find his voice before he could answer Dustin and learn that monsters are real.

So, Eddie is not left speechless often. Eddie's usual response is to get defensive, loud, or angry. Sometimes (most times) all three. He'd been rapidly approaching loud and angry until Steve shut him up with a quick list of how exactly Eddie fucked up.

Fucked up before he'd even had a real chance.

God damn him and his stupid fucking mouth! If he could go back and slap 21-year-old him in the back of the head, he would. He'd smack him good and then grab his shoulders and shaking him while screaming for him to shut up shut up shut up you are ruining your chances with Steve, and you don't even know it!

He can't go back, though. He can't unsay and unsay and unsay all the stupid, useless bullshit he's spewed over the years trying to throw Steve off course. Because that's what he was doing. Time and time again, finding guys who looked nothing like Steve to get his rocks off with, waxing lyrical about the ideal partner for him being as far from Steve as possible.

Eddie knows that's what he was doing because he stopped talking about it all so much when Steve, quiet and hesitant and shy for the first time ever since Eddie's known him, had come out to him. He wouldn't make eye contact, instead telling the wall behind Eddie 'I, uh, I've been learning new things every day, living here with you and Robin, and I. I, uh, I've learned new things about myself, too. Things that I think were... were always there but I was scared to look at for too long. But, um, because of you and Robin, I don't think I'm scared anymore,' and then Steve looked him right in the eye and said, 'I'm queer, too. I like girls, still, but also guys.'

God. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, that should have given it away! That Steve, nervous and fucking shy had made eye contact with him to come out. Like it was important that Eddie hear it and know it. And Eddie...

Jesus fuck, all his stupid, idiot, dumb-as-fuck past self had done was nod and say 'cool' before promptly changing the subject. At the time, Eddie had written off the look on Steve's face as Eddie bombing the Supportive Friend Response but now he sees it clearly for what it was.

Is.

Eddie breaking Steve's heart for the first time. Instead of giving any indication of liking Steve, Eddie'd all but solidified to him how disinterested Steve already thought Eddie was. Steve had said 'I like girls, still, but also guys' and only now can Eddie see that Steve meant 'I like girls, still, but also you.'

Eddie can see it all with this new knowledge adding perspective. Eddie had dug his own grave trying to hide how in love with Steve he was that he dug too far. So far that it worked. Why would Steve bother to tell Eddie he loved him when all Eddie had done was tattoo a clear and plain 'You aren't what I want and never will be' right across Steve's heart.

And now...

Now Eddie's sitting on a couch that used to be theirs. Could still be theirs if Eddie wasn't such a fucking coward all those years ago.

Instead, what is really happening is he's sitting on Steve's couch, crying silently, as he mourns what they could have been, should have been. And Steve's still standing before him, looking all the more uncertain and worried the longer Eddie's silent.

It takes all of Eddie's willpower to open his mouth and force out words. "I'm so fucking sorry, Steve. I-I'm so sorry."

Steve's brows scrunch, the space between them furrowing, and Eddie is struck with the same desire he always has when Steve's face does that. He wants to reach out and sooth it with his thumb, kiss it away.

"I should have- should've been more honest," Eddie says and his words feel as hollow as the tone of his voice. "You're right. I should have said something. Shit, I've basically spent our entire friendship sprouting lies so you wouldn't see the truth and it's fucked it all up."

Steve frowns at him, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides but he doesn't speak. In fact, he hasn't said much at all. His one rant was short but succinct and even though Eddie wants to hear his voice, wants Steve to sooth his guilt by accepting Eddie's apology, he knows it's too soon.

How can he possibly expect Steve to tell him he's forgiven when he's been unintentionally hurting him for at least five years?

Eddie looks down to his shoes and finally finds the strength to lift his hands, to wipe away the tears that streak down his cheeks. He shoves the heel of his palms into his eyes, taking a deep breath in and letting his hands drop as he breaths out. Once he feels a bit more put together, he looks back up at Steve, who is still standing awkwardly in his own living room, looking unsure.

"Have I been... hurting you this whole time?" Eddie asks, even though he's sure of the answer and hates himself for it.

"Yes," Steve says slowly, "and no. It's not that simple. I knew I wasn't what you wanted, it's not like you... strung me along or promised me anything. I hurt myself wanting you, but I couldn't stop."

Eddie lets out a whimpering sound. "No! Don't you get it? That's not- Steve, you are the one I wanted, want, more than anything else."

Steve's face twists again, angry and hurt.

Eddie rushes to continue. "I know it doesn't seem like it. I know. Because I hid it, Steve. I hid it so well that you believed the lies. That you believe what I wanted was everything you," Eddie's throat fills thick and it's hard to speak but he has to say the words, even though he hates the thought; hates that Steve thought it, "was everything you weren't and that's a lie."

Steve scoffs, a quiet and angry thing. "I don't know if you remember but we lived in this apartment together for eight years. Eight years of having to hear just how much you wanted whatever the guy of the week was giving you. These walls are thin."

Eddie does remember. Of course he does. The glares Robin would shoot him for disrupting her sleep and how Steve would rib him about having a fun night. He also remembers the change that came once Steve had come out to them. How Robin's glares turned from annoyance to actual anger. How Steve stopped teasing him and never met his eye the mornings after.

"I do enjoy kink," Eddie clarifies, because it's true, "particularly BDSM. But Steve, please, you have to believe me. I'd give it all up if it meant having you."

Steve sighs, like Eddie's said the exact thing he thought he would and wishes he hadn't. "I believe that you believe that."

God, Eddie's really, really, fucked this up. "I do believe that! What is all of, of that," he waves his hand in the air, a need to move something but unable to stand from the couch that could have still been theirs, "compared to you? The person I trust more than anyone else in the world? The person I'll never have to hide the occasional nightmare from because you already understand? Who knows all there is to know about me and still-" he skips over his words here, fearful that the truth might have changed between the bar and here, "-still loves me anyway?"

He watches Steve' Adams apple bob as he swallows before speaking. "I'll always love you, Eddie. That will never be the issue. It's just... what if love's not enough?"

And now, Eddie pleads, "but what if it is?"

-

For the timeline here, since I know have decided on one is this: Season 4 happened but Eddie lived and was cleared of charges but still had to get outta Hawkins ASAP. Steve, Robin, and Eddie shared an apartment in Chicago while Robin when to college. Robin lived with them for the 4 years she was in college and then an additional two until she got a serious girlfriend and they moved in together. Steve and Eddie, now 26 and 27, continued to live together until Eddie and his new band finally got their break when Eddie was 29. Eddie moved to LA then at the request of the label and Steve's stayed in that original Chicago apartment since. Steve is currently 31 and Eddie is 32.

@xxbottlecapx @im-sam-fucking-winchester @novacorpsrecruit @thewickedkat @dreamy-jeans137 @everywherenothere @hangingupinthehallway @estrellami-1 @queenie-ofthe-void @dreamsteddie @acowardinmordor @steviesummer @kinryuuki @genderless-spoon @paperbackribs @steddiecameraroll @yesdangerpls @jackiethevampireslayer @skitchskatchbat @sani-86

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they act if you called them pretty upon getting catch looking at them…

Dan Heng: blushes. Hard.

He’s not use to someone complimenting his looks as it’s not something he finds important.

‘Are you really that shameless to say such things aloud?’ He’d say while avoiding eye contact with you.

Dan Heng would act as though you just shouted this out loud in front a hoard of people, even though you didn’t.

He’s awkward when it comes to taking compliments aimed his way but his reaction is too fucking cute to ignore and will warrant another compliment his way, which will only serve in making his face brunt redder.

‘Shut up, please.’ He’d plead as he covers a hand over your eyes, feeling as though they’ve stared deeply into his soul and actually see him as a whole person and more. ‘You talk too much about things you don’t understand the first thing of.’

He’s probably going to get teased by March 7th after this and it’ll be used as blackmail, probably.

Give him a moment to breath and calm down before complimenting on how pretty he is because he will combust from how flustered he is.

Argenti: would probably start a compliment war in all honesty because how can you say he’s pretty without admitting that you are also quite a sight for sore eyes.

If you were to compliment his hair, he’d resort back with how even the stars put on their best performance within your presence.

He’s got such a way with words that can easily leave one flustered without even trying. He’d even wax poetry on the spot about how the light catches your eyes in a way similar to that of a kaleidoscope, bright, vibrant and above all breathtaking.

Argenti doesn’t hold back, will not hold back, and will not back down from letting you know just how ethereal you look to him.

He can do this all day, you however could not do this all day seeing how this man has unlimited ammunition when it came to complimenting the beauty of pretty much everything.

(I mean this is the same dude who complimented a plant. 🪴 I bet that plant blushed, we just didn’t see it bc who wouldn’t blush if a chivalrous red head complimented them?)

Welt: smiles softly as a light blush coated his cheeks.

He’s well kept for someone who’s in his 60/70/80’s And he deserves to be told as such!

(all I know is that he’s grandpa age from other ppl)

So when you do compliment him and call him pretty, this old man is going to thank you for such kind words and probably give you head pats as a reward.

He appreciates a kind compliment now and then.

‘Why thank you, I try my best to keep in good shape if I’m meant to keep up with all of you.’ He would say in response followed by a chuckle.

Welt is young at heart and knows that his body isn’t how it once was but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a restless spirit within an old man’s body. So when you compliment him, it only makes him feel good and warm on the inside.

Blade: doesn’t know how to take compliments.

He’s not use to it and doesn’t know how to react to it other than saying something along the lines of;

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

Or just straight up. ‘No.’

And all the while his face is like this: 😐 or this 😒

It’s never one or the other, blade just doesn’t view himself worth the compliment, when the only things about him that people see most is that he’s a bad dude in a bad group doing bad things.

He doesn’t see why you’re wasting a kind, genuine compliment on someone whose entire body is riddled in ugly scars.

Blade is the type of person where you’d have to prove that your compliment is genuine or else he just won’t believe it.

Sampo: his ego is boosted to the max.

Well done you’ve made him even more insufferable.

He will smile that Cheshire smile of his and ask to hear what else about him you find appealing besides his pretty face.

You: your exposed hips, you slut-

However behind his cocky persona, he’s a giggly bitch who’s mentally kicking his feet and writing this interaction in his bubblegum pink diary with a glitter pen.

Sampo is deeply invested in what you thought about the rest of him but won’t let it show as he would consider it ‘out of character’ for himself. So he’ll continue to act the cocky and confident fool like he always does.

He’ll be the type to tease you about potentially killing him while internally screaming himself and telling other people that you find him pretty, much to your embarrassment.

‘You see them over there? Yeah they called ol’ Sampo pretty!’ He’d say to a random person while pointing towards you as you try to hide yourself behind a trash can…only for the trash can to grow arms and legs and walk off elsewhere.

Why were the arms and legs buff as fuck? What was their workout routine? You must know. now.

Sunday: takes the compliment in kind.

He looks like the type to get called handsome or pretty on the daily, so it’s nothing new to him but he’ll take the compliment nonetheless.

He’s probably the most calm out of the bunch when being called pretty, besides from maybe Welt.

He’s not bashful, he’s not overtly arrogant and he’s not in denial about it either. He just takes the compliment as it is and goes on about his day like any other.

Though people would take note on how he’s smiling brighter than usual. Your compliment would stay with him the entire day, as it serves as a reminder of his place within your heart and he’s secretly scheming on ways on how to stay within your heart.

Permanently.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi! i was wondering if i could order pull-apart bread, sweet pastry and hot cross buns, with a side of cider and chocolate milk, for sub!max verstappen? nobody really writes anything about the reader body worshiping him and his softer body, which would be nice to reassure him about. id love to hold his love handles 🥹

thank you so much in advance if you’re up for doing this! 💙

bakery menu

submissions to the bakery are open! i'm accepting them all the time, even if they take a little while to get uploaded, i am constantly working on 'em! so thank you! and for this anon! hello!!! this is amazing, what the hell! i feel the same way, folks don't really write about it in fan fics (i've seen posts wax poetically about it though). so yes, this was awesome to write! thank you <333

pull-apart bread ("i love you") + sweet pastry ("i'll make it all better.") + hot cross buns ("don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up.") + cider (body worship) + chocolate milk (tenderness) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, body worship, tender sex, cowgirl position, bondage, praise kink, dom!reader, insecurities, love & intimacy

it wasn't that you were going to fight people online over your boyfriend. it was a pointless endeavor to snap back at someone on twitter of all places! especially someone with a lando norris icon. but if you saw one more comment about your boyfriend's body online, you're going to kick something.

you loved max, that was why you were with him. but, you worried about him. underneath everything, there was soft center to him. and sometimes the wrong comment got through all the layers and right to the middle.

it just so happened the comments you hated the most were the ones about his body.

it was near the end of the off-season, you two had come back from a sunny trip to celebrate the time together. it left your poor boyfriend a little more pink than usual. especially around the shoulders, where he was shirtless most of the time.

you loved how he looked regardless. he was immensely strong in ways you couldn't fully grasp. you were always impressed by his ability to pick you up and kiss you. you believed that people had a skewed notion of what "hot" men should be built like. and you blamed it marvel movies and alpha male podcasts. max was not a dehydrated body builder. layered on top of the strength was a certain softness and made at the very least you drool at the sight of.

he was strong, but enjoyed food. he liked his sweets on weekends and a little extra at dinner. it didn't help with the constant weigh-ins and other measurements for formula one. so when you noticed his eyes on another cruel post online in response to a photo of him shirtless. you wanted to take that phone and toss it out the window.

you watched him turn off the screen and put the phone down on his chest. the room felt tense and your fingers went into his short hair. he tried to pull away, but with a tiny bit of force kept him close. you knew what he was thinking. just like everything else, max verstappen had crippling self-doubt.

"max. my love."

"yeah.." he said softly. the self-doubt that followed him like a shadow seemed to encrouch in his mind. you could tell even if you couldn't see his full expression.

you took the phone and placed it on the coffee table. you ran your fingers through his hair and looked down at him. fingers trailed down his jaw. "why don't we forget about that and go to the bedroom. "i'll make it all better."

you were in bed with him soon enough. he left his t-shirt and loose shorts on as your hands roamed his body. your lips on his neck, jaw and face. little unsaid promises of how handsome he was. "don't listen to them."

"what if they're right."

"when has a formula one fan ever been right about anything? you know some people online make ragebait. they're trying to get a rise out of other fans and cause in fighting."

"if i tried a little harder... i could look more like the others."

you made him look at you. his blue eyes seemed sad, like cloudy skies over a rocky shoreline. he couldn't meet your gaze, he was almost embarrassed. "max, look at me."

he made eye contact with you, "i could... if i tried."

you held his face a little tighter as he looked away. you said to him, "max, you are training all the time. you push yourself to limits that could kill many others. you work harder than a work horse with half the pay sometimes." you kissed the bridge of his nose, "i don't know who planted these ideas into your head." you had an idea, two names came to mind that made you frown. that was neither here nor there, "but, i love how you look."

his eyes shifted away from you. embarrassed. this entire thing felt embarrassing. he was insecure like a teenage girl at the moment because some random person online called him a stupid name.

"max. don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." you said, trying to insert a joke to lighten the mood. you watched his demeanor shift and his eyes meet yours.

"would you.. tie me up? make me forget everything for a little bit?" he asked softly, his words almost tripped over one another. while most would've sought heavy therapy and an early retirement for their issues. max tried to cover them up, and sometimes that meant being your good boy.

"then tell me one thing, max."

"anything." he replied.

"say one nice thing about your appearance. anything. just one thing. and then i'll get what we need.' you promised, sealing it with a kiss on the cheek.

he swallowed, not knowing what to say. he shifted a little in his spot on the bed before he sighed. eventually he responded with, "my nose." he said, eyes on yours, "i like my nose. makes me stand out a little more."

you smiled a little bit and kissed him on the cheek, a gestured he melted into you. you replied, "and i love your nose too. i'm proud of you, max. good boy."

he said, "i love you."

and before you pulled away to get the roped needed for tonight, you said to him, "i love you too." then quickly ran your finger down his nose, "i love you, your nose, those eyes. every last inch of skin. your strength and your softness. it makes you perfect to me and those jealous bitches on twitter can't say anything about it." you broke into a further smile.

max chuckled slightly, he found you language amusing. the internet was troll heaven, but sometimes he needed his guiding light to not get himself sucked into the chaos of his doubts. he watched you pull away from him and get off the bed. he took off his shirt and shorts, he tried not too think too hard, but rather keep his eyes on you.

when you went to the dresser to find what you needed, he propped himself against the rod-iron headboard. usually he didn't like them, but when he discovered his affection for bondage early into your relationship, the headboard was perfect to keep him bound.

you returned to the bed, placing the two pieces of rope down onto the bed before you started to strip out of your clothes. once naked you got into bed with him. your hands roamed his chest and straddled his waist.

"you're so handsome, max. jesus christ. look at you." you smiled down at him. skin so soft, he was just perfect and you couldn't believe it. you rubbed up against him a little more and explored his torso with your hands, you watched him squirm a little under your touch. he shuddered a little. 

  “i'm not that-"

  “max verstappen. shush. i don't want to hear it.” you rubbed up against the bulge in his briefs. you held onto his shoulders a little as you moved. the dry humping felt good and left excitement racing through your lover, “that's it. that's my good boy.” 

he groaned a little, which only go louder when you stopped your movements to grab the ropes. he dropped his wrists to the bed and let you tie them to the bars of the headboard by the mattress. he melted a little against it while you took his cock out of his briefs.  the underwear was off him in no time and you got straddled on his waist with your hands on his shoulders once more.

you eyed him with heavy lust, “i know those idiots say that you're too fat or soft. well, i think they're blind. i think they're a whole bunch of idiots. you are perfect, turn me on every chance you get.” you took his face in your hands and kissed him as you continued to rub up against him. he panted against you when you broke the kiss soon after. 

  words of protest hung on max's tongue, but he never said anything further. this wasn't going to be a thing he could win. no matter what he said, you have a rebuttal. it was a losing battle, so he'd simply have to put his trust into you. if you found him hot beyond words, then you'd have to listen. but the fight was fully gone when you seated yourself onto his cock, then sank down on it to the base. he yanked against the ropes a little bit and found euphoria in the knowledge that you tied the ropes just as he liked them. tightly.

  “planning to fight against them, max?" you asked as you raked your fingers down his pale chest, "you wouldn't do that, would you? because you're my good boy! my handsome good boy. with those dazzling eyes and stunning laugh. when you smile i'm in heaven. especially when yo let me make both of us feel good. 

he shook his head, his cheeks grew hot from your gaze on him. if he was hot, then you were gorgeous. you were an inferno made human. the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. the kind of beauty that brought him to his knees. he breathed heavily as the pleasure started to build in the bottom of his gut. his cock twitched a little bit the more you rode him. 

he loved being at your mercy, under your thumb in a sexual manner. he bad so many choices all day, sometimes with only seconds to make them. so it was nice. to be in the comfort of your shared bed and letting you take what you needed from him. to give you total control. to love him, shower him in the praise he desired.  

  “i love you.” you said,

  “i love you too.” 

you started to move faster, really working your hips, making sure you could do as much as you could. you moaned a little bit and felt the stutter in your heart from the heat of everything. you pushed hair out of your face as you continued to ride him. the feeling between you two was electric. you said to him, “you're so handsome. fuck, you're perfect.” you started to move faster.

max bit back a moan but it spilled out when you crashed your lips against him. he almost whimpered from the fast speed. how good you took him. it made him clench his fists to try to compose himself. his chest rose and fell heavily he tensed up a little bit at the throb of lust in his body. you kissed him once more as you went as fast as you could go. you bounced on his cock and your nails dug into his jaw and shoulders. 

the noises between you two were erotic. it was desperate on max's end. he wanted to make you feel good while also chasing his own pleasure. he fought a little bit against constraints. he was a little jerky as he tensed up. he could feel it all crashing down on him. no longer the lingering feeling of self-doubt but rather he heat of pleasure. the need to climax. to get out of his own head with the erotic bliss. 

   “please, my love. please.” he swallowed as his back arched a little. he leaned up to give you more kisses and watched you melt against him while your hips still moved. you held his face with both hands and clenched your thighs. he made a sweet, high pitched, almost whine like noise when you pulled away.

you carded your fingers through his hair and admired those blue eyes clouded in lust. “you're perfect, max. every inch of you. every spot you hate, i love more. damn those fuckers on twitter, they don't get to see what i see. everything.” you went in for another kiss and clutched onto his shoulders tightly as you came around his cock. your back arched and max went in to kiss your collarbones with such tenderness. 

  “my good boy.” you said out of breath as you continued to move against him. your cunt clutched around him as you kept your pace steady despite the tremor in your thighs. you knew max wanted to hold onto you and work your hips up and down his cock. but, you were in control. so you examined his expressions as you continued to move. 

the kisses became sloppy once more as you brought max to his own climax. as he tensed up, he really yanked at the ropes for a good few moments before he felt all the fight leave his body. his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the head rush. he relaxed against the headboard and panted heavily. 

he looked erotic, but totally blissed out. so when you stopped your motions. you kissed him gently on the lips before you got off his cock and felt his cum run down your leg as you tried to find your panties. once they were on, you smothered him in kisses and praise as you got the ropes off of him.  you kissed his wrists and he slipped down onto the bed. the mattress felt nice against his body. he felt on cloud nine.

you rubbed his cheek for a moment with your thumb as you said, “i'm going to go get you some water. you just stay here, i'll be right back. now before i go i have to ask one thing. say one thing you like about yourself?"

he shakily exhaled while he leaned into your touch. his eyes were somewhat closed when he answered, sounding far away, “my eyes. they intimidate people. but not you. you love them.” then leaned further. 

you smiled and kissed the top of his head, “that's what i like to hear. next time i want two things before and after we have sex. got it? i'm going to make you love yourself.”

he chuckled softly, cheeks pink, “easier said than done.”

you tapped his cheek before you moved away to go get him some water. you said to him while you approached the bedroom door, “max verstappen, you know i'm as stubborn as you are. ” then left to go get him some water. you could only hope you could make a dent in healing some of his doubt issues. and while you couldn't fight people on twitter, you could kiss and love the man you called your boyfriend. <3

[rastronomicals]

11:54 AM EDT October 10, 2023:

Charlie Parker - "Max Making Wax" From the album The Complete Dial Sessions (1993)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

★★★★★

Recorded June 23, 1946.

Yes, Charles Parker, Jr., alto sax, but to be completely honest, Bird was drunk and in withdrawal. He's still a genius, if a hobbled one, but he comes in late, then later on, misses a break.

For me what makes this track is the piano playing. A cat named Jimmy Bunn (who doesn't even have a Wikipedia page) gets the credit. He starts the track at breakneck speed, comps wonderfully in odd time underneath during the horn solos, then plays the best solo of the song when his turn comes around. Brilliant brilliant stuff that points out the kind of talent genius attracts.

[thef1diary]

Hot ‘n’ Cold | M. Verstappen

Kinktober 6/11 - Temperature Play

Summary: Max turns up the heat while simultaneously cooling you down

warnings: 18+ smut, ice play, wax play, fingering, oral (fem receiving), reader is blindfolded

wc: 3.9k

kinktober masterlist

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

The room hums with sensation—the faint crackle of the candles, their flames flickering and casting a soft, wavering glow that you can’t see but can almost feel on your skin. The soothing scent of woodsy notes drifts through the air, mingling with the cool breeze that flows in from the open window, grazing your exposed skin. Darkness wraps around you, the blindfold snug against your eyes, intensifying every touch and sound as your other senses sharpen.

You lie completely naked on the bed, the cotton bedsheet beneath you soft against the bare expanse of your back, grounding you into the moment. Every inch of you feels alive—hyper-aware of the air’s caress, the way your skin prickles with goosebumps as the night air whispers over your curves. The chill makes you shiver, your body reacting instinctively to the contrast between the warmth of the room and the coolness of the wind.

Each breath you take is deeper than the last, your chest rising and falling in time with the pounding of your heart. You shift restlessly, the sensation of the sheets sliding over your body a reminder of your vulnerability—your openness to whatever’s coming next. Bound by darkness, the anticipation wraps around you tighter than the blindfold itself as you strain to listen to Max’s soft but deliberate footsteps in the room.

You can hear the subtle shift in his breath as he draws closer, a low murmur escaping his lips, “I’m right here, schat.” You can’t see his expression, but the way his words linger in the air tells you enough. He’s savoring the sight of you—completely vulnerable, naked and waiting.

You breathe his name into the darkness, a soft, needy plea that you can’t contain. “Max…” The sound is quiet, but you know he hears it, knows exactly what you’re begging for. His low chuckle vibrates next to your ear, the warmth of it brushing your skin, and you nearly flinch at how close he suddenly is. You can imagine the wicked grin curling at his lips, the way his gaze would trace over you, as if his eyes alone could set your body ablaze.

His breath is hot and teasing against your neck, the words that follow dripping with possessive satisfaction. “You look beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice low and dark, “completely at my mercy.” His fingers glide along your throat, the touch feather-light, just enough to make your breath hitch in your chest.

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling the whimper that threatens to escape, as the idea of letting him have his way with you sends a jolt of heat through your veins. Desperate for some form of contact, you reach out, your hand seeking the familiar warmth of his cheek, but he’s quick to catch your wrist. His grip is firm but not harsh, guiding your hand back down to the bed, pinning it there as a quiet warning.

“Tsk, tsk,” he murmurs, his tone playfully scolding. “Impatient, aren’t we?” You can almost hear the smirk in his voice, feel the restrained power in the way he holds you still. “Do you want me to bring out the restraints?” He taunted, already knowing your answer.

You shake your head slowly, a faint tremor running through your body as you whisper, “No.” The word is barely audible, but it carries the weight of your decision.

You don’t want the restraints; the very thought makes you tense with the need to be able to touch, to grasp at him whenever you need to. You want to feel every second, savor every sensation, and have the freedom to reach for him, to let your fingers roam over his skin when the need becomes too overwhelming.

The silence stretches for a moment, broken only by the soft clinking of ice in a bowl as Max reaches for it. The sound makes you shiver in anticipation, your senses bracing for the coolness you know is coming. You can almost picture it—his hand dipping into the bowl, the ice sliding between his fingers, and the glint of candlelight reflecting off its smooth surface.

He speaks your name, the sound rich and intimate, tugging you back into the moment. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice steady even though your heart is pounding in your ears. The darkness seems to deepen around you, heightening the feeling of vulnerability, but you’re not afraid. You trust him, even as you tremble with anticipation.

For a heartbeat, it’s quiet. Then you feel his hand on your chin, firm but gentle, guiding your face up toward him. Before you can fully register what’s happening, his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s startlingly cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth you were expecting. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize why—there’s a small piece of ice between his lips, the chill of it spreading through you with every movement.

The kiss deepens, and the sensation of the ice heightens everything, the smooth surface pressing against your tongue as he shifts it between you. It glides over your lips, and you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth against the ice as you both play with it, your tongues entwining in a teasing dance, pushing and pulling the cold shard back and forth. Every brush of his mouth, every flicker of his tongue sends sparks of sensation tingling down your spine, a shudder rippling through your entire body as the ice melts slowly, its coolness trickling down the back of your throat, leaving behind a slick chill that only fuels the heat coiling low in your belly.

As the last remnants of the ice begin to dissolve, Max takes it back, pressing the remaining sliver against your lips, his mouth hovering over yours as the final shard melts into a drop of water that trickles down your chin. He pulls away then, leaving you breathless and tingling, the warmth of his breath a stark contrast to the fading coldness. Your skin feels electrified, your senses heightened to the point where every shift in the air, every brush of his fingers is like a new shock to your system, making you ache for more.

His lips graze over your skin, leaving a tingling chill in their wake as they drift down to the curve of your neck. The lingering cold from the ice still clings to his tongue, a stark contrast to the heat of his breath that fans against your pulse. When he nips at your ear, your gasp is involuntary, your senses already on edge as the warmth of his body hovers just above yours, chest to chest, his warmth pressing down on you while his mouth still feels impossibly cold.

You feel the mattress dip as he shifts his weight, repositioning himself with a subtle grace. Your breaths come shallow, your chest rising and falling in anticipation, unable to predict where he’ll touch you next. You sense movement, and then the cool touch of another ice cube glides over your collarbone. It feels like a shock to your heated skin, the sudden coldness racing down your body as the ice begins to melt, leaving a delicate trail of water that dips along the curve of your breast and flows over the lines of your ribs. The droplets travel downward, tracing the path of your curves, every chilled stream making you hyper-aware of the way your body responds to his touch.

You’re lost in the sensation, focused on the rivulets of water cascading down your skin, the way they follow the contours of your body. The ice melts quickly, the warmth of your flesh consuming it, and just when you think you can predict where he’s going next, Max’s mouth finds your nipple, taking you completely by surprise.

He had popped another cube into his mouth, his lips closed around the sensitive peak, the chill of the ice was strong as he swirled it over the hardened bud, a circle of coolness that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You arch beneath him, your back lifting from the bed as the sensation sharpens, the contrast between the heat of your skin and the coldness of the ice making every touch feel like a shockwave.

He works the melting ice with his tongue, pressing it against your nipple before pushing the softened shard to the back of his mouth, letting the warmth flood back in. Then, he draws the ice forward again, holding just the tip between his lips as he hovers over your breast. You feel the frigid touch as he places the cube directly against the peak, stiffening your nipple even further as he traces slow, deliberate circles, the cool pressure of the ice coaxing more shivers from you.

Max’s hand slides down to grip your waist, steadying you as he teases your tits with a rhythm that drives you wild, alternating between the cool caress and the sudden heat when his mouth seals over your skin again. You can’t see a thing, but every nerve is on high alert, your body arching toward his touch, desperate for more as he continues his relentless exploration, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Max’s voice cuts through the haze of sensations, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine curiosity. “Are you cold?” he asks, his thumb tracing idle circles on your waist as if gauging your reaction.

“A little bit,” you mumble, the words spilling out in a breathless whisper. The absence of the ice on your skin has left you tingling, the chill lingering even as your body heats under his touch.

His chuckle is low, dark. “Let’s fix that,” he murmurs, and then you feel it—the sudden, searing heat of melted wax dripping onto your skin. The first drop hits just below your breast, and you flinch, a gasp tearing from your throat as the unexpected burn spreads across your flesh.

“Fuck,” you breathe, arching toward the heat as more wax follows, each drop marking a line down your body, scorching a path over your stomach. The pain gives way to a maddening kind of pleasure, and you can’t stop the moan that slips out, your hands clutching the sheets as the heat sinks deeper.

But then, just as quickly, you feel the sharp bite of ice, its frozen touch tracing right over the fresh trail of wax. The stark contrast has you jerking beneath him, your back arching off the bed as a shudder rips through you. “Oh god,” you whimper, your body trembling at the sudden shift between scalding and freezing. The two extremes war with each other, leaving every inch of your skin tingling, every nerve lit up as he teases you with the combination.

Max grins at the way you react, his voice a low murmur against your ear. “Look at you, so responsive,” he taunts, rolling the ice over your nipple just after another stream of wax drips onto your stomach. The icy sting makes your nipple stiffen almost painfully, while the heat from the wax continues to burn lower, pooling in your belly.

“Please,” you moan, your hands twisting in the sheets, desperate for more of the maddening mix of heat and cold. “Max—”

“What is it sweetheart?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your skin as he lets another drop of wax fall, this time onto your inner thigh, followed by the chilled kiss of ice. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please,” you gasp, your voice breaking with need as you tilt your hips up, chasing the sensations. “I need you, need more—don’t stop.”

His chuckle is dark, almost possessive, as he shifts the ice lower, sliding it between your thighs. “I’m not stopping,” he growls, his fingers parting your legs as he drags the ice up the sensitive skin. “I want you burning and shivering for me all at once.”

Max’s hands glide down the curves of your thighs, gripping them firmly as he positions himself between your legs. With a slow, deliberate movement, he pushes your thighs wider apart, exposing you completely to him. His breath hovers over your inner thigh, the heat of it ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending shivers racing through your body.

You hear the soft clink of the ice cube against his teeth before he pops it into his mouth, his lips curling with a wicked grin as he watches you waiting for a sensation. The anticipation is electric, a tight coil of need winding inside you, and you can’t help but let out a desperate whimper, your body arching towards him, seeking the touch you crave.

Max’s hand slides up the insides of your thighs, spreading you wider as he lowers his head. The first touch of his tongue, icy cold from the melting shard, makes you jolt, a cry escaping your lips as the sudden chill hits your most sensitive spot. He doesn’t hesitate—he dives in with fervor, pressing the flat of his tongue against your slit, the cold sensation heightening every nerve ending, making you keen with a mix of shock and pleasure.

The ice continues to melt in his mouth as he teases your entrance, swirling his chilled tongue around in slow, deliberate circles that have you trembling. Max’s tongue flicks upward, tracing a searing line along your slit, his mouth alternating between the cold remnants of the ice and the growing heat of his breath.

Each sensation is a contrast that sends your body spiraling, torn between the icy chill and the warmth that gradually takes over. He hums against you, the vibration adding another layer to the pleasure that’s building within you, and you can’t help but buck your hips, seeking more, needing more.

His grip on your thighs tightens, pinning you in place as he shifts his focus, his lips wrapping around your clit, the pressure of his mouth coaxing a louder moan from your throat. His tongue dances over the sensitive bud, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that leave you breathless. He draws back just enough to let the last of the ice slide from his mouth, pressing the cool shard against your entrance with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The sensation is exquisite; the cold pushes you to the edge, your body tensing as the pleasure crescendos. He slips the melting ice inside, and you can feel the contrast of its coolness against the warmth that blooms within. His fingers replace the ice, sliding in easily, curling upward in a way that has your back arching off the bed, your breath catching in your throat.

Max’s mouth returns to your clit, his tongue working in perfect harmony with his fingers. The pleasure builds in waves, each one stronger than the last, crashing over you with a force that steals your breath away. He keeps the rhythm steady, his mouth and fingers driving you closer and closer to the brink, until all that’s left is the tightening in your core, the impending release that hovers just out of reach.

And then, with a final flick of his tongue, you shatter. The pleasure bursts inside you, radiating outward as your body trembles and shakes in his hold. He doesn’t stop, his movements gentle as he helps you ride out the waves, coaxing every last tremor of pleasure from your body.

Max leans over you, his breath brushing against your forehead before he plants a soft kiss there. “You’ve been so good for me,” he murmurs, his voice threaded with pride and tenderness. His words wrap around you like a comforting blanket, and you can’t help the shiver that courses through your body at the intimacy of the moment.

When your hand grazes his cheek, he welcomes the touch, pressing your palm against his skin, letting you feel the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingers. His own hand covers yours, the warmth grounding you in the present, as his thumb sweeps over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles. “Are you alright?” he asks, concern lacing his voice even as satisfaction gleams in his eyes.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with the aftershocks still rippling through you. As he touches the blindfold, preparing to remove it for the next round, you quickly shake your head, a silent plea for him to leave it on.

He hesitates, reading your expression even beneath the blindfold, before a knowing grin curls at the corners of his lips. “You want to keep it on?” he teases, his voice low and rough, a hint of challenge in his tone. You nod, unable to form words around the need thrumming inside you. You don’t want to see; you want to feel—every touch sharper, every sensation more vivid, without the distraction of sight.

Max’s lips find yours for a brief, searing kiss before he trails downward, his mouth grazing over your jaw, the curve of your throat, and further still. You brace yourself for the cold return of the ice, your body tensing in preparation, but instead, it’s the sudden heat of melted wax that kisses your skin. It splashes onto your thighs, a sting that swiftly turns into a deep, throbbing warmth. You cry out, your voice a raw, startled moan that fills the room. “Oh, God, Max!” you gasp, your entire body jolting at the contact, the sting quickly melting into a deep, throbbing warmth that sets your skin aflame.

The wax drips in slow, steady rivulets down your inner thighs, pooling along the delicate skin just above your core. You gasp, your back arching at the contrast of the hot wax against your cooled flesh, the sensation flooding your senses.

He continues his path, painting a trail of heat along your lower belly, each drop falling with deliberate slowness, giving you just enough time to anticipate where the next one will land. The wax cools and hardens, forming a web of sensations across your skin, while Max’s gaze follows every twitch and shiver, savoring the sight of you undone beneath him.

His hand slides down to part your folds, his fingers spreading your slick arousal as he teases your entrance with just the tip of his finger. When he finally pushes inside, it’s a slow, torturous movement that makes you moan deeply, your hips bucking to take him deeper.

As soon as his fingers are inside, he tilts the candle once more, letting a stream of wax spill onto your clit. The heat bites sharply, and you flinch at the sensation, the cry that leaves your lips a mix of shock and want.

Max pauses, his fingers still inside you, his other hand putting the candle down and reaching out to stroke your cheek in a calming gesture. “Too much?” he asks, his voice gentle, seeking reassurance. But your answer is immediate and breathless: “More.”

“Good girl,” he praises, his words laced with dark satisfaction. He resumes, the wax falling in slow, deliberate drops over your skin, each one landing with a sharp sting that fades into a deep heat. He drags the stream from your chest down to your belly, letting it pool momentarily around your navel before dripping lower still. The wax cools and hardens into tiny sculptures on your flesh, their texture a constant reminder of the heat that seared there just moments before.

He nudges the cooling wax on your clit with his thumb, his touch sending shudders rippling through you as he teases the sensitive nub. He alternates between dropping fresh wax onto it and rubbing the stiffened patches, the sensations shifting from stinging heat to a deep, pulsing warmth. Each time the wax lands, it feels like a burst of fire coursing through your veins, followed by the soothing, rhythmic strokes of his fingers.

“Max…” you breathe, his name a plea and a prayer on your lips, as his fingers work deeper inside you, curling and stroking with an unyielding rhythm that has your thighs quivering uncontrollably.

His hand moves faster, the intensity building, driving you closer and closer to that peak of release. The lack of sight only amplifies everything—the way his fingers curl inside you, the lingering heat of the wax, the low timbre of his voice murmuring praise as he brings you to the edge again and again. You’re lost in it, the world reduced to the feeling of his touch and the desperate, aching need for more.

“That’s it, liefje,” he murmurs, his breath fanning against your skin as he shifts closer. “Let go for me… just like that.” His voice is a soothing balm, urging you to give in to the building pressure, the way the sensations all blend together—wax, warmth, his touch—pushing you closer to the precipice.

When your orgasm crashes over you, it’s like an explosion of sensations, your body convulsing under the relentless pleasure. He doesn’t stop, drawing every wave out, his fingers working in perfect time with the rapid flutter of your pulse, until you’re left panting and trembling, spent and sated in the aftermath.

As the last shudders of your orgasm subside, you feel Max slowly ease his fingers from you, his touch lingering as though reluctant to let you go. He murmurs something soft, a mixture of praise and reassurance, though you’re too dazed to make out the words. His hands are gentle as they work to untie the blindfold.

“There you are,” he whispers, his thumb brushing softly across your cheekbone, wiping away a stray tear you hadn’t noticed. “You did so well for me, love.” He leans in, peppering your face with kisses—your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose, each one a soft balm against your heated skin. His lips find yours in a tender kiss, a stark contrast to the intense sensations from moments ago, and you melt into it, allowing his care to envelop you.

Max pulls back just enough to shift you into a more comfortable position, cradling your body against his chest as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, the words a gentle promise as he rocks you ever so slightly, letting the calm wash over you like a tide rolling back out to sea. You cling to him, basking in the feel of his strong arms around you, grounding yourself in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

When your breathing evens out, he reaches for a small bottle of oil on the nightstand, soaking a cotton ball. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he says softly, bringing the cotton ball to the patches of dried wax on your skin. His movements are unhurried and tender, the oil breaking down the stiffened wax with each gentle swipe, leaving a trail of warmth and comfort in its place.

Max’s hands move with a comforting rhythm, never rushing, as he finishes the last traces of wax and wipes away the residual oil with a clean cloth. His fingers linger as they drift over your body one final time, not to stimulate, but to soothe, letting you know you’re cared for—completely and entirely. He pulls you back into his arms once more, pressing his lips to your hairline. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs against your temple, his breath warm as it brushes your skin.

You look up at him, and the soft, affectionate smile on his face makes your chest tighten with an emotion that love wouldn’t simply justify. He leans down, capturing your lips in another tender kiss, one that feels like a promise—of care, of trust, of love.

He doesn’t let go, even after the kiss ends, keeping you tucked securely against him as he reaches for the covers to pull them over both of you. “Just rest,” he whispers, his fingers threading through your hair. “I’ve got you.”

Taglist: @cheer-bear-go-vroom @ggaslyp1 @nominsgirl @moll1701 @mrs-saturday @teamnovalak @sassy-chan @ruti26-11 @kennysimp101 @falling-feels-like-flying @laeblue @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bountychanti @savewaterdrinkvodka @cloud-55 @aarchiives @holylovercopsludge @black-fireproofs @lazydragonpeach @biancathecool @myownwritings @rebelatbay @ethereal0810 @leclercsluvs @01rrdbull @fallingforfalll2 @lilorose25

[zineobiology]

Welcome to the Zine O’Biology Vol.2!

A multi-fandom Star Trek Zine.

Whats New? This time we are organizing the artist/writer partnerships like a bang! We want to avoid some confusion from last time and think this will be best way to do that.

Do you have strong opinions on Vulcan fra’als, Cardassian tails, or how the heck Trill symbionts reproduce? We want to hear from you!

The Zine O’Biology is a fictional comparative xenobiology academic journal set in the Star Trek universe. If you’ve always wanted to wax eloquent for up to 3000 words about your theories on alien biology, welcome to your new home!

We want all your theories about all your favorite aliens! This is a friendly but competitive academic journal where the content of every paper is a little bit suspicious (is this paper based on rumor or fact? What is the methodology?) and some competing authors leave snarky comments on one another’s work. So just like a real academic journal, except ours features the Great Green Anthurium.

We welcome xenobiology articles on all Star Trek aliens from all series!

The final format will be a PDF that you can scroll at your leisure or print at home in order to have a physical copy of the Zine. (This way there is no money involved.)

--SEEKING SUBMISSIONS FOR--

Alien biology articles

Alien biology artwork

In-Universe advertisements

Letters to the editor

ALIEN BIOLOGY ARTICLES

How do Andorian genders work? Are Cardassians actually lizards? Why do Klingons have so many redundant organs? What’s the biological purpose of Bajoran nose ridges? What’s the best cement mix for emergency surgery on a Horta?

You’ve been pondering alien biology for years. This is your chance to infodump all your favorite theories to an eager audience of your fellow nerds!

Articles will be separated into two categories: reproductive biology or general biology. Yes, we also want all your theories on what every species is packing downstairs…and how they use it.

Journal articles should be fun and engaging, but also written in your interpretation of a pseudo-academic style, since this is a highly respected Federation xenobiology journal. If you want to keep things more lighthearted and less academic, check out the section on Letters to the Editor.

ALIEN BIOLOGY ARTWORK

If you have independent illustrations about alien biology we would love to see them! If you would like to provide illustrations for one of our journal articles, we will open up bidding so that you can find the perfect article for your ideas!

JOURNAL ADVERTISEMENTS

Even in a post-need future, academic journals will need a little extra funding. Submit your ads for Ferengi Oomox Creme, Self Sealing Stem Bolts, Gently Used Federation Technology, and, of course, “reproductive aids.” The weirder the better! Have fun with it!

All art needs to be printable at high resolution

ART Sizes:

Full page: 4.5"w x 7.5"h

Column: 2.21"w x 7.5"h

Half Page: 4.5"w x 3.75"h

Square: 2.21"w x 2.18"h

Banner: 4.5"w x 1"h

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Do you have a great idea, but it’s not enough to fill out a 3000 word article? Submit it as a “reaction” to a previous journal article. Feel free to lay into a mythical researcher who does NOT understand why their biological theory is wrong and yours is right!

Max length 1500 words. Enjoy making these plenty frothy!

WANT TO GET INVOLVED, BUT YOU’RE NOT A WRITER OR ARTIST?

WE NEED:

Graphic designers to help with Zine layout

Social media promoters

Alien art and article wranglers (ie: get your fannish friends involved!)

--HOW TO GET INVOLVED--

Fill out the Art or Writing Google Form letting us know your interests or reach out to the Editor in Chief at zineobiology@gmail.com

DEADLINES:

July 15, 2025: Last date for writer applications

August 18, 2025: Last date for Artists applications

August 30th: Writer drafts due. Claims begin.

October 30, 2025: All art, advertising, and journal submissions are due

We hope to have the Zine O’Biology ready for your enjoyment by New Year’s Eve 2025/2026. We all have full time jobs and lives, so that date may change depending on the volume of submissions.

FAQ can be found here.

[space-signals]

Lip Gloss

Steve Harrington shamefully wears girly lip gloss. Actually, he shamefully does a lot of girly things, but you can blame all that on Nancy Wheeler. 

Steve was just so infatuated with how she got to be so soft. It was the one reason he was dating her, because she was so pretty and soft. So naturally, back when they were dating, he asked her what her secret was and after some blissful teasing; she told him. From moisturizers to lip scrubs, Nancy Wheeler educated Steve on how to keep your body fresh and smooth. Naturally, Steve adopted all of these habits. Being the prettiest boy in Hawkins comes with a cost, okay? 

So now, every night before Steve went to bed and every morning before he went to work, he would do this extensive routine that kept his face shining like a waxed car. It was great. No one knew about it until one weekend when Steve had forgotten to hide his self-care products and Billy was over and went into the bathroom. 

“Do you have a sister?” Billy yelled from across the house. 

“What?” Steve was lying on his bed, reading some lame magazine and not even thinking about why Billy might’ve asked that. 

“Do you have a sister?” Billy asked again as he picked up a small jar of something that said ‘body butter’ with the hand that wasn’t currently zipping his pants up after peeing. 

Steve scoffed and stood up off his bed. “No, what would make you think thaa-…” Steve stopped in the middle of the hallway when he saw Billy holding a bottle of face spray that was supposed to hydrate your face in the morning. 

“So I can safely assume that these are all yours?” Billy asked with a smug look on his face. 

Steve bit his lip. He wanted to curl into a ball and explode. Why did Billy Hargrove have to be the one to find out about Steve’s most embarrassing secret? Twice!! Has the man done this, and both times did Steve hate it. 

“Maybe…” he whispered, and Billy’s smug face grew into an annoying smile. 

“I never took you for a pansy.” Billy teased as he picked up a bottle of his face cleanser. 

“I’m not a pansy for taking care of myself.” Steve bit back as he ripped the two skin-care products and slammed them back onto the sink counter. 

Billy spun him around by his waist, pushing him into the marble counter. “No, of course you’re not.” He agreed and smiled lazily at Steve. Leaning in to kiss him slowly, Steve’s heart fluttered with love as his hands hovered over the sides of Billy’s face. “I always wondered how you kept your lips so soft, and now I blame Noxzema.” 

“I actually use a lip scrub I made from honey and sugar.” Steve corrected. 

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re so lame.” He said before leaning in for another slow kiss. 

And so now Billy Hargrove shamelessly always has chapstick in the back pocket of his jeans, or lip oil in his middle compartment, or some face serum in his glove box. There was always something there for Steve in case he forgot or believed he needed to touch himself up, which Billy thought was never because Steve was perfect in his eyes. And then he would gag himself right after thinking that. 

Steve’s habits didn’t go without teasing, of course. Steve would apply his chapstick and Billy would grab him by the neck and kiss him roughly before complementing the flavor, and Steve would have to reapply the chapstick, only for Billy to kiss him all over again. There were lots of times where Steve would put hand cream and Billy would mock him for masturbating at such a strange time, and when Steve did his nightly routine Billy would always make sure to point out the wrinkles that Steve did not have with a: “You missed your smile lines, grandma. Gotta put more cream on.” And Steve would slam his bathroom door shut. 

And of course, with all these feminine products lying around wherever Billy was, people were obviously going to notice. Like when Max found lip oil and lip gloss in Billy’s middle compartment of his car and hurriedly went to Steve and said: 

“Steve, I think Billy’s cheating on you.” Max whispered at the ice cream counter. 

Steve’s heart dropped because Billy and him had been doing so well and now all of sudden Max was coming to him and telling him that Billy was cheating!? Yeah he flirted with some of the moms at the pool, but that was because Billy was an ass who enjoyed fucking with people, but he wouldn’t cheat on Steve with a fucking mom! 

“What!?” He spit, a little too loud for the privacy of their conversation. 

“Yeah! I saw like lip oil and lip gloss in the compartment of his car.” 

Steve froze. Why did life have to play out this way for him? Why did Billy have to be such a caring boyfriend and let Steve leave his stuff around? Why the fuck did he have to be such a pansy? “Yeah, Max, that’s uh…” He didn’t know how to say this. Really, he could’ve played along with Max and been absolutely shocked that Billy was cheating on him. “That’s my stuff.” 

Max’s face contoured in confusion. “What…?” 

Steve sucked in a breath as he scratched his neck awkwardly. “Yeaah… I use… lip oil.” 

“And lip gloss?” 

Steve shamefully nodded his head. 

Max’s shoulders slumped. “Wow.” She said in amazement. “How is my brother dating you?” 

“I have no idea- Are you going to buy some ice cream?” 

Max stared at him for a second before saying yes and buying some chocolate ice cream and leaving in a daze. Robin opened up the glass dividers. 

“What was that about?” She asked. 

“I…” Steve turned around and leaned against the counter. “I don’t want to tell you.” 

“That’s a little rude, Stevie.” 

“What have I said about you calling me that?” He groaned. 

“That you love it.” 

“Oh, my- shut up.” He turned back around as Robin closed the glass dividers with little girl giggles. 

One thing that Steve loved about Billy was that he didn’t care, that was his favorite thing about his boyfriend. Billy didn’t give a single fuck about what anyone thought of him, and that included people thinking he was weird for carrying such feminine products on his person. Like the one time after the Starcourt incident when Billy, Robin, and him were walking out of a movie theater and Steve’s lips were feeling dry after eating all that popcorn. He started patting down his pockets for his chapstick, but he just couldn’t find any. 

Billy stopped and whipped something out of his pocket and handed Steve lip gloss.

“Oh, thanks.” Steve gleefully took the tube and applied it to his lips. And then a snort took him away from his self care to see Robin staring at the two of them. Steve sighed and dreaded the thought that he had to expose his most embarrassing secret to another person. 

“What?” Billy hissed. “You’ve never seen a man have lip gloss?” 

Steve stared in awe as Billy took the blame for the lip gloss. 

Robin held her hands up in defense. “No, I just think it’s funny.” 

“Taking care of yourself isn’t funny, Robin.” Billy took the tube away from Steve. “You know you would do some good if you took care of yourself every once in a while. Maybe try some eye cream, your eye bags are showing.” Billy shoved past Robin to his car. 

The two friends were standing still in shock, their jaws touching the floor because holy fuck, Billy Hargrove did not just take the blame for Steve’s feminine ways. 

“Hey assholes!” Billy yelled from his car. “Let’s get on with it! There’s a party down at Tommy’s! I wanna crash it!” 

Steve was well aware he was in love with Billy Hargrove, and he was well aware Billy Hargrove was in love with him. But holy shit, did Steve now know that they were in love. Because what other manly guy would pretend to know all about self-care to protect his boyfriend’s self-esteem? 

He barked out a laugh at Robin before jogging away to Billy’s car. Robin soon followed with a defeated look in her eyes.

[overtake]

Max and Daniel’s morning, pre Melbourne padel (~ 930 words) (also a factual and true account of events)

Max traces his hand along the delicate outline of Daniel’s collarbone. Beneath it, Daniel’s chest rises and falls in a steady, even rhythm, disrupted only by the occasional snore. There’s a thick layer of dark hair covering the place where his heart beats. It’s been ages since he stopped waxing, but Max never tires of the opportunity to see him as he was meant to be.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, in the end. The sun has long risen through the cracks in the curtains, highlighting the bump of Daniel’s nose, the few flecks of grey beginning around his temple, the little bare spot on his beard that Daniel had accidentally shaved when he meant to trim. Max’s fingers are still lightly following the shape of Daniel’s tattoos, halfway through the word ‘love’, when his eyelashes finally flutter.

Normally, Daniel is far more regulated about his sleep schedule than Max is and has usually lived half a day before Max wakes up. It’s the only advantage of Max’s jet lag; when they’re anywhere but home, Max gets to luxuriate in the experience of watching Daniel’s joy-lined face remember there’s a day ahead, before his eyes land on Max and shape back into the sleepy half-smile that’s for no one but them and hotel mornings. Max has watched him wake up a thousand times in a thousand places in a thousand ways, but ever finding it banal would be akin to growing bored with watching the sun rise.

“Good morning,” Daniels says, the greeting low and half lost while his throat remembers how to sound out words. He reaches out a relaxed arm, untwisting it from the cocoon of sheets to grab at Max’s hip. The black rose and tan fingers contrast against the white-pink skin that dimples under his touch, grabbing just enough that Max knows what Daniel is asking for.

He moves out of his cross-legged position to kneel over Daniel’s torso, each leg tight along the sides of his body. Daniel rests his hands on the top of Max’s thighs, moving his fingers tantalizingly slow. They brush the fine hair askew, dip under the tight black confines of his boxer briefs, circle around to the insides of his thighs and just barely graze the slow-growing bulge, before moving almost down to Max’s knees. Max shudders, goosebumps appearing with the lingering remnants of Daniel’s soft touches, before he finally seats himself on Daniel’s stomach and straddles him properly.

Daniel’s not as small as he once was, no longer forced to stay lean and lithe to force himself into a race car. He’s finally able to build muscle in the way he’s always wanted. Max likes him all ways, but he likes it the most when Daniel likes himself. He’s quiet about it, but Max can see it in the way Daniel lingers in the mirror a little longer, appreciating that his workout tops are slightly tighter around the bands of muscle and broader chest.

“Do you still have to be at the shop this morning?” Max asks when Daniel fully wraps his arms around Max’s lower back and lifts himself into a seated position with an exaggerated groan, burying his face into the junction of Max’s neck and shoulder. He nips at it playfully, then nods big enough that Max can feel the answer against his skin.

“Soon?” Max checks. They have padel plans this afternoon before Daniel has to leave the city, make his quiet exit back to his friends and family and farm and nothing that reminds him of the car that was meant to be his. When the clock strikes midnight into Thursday, they both want him away from the noise of this weekend.

“Soon,” Daniel confirms, adjusting Max slightly on his lap and pulling him impossibly closer. Max will make the brief stop to Perth after this, to feel the last rays of Australian summer as it morphs into autumn, in a place where neither of them have to remember racing and can leave behind the resentment of what could have been.

Daniel’s beard is slightly scratchy against Max’s neck, no doubt turning the sensitive skin pinker than the sun soon will. He smells of coconut shampoo and the slightly chemical hotel sheets.

They should take hurried advantage of these spare moments. Max of a few years ago can’t even fathom having an ounce of time with Daniel where someone’s not frantically getting off. He’s enjoying it, though. He could have intense sex with Daniel nonstop and never get bored of the intimacy, the luxury of knowing Daniel’s touch, but he doesn’t feel sick with the need anymore. Daniel is going nowhere. Daniel has run so many times, away from so much and toward the promise of all that has failed him, but he’s always come back to Max. They have forever to know the sounds of each other’s moans, the changing of their bodies and the years, the pride in knowing exactly what pushes the other over the edge. Even on a day where Daniel is leaving, there’s no urgency.

It starts slow and ends slow, Max rutting his hand against the grip of Daniel’s hand, Daniel rocking his hips under Max. Their release is quiet, a shuddered gasp of relief and peppered kisses. There’s no rush to the shower, either. Max has nowhere to be this morning, and Daniel’s commitments rank second on a day like this. Max rests his forehead against a soft head of curls, strokes the velvet soft skin of his back, and soaks peacefully in the rays of Daniel’s love.

[nor-4]

Formula 1 Incorrect Quotes with reader Two

F1IQ - Part One

Y/n: Bitch why don't you shut the fuck up before i slit your throat and watch the honor roll out?

Max: Are you threatening me??

Y/n: No, I'm hitting on you, flash me a titty bitch.

Lewis: Yeah uh, there's something I've been wanting to say lately.

Y/n: Oh what's that?

Lewis: The N-Word

Y/n looking at toto: Look at your dad. Such a dork, keeping bees.

Y/n: I mean atleast it's interesting though. At least like, i wish my dad kept bees.

Y/n: I mean it's kind of cute. Like, your dad keeps bees.

Y/n: How old is your dad? He's obviously beekeeping age. I dont know. I think It's kind of sweet.

Y/n: George, i wanna fuck your dad.

George: Oh really?

Yuki: Hey can i sit with you?

Y/n: Why

Yuki looking at stroll and ocon: The kids at the other table keep throwing ketchup packets at me.

Y/n: You're not covered in ketchup, though

Yuki: They don't know you have to open it first

Y/n: Damn. We need remedial bullying class too.

Yuki: So how do you like your remedial english?

Y/n: I guess it's whatever. My mom was really pissed, though.

Yuki: Yeah? What about your dad?

Y/n: My dad killed himself.

Charles: I'm finally seeing someone good for me.

Alex: Omg who is it?

Charles: A therapist

Y/n: max is pissing me off *20 minutes ago*

Y/n: nvm just got dicked down

George: Girl what..

Fernando: Every time i talk to you i feel confused.

Fernando: I've never met anyone that speaks like you do

Y/n: Stop lovebombing me

Fernando: what? It's not a compliment

Fernando: You scare me

Y/n: What are you hiding from me?

Zhou: Nothing..

Y/n: Zhou Guanyu.

Zhou pulls out a cat: The cat distribution system chose me okay

Y/n at drive to survive: If he cheats on you, put hair remover in his shampoo, you wanna act like Andrew tate, u gon look like him too.

Lewis wearing a beanie: I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS FOREVER

Toto: That's your fault. Being too quick signing your seat with ferrari

Oscar: Are you high?

Lando: Am i what?

Oscar: High

Lando: Hello

Christian: So what could a Mercedes principal possibly have then?

Y/n: I just feel like he'd be into satan-worship, or at the very least have a sex diary.

Christian: A toto wolff sex diary would be horrifying. He's like our rival.

Y/n: We say that about Stephen king books, we still read those.

Daniel: "Dear diary, hot candle wax hurts so good"

Christian: No it'd probably be like a thesaurus of words for "Good"

Daniel: Yeah he probably sexts with perfect grammar.

Y/n: "My wife showed an exquisite exhibition of lust for me."

Toto: Let me try something different here. Do you guys have thoughts and feelings for one another?

Y/n: Uhh i think George's kinda spoiled

George: And i feel like y/n's a bitch

Y/n: What're you gay?

Alex: What.. How did you know? I've never told anyone that.

Y/n: Dude look at your hair dye, you're either gay or color blind.

Lance: bro stop chanting in dead language's your scaring the hoes

Y/n: Bitch you is so lonely I'm summoning the hoes

Sebastian: You used to be shy, now you're a whore

Y/n: There's a thing called character development

Oscar: Reminder that I'm very sweet and endearing so be nice to me

Carlos: or what

Oscar: or I'll punch your lights out

Hey yall this is a bit short cause I'm finna make a random crack twitter posts n I'll post it in the most random day. I love yall baby💋

[queenshelby]

The Peaky Role (Part 41)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Best Friend's Dad, Pregnancy

At around 4 o 'clock that day, you and Max climbed into Paidi's car to take the thirty-minute drive to a nearby hiking spot.

"Excited?" Max asked, his voice brimming with energy as he adjusted the rearview mirror.

"Absolutely," you replied, forcing enthusiasm into your voice, but a hint of unease churned in your stomach as you worried that, perhaps, by going with him, you were leading Max on, which was not your intention.

"That's good, because I even have a little surprise for you when we get there," Max grinned, his enthusiasm contagious, as he turned onto the winding road that led to the cliffs.

"Oh? What is it?" you shot back, curiosity piquing despite your earlier reservations.

"You'll see soon enough," he said, glancing at you with a sly smile.

The car bumped along the uneven road, and you took a moment to admire the lush greenery flanking the path.

"Is it food?" you asked, a teasing lilt in your voice, hoping it would be something you could savour.

"Maybe," he replied, a grin splitting his face as he navigated a sharp turn to pull in to the nearby car park.

You hopped out, the salty breeze rustling your hair as you caught sight of the cliffs looming ahead.

"I can't believe I haven't come here before," you murmured, the stunning view stretching out before you, where the rugged rock met the frothy sea below. “It’s amazing.”

"Just wait until you see it up close," Max replied, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "It's breathtaking."

"So, you have been here before?" you asked with a hint of surprise in your voice, thinking that he didn't know much about it by the way he had acted earlier.

"Once or twice when I was really young," he admitted, brushing a stray hair from his forehead before retrieving a small basket from the back seat, its woven surface hinting at hidden delights.

"What's in there?" you asked, peering over curiously as he popped it open.

"Just a little something to fuel our adventure," he grinned, pulling out a couple of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper as well as some beers.

"Jesus, you came prepared. I thought we were just going to come here for a quick walk," you murmured, feeling a little uncomfortable now, hoping that he wouldn't want to take this any further.

"Well, I thought a picnic might be fun," Max said as he showed you the way and you followed him, a mix of anticipation and lingering uncertainty threading through your veins.

"Okay, just let me text the others, telling them that we will be back late," you said as you fished your phone from your pocket, the cool screen illuminating your fingers.

Max stood a few paces away, scanning the breathtaking view, his expression a mix of excitement and impatience.

"Don't worry about them, let's just enjoy the moment," he urged, a spark of mischief lighting his eyes. "Despite, there isn't any reception here," he declared and, sure enough, the screen displayed a lonely message icon, mocking you with its emptiness.

"Come on! Let's hike a bit and find the perfect spot," Max urged, breaking your focus and beckoning you toward the trail that wound around the cliffs.

As you stepped onto the rocky path, the sea foamed and crashed below, a rhythmic symphony of nature.

"Just a little further," Max called back, his enthusiasm infectious as he bounded ahead, weaving through the wildflowers sprouting along the trail.

"You know, these cliffs are the kind of place that make you feel small?" Max called back, the wind tugging at his words.

"It's absolutely amazing," he acknowledged and nodded, the expansive horizon swallowing your thoughts, pushing all worries aside for a moment.

"Yeah," you agreed, a smile creeping onto your face. "It's beautiful," you said until, eventually, you made it to the cliff's edge, where the wind whipped around you, sending shivers down your spine. Max plopped down on the grass, unwrapping the sandwiches triumphantly.

"Dinner with a view?" he joked, glancing up, hopeful eyes reflecting the ocean's blue.

"Thanks," you murmured, grinning as you accepted a sandwich, its fresh aroma mixing with the salty air.

Max also pulled out the beers and popped the caps with a satisfying crack, handing one to you with a grin.

"Slainté," he said, raising his bottle, the sun casting a golden glow on the horizon behind him.

You clinked your bottles together, laughter bubbling in the air.

"Slainté," you murmured, feeling the coolness of the glass against your palm.

Max took a hearty bite of his sandwich, crumbs tumbling into the grass as he began with some small talk.

You took many photos on your phone and Max took some of you too, while you chatted about random topics such as art and politics.

He was good company and time went by much faster than you had expected.

"We should probably head back soon. It's getting dark," you suggested, glancing at the horizon where the sun dipped lower, casting a fiery orange hue across the sky.

Max frowned, reluctant. "Just a few more minutes? The view is worth it," he said, moving a little closer towards you as the sun began to stretch its golden fingers across the sky, casting long shadows that danced around your feet.

"Okay, just a few more, but then we really should head back," you relented, caught in the moment as, suddenly, Max's hand sneaked around you, catching you by surprise.

Your heart raced as his fingers brushed against your side, igniting a flutter of confusion within you.

"Max, I...," you thus began but, before you could even finish your sentence, Max leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a hesitant kiss.

You quickly pulled away, heart pounding, the shock of the moment washing over you like the tide.

"Max, I am not..." you started, the warmth of his breath lingering in the air between you, catching you off guard as you searched for the right words.

"You aren't into me," he stammered, backing away slightly, a flush creeping into his cheeks. “I mean, I should have known, but…,” he began, shaking his head, causing you to blush.

"I'm just... things are complicated right now," you interrupted, keeping your voice steady despite the thundering in your chest.

Max rubbed the back of his neck, visibly trying to process your rejection.

"You really do have a crush on my uncle, don't you?" Max's voice cracked slightly, although his amusement was evident.

"What?" you feigned confusion, the soft breeze mingling with your rising heart rate.

"You two give of a vibe," he insisted, glancing away, unsure whether to be amused or frustrated. "It's impossible not to notice and I am surprised your dad and Nina haven’t even picked up on it yet,” he chuckled as the tension wrapped around you, the truth hanging unspoken in the air.

"No, we just worked together on a project, that's all," you insisted, your pulse racing as you felt the weight of his gaze. “There is no vibe!”

Max crossed his arms, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Okay, sure. If you say so," he relented nonetheless, causing you to shake your head.

"I mean it Max. There is nothing between me and your uncle, in any shape or form," you insisted, but the doubt lingered in the air like the salty breeze around you.

Max raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face. "And I believe you, Y/N," he lied, before offering you his hand.

"We should go now. Maybe we can stop by the local pub on the way back for a pint," he suggested and you hesitated, the unease flickering inside you once more.

"Only if you promise that you won't try to kiss me again," you said, your eyes narrowing playfully.

Max raised his hands in mock surrender, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. "I promise. Just a beer and some banter."

Relieved, you accepted the terms, and together you headed back down the path.

Shortly after you left the parking lot and drove off to the nearest pub, you finally had some reception.

The screen lit up with a flurry of texts from Cillian, wondering where you were.

"Is everything okay?" he wanted to know in his latest message as, clearly, he was worried about your prolonged absence. Or was it something else that he was worried about?

As you read through the messages, a knot twisted in your stomach and you wondered what his problem was.

There were several of them, asking you if you were safe, if you had reached the cliffs, and why you hadn't replied. You glanced at Max, who was bouncing mildly in his seat, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing behind your smile.

"All good?" he asked, glancing over at you momentarily as he navigated the winding roads, his enthusiasm unwavering.

"Yeah, just catching up on messages," you replied, forcing a smile while your mind whirled with Cillian's concerns.

Max nodded, oblivious, as he shifted gears, eager to reach the pub teeming with life and, just as you were to reply to Cillian's latest message, the reception went again.

***

Meanwhile, at the house, Cillian paced back and forward.

"You know, they should have been back by now," he murmured, wondering if he should text you again, which is when Paidi stepped in to calm him down, his casual demeanour contrasting sharply with Cillian's growing anxiety.

"What's got you all wound up?" Paddy asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well, Max and Y/N have been gone for a while, so I am a little worried," Cillian shot back, rubbing the back of his neck as he cast a wary glance at his phone.

Paidi chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax, man. They are probably having a good time. Max took some sandwiches and a few beers with him," he said, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he leaned against the counter. "I think he likes Y/N," he went on to say, trying to tease his brother who shot him a look, the tension still etched on his brow.

"Yeah, but it's dark and it's windy too," he replied, pacing again, frustration bubbling just below the surface as Dermont joined the conversation as well, unaware of Cillian's growing jealousy which he masterfully masked with concern and worry.

Dermont studied him, shaking his head. "You're being paranoid. They're adults, not kids," he declared. "Despite, I know Y/N to be extremely responsible and I trust her to do the right thing," your father said, but it wasn't you who Cillian didn't trust. It was Max.

The fact that Max was having some private time with you made Cillian uncomfortable. He was raging with jealousy inside now and this only just fuelled his frustration with your prolonged absence.

Internally, he wondered what you were doing. Were you making out or were you just talking about the cliffs, or worse?

"So you aren't at all concerned that they haven't rocked up yet?" Cillian asked, crossing his arms defensively, his brow knitted into a tight frown.

Dermont shrugged, amusement flickering in his eyes. "No I am not man, and she is my daughter, not yours, so you can relax now," your father countered, a playful tone easing the tension in the room.

Cillian sighed, raking a hand through his hair, frustration mixing with an unwilling anxiety.

"I mean, why are you even so worried about her lately?" Dermont then asked, having noticed Cillian being rather protective towards you, which was unusual for him.

"I don't know," Cillian murmured, unsure how to respond. "Maybe we just connected a bit more since working together," he explained to your father, telling him that he was trying to look after you while on set.

"Alight, well thanks for looking out for her man, but I can assure you she is fine. She is a good kid," Dermont said and the word 'kid' made Cillian cringe, but he bit his tongue.

"Now, I am going to hit the hay," Dermont finally declared, stretching his arms above his head as he yawned and Paidi agreed. He was tired too and wasn't going to wait up for the both of you, knowing full well that, by now, you were probably hanging out in some pub.

Your father had always trusted you as you never gave him a reason to doubt your judgment. But of course. he was blissfully unaware of what was brewing beneath the surface, the connection between you and Cillian tangled in layers of secrecy.

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[e1dritchjackal0pe]

Hi !

I’ve really enjoyed your writing and thought I’d take a stab at an ask ! Cause I’ve been in lost boys hella since I recently watched the movie for the first time and am rabid for these boys , especially Marko lol. Also no rush and no worries if you’re too busy.

Ps. Sorry about how long this is.

I’ve been dying for Someone to write an angst fic with Marko that takes place during the film and where he recently turned his mate, who hasn’t fed yet so is only half cause I need some convoluted way for her to survive lol, gets staked instead of him by accident. Marko , being extremely possessive and over protective was able to keep her existence hidden from Michael and kept her away from Max , much to his and David’s annoyance who though he was being a bit overprotective but David enjoyed seeing his brother so happy and generally enjoyed the brighter presence she added to there family.

Somehow the frog brothers failed to notice her sleeping wrapped around the front of Marko, head buried in his chest maybe somehow covered by his jacket, her favorite sleeping position since she turned, so she gets staked through the back of her shoulder waking up Marko and the boys with her scream. Ensue angry chase scene and a panicked and pissed Marko.

Sorry this is so hyper specific but I’ve had this exact scenario bouncing around my head for WEEKS lol.

ℭ𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 ℜ𝔢𝔡

Note: I wasn't able to put as much time into this as I would have liked, and I did make some small changes (not enough to ruin the story for you, I hope). I made this a sort of unofficial add on to my first Marko fic, but I hope you enjoy it!

Something strange bleeds in through the placid blanket of sleep, all distorted and warm, humming like heartbeats. Slipping through the dark fog in the faint chime of hushed whispers. Voices exchanging softly, all dim and low like they were sharing secrets. It has you twisting under your sheets. Tugging the barrier of the soft blankets up higher and closer over your head, burying your face in the pillows in an attempt to muffle out the sounds, desperate to escape fully back into the comfort of a deep sleep. 

It's still daytime. Something instinctual, deep in your gut and the back of your mind assures that the sun is still high up in the sky, scorching and hot. An intuition that you don't quite understand yet, but it has your limbs turning heavy and lax, muscles relaxing beneath the sheets and covers stretched over your body like a cocoon. Your exhaustion has you going numb to the world, the delicate rhythm of the waves crashing outside the cave muting down into nothing, the sound of the quiet voices vanishing. 

It must be the boys. Awake already. It would strike you as odd on any other circumstance, and to a degree it does, but your sluggish brain is quick to let go of that train of thought. Letting it slip away as easily as a branch snagging away on a rock in a river, catching momentarily before it succumbs to the strength of the current and disappears downstream. 

The insistence that something is wrong fading into an ignorable afterthought. Forgettable like the brush of fingers along the nape of your neck. The pale scuffle of shoes along dust and stone ignites a tremble down the notches of your spine, as though your body is begging for you to wake up and investigate while it simultaneously sinks further into the old mattress, desperate to soak up the weak scraps of heat that's soaked into the blankets. 

Something isn't right, something isn't right . . . 

It's like a chant. A primal whisper that coils through your bones and sinew. Leftovers from your ancestors, remnants of the instincts that had kept them alive, but it all seems null and void against the fatigue that seems to press you down like a physical weight. Even while hidden away from the sun it seems to sap you of all your strength, turning you as pliant and weak as melted wax left out beneath the midday sky. 

It's impossible to even try to rouse yourself. It's as though you're held under water. Tucked away beneath the pressure of the ocean, tucked into the dark of it while the world above soldiers on. Sleeping now feels like dying, a part of you disconnecting and hibernating, all while your chest still expands and your heart pumps sluggishly in your chest. So much softer and lethargic since you've drank his blood. It makes you split, cut into two halves. One screams and nudges for you to finally tug the blankets back from over your head and search for the source of the voices that are still dully bouncing from the stone walls of the recessed hotel, while the other piece demands that you finally relax and pass out again.  

The strength of that debilitating exhaustion sweeps back over you, making the sound of the angry, masculine voice that rises up high within the cave, reverberating from the dust covered stone, dim and distant. As though it's miles away. You hardly register the disturbed sound of pigeon wings fluttering in the air, the noisy thump of shoes pounding along the floor in a rapid pace. 

"There's one over here." You hear from far-away, murky and vague. Another layered scuffle of feet follows, and your brain just barely recognizes the rustle of fabric - a curtain being shifted out of the way. Close by and along the edge of your bed. The same curtains that border the sides of your mattress. It has your pulse spiking, seeming to ricochet in your chest, and yet your body remains immobile and heavy limbed. Trapped inside your own body as though you're truly and finally dead. 

"What about this one?" The question rises up through the air, carried by a heavy but youthful tone. Thick with determination. "He didn't say anything about them." 

A nervous voice pitches up then. Uncertain and a little shaken: "I don't know guys. This doesn't seem like a good idea, maybe we should wait for Mike." 

Mike. Mike. That sounds familiar from somewhere - someone. A name mentioned in passing. Mike. Michael. A discussion carried on by the boys while they were all encircled around one of the burn barrels one night, hunched close while sipping on lukewarm beers and rolling joints. So casual while they considered the fate of a complete stranger as though they were discussing dinner and not the destiny of a man's soul. Some poor sap that had apparently caught the eye of Star. She hadn't wanted it to go far, but then again, it's never supposed to go that far. But David wanted the guy dead. He was meant to be her first, her ticket into finally bringing her over to the other side. The fresh blood that would make her one of them.

She hadn't been able to do it. 

She told you as much, curled up on your bed one evening with tears in her eyes. You couldn't blame her, and you wouldn't. She's the only normal one here apart from Laddy. Just as trapped as you. Turned into a monster, something beyond humanity, clinging onto her own soul with just as much conviction and hopelessness as you are. 

She told you then, that it was a punishment for her when David had tricked Michael into drinking his blood. She gazed up at you with damp eyes, unshed tears glittering in them like diamonds, threatening to spill while she had clutched onto one of your pillows. Fingers digging deep as though she meant to tear the silk with her nails. 

"He wants me alone. He turned Michael to keep me trapped, I just know it." 

A wave of muddled scents breaks past the barrier of the linens and blankets. Unfamiliar and thick, coated with cologne and shampoo that you don't recognize. All of it twisting with something even more out of place here. Something alive. Heat and life and blood. Iron, warmth, and salt. It's distinctly human. Living. 

The alarms go off in your head. Raging and flashing red in a way that's violent. It seems to be enough to push your spirit back into your limbs. Vigor slipping back into you, and it gives you enough strength to move under the covers. It pierces through the fog and black packed inside of your skull, parting the cloud of it all like the split of lightning striking through a peaceful storm. You feel slow, arms lazy and weakened as you use them to slip the layers of blankets from over your head, crumpling them down just enough to peek over the edge of the rumbled sheets. 

Your eyes blink, lashes fluttering as you try to fight the sleep weighing your lids down. Your vision blurs a little, straining through the exhaustion, but when you notice the three figures standing above your bed and looming over you, it has you sucking in a strangled gasp. 

They're children. Looking lost, dressed in camo and gear as though they've prepared to fight a war. Youthful faces staring at you with equal surprise and one even screams. His wide blue eyes reflecting a visible panic while he stumbles back away from the other two. Another swears, cursing sharply under his breath while he flinches. But it's the one closest to you that moves. His dog tags glinting and chiming from a movement so sharp that it had to be a reflex, but the determination burning in his eyes is purposeful. 

You just barely notice the pointed wood clutched in his fist, cut and shaped to be lethal. A weapon - a stake. 

"Shit, get her!" The one beside him cries, eyes wild while he clutches onto the others shoulder in an alarmed grip. 

An animal kind of panic tears through you, lighting up your nerves like lives wires, electricity and adrenaline burning through your veins with the white heat of fire. You jerk up - or try to - but the way that you had fallen asleep, face pressed into the cushions and stomach flat along the mattress impedes your mobility. Your limbs struggle, sleep thawing in your tired arms and legs, weighed down by the blankets. 

"Kill her, kill her!" One shouts all while the blonde in the background yells at them to stop, but it falls on deaf ears. It's chaos. Voices clamor and shriek, your heart thumps like it might explode while you struggle to tear yourself free from the weight and length of the blankets. The boy wielding the stake lunges forward with a war cry. Lurching onto the bed just as you manage to scramble free from the covers. 

A panicked shout rips from your throat as you claw across the mattress, moving as though you've been lit on fire. Crawling wildly across the bed in an effort to make some space between the two of you, but he's much quicker despite the gear weighing him down. The exhaustion that still clings to your bones and the confusion blanking over your mind makes you clumsy and slow regardless of your fear. 

"Marko!" You cry even while it feels like poison on your tongue, scorching inside of your mouth. 

"The bitch is calling in the calvary, you gotta get her before they wake up," someone shouts in a panicked rush. 

Your fingers reach around onto the edge of your bed, fastening on to drag yourself forward and down onto solid ground but the mattress sinks behind you. The weight of someone's body pressing it down as they scramble up close to you. It has your head whipping around, just enough to glance over your shoulder. It's like slow motion when your eyes latch onto the sight of the stake, raised high. Poised in the air, high above the boy's head in an arch. There's hardly any time to act and fear sinks in your gut, chilled and frozen as he drives it down with all the strength he has in his body; his lips curled in a hateful snarl. 

He's going to kill you. This is it. This is how you die. Your mind screams it over and over again on a broken loop, but your body acts all on its own, raising your leg back to strike him and unbalance him from your mattress. You both land blows on each other at the same time. Your foot meets him square in the chest, kicking out with enough force that you can hear the breath rip out of his lungs in a strained burst. 

There's no time to rejoice when it knocks him back. The stake is already piercing your skin. It sinks in deep, parting flesh and muscle beneath its lethal point. The boy collapses and tips over the other side of the bed just as you hurtle yourself onto the floor. You don't initially realize that you're screaming. You feel it first. The strength of your agonized wail shreds up your throat as though you've swallowed nails, but that pain is secondary to the fire and anguish pulsing through your shoulder. The stake is still wedged inside of your back, burying past skin and meat, prying at your shoulder blade like it means to rip it free from the sinew keeping it intact with the other bones. 

You're bleeding. You can smell it, sharp and distinct in the panicked air. The pain is crippling. Ripping and engulfing, eating up your spine. You have to force yourself to breathe past the agony, twisting around onto your knees to face the danger with unshed tears blurring your vision. It strains your shoulder as you back away, scrambling on bare palms and feet to get away from them. 

All three of them are pulling at each other. The other boy dressed in camo is tugging at the other, trying to pull him up from the floor while he eyes you with terror and hatred, all while the blonde pulls at him like he's trying to nudge them toward the mouth of the cave. They're all yelling. Voices overlapping in a crazed hysteria. 

The one with the army beret - the one who stabbed you is now on two feet, and he looks like he's willing to make a second attempt. You shuffle wildly on your hands, wincing past the searing ache that's pulsing and ripping up your spine. The stake lodged in your back, pinned near the edge of your shoulder blade and it impedes your movement, the bone nudges up painfully against the wooden intrusion with each jerk and reach backwards. Your eyes sweep around the cave in a panic glance, bouncing around to the entrance, judging the distance between you and it before you fleetingly scan over Star's bed and then Laddie's, expecting the worst. Expecting to see carnage and bloodied corpses. Your stomach drops for an entirely different reason when you see that they aren't there. There's no lump hidden beneath the covers, no rise and fall of his or her breath. They're gone. Terror grips ahold of you. The thoughts in your mind running off in a wild swarm. 

It has your attention frantically shifting over the large gap in the southern wall, dark and wide like a mouth, overcome with dead roots. The boys are hidden somewhere within. Slumbering and concealed, ignorant to what's happening. God, what if they don't hear you? What if they don't care? What if he doesn't? It makes you nauseous. Insecurities and all the assumptions you've been clinging onto well up, all of the honey covered words he's fed you seem bitter. Turned acrid from your fear. 

Your voice hitches in your throat, the air shuddering in your lungs while the hush of his name sits on the tip of your tongue. Doubt weighs it down. Insecurity and fear tell you that he won't answer. Whispering that you're on your own. 

But then the boy with the blue bandana wrapped around his head is stepping forward, already clasping a stake in a white-knuckled hold. The resolve in his eyes is haunting. The desire to kill you fervent and glaring in his stare. That's all it takes to have your voice spilling from you, rising up in another terrified shout as you crawl over the dust and stone while your arm prickles and burns. 

"Marko!" 

"Say your prayers bloodsucker." He practically spits it out, lips twisting in a grimace as he moves towards you and your muscles coil, body pulling taut in preparation for a fight. 

And then combined voices echo out from the pit gapping out from the wall of the cave, layered and distorted from the depths of it as though creatures from hell were all climbing up to answer the call. Hissing and snarling in layered tones that trembled within your bones. The three boys freeze in place, locked by an icy grip of fear as their heads all collectively turn in the direction of the hole yawning open the earth. 

You can smell their terror spike. Electric and thrumming with adrenaline as they all suddenly grab onto each other, talking over each other in a frightened rush. 

"Shit, they heard her," one of them notes. 

"Guys, guys, we gotta go." It's the blonde that's repeating it over and over, stumbling over his words while he jerks on the other's arms. They give in without any resistance. Fear alive and bright in their eyes, even while the kid with the bandana points his stake in your direction and tosses a quick "This isn't over" at you as the three of them take off in a brisk jumble in the direction of the entrance, rounding around the broken fountain with the speed of people lit on fire. 

The growls from within the cavern raise up higher, drawing closer and it has the kids in a full-blown panic. Tripping over their feet in an ungraceful run as they try and reach the opening of the cave, slipping on the thick layer of dust the coats the floor. All of them screaming and pitifully staggering and clawing up the steps ascending up to the entrance, trying to carry each other up the incline as the snarls grow louder, reaching for roots and vines to help them rise. 

Your arms tremble and your head rolls back on your wounded shoulder, suddenly lightheaded and weak. You can feel your lung snag and pinch as though it's being burned from the inside out, catching on the point of the stake when you inhale. It has you crying, a tear managing to trickle free as you keel over, your ribcage shuddering violently as you gasp. 

You don't want to take your eyes off of them, desperate to track their panicked flee, but your eyes cloud over. Stars dot your vision, spotting and flickering in shifting colors as a vignette blurs around the corners of your sight. You collapse onto your elbows, arms quivering while you struggle to keep your face from flattening onto the ground. You can still hear them all wailing. Screaming and cursing as they scramble up to the entrance of the cave.

Despite your efforts though, you collapse, falling on your stomach while iron coats your tongue. Thick and wet. Bursting up from the back of your throat while you try to breathe, spitting up with each labored inhale. You can feel your life waning. The strength diminishing, shrinking under your skin. Dying out like a flame that's being smothered. 

"Oh, my god!" 

It's one of the kids. The tone of their cry is saturated with terror. Fear trembling within it noticeably, and you can hear the sound of claws ripping across the earth as the four of the vampires tear their way out of the chasm like creatures pouring out of hell. It makes that sick part of you - the violent, unrecognizable half that you've fought so hard to ignore and resist, delighted. A twisted kind of revenge soothing through you while you struggle to pull oxygen into your lungs. 

You feel the chill of the stone against your forehead when it drops on the ground, hanging limply while blood chokes your throat. The hatred in you longs to ignore the agony crippling your body in favor of watching the kids get ripped apart, but the agony sinking and twisting in your shoulder, the air strangling in your chest, keeps you lamed and paralyzed on the ground. 

You hear muffled screams and shouts. The dull thud of hysterical footsteps as they rush to escape before death can seize them. But you can't manage to lift your head up from the dirt. Not even when you hear David's bellow roll throughout the cave, crashing over the screams from the horrified children. The loud chaos of it all grows dim - distant as they're no doubt running up the mouth of the cave, crawling and shrieking while Paul's demented laugh rings out from somewhere far away. 

It makes you jump when a pair of hands smooth over your shoulders, light like a caress, but you can still feel a heavy tremble run through the fingers. A voice hums out, cooing softly to hush you when a strangled sob wrangles out from your body. The way they handle you is delicate, softly turning you over onto your hip and lifting you up to cradle you against their chest as though you might shatter into a million pieces otherwise.

You're brittle. Clinging onto life while your heart trembles like a feeble, fluttering bird. It's instinctive when you cling onto the weight of the body, fastening on with trembling arms as you draw in a familiar scent with blood-soaked lungs. Breathing past the wet iron to try and notice the traces of spice and earth and musk. 

Marko. 

It's Marko. 

Your fear makes you hold onto him. Clawing your nails into the thick fabric of his coat with desperation, the hatred buried beneath it all turned dull in your panic. You try to say his name, but your throat tightens, choking on blood. You can feel his fingers grip your bicep, holding you still and you know that he's looking at the stake punctured deep in your flesh. His hold is nowhere close to the to the wound and yet it flares pain across your nerves, making you twist in his arms while a gutted sob wracks from your body. 

"I know, I know, baby. I know," he whispers it into your temple. He sounds so entirely unlike himself. He sounds panicked, shaken. "I have to take it out." 

It's difficult to hear his voice past the roaring in your ears, but once the words make it past the hum, it's hard to resist the instinctive urge to resist and shove yourself out of his arms. It's like you can feel the agony already, simmering and slicing across your fried nerves like the edge of razor blades. But it's really the firm grip he has around your waist that keeps you secure in his lap, pinning you down as delicately as he can without injuring you further. 

He whispers softly at the pained cry that slips past your lips, doing his best to soothe and distract you. It's a tone that you've never really heard from him before. Usually, his voice is all lightly barbed. Laced with sarcasm and thinly veiled insults. What little tenderness might have been there in the past had always felt too fake to you. So saccharine that it would become sickeningly sweet. Too good to be true. A guise of care and affection designed to pull wool over your eyes. 

Maybe it's just the blood loss and the pain, but it sounds so genuine in the way that his voice trembles, soft and clipped as though he's barely holding himself together. 

He cradles your face with a hand, the buttery chill of the glove feels like death on your skin, cold and intimate. It makes your lashes flutter, and you have to force yourself to keep your eyes open with how heavy they've grown, weighing heavy and threatening to slip closed. When he tips your head back from where you've tucked it against his chest, it still manages to strike you through the haze of it all, the emotions that seem to burn in his stare. There's so much reflecting in the soft blue of his eyes, usually delicate and bright with a puckish mischief, are now dark and wild. Chaotic and glassy with rage and fear. 

He's actually afraid. 

He looks almost broke. Split between anger and horror while he clings to your wounded body. You know that he's fantasizing about tearing those kids apart. Wishing that he was snapping their limbs from sockets with a wet, tortured pops. But instead, he's here, holding onto you as though you've already passed on. It makes your chest ache for an entirely different reason, longing and hope burrowing in alongside the pain. 

"If I don't remove it, you'll die." It's matter of fact despite the worry lacing his tone. As though he's trying to slip away from himself, falling back into the familiar, callous skin to keep from being taken over by the terror and anger. But you can still feel it all in the tremors shaking up through his fingers and bones. 

There's a protest lodged somewhere in your mouth, slick from the blood and caught on a broken gasp, but you don't have time try and voice it. He doesn't give you the time speak. He uses the distraction, acting while you're caught up trying to get the words out. Before you notice it, he's grabbing the stake and pulling. The oxygen leaves your lungs in a tight rush. You want to scream, but there's no air left in your lungs for you to do so, and all that makes it out is a ragged, splintered gasp. 

Hellfire pours into your veins as he rips the wood from your shoulder. It slices ribbons up your spine, feeling bone deep and white-hot, acid lashing up your muscles and eating at your flesh with jagged teeth. You twist in his lap, writhing like a fish that's been tossed onto a dock and left to suffer and suffocate. He keeps you pinned still as best as he can, tensing the arm he has around your waist until it's as tight as a steel band while he jerks the stake from your body as though it burns to the touch. 

There's hardly any relief once it's removed. The damage it's done is still agonizing, coiling through your muscles. It's as though the flesh on your back has been flayed. You feel exposed, pulsing; your legs kicking out against the ground from the excruciating heat and blades raking down your body, digging into the hole that's been brutalized into your shoulder. 

The clatter of the stake skipping across the stone floor sounds muffled and deep, like gunshots bleeding past concrete walls. But his voice rises out above it, tucked close against the crown of your head. 

"It's alright, baby," he murmurs, soft and tender, but still simmering with the hatred smoking underneath it all. "It's okay - I got you." 

None of it seems real, and yet it's also horrendously tangible. You're suspended, floating away from yourself and simultaneously packed tightly within your own body. Crammed inside sinew and flesh that's too tight, too painful. Ensnared within veins and nerves that throb and sting. 

"You have to drink." 

His wrist is suddenly pressed to your lips, smearing and leaking red from a gash he's made with his own teeth. It's kneejerk to resist even though it isn't human blood. Your head twitches back on reflex, a minute, weak movement that's not entirely intentional. He's fed you a few times before. You aren't a stranger to his blood, but you still always find yourself avoiding it. Holding yourself back and fighting against your own hunger, refusing to properly hunt until you either bow under the weight of your own starvation and drink from him on your own accord or until he wrangles you into his hold and dumps the life from his veins into your mouth. 

This time is hardly any different. He all but shoves his wrist past your teeth, wedging his flesh under your tongue until the liquid iron and vigor is pouring down into your throat. It makes you swallow on instinct, muscles working to keep you from choking and it has you swallowing down gulps of it. The flavor spills over your palate, metallic, rich and something distinctly Marko. You can't keep yourself from latching on to him. Clasping your fingers around his arm to keep him secure between your teeth, even though he doesn't make any attempts to fight against you. 

He draws you closer, tucking his face closer into your hair, and you can feel his chest expanding with a breath as though he needs your scent to remind himself that you're still alive. The way he's holding you almost cripples you more than the wound torn beside your spine does. It's too tender for someone like him, turned detached and wild from all the years of brutality and murder, but now he's all softened edges and you can't help but to fall into the safety of him. 

Life floods back into you with each gulp, syrupy and warm and languid. The hole made in the split meat and torn flesh of your back begins to mend in a sluggish process, stunted and slow by the dead blood that pours into your mouth. It's lost the vigor it once had, turned a little dull from the chill of Marko's reanimated body, used up for all of its nutrients and vitality. But to you, it tastes velvety and earthy, honeyed from your inability to compare it to fresh blood, and you drink it down with the desperation of an addict. 

Your teeth have sharpened against your will, lethal enamel sinking deep into his flesh to pull more of that saccharine red out from underneath his torn skin. He cradles you to him protectively, holding you close as though he means to make himself a shield. Curling over you as best as he can, brushing his lips over your forehead as though it might soothe the pain.  

It's easy now to let go of all of the betrayal and hurt that you've been clinging onto for all this time. Releasing it, even if it's only temporary, to allow yourself to indulge in the comfort of his weight pressed against you. You let yourself forget, sinking further into the press of his body. Allowing yourself to bask in the subtle chill of his skin, the scent of his cologne and natural musk. 

"How is she?" 

It's David. There's a rawness to his voice, a breathless edge despite the non-necessity of breathing. You don't look up. You can't. Your focus has dwindled down to the flesh in your mouth and the sensation of Marko wrapped around you, but you can hear David's anger. 

"Alive." Marko answers, clipped. Strained from his own temper. "Did you get them?" 

The thick silence that follows is answer enough and you can feel him tense up beneath you, muscles drawing up taut like he's making a physical effort to restrain himself, to keep himself calm. His face is still pressed to your skin, but you know that he must be glaring up at David, eyes burning and dark. 

"I want them dead." He spits it out like it's venomous, toxic and stinging on his tongue. 

"I know," David answers, but it sounds like a promise, a reassurance. "We'll take care of it." 

You hear the soft scrap of boots tracing over dirt, telling of his departure, but the scattering of voice bouncing from the dark walls of the cave let you know that he isn't far, talking closely with the others. 

"They got Star. And Laddie," comes Dwayne's hushed tone. It makes you wince. Guilt and nausea curdling in your stomach. Mike. One of the kids had mentioned Michael. The name's been seared into your brain from all of the hours Star would spend talking about him, from all of the times that David had discussed his fate; either killing him or cursing him with the same disease that's been passed onto the rest of you. It makes you wonder if this is some sort of revenge. A means to get even for affliction that David has damned him with. He was tricked - given no other choice just like you had been, just like Star. 

You pray that she's okay. That Laddie is safe. That they've been rescued instead of kidnapped, but regardless of the hope your stomach still sinks like lead. 

You gorge yourself on Marko's blood until you feel sick with it. He doesn't pull you back from his flesh as he typically would, allowing you to feed until you can't. It's only once you extract your fangs from his flesh that he leans your head back, urging your chin to tilt with the pressure of his thumb on your jaw. 

He looks exhausted, dark bags beginning to blossom under his eyes, and his skin has turned pallid. He's lost the life that his victims' blood had brought to his cheeks, the blush now dull and white now that you've drained it for yourself. He's weary, and the embrace he has around your middle has weakened, lethargic. But he still holds you close, cradling you as though you might disappear otherwise. 

"You alright?" he asks, and his brows pinch close, worried and fatigued. His face is shadowed from the dark, distant traces of light glinting softly from the scant threads of sun that sneak in from the fractures in the ceiling.  

You loathe how cherished you feel. How safe you are in his arms. It's bitter, and it makes all of those complicated feelings rise up again, all twisted up and confused like a pile of crossed wires. You want to hate him. God, you really do, but he makes it so hard. He makes instinct and reason, desire and hatred all spin out, clashing and mixing, until you can't differentiate one from the other. Your betrayal is still raw. Hurting and alive, but the closing of the wound on your back, the taste of his blood on your tongue and the tender emotion in his eyes makes it easy to forget. 

"I'm alright." It hurts a little to speak. The sting from your screams is still present, slowly healing alongside the other damage on your body. 

"From now on, we sleep together. I don't care if it's just us or with the others, but you're staying with me." 

You want to object. Your bed has been your only place of peace - until now, that is. A small haven that hadn't been infiltrated by the boys or just Marko. Sleep is your only solace, the only time that you were afforded the solitude of being alone. But the conviction in Marko's eyes can't be argued. But even if it could be, you don't think you would fight against it. Maybe it'll wear off, but as of right now you can't imagine being anywhere else. The thought of him pulling away from you and leaving you cold on the ground makes you cling to him all the harder, seeking out his weight and scent - a comfort that you've hardly allowed yourself to accept. 

"Okay." You agree, tired, broken and put back together once again by the blood of the man you should despise. But that grows harder and harder each day. Your hatred should be as easily as breathing, but you grow further out of touch with it with every passing second. It seems impossible to hate him with how carefully he holds you, keeping you secure to his chest as though you're something worthy of worship. 

There's no disgust or ire when he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, smearing his own blood onto his skin, staining each other in it. You can still feel the wrath thrumming through his body, tensing up his muscles while he keeps you close. As soon as the sun sets you know that he'll leave with the others. Take off into the night quell the fire running in his veins, to satiate the bloodlust twisting up inside. And you know that by the time that the morning rises, Michael will probably be dead. 

You can't remember the first time you've wanted him stay. It seems like a lifetime ago, and you had convinced yourself that you would never entirely allow yourself to want him again. Not in any compacity, and yet the thought of him leaving seems sour. It makes your gut flip and tighten with unease. He hasn't kissed you since that night out on the beach at the concert, when you were both high off of blood and the charge of your emotions. It's left you both uncertain, unsure of how to traverse your already strained relationship. Where it brought you closer in some respects, it's also driven you further apart in others. 

You're still hesitant. Clinging onto your slipping humanity with shaky fingers and drawing closer to Marko has always seemed like it would denounce that fragile part of yourself. But right now, you can't be bothered to care about that. You press closer to him, hiding you face into his neck, breathing in the fragrance of him from the gold coils of his hair. 

"Can we stay like this for a minute?" You whisper it into him, private and tentative. 

One of his palm's splays over the back of your head, keeping you close, inviting you further against him. You feel him nod, a light movement that nudges him further into his throat. You'd be able to hear his heart thud and skip if he had a pulse, and somehow, the silence in his chest is calming. The chill and quiet of his flesh, the spice and metal of his blood, all lulls you into something almost dreamlike. 

"Yeah," he replies. Just as hushed, clandestine. A private murmur between lovers. "We can stay here for as long as you need." 

You can't tell him that maybe you'd want to stay this forever. That secret remains unsaid, just for you. 

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Candles and Cuddles | Azriel x Reader

Summary: You take Azriel to get a personal wax mold of your hands intertwined, and after overcoming insecurity, settle into each other’s warm embrace.

Word Count: ~ 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of past injuries, scars, insecurities, fluff, nothing bad.

A/N: Really liked writing this, hope you enjoy it <3

Requests are open!

You had originally gotten the idea when you’d seen all sorts of cute pictures of couples getting wax molds and melts of them holding hands in a heart shape or fingers interlocked. It was, in your opinion, positively adorable, and so you decided to drag your mate along with you for this particular adventure.

“What, pray tell, are we looking for?”

Azriel’s deep voice, calm and gleaming with curiosity, spoke softly. His head was tilted slightly to the side as you walked excitedly down the bustling streets of Velaris, your soft hand holding his larger, scarred one and pulling him gently along.

The children played in the streets, vendors calling out their prices as some roamed the streets with baskets of fresh products or supplies to try or test, hopefully, to lure in some customers. It was a warm evening, a cool breeze blowing through that lifted the autumn leaves to stir around your feet, only to settle in piles before being further blown away, or gathered into piles as the children jumped into them.

“It’s a surprise, Az, you’ll know when we get there!”

You said, being drawn into the direction of one street corner by the warm light coming from the building, only to find exactly what you were looking for with a quiet sound of triumph.

A small smile graced Azriel’s face as he peered down at you curiously, studying your happy smile and the twinkle in your eyes, one that spoke of joy, and an innocence he would gladly protect with his life.

“You’re going to love this, it’s so cute.”

You said, eagerly entering the store hand in hand with him. He ducked to avoid the top of the doorframe, wings folding in tightly to not disrupt anything inside of the small business. His shadows curiously observed and watched, taking in information on the surroundings on instinct.

There was a small desk at the front with a woman who he assumed was running the main operation, and to the left of it in another open room were pots full of different colored melted max, with a few other people already dipping a dry white base into it to make their own custom candle. It looked..intriguing, he would admit. He was ashamed that he’d never come to see all these small thriving businesses in Velaris.

“Come on!”

You said, bursting at the seams with excitement as you paid the woman up front and eagerly pulled him along to the wax room. He’d been so caught up in thinking he’d missed your entire conversation with the other female. Oops.

He patiently followed along, until you were both standing in front of a blue wax pot, a deep, rich blue like the siphons he had. Blue was a nice color. Maybe even his favorite.

“See? We dip our hands in together, and it makes a wax outline we can keep.”

You explained, beaming up at him. He returned the smile, a warm one spreading across his lips as he intertwined his hand with yours.

“I understand, love.”

He replied, waiting for you to begin moving first before submerging both of their hands in the melted wax, letting it sit a bit before pulling it out and dipping it again, and that went on for a few more layers until both of your hands were covered in a thick layer of blue dried wax, about the consistency of a babybell cheese wrapper.

A worker came over and helped you both get the wax off of your hands, leaving the mold of your hands together before the worker spoke up. It was a male with short brown hair and ghoulish skin, and distinctly Fae eyes in a shade of chocolate brown. Maybe a mix between a ghoul and Fae? The shadows seemed to think so as well.

“We could use the wax mold to make a quick concrete markup?”

He offered, at which you eagerly nodded.

“I’d love that, how long would it take?”

You asked, at which the worker simply waved a hand.

“Not long, only like, five minutes. We got a new concrete mix, the stuff works like magic! I wouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t some sort of enchantment on it…”

The worker went on, before seeming to realize he was rambling and giving a little chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll have it ready for you in five, just take a seat somewhere.”

He said, gesturing to some of the seats in the small business area, before walking off to the back room with you and Azriel’s wax mold in hand. You both went and sat down next to each other, and he tried to pull you on his lap. You gave him a look. He only smirked.

“What? Shouldn’t we save space for any other potential weary customers?”

He asked with a playful tone, still smirking, at which you laughed and shook your head in fond exasperation, finally sighing and sliding onto his lap.

A few minutes later, the worker returned, the wax mold gone, but with concrete of you and Azriel’s hands intertwined together. He smiled and gave it to you, and after paying a bit extra for the stone structure.

After walking back home, and a short flight, you triumphantly set the stone structure on your favorite bookshelf in a space with good visibility.

“Don’t you love it?”

You asked Azriel with a happy grin, leaning back into him. He nodded, but when you glanced back at him, you saw a hint of worry and hesitation in his gaze. You turned to face him, wondering what was wrong. Had you done something to upset him? Had the wax made his sensitive, scarred hands start aching?

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

You asked, one hand sliding up to his cheek to move his face so he was looking down at you. He hesitated before speaking. That was odd. He never hesitated much, if ever.

“You don’t think my hand looks a bit…out of place? With all the..scarring against your smooth skin?”

His now tentative and quiet voice asked, eyes studying the structure with a meticulous gaze, picking apart every minor detailing of his winding burn scars the wax mold had picked up, and the contrast of it against your smooth, soft skin. You pulled his gaze back to yours, taking his hands in yours.

“No. Not at all. Your hands are perfect just the way they are, and they look perfect in mine, and they belong there. If you ever start talking about them like that again, I’m revoking hand privileges for a week.”

He raised a brow because of the last statement but seemed a bit comforted by your statement, going to pull his hands away, but you wouldn’t let him, instead going to kiss every inch of his scarred hands until he was a blushing mess, his shadows looking more purple than usual as they crossed and danced around you in an embrace.

“Alright, love.”

He murmured, a small smile gracing his lips as he began gently pulling you towards the bed, a sign that he wanted to go to bed. You laughed softly, relenting as you pulled your bra off from under your loose shirt, tossing it onto the floor as you crawled into bed.

Azriel shimmied out of his leathers and crawled into bed wearing only his boxers, settling under the blankets before wrapping his arms and wings around you in a cocooning embrace, his head in the hollow of your neck, deeply inhaling your scent as he allowed himself to relax.

“Goodnight, Azzie, love you.”

You murmured, already sleepy. He smiled against your skin, shadows dancing before gently settling around you and him, before closing his eyes and replying.

“Goodnight, love.”