#but send prompts and I’ll try to get to them

[lou-struck]

Imperfect Practice

Asmodeus x reader

Prompt- 🎹🎤+ duet

W.C- 2.8k

~ Giving a presentation for the RAD Student council is one thing, but just the thought of presenting to a room of Noble Demons has you fumbling over your words. Luckily Asmo knows just what to do to help you shine.

Diavolo’s enthusiasm is contagious as he goes over the plans for an upcoming open house event for RAD. Dozens of representatives from all over the Devildom’s outer territories coming to observe the progress of the exchange program means that the pressure is on. 

For all of you.

“And so before we go our separate ways this evening,” the prince clasps his hands together and casts his bourbon-colored eyes to the table. “There is one more item I wish to discuss with our exchange students.”

At the mention of the exchange program, Simeon nudges a drowsy-looking Luke and the little angel sits up straighter in his seat and with red cheeks asks.“W-what do you need from us?”

Simeon chuckles, his blue eyes shining under the lights of the chandelier. “Is there something we can do to promote the Exchange Program?”

“Yes,” Diavolo says, his smile faltering just a bit under the weight of the pressure he is under. “There are going to be several guests attending who have expressed their unfavorable opinion of the Program. I was hoping that a representative from each realm would give a speech highlighting how the Exchange Program has impacted them.”

At the mention of possibly having to give a speech to the Devildom, the Little Angel’s face drains of color. “You know, Simeon is great at writing speeches,” Luke says quickly.

“Is the Chihuahua scared?” Mammon teases from across the mahogany only to be silenced by a swift glare from Lucifer. 

“Simeon certainly would be a great fit for the task,” Barbatos smiles, his quill hovering above his agenda. “Shall I put him down for the Celestial Realm?”

“I certainly have no objections,” Simeon nods, looking to Luke. “But one day Luke, you will need to conquer that little fear of public speaking you have.”

“Anyways, back to the matter at hand.” Lucifer cuts in, glancing across the table to your seat and Solomon next to you, “We still must choose a human representative.”

The Sorcerer’s calculating smile betrays the slightest feeling of embarrassment. “I may have to sit this one out. There are several Demons attending that I have had some less-than-friendly interactions with in the past.”

“Not surprised,” Belphoghor mutters from his pillow, the seventh born swears that resting his head on the table during these meetings helps him concentrate, but you are fairly certain he was snoring just minutes ago.

“Thank you, Solomon, I hadn't taken that into account,” Diavolo sighs, his eyes softening as they look at you.  “Would you be comfortable giving a presentation about your time in the devildom Mc?”

Although you knew this was coming, your mouth goes unusually dry at his request. Helping the Devildom is second nature to you so why now does the idea of addressing a room full of powerful demons send a shiver down your spine. Your mind goes blank as you try and figure out what has you so on edge this time around.

A hand, Lucifer’s, touches your shoulder comfortingly. The actions jolts you from your thoughts. “Mc, you don’t have to if you aren't feeling comfortable. There are other ways to help the program.”

“Absolutely,” Diavolo adds, his voice turning tender. “These things can be stressful. You shouldn't feel as if you have to shoulder this burden of mine.”

Maybe it’s his easy

Nerves or not, you understand how helpful

Maybe it’s their eagerness to ensure your comfort that led you to shake your head. But you did, much to the surprise of everyone at the table. “I’ll do it, I’ll give a speech.”

“That’s wonderful,” Diavolo beams, and for a moment, you feel like it is. “ If you need anything please ask and one of us will be able to assist you.”

“ I will,” you say, getting to your feet. You give them your best, and most convincing smile. “But if I'm gonna do it. I’ll need to start working on it right away.” Before anyone can object, you gather your things from the conference table, dump them into your book bag, and leave the room. 

Ignoring the pounding in your chest, you wipe your now-sweaty hands on your shirt and quicken your pace. You have never had to give a speech like this before to a room of noble demons who most likely want nothing more than to have you removed from the devildom. 

From what you understand, many of these demons are stuck in their old ways. Even if you give the best damn speech of your life, there is a slim chance that your words will sway their opinion of the exchange program. 

“Mc, Hon. Stop right there.” a voice echoes through the hallway. The sound of dress shoes click-clacking across the marble grows louder with each step. A well-manicured hand reaches out and grabs your wrist gently and you finally relax.

“Sorry Asmo,” you say looking at the red-cheeked demon. “I didn't realize you were following me.”

“I called your name like fifteen times,” He pouts, clinging to your arm. Looking at you with pleading eyes. “Are you gonna give me attention now?”

Despite the stress you are feeling, the avatar of Lust’s actions brings a weary smile to your lips. “Yes, I was just a bit preoccupied.”

“With your speech?” he asks. “You look worried.”

“Because I am,” you chuckle dryly. “I really don’t want to make a fool of myself and make you all look bad because of it.”

“First of all,” he holds up a finger. “There is nothing you or anyone can do to make me look bad. I mean look at me.” He flashes a smile to a passing demon in a Fangol uniform, who becomes so entranced he walks straight into a stone column. “Second of all,” he says ignoring the fawning demons. “You are going to do a fabulous job.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” he winks, “I will be there to help you every step of the way. 

~

Your completed draft feels like a thousand tons as you finish reading the last line. “So?” you ask the fifth born sprawled across his bedspread. “Do you think it’s good?”

“It’s a nice speech, Hon,” he says, his hand twirling a lock of his champagne-colored hair. Asmodeus is many things, but he can be a terrible liar when it comes to the people he cares about.

“But?” you ask looking for a bit more to go on than ‘nice’

He thinks for a moment as if he is trying to find the prettiest words he can to critique your work. “It’s not you,” he says at last. “The speech is too formal, you’re not letting your beautiful self shine through. If I'm being honest, you look like you’re in pain.”

“Thanks” you wince, his honesty cutting through your chest.

He grabs your hand and presses a few kisses to your skin. “Come on now, you know I don't mean it like that. It’s just that you are trying to act like someone else.”

“This is important, I really don't wanna mess this up,” you mumble, recalling the glares and whispers Noble demons made about you and the exchange program when the Prince wasn't around.

“And you won't," he says comfortingly. “We just need you to shake this little bit of stage fright you have developed~” He cuts himself off, his eyes lighting up like fresh bulbs as he eagerly takes your hand, pulling you out the door.

“W-wait, Asmo. What are you doing?” you stammer as the demon practically blinds you with his dazzling smile.

“We are going out.” he cheers. “And I know just the place.”

~

In true Asmodeus fashion, he doesn't take you to the library or an empty auditorium. Instead, you find yourself sitting in some kind of Demonic Dive Bar. The turnout is impressive, and if you weren't sitting cozily across from one of the Devildom's most beloved figures, you definitely would be squished in some obscure corner in the back as your drink splashes with each accidental bump from a stranger. The atmosphere is lively, and no doubt fun, but you can’t let loose, not when the stiff words from your speech loom over your head like a guillotine. 

“Asmo, you know I don’t have to give the speech for a few days.” you say “It’s a bit early for liquid courage.”

He swats at your arm lightly, his bell-like laughter filling the room. “Oh Hon, you are just so funny. Just watch, you’ll see why we are here in a sec.”

Trusting him, you watch the stage where two Demons in matching skirts swish up to the stage, grabbing microphones from a DJ. Moments later, strange words appear on the wall above them and music fills the room. 

You may be a bit tired, but as soon as the demons begin to sing you realize that Asmodeus brought you down here for an impromptu karaoke night. “Asmo? Is this what I think this is?”

“Aren't I brilliant?” he asks, his eyes aglow with self-satisfaction. “You need to let loose in front of a crowd and get rid of all that formal stiffness and I needed a drink.”

“We have Demonus at home,” you start to say but he shushes you and slides a tablet across the table. 

“It’s for the plot, Darling. Now take this and choose a song for us to sing.” 

Carefully you scroll through the impressive list. Recognizing more than a few popular songs from the human world amongst the otherworldly options. All of them are catchy in their own way, but you still wonder why Asmodeus thinks Karaoke is the key to winning over the self-important Nobles. 

“Have you picked one yet?” He coos coyly placing his hands on his cheeks. “We wouldn't want to keep our fans waiting?” 

You shake your head and hand him the tablet. “There are way too many songs to choose from. Can you pick for us?”

There is just something about the way you say ‘us’ that never fails to bring some color to the demon’s face. “Of course, I can,” he chuckles looking down at the screen. His polished fingers dance across the device until he nods to himself and selects a song in the middle of the page. “All done. You and I are gonna kill it.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It’s Karaoke, you don’t have to be good. Just have fun with it.” 

Your inner sense of perfectionism tells you not to believe him, but when you look at the confidence written all over his features, you decide to just go along with his plan.  “Okay, let's do it.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he winks, eying the bar. “I’m gonna go grab us something, but I’ll be right back. Just relax and enjoy yourself.”

As he saunters away, you turn your attention to the two friends on stage enthusiastically performing a familiar upbeat anime intro. 

Are they on key?

Not in the slightest.

But they look like they are having a great time singing together. Their eyes locked on each other, smiling like they are sharing a joke. And everyone is either singing along or doing their own thing.

Their lighthearted energy brings a smile to your face as the idea of performing gets less and less scary. When their song finally comes to an end. The crowd cheers and the friends bashfully scurry away. The stage is only empty for a moment when the next signer gets called to the stage. 

He is STUNNING. 

Not as much as Asmodeus and the others, but he has this air of confidence to him that is eye-catching. The music begins to play and you immediately recognize the song as one from the human world. One that reminds you of ships, romance, and icebergs. 

His multicolored horns twist and dance to the music as he belts each line with the skill and confidence of a Broadway performer. 

His captivating voice stills the bar as the surrounding onlookers dare not interrupt the performance. Every line is pitch perfect, and as the stranger shines, you can’t help but feel a bit dull as you wonder how on earth you and Asmo are going to be able to top that. 

With one last belt, the song comes to an end. The demon puffs out his chest and bows deeply as he soaks up the outrageous applause.

You hardly notice Asmo sliding back into the booth until he scoffs in disapproval. He narrows his eyes at the talented demon as he snatches your hand from the table. “Ugh, I hate that guy. He comes here every week and sings the same three songs over and over again.” He sets a fun, fruity-looking drink in front of you with his other hand and sighs. “It’s really annoying.”

“He knows how to work the crowd,” you comment, twirling the stem of one of the cherries. Glancing around the room you lower your voice and lean in closer to the sweet-smelling demon. “I feel bad for saying this, but I hope there are a few more singers up before we have to perform. He is a tough act to follow-” the screeching static of the microphone cuts you off as the DJ hops back on the speakers. 

“Next up we have our very own Asmodeus performing with Mc. Let's give them some love,” he calls. At the mention of the fifthborn, the room erupts in excited chatter and fanatic applause. 

Asmo shines as he soaks up the love from his adoring fans and gently leads you to the stage, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“What?” you mutter more to yourself than the demon. “We just got here.”

“Oh come on, Hon.” he laughs, shooting a playful wink at the DJ. “You know I’m not really one for waitlists. Besides, sometimes it’s better to pull the bandaid off for things like this.”

“You have a point,” you sigh, grabbing a microphone. “At least we can get it over with.”

“That’s the spirit,” he says. “Just let go of all those ugly thoughts that are going through your head right now and have fun. You know, let loose.”

“You make that sound easy,” you huff. “You haven't even started singing yet and they already adore you.”

“And I adore you,” he says as the music starts to play. If this was one of those game shows where you had to guess a song based on the first few notes, you would be a big winner. As your eyes light up with recognition, Asmo beams knowingly. 

He had picked out one of the songs on your shower playlist. It’s definitely out of your range, but you love it so much you don’t stress so much about it and decide to just sing. The stress and insecurities melt away as you sing the lyrics without even needing to look at the screen.

Asmo’s clear, pretty voice comes through the speakers as clear as a bell. His voice, warm with a seductive invitation that tempts the crowd to sing along with you. 

Between the singing, swaying, and smiles, you aren't sure If anyone notices the way you pull the microphone away from your lips during an occasional too-high high-note but at this point, you don’t think you care about that. 

You are having way too much fun to think about anything else at this moment. 

To anyone watching this scene, you are shining just as bright as Asmodeus. Your infectious smile reaches every corner of the room. 

As quickly as it began, the song ends leaving you feeling as light as air. The applause is deafening, but you pay no mind to it as you wrap your arms around your demon, both out of breath and slightly shiny from all the dancing. 

“That was so much fun,” you pant as he peppers your face with kisses between breaths. “We killed that.”

“Of course we did,” he shouts above the noise. “When you go and give that speech of yours, you have to approach it just like this and you’ll shine.”

Speech?

Righttttt. You still have to do that.

You aren't sure if it's the adrenaline talking, but after doing what you just did, public speaking seems far less frightening than it did just minutes ago.

“Thank you Asmo,” you breathe, pressing a soft kiss to the demon’s cheek. “I really needed this.” The tender affection pouring from your features brings a deep blush to his cheeks as he hurriedly takes your hand tugging you out the door so he can monopolize your affection in a more private setting.

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network

[ocprompts]

Trick or treat?

Treat!! Pick one (or grab a handful it’s halloweeen go wild)

[seiwas]

as a way to celebrate my bday with you all, let’s play a lil game!! this or that + a character!

send me 2 options to choose from (category can be anything) + a character, and i’ll choose which of the two i think applies the character more! i’ll also write a short <100 blurb about it 💖

[rafesangelita]

♡ when rafe accidentally snaps on bambi!reader

warnings: a little bit of crying, hurt + comfort

a/n: thank you so much to the anon who sent in this link <3 this little drabble is inspired by it!! i might open up req’s soon because even though i have prompt ideas already, lately i’ve just felt uninspired to write them out..

“are you almost ready?!” rafe called out from the front door, his truck keys hanging from his fingers. you didn’t respond, instead you panicked once you realized you weren’t even close to finishing your makeup. “oh, god..” you whimpered, scrambling to your feet to try and put a quick outfit together while you patted in your blush.

at your lack of response, rafe cursed under his breath before slamming the door shut and making his way to your room. “are you fucking serious?” you jumped when you heard his voice, your head shooting in his direction as you stood there, dumbfounded. your hair rollers were still wrapped tightly in your hair, your robe hanging haphazardly off your shoulders. it was needless to say you looked far from being ready.

“son of a bitch—” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together as he pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh falling from his lips. he was already irritated upon arriving to your place. rafe had spent all afternoon arguing with ward over some ‘cameron development’ stuff, he had deadlines he already accepted he wasn’t going to be able to meet, it was like a thousand degrees outside and to top it all off; he was hungry.

“we’re just getting something to eat, bambi. you could honestly just leave the house like this.” rafe grumbled, already moving to get ahold of your elbow and drag you out. “what?! no— ray, can you please just give me ten minutes? all i have to do is put on some clothes and finish my makeup real quick. i’ll even take my rollers out in the truck, okay?” rafe studied you for a moment, his nostrils flaring as he let out a deep breath.

“fine,” he nodded, “i’m gonna go turn the ac on in the truck, then. please try to make this fast.” you muttered an ‘okay..’ before spinning around and taking a seat at your vanity. you worked as quickly as you could, only getting as far as putting on some lip liner and lipgloss before you heard a honk outside. curling your lashes hastily, you wasted no time in slipping on a dress you hadn’t worn in a while.

grabbing your purse on the way out, you skipped down the stone walkway just in time for rafe to roll his window down. “do you have everything? your phone?” you paused. your phone was on your bed last time you saw it. “uhm, i’ll be right back..” you apologized when you saw the scowl on rafe’s face. your boyfriend shook his head when you tripped, nearly sending yourself on the ground as you rushed to go back inside. setting your purse down on the couch, you grabbed your phone and walked back out, your chest rising and falling as you tried to remain calm and collected.

“did you lock the door?” oh, you could just cry right now. “no..” you winced, walking up to the truck so rafe could give you his key. “my, god, what the hell is going on today? it’s like everyone is trying to piss me off.” you ignored his words, quicky making your way to the front door so you could lock it shut. it wasn’t until you were halfway down the driveway when you realized your purse wasn’t on your shoulder. “wait, i forgot one more thing—” that was it. you had definitely pushed rafe past his limits now.

rafe snapped, the vein in his forehead bulging out of his skin as he shouted. “holy shit, just get in the fucking truck!” he waved his hands in the air as if you couldn’t see him standing right in front of you, his volume alone making you jolt. you stared blankly at him, your chest caving in on itself as rafe blinked, both of you sharing a knowing look. rafe watched your face morph as your chin wobbled and your eyes welled up with tears.

“i’m sorry—” he exhaled, instantly wrapping his arms around you, “i’m so sorry, baby, i won’t do that again.” you sniffled, letting him embrace you. it took you having to cry to make rafe realize he’d been acting like an asshole since he got here. “you know that scares me!” you cried, the velcrow of your rollers tickling his neck. “i know, i know,” he cradled your head, pressing kisses along your cheek, “here, we’ll just order something instead, yeah? we don’t have to go anywhere.” he turned off the truck, guiding you inside by the small of your back.

[reignpage]

♱ In which boyfriend!choso can't keep still long enough to last a punishment

“Don’t move, Cho,” you remind him.

He whines. Bare and standing, you’re free to kneel before him and suck at his leaking, throbbing tip. Your boyfriend can do nothing but hope he doesn’t shudder too much whilst you tongue his swollen slit and milk his length with a tight fist. 

“Baby, please. I can’t. You’re being mean a-and cruel.”

Admittedly, you are being cruel – he can’t touch you, can’t make commands, and cannot, under any circumstances, let that glass cup balancing on his head drop. The pigtailed bastard deserves it after he tried sending a video of you getting your back blown out to your shameless ex, who wouldn’t stop texting you, only to end up sending it to your mother instead. 

Cupping his heavy balls in one palm, you massage the pair, feeling the panty-soaking heat in them all while they promise to fill your stomach with his salty cum. For someone complaining about how much he hates this punishment, he sure is using up a lot of energy to keep his head up and still. Abs flexing, you can’t help but rake your long nails down the sculpted muscles. He shivers and gasps. 

“I already -ngh!- said I’m s-sorry. Just take it off me and let me fuck you.”

Very tempting. Unfortunately for him, and your greedy pussy, he rarely ever gets his way with you. So, with a mouth full of his pulsating cock, you say, barely coherent, “Nope! You’re just gonna -mmm quit moving- have to man up and take your punishment like a good boy.”

A fat droplet of precum slides down your throat. Hmm, he sure does love being called a good boy. How sad. 

Your arm stretches up his torso all so you can tweak the piercing on his blushing brown nipples. He doesn’t say anything when you slap his ass too, though he doesn’t need to – the sudden tightening of his ball sack says enough. Thighs begin to shake. Fists clench so tight his knuckles turn white. His jaw hangs. Any second now, he’ll burst in your mouth. For his own good, he better not drop the glass. You’ll make him clean it up with your hot pink vibrator tied against his frenulum, which he has grown much too familiar with over the years. Maybe that’s what he’s hoping for. 

“My ex was never so pathetic,” you muse. “When my misbehaved boyfriend is struggling over such a simple task, it makes me miss hi–HMPH!”

Choso growled and grabbed your head with both hands, vein in those huge biceps flexing. Something animalistic flashed in those blown out eyes. That’s all the warning you got before he shoved his cock deeper down your throat, filling you up so manically. He doesn’t waste a single second before ramming inside your mouth and whimpering at the wet friction. The glass shatters in the background. You can’t even get a word out to complain because he’s pounding your throat like he’s trying to kill you. 

“You’re -oh fuck!- mine,” Choso growls. Grunting and staring up at the ceiling, too stimulated when he looks down at you, you watch his Adam’s apple bob. Your eyes roll back. He looks so pretty desperately chasing his release and using you as a glorified fleshlight. “I’ll kill anyone who -hah- t-tries to take you.”

Those are his last words before he blows a scalding load into your stomach. You haven’t even swallowed and he’s already lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. When you bounce on the bed, your glare prompts an answer out of him.

“I didn’t want you to cut your pretty feet.” He presses a sloppy kiss against the sole of each of them. Then, he brings one to rub at his burning, hardening dick, moaning like a whore as he stares down at you with desire, love, and obsession radiating from every pore. “My girl’s gotta look her best for the video I’m sending to that loser, right?”

You sigh. “Whatever. Just make sure you don’t send it to my mother again.”

Choso pouts. 

“Stop bringing that up; it’s embarrassing.” Climbing over your body, he sucks at every inch of skin he can before the need to kiss you overwhelms him. “Ugh. She heard me call you mommy.”

[dagasinfilo]

i do not think i can mentally handle having no income anymore but i do not think i can handle literally anything that’ll give me an income

[goldenroutledge]

kiss you soon

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

prompt: ❛ if you’re tired of kissing me, i’d better go. ❜

summary: three times where lando can’t get enough of you.

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

the first time.

“Just one more, darling.” Lando bats his eyelashes from where he sits in his makeup chair, with you lounging on a plush couch nearby. He’s filming an interview with Hilton today, so he got some touch ups from a makeup artist. His eyes glance at the door every so often to make sure she won’t be here to scold him for messing anything up. “Come on, please?”

You stand up, granting his wishes by kissing him gently. His fingertips brush your cheek as he deepens the kiss, clearly craving more than just a peck.

He smirks when he pulls away to look in the mirror, checking out the gloss on your lips that has transferred onto his. The crew on set will surely put two and two together. “Look at that baby, you made me pretty for TV.”

You giggle, pinching his cheek. “You need no help with that.”

Lando shrugs. “Maybe not. At least it will send a message, though.”

“You want all of your fans to know that you were making out with someone before the shoot?”

“Yes, it will put those nasty Norizz rumors to rest, and maybe the camera guy who’s been eyeing you since we got here will take a fucking hint.” Lando gives you his signature cheeky grin as his eyes roam your features lovingly. “Not that I can blame him.”

Heat creeps up your cheeks, and for that, you peck his lips one last time. “No more flattery, you’re on the job. That sweet talk won’t get you very far right now.”

“It’s gotten me far enough.” He muses cockily, laughing as you take a throw pillow from the couch and aim it for his head.

A few knocks sound on the door and the production assistant tells him that Max and the crew are waiting for him in the next room. Lando gets up, but not without blowing you a kiss through the air first.

You pretend to catch it, blowing one back to him. “Go get ‘em.”

“I’ll try!” Lando shouts, making his way to the nearby room where the interview is being filmed with his best friend.

Upon finally seeing Lando arrive on set, Max stands up from his own chair that reads ‘TALENT’ on the back of it. “It took you long enough! What was the hold up?”

Lando doesn’t respond verbally; the grin that spreads across his face is better at revealing what exactly he’s been up to this time. “Oh, right.” Max acknowledges, remembering that you’ve been with Lando in his dressing room all morning. “Does that explain why your lips are so shiny then? They didn’t do that to my lips.”

Lando laughs when he notices the candid moment between them is being captured by a camera, coincidentally being filmed by the same guy that he knows has the hots for you. “Apparently there’s a kissing scene in this. Y/n and I were just practicing.”

Max pretends to gag, shaking his head in faux disgust. “Alright then, I’m leaving.”

Lando turns to the camera man who looks almost stunned at the confession. So much for his PR training, it’s gone out the window by now. Months have gone by since he was last inside a Formula 1 paddock and it didn’t take long to wear off at all. “Make sure to keep that in the final cut, okay?”

–

the second time.

“You’re tense, honey.” Lando murmurs while his hands massage your shoulders as gently as they can.

“Tell me about it. I think I slept wrong.” You wince but lean into his touch, telling him to massage harder because it hurts so good.

“Or you’ve just been stressed out lately? Trying to be everything to everyone without taking care of yourself.” Lando suggests as if it’s obvious. There’s nothing he’s more attuned to than your well being, he’s always quick to notice anything that might be going on with you. It’s truly a blessing and a curse.

“Thank you, Dr. Norris, but I just have a lot on my plate right now. It’ll pass.”

“But I can’t just sit back and let you forget about yourself in the process.” Lando adds, planting a kiss to your exposed neck. “You deserve to relax, it just so happens that I can help with that.”

Your fingers run through his curls, letting your eyes flutter shut as he focuses more on leaving trails of kisses on your skin and less on massaging the tension from your muscles. “I think I need one of your yoga classes. Remember when we did yoga on the beach in Miami?”

“How could I forget? Stretching you out happens to be my favorite pastime.”

You gasp, smacking at his hand lightly. “Lando!”

“What? I meant stretching you out for yoga. Don’t tell me your mind went other places...”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“-ly funny. I know I am, baby. And I got your mind off things already, didn’t I?”

“That you did. Maybe you’re not such a bad doctor after all.” You sigh contentedly, turning around to pepper his lips with kisses. “And it pains me to say this, but I still have so much more work to do that I should be getting back to.”

“When was the last time you took a break?”

You smile against his lips, breaking away for a moment. “Doesn’t this count as a break?”

“No, it does not. I’m talking something that lasts longer than a few kisses before you go back to spending hours staring a hole through your laptop.” Lando trails his hands across your shoulders and down your back, never pulling away too far from you. “These knots won’t work themselves out. Just let me take care of you. Please?”

“Well since you asked so nicely…” Your hands travel from tangling in his hair to resting on his chest. “How about in 30 minutes from now?”

Lando groans, you can feel the vibrations against your lips. He finally pulls away, putting some distance between you two. “Fine. If you’re tired of kissing me, I’d better go.”

“No! I’m never tired.” You whine more urgently than you mean to, surely boosting his ego more than it needs to be boosted. To prove it, you kiss him once more.

It’s short-lived as he pulls back with a smug grin. “I can tell, darling.”

“You’re a tease. I won’t even be able to focus now, thanks to you.”

Lando makes his way towards the door, deciding to leave you to your work. The sooner you finish, the sooner you’ll kiss him again. “Good. When you’re done trying to focus, you know where to find me.”

–

the third time.

It’s a McLaren 1-2 for Lando and Oscar to kick off the season.

Everyone in papaya rushes to parc ferme, ready to greet the drivers in an aggressively eager embrace, you included. From the moment Lando stood on top of his car, waving a fist in the air, you were cheering at the top of your lungs.

Lando hops down from his car and rushes to where you’re standing behind the barriers, passing by his team before he gets to you. He engulfs you into his arms, and neither of you care about the sweat that he’s accumulated during the race.

“You did it!” You shriek, and the sound is surely picked up by the nearby camera capturing your interaction. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“What did I tell you?” Lando muses, reminding you of the confidence he’s had all weekend about winning today. The quiet promise your boyfriend made that he’d win this race for you, and he did. But the people didn’t need to know that. It was just fine being a kept secret between the two of you.

Neither of you had made it a point to confirm your relationship publicly, wanting to keep your romance under wraps for as long as you could. You can’t risk anyone trying to pop your love bubble. It was only because of Lando’s insistence that you were in parc ferme with everyone to begin with.

Lando proudly embraces his team and Oscar follows suit. The two drivers congratulate each other and the crowd roars once again. Lando hears you better than anyone else, though maybe he’s just acutely aware of the sound of your voice. He smiles at you, helmet off this time, and stops in his tracks.

“You coming? What are you waiting for?” Oscar questions, realizing that Lando isn’t keeping up alongside him on their way to the cooldown room.

“Give me one second!”

Before his teammate can ask why he’s rushing back to you, Lando’s lips are on yours and he’s kissing you for the world to see, surprising you both. You always knew Lando could be impulsive, but this was different. It doesn’t take long for you to melt into his hold, smiling against his lips with pride and it sends the crowd into a frenzy.

The look you give him is one of astonishment, as if to say, ‘I can’t believe you just did that!’. If nothing else, it’ll give you something to talk about later. Lando walks away cooly, receiving a nudge in the ribs from Oscar as they walk away.

“Looks like you have more than just the win to celebrate, eh?”

Lando smirks, shrugging to play off his public display, or declaration, of love for you as if it was meant to happen. And in many ways, it was. “Something like that.”

There’s nothing quite like standing on the top step of the podium, it’s a feeling that Lando could get used to. As long as you’re here cheering him, he plans on it. The Australian sun shines onto the podium and the trophies sparkle from its golden rays. ‘God Save the King’ plays throughout the paddock, and Lando spots you front and center in the crowd.

He winks, blowing a kiss in your direction as you beam with joy. The questions will be endless as to who Lando was kissing below the podium, but he doesn’t care. When this is over, he’ll be able to kiss you with the world watching, like nobody’s watching at all. Lando can say confidently that is by far his biggest win of the day.

💌: comments & reblogs are always appreciated! feel free to request more from the be my valentine blurb event!

taglist: @marjorieswrld @n3versatisfied @freyathehuntress

(add yourself here!)

[dreamersparacosm]

Girl we need a smut blurb for them , im talking wild sex . I’ll take anything I know they’re both freaked out

well, well, well. you put two overachievers in a bed and what’s going to happen? magic, that’s what. or maybe he’ll just use your vibrator as part of your scheduled stress relief. whatever.

the price of desire — epilogue blurb 3!

prompt ; in which stress relief takes on a whole new definition.

warnings ; sex toy usage, fingering, jungkook cums in his pants

There are worse problems to have, you tell yourself.

Ever since you and Jungkook officially started dating, things have gotten a little… out of hand (and by “out of hand,” you mean fucking each other senseless across multiple continents.)

Obviously it started in New York and Seoul. Then it was Paris. You two dabbled in exhibitionism during a trip to Bali. Now it’s whatever remote, paparazzi-proof destinations your travel agent nervously books for you at 2 in the morning.

Hotels, apartments, rental cars, bathrooms you’re pretty sure were not designed to withstand the kind of behavior you’re inflicting on them. At this point, it’s becoming a global crisis. International security agencies may want to get involved.

It’s getting so frequent, so mind-numbingly good, that you’re starting to worry about yourself a little. Like, is it normal to see god every weekday?

Unclear.

But it is nice, really nice, to relieve that stress that weighs on you after a workday. (And god knows you have plenty of that to go around.)

Jungkook is, if nothing else, very committed to the cause. He takes care of you painfully well, as if it’s his full-time job and the only acceptable performance review is your legs shaking too hard to stand.

Case in point: you’re currently spread out across your bed in New York, lips swollen from a makeout, hair damp from the bath he ran for you, and he’s kneeling between your legs, big palms dragging slow strokes up and down your thighs.

It's a perfect Wednesday night, all safe and soft and steady until he drops his suggestion into the quiet.

“Let me use the vibrator on you, baby.”

Your brain, already half-melted from the hour-long slow burn he’s been subjecting you to, scrambles for purchase.

You are not equipped for this on a Wednesday night. Especially not after a 14 hour workday, 2 back-to-back global strategy calls, and a last minute crisis involving a Calvin Klein store opening in Shanghai.

You open your mouth to respond, yet nothing makes its way out.

Jungkook smiles at you with amusement and reaches over to the nightstand like it’s the most casual thing in the world. As if he didn’t casually drop a bomb into the atmosphere of your previously scheduled stress-relief session.

With bulging eyes, you observe as he pulls open the drawer, rummages around for a second, and then holds up your light purple vibrator in his hands.

The device is small and sleek, manages to look mockingly innocent resting in his palm.

You stare at it, then at him, mouth working like a fish suddenly introduced to the concept of air.

"I—" You stutter eloquently.

He responds with that signature grin, the one that makes you want to throw a pillow at his face and climb him like a tree. "Come on, baby," he coaxes, "You said you were stressed. Think of this as... advanced relaxation techniques."

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. "This wasn't exactly what I meant by 'stress relief.'"

"What's the worst that could happen?" he asks innocently, setting the vibrator down beside you before leaning close to press a kiss against your inner knee. "You enjoy yourself too much?"

"The audacity," You roll your eyes, trying and failing to suppress the shiver his touch sends up your spine.

"It’s like.. a scientific experiment," he continues, trailing featherlight kisses up your thigh. "Testing the effects of a vibrator on stress."

"Did you just turn my vibrator into a science fair project?"

His laugh rumbles against your skin. "I'm innovative like that. Always thinking about my subject’s satisfaction."

"You’re not selling it," You sigh but there's no heat behind it.

"I'm persistent," he corrects, looking up at you with darkened eyes. "And also extremely dedicated to your wellbeing. Just say yes."

You can’t look at him. With his mess of black hair falling over his forehead, with his eyes displaying a glint of mischief and the stupid Calvin Klein white t-shirt that drives you crazy. He’s so fucking hot, and it brings you to the brink of temporary insanity. That’s how you got in this mess in the first place.

What you need to be doing is saying no. Set some kind of a boundary. Be a strong, independent woman who does not immediately fold at the suggestion of midweek sex toy experimentation.

You do none of those things. Rather, you sigh and flop back against the pillows, one arm flung dramatically over your eyes.

“Fine,” you mutter like he’s inconveniencing you. “Whatever. Just don’t break my toy.”

You hear him laugh, a rich velvety rumble that vibrates through you while the mattress dips beneath his weight as he repositions himself closer to your core.

Before you even take your next breath, he’s kissing up your thighs, hands stroking the backs of your knees, your calves, your hips.

The vibrator hums to life; it’s soft at first, a low sound and your stomach flips violently.

Curiosity compels you to emerge from behind your self-imposed blindfold just in time to witness his gaze fixed upon you. He is a hungry man, you’ll give him that much.

Which leads you to your next thought: you’re not even sure why you bothered putting on underwear after the bath. A small, defeated part of you wants to blame some lingering sense of dignity, some naive attempt at not being completely easy just because your boyfriend washed your hair like a Disney prince and kissed your shoulder after.

Whatever weak attempt at decency you made is long gone the second Jungkook hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and starts dragging them down. Thumbs brushing over the dip of your hips like he’s memorizing every line, every secret part of you he already owns.

The cotton peels away from your thighs, and the cool air hits your core, makes you shiver. He works them down over your knees, then your ankles, tossing them somewhere behind him without a second thought.

You’re already squirming a little, hips shifting against the mattress, thighs clenching reflexively, but he just chuckles under his breath before reaching for the hem of your oversized T-shirt. (Technically his T-shirt. Technically yours now. He stopped fighting that battle months ago.)

Slowly, he pushes it up, bunching it around your waist, exposing the soft skin of your belly, the slick glistening between your legs that you’re trying very hard not to feel embarrassed about.

A single finger gets dragged between your folds, dipping into the mess he’s barely even touched you to create, and you can’t help the broken little gasp that escapes your mouth. “Oh—“

Jungkook lifts his hand and holds it up between you. Your slick clings to his finger. Shining in the soft light your lamp provides.

The bastard. How dare he provide proof of your demise.

He raises a brow smugly. “Already this wet, baby?” He teases.

You glare at him, or at least try, but it’s hard to summon the proper outrage when your body is practically vibrating with need.

“Shut the fuck up,” You grumble.

He laughs and settles himself back between your thighs. The toy hums softly beside you, still on the lowest setting and when he picks it up again, your stomach nearly exits your body.

He strokes the inside of your thigh with his free hand, “Ready?” He asks. Jungkook’s always been sure to consent; you do know he’s genuinely asking for permission.

You nod, frantic, willing to sell your soul if he would just please, please touch you already.

Oh god.

Oh fuck.

For the love of everything holy.

You jolt forward violently the second the vibrator touches your clit. Even on the lowest setting it’s too much, white-hot pleasure snapping up your spine and exploding behind your eyes.

“Fuck—” You gasp, whole body twitching, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

A string of curse words falls out of your mouth before you can stop them, completely and deliriously out of your control.

Jungkook smiles, presses his palm flat against your thigh to pin you down. “You’re so sensitive tonight,” He notes, somewhat amused.

You might cry. God damn him for being so perfect to you that he’s holding a vibrator to you and not making comments about how “he could do it better.”

You settle for grabbing a fistful of the bedsheets and moaning helplessly when he adjusts the angle slightly, nudging the vibrator a little higher until your hips are jerking against the mattress.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing slow circles into your thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

Alright, you’re not afraid to admit — maybe you didn’t care much for his definition of stress relief before.

But now? Now you need it more than anything.

You’re a mess; panting, moaning, hips twitching up and it’s still on the lowest setting.

You risk a glance down your body, and the sight nearly undoes you. Jungkook is watching you intensely, brows drawn, lip ring caught between his teeth, arms flexing where he’s bracing you open.

The look on his face alone could make you finish.

“Please,” you gasp. “M-More.”

He nods once, like he’s been waiting for you to ask. “Yeah, baby?” he’s clearly out of breath, thumb brushing over your thigh in grounding circles. “I got you.”

Jungkook clicks the vibrator up to the medium setting, and the second the stronger vibration hits your clit, your back arches clean off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat. There’s a hum that comes from low in his throat while he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

“You’re so good for me,” He says against your skin. “So desperate already. Bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you? Just from how good it feels?”

His tattooed fingers squeeze your flesh harder, holding you open, keeping you steady, and the way he’s looking at you makes you want to sob, truthfully.

Jungkook drags the vibrator in slow circles over your clit, keeping you teetering right on the edge before mercifully setting it down beside you. You barely have time to breathe before he’s spitting into his hand and sliding two fingers between your thighs.

The second he pushes them inside your entrance, you buck violently, a whine tearing out of your mouth. “F-fuck—”

You feel impossibly full already, walls clenching around the stretch, the slick sounds embarrassingly loud in the otherwise silent room.

Jungkook groans mostly to himself, head dropping forward to watch where he’s sinking into you.

“God, baby,” he exhales, curling his fingers in that way that makes your toes curl too. “You’re so fucking wet.“

You moan helplessly. Obviously, the man must be trying to kill you. A death wish of sorts. He works his fingers inside you, dragging them along that sweet spot that has you keening into the mattress before reaching over with his free hand to flick the vibratot back on.

He sets it to the highest setting — and holy mother — you nearly catapult off the bed. The intense, overwhelming buzz against your clit paired with the slow pump of his fingers inside you is absolutely lethal.

You choke on some form of a gasp, thighs jerking. All thoughts of work, stress, the world outside this room — gone. Obliterated.

Jungkook, flushed and sweaty, arm veins flexing with every stroke of his fingers, can’t take his eyes off the mess you’re making on your sheets beneath you.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, little spasms you can’t control. You try — god, you want it noted you do try — to keep your hips still, to hold off a little longer.

But the man is evidently on a mission. Fingers fucking into you deep and steady, the vibrator merciless against your clit, voice rougher than normal: “Cum for me, baby. I wanna see it. Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers. Please.”

You’re way past the point of rational thought. Spinning out. Every nerve ending burning hot under your skin.

“Fuck—” you sob. “Kook— I’m gonna— oh fuck, fuckfuck—”

Neither of you get to find out what you’re “gonna” before the orgasm tears through you viscerally, a full-body convulsion that has you crying out and grabbing onto his wrist.

Your toes curl involuntarily against the sheets while your thighs close around his head, stomach muscles clenching before your whole body lets itself fall into the pleasure.

For one disorienting moment, your vision actually blurs at the edges — a genuine blackout that some doctor could probably explain but you're certainly in no condition to contemplate — while somewhere in the distance you hear yourself gasping his name in a way that makes you grateful these walls are soundproof.

You’re panting when it finally ebbs, chest heaving, pussy clenching desperately around his fingers. Jungkook presses a kiss to your thigh again, slowly eases his fingers out and shuts off the vibrator that's become both your nemesis and savior in the span of minutes.

There’s a quiet that feels almost startling compared to your thundering heartbeat.

You’re floating somewhere, the bed seeming to perform a gentle carousel spin around you when he grabs your face gently with both hands and kisses you. You kiss him back automatically, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt.

Through the haze, you murmur against his mouth, “Take your sweatpants off. Wanna fuck you.”

He responds with a groan, pressing his forehead against yours. Insistently, you tug at the waistband, whining a little when he resists.

“Come on,” you mumble, still half-drunk off your orgasm. “I need you.”

He makes a choked sound and pulls back to look you in the eye. His body moves to lean against your headboard, and you scooch over to kiss down his neck while he tries to come up with whatever excuse he can.

And then comes the confession, tripping awkwardly from his lips. “I… uh…”

Your eyes narrow into spiteful little slits, pulling away from him.

He winces, a full-body cringe that would be adorable under other circumstances but currently only amplifies your confusion.

“I… I came already,” He confesses, so low you almost don’t catch it.

Jeon Jungkook? The Jeon Jungkook… came in his boxers like a teenage virgin.. from using your vibrator against you?

You blink repeatedly, brain attempting to process this unexpected plot twist.

“What?” You say dumbfounded.

He covers his face with one large hand in the universal gesture of mortification, ears betraying him by flushing a deep crimson even in the room's low light.

“You— you… came? Just from—?”

Your boyfriend groans, clearly exploring the possibility of spontaneous human combustion as a merciful escape route.

“You looked so good,” he murmurs into his palm. “I couldn’t— fuck, I tried to hold it—”

You stare at him for another second. Then, completely against your will, you burst out laughing. It spills out in waves that are equal parts exhaustion, affection, and perhaps a whisper of mockery, but your attempts to suppress it prove to be futile.

Jungkook glares at you weakly through his fingers.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, “My idiot.”

He grumbles something unintelligible while pulling you firmly against his chest, a transparent attempt to muffle your laughter and hide his reddening face but your giggles persist. At some point, you do take the opportunity he presents to nestle your face into the warm crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne, a chuckle exiting once every few minutes.

All things considered?

Not a bad way to spend a Wednesday night. Not bad at all.

masterlist + ask

[velaris-fic-repository]

Mishaps in Babysitting

@sjmxreaderweek May 10th Prompt: Free Day

Azriel x Archeron!Reader, Nyx is a menace

“Now, you’re sure you’re alright doing this?” your sister, Feyre, asked you by the door. She and Rhys were going out into Velaris tonight for a much needed date night just the two of them.

Nesta, Cassian and the Valkyries were in Illyria with the non envied task of dealing the camp leaders. Elain had agreed to a little trip around Prythian with Lucien, who had offered to show her all the various court gardens - among other things - and so the two of them could get to know each other a bit better. A chance to get themselves on better footing, as it were. Mor had a date of her own tonight and Amren was visiting Varian in Summer.

That left you at home to watch the Inner Circle’s beloved child, your precious nephew, Nyx.

“Feyre, if you try to talk yourself out of going through me one more time, I’m going to lose it.” You offered her an easy, loving smile. “I know it’s hard to leave him, but you have more than earned this. Go, spend a night with your husband. The little guy and I will be fine. If it makes you feel any better, Azriel said he should be home soon. The two of us won’t be alone for long.”

Feyre shook her head, the pins in her hair glittering like stars in the light as she did so, “I never meant to imply that you couldn’t handle it-“

“-And,” you interrupted her, “I never said you did. Feyre, I promise everything will be fine. Let me do this.” Your face took on a softer, guilty expression. “It’s the least I can do.” You didn’t need to specify what you meant.

Feyre frowned, but nodded, “okay.”

Rhys swept around you to hold her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Ready to go, darling?”

Feyre looked at you and finally nodded, more sure this time, “yes, I am.”

“There you go!” you said, “go out, have fun, we’ll be here when you get back!”

Rhys sent his feline smile your way over your sister’s shoulder. “He’s quite the handful on his own, you know. I’m sure I can call Azriel before we leave.”

You swatted playfully at your brother in law, “I’ll be fine! Besides-“ you put a hand over where your young bond with Azriel glowed in your chest- “if I need him, he’ll know.”

Rhys smiled.

“Nyx is smarter than his own good,” Feyre warned, “don’t let him trick you-“

“-Stop worrying! Both of you! Shoo! Out! Go! Out! Out!”

The couple laughed, sending a few more words of advice and thanks over their shoulders before leaning into each other on the lamp lit sidewalks of their beloved city. You watched them go with a soft smile before pushing off the door and walking back inside.

You rounded the corner to Nyx’s room shortly after. “Alright, Nyx what are you and your favorite auntie gonna get up to?” you teased.

You’d expected to find Nyx playing with his toys where his father had left him. In hindsight, you should have known better.

“Nyx, sweetie?”

Nothing. The room was empty aside from the entire toy box being strewn about. You carefully picked the toys up as you called out to the room, expecting Nyx to be hiding somewhere inside, maybe in the closet, where the toy box was… Hmm…

Okay, you could play this game.

“Nyx? Nyx where are you? Huh. I guess he’s not here. Welp, I guess I could at least responsibly put these toys away.” You were laying it on thick, you knew, but that was half of the fun.

You opened the closet slowly, finding the toy box tucked into the darkest corner with its lid slightly propped up. Little giggles sounded from the box, which was all you needed to know.

You crept closer and then all at once, yanked the box lid off. “There you are!”

Nyx, with his little wings tucked close to him, giggled up at you, amusement shinning in his eyes that looked so much like your sister’s.

“Gotcha!” You said, reaching for your nephew. That was, you did, until the world folded around him and you grasped nothing but thin air.

You blinked.

Had Nyx ever winnowed before? You felt like you’d have remembered something like that.

Dread spiked in your stomach for a moment until you took a deep breath, setting off into the house. This was alright, all you had to do was find him. All he had done was extend - and mildly increase the danger of - his hide and seek game.

You heard rustling in the kitchen and raced there.

Nyx, to your growing horror was spreading his little wings on top of the cabinets, perched like an adorable, little mischievous gargoyle.

“Nyx, honey, this isn’t funny anymore. You could get seriously hurt up there. Let me reach up there and pull you down.”

Nyx shook his head, “nuh-uh, auntie. I’ve got wings!”

“No! No, no, no. Nyx, sweetheart, please just stay there, I’m gonna get you down. Stay there.”

“Better idea!” He shouted in a way that reminded you so much of Cassian. He leaned forward a few times, preparing to launch from the cabinets. “Catch me!”

He launched himself from the cabinets, gliding down towards the counter. You scrambled to catch him, but there was no way you were going to make it in time.

Before Nyx could collide with anything, his descent was stopped by a hand clutching the back of his shirt. Azriel was home, and had Nyx grabbed by the scruff.

“So it looks like someone hasn’t been behaving for his auntie like he’d promised,” Azriel said, wryly.

Nyx flailed a bit but quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be escaping the strength of his uncle’s grip and quit.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Azzie” Nyx said in a sad, deflated voice.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to your auntie.”

Nyx sent sad, remorseful eyes your way, bringing tears to your eyes as well.

“Sorry…” he warbled.

“Aww,” you cooed getting closer to him. “It’s alright little buddy. You just scared me, that’s all. We all care an awful lot about you, you know that?”

He nodded.

“We want you to be safe,” you said, “and sometimes being safe means not doing every little thing you want to do. Sometimes, a fun idea can be dangerous. That doesn’t mean never do anything fun again, just think about what could happen to figure out if it’s safe. Make sense buddy?”

“Uh huh!”

“Good,” you smiled, “now, promise you won’t winnow away from us and Uncle Azzie will let you down so we can play. Sound fair?”

Nyx nodded vigorously.

“Okay.”

The rest of the evening went by far smoother. You tired Nyx out playing and then set him to bed. You and Azriel sat leaned against each other on the couch not too far away from the little one’s room.

“Thank you,” you sighed, “for coming.”

“I felt your terror through the bond,” Azriel said, sounding about as tired as you felt, “there was nowhere in the world I wouldn’t have left to come to you.”

Your heart swelled, “Az.”

“I don’t know what is wrong with human males for you to think that isn’t the treatment you deserve,” Azriel growled.

“Thank you, Az,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Don’t ever thank me for that again. I don’t deserve praise for what I would do naturally.”

Not having the energy for even this back and forth, you simply sighed and leaned your head on Azriel’s shoulder. His wing moved in to drape over you like a blanket as the two of you rested there.

Rhysand and Feyre came home to find you and Azriel snoring on each other. Quietly snickering, they checked on their sleeping son. Happy to see all their loved ones were safe and accounted for, they draped a blanket over the two of you and left you to sleep.

[estrellami-1]

Fall For You

Prompt from this post | Ao3 link

“Eddie!” Steve calls, walking into the apartment. He finds Eddie at the table and sets his hands down on the surface, wide eyes staring at Eddie. “You’ve got a membership at that gym, right?”

Eddie blinks up at him from his bowl of cereal. “The climbing gym?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie tilts his head side to side. “I’m mooching off Jeff’s membership right now, but I’m about to run out of free passes, so I’m thinking about getting my own. Why?”

“I asked the workers if my boyfriend counted as family for the discount and they said yes.”

Eddie blinks at him. “Do you have a secret boyfriend I don’t know about?”

“No, it would be you.” He sits across from Eddie and spreads his hands out. “If we pretend to be boyfriends, we can get the discount, and then you could climb and I could use the gym.”

“Robin climbs too,” Eddie points out. “You don’t want to pretend to be her boyfriend?”

“Ew,” Steve says, screwing up his face. “No, she’s basically my sister.”

“Right,” Eddie says slowly, “but it’s fake.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve seen her try to act, Eds,” he reminds him. “She’s hopeless. Siblings are an easier act for her because that’s closer to true. Please, Eddie? Just one time, we just need to go to the front desk together once, tell them we’re together, and get our discount. We don’t even have to go to the gym together at all, if you don’t want, if you- I don’t know, if there’s someone there you hang out with? You can keep doing that! We just need to go to the front desk together once. Please?”

Eddie sighs, long and drawn-out, dropping his spoon in his now-empty bowl and leaning back. “Damn you and your puppy eyes,” he says by way of answer.

“Yes!” Steve jumps up, pumps his arm in the air, and rounds the table to hug Eddie. “Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

He’s out of the room and down the hall before Eddie can blink, can even move, so he misses Eddie’s second, quieter sigh.

“Somehow I doubt that,” he murmurs, lips quirked up in a sad sort of smile. “But it’s worth it.”

He leaves the for you unsaid, even to himself, and brings his bowl to the kitchen.

“Hey, Chrissy!” Eddie greets the woman at the front desk. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Eddie!” Chrissy says. “Good, busy today.”

“How’re you and Jason?”

She bites her lip. “We are no longer.”

Eddie drops to his knees and raises his hands. “Finally!” He crows, popping back up and leaning over the counter. “I’m so proud of you, Chris, seriously.” He pauses. “Wait, you initiated it, right?”

She giggles and nods. “He didn’t want to accept it at first, but I stood my ground and he finally agreed. He’s coming to pick up his stuff tomorrow.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. “Are you gonna be okay? I can move my schedule around, be there if you want someone as a buffer.”

She blinks big eyes up at him. “Would you? I don’t want to inconvenience you, but Jason-”

Eddie waves her off, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “It’s no inconvenience, seriously. What time’s he coming over?”

“Eleven.”

“Okay, and… put your address in, please?” He hands his phone over, and she quickly types it in. “I’ll be there a bit before eleven, if that works for you, just to make sure I’m there before he is. Oh, and here, add your number. I’ll shoot you a text, that way you’ll have my number, and can call if he gets there before I do.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Eddie, seriously.”

“Nah,” he grins. “I’m a regular asshole, you just wore me down.”

Behind him, Steve snorts.

Eddie whirls around. “See? He agrees with me!”

“No I don’t,” Steve laughs. “Eds, you’re an asshole in the way teddy bears are scary.”

Eddie frowns. “But they’re not scary.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve. “So you don’t agree with me.”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, I remember you!” Chrissy pipes up. “You came in yesterday asking about your boyfriend! Is he here?”

“Uh,” Steve says, blushing. “Yeah. He’s right in front of you.”

Chrissy blinks. “Eddie?”

“Surprise,” he says, raising little jazz hands and sending Chrissy a sheepish grin.

“Okay, I take it back, you are an asshole,” Chrissy says, but she’s grinning. “How dare you not tell me you have a boyfriend!”

“Oh,” Eddie says, “um.”

“I asked him not to,” Steve smoothly cuts in. “I’m sorry. We’ve had some… not great reactions in the past.”

Chrissy huffs, rolls her eyes. “Well I sure hope you don’t get that reaction here! If you do, just come find me. That person may find their account suspended.” She winks at them, and Eddie grins.

“There’s really no need for that, but we appreciate it. For now, think you could get us both set up with a membership?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “Robin!”

“Oh, right!” Eddie turns to Chrissy. “Can his sister join if we have all her info? Or does she need to be here?”

“She needs to be here, but we can always add her later. You two will be paying more until she joins, though.”

Eddie waves a hand. “That’s fine.”

She gets them set up, then hesitates, biting her lip. “I hate to ask,” she addresses Steve, “but are you busy tomorrow? As much as Eddie is willing, and I’m very glad he is, Jason’s stronger than him, and just in case-”

“You don’t need to explain it,” Steve promises her. “We’ll both be there a little before eleven tomorrow.”

Chrissy sags like a marionette with cut strings. “Oh, thank you. Thank you both. Seriously.”

“Not a problem,” Steve assures her.

They move on into the gym, then wave to Chrissy on their way out.

The next day they head to her apartment and arrive just when they said they would. Chrissy greets them both with a hug. “Thank you so much for being here,” she tells them. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”

“If I ever say no to coffee, you have my permission to shoot me,” Eddie tells her seriously.

Steve snorts. “Ditto. We’d love coffee.”

She gets them each a mug, pulls out the sugar and creamer. Eddie nudges Steve out of the way, fixes his coffee the way he likes it. Steve smiles in thanks, nudges Eddie teasingly when he winks.

Chrissy sighs. “You two are so cute together,” she tells them.

Steve blushes. Eddie pulls a strand of hair over his face. “Thank you,” Steve says.

“How long have you been together?”

“Not very long at all, but we’ve known each other since high school.”

Eddie snickers. “He hated me.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t hate you, I thought you were weird, and I was right.”

“He hated me,” Eddie assures Chrissy.

“Christ,” Steve mutters, looking up at the ceiling.

Chrissy giggles. “How’d you become friends?”

“That’s my younger brother’s fault,” Steve tells her. “He’s obsessed with Dungeons and Dragons, and Eddie was the resident Dragon Master-”

“Dungeon Master, Stevie.”

“-yeah, that—in high school. I graduated before him, so he was there in his senior year when my brother, Dustin, was a freshman.”

Eddie snickers. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I was held back,” he tells Chrissy. “Had to take senior year three times. He graduated during my second senior year, and then Dustin came my third go ‘round. He brought a whole pack of rugrats with him.”

“They get into a lot of… situations,” Steve picks up. “And as his brother, I end up involved through no fault of my own. In one of these situations, Eddie got involved. We got to talking and realized, outside of the high school hierarchy lens, we’re not that different.” He smirks. “He’s still weird, though.”

“Hell yeah I am, that’s a badge of honor, sweetheart, I wear that with pride!”

Before Steve can retort, there’s a knock on the door.

Chrissy takes a deep breath, brushes by them, and opens the door. “Jason.”

“Chrissy. Didn’t take you long to change the locks.”

She sets her jaw. “This isn’t your apartment anymore, Jason. You have no right to walk in whenever you want to.”

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to Steve, “he’s a piece of work, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve agrees distractedly. “That- that’s Jason?”

“I mean, I haven’t seen the guy before today, but I assume so.” He looks at Steve, frowns a little. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Steve takes a breath. “I’m fine. Trying to decide if I should be a bitch or not.”

“Always yes,” Eddie says immediately. “Unless you mean to Chrissy? In which case no.”

“No, not to Chrissy. I’ve met Jason before, about four months ago. But he called himself Liam.”

“Holy shit!” Eddie whispers. “Terrible hookup Liam?”

Steve nods. “One and the same.”

Just then, Jason glances over at them. His face pales with recognition, but he quickly schools himself. “Who’s this?”

“Jason, is it?” Steve asks disinterestedly. “Thats funny. I could’ve sworn you called yourself Liam when we hooked up four months ago.” He crosses his arms. “You didn’t mention a girlfriend, either.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm. Chrissy,” Steve asks, “does Jason have a mole above his right butt cheek?”

“He does,” Chrissy agrees, narrowing her eyes at Jason. “and a birthmark-”

“On the inside of his left thigh?”

“Exactly.” Chrissy crosses her arms.

“Never thought I’d be the other woman,” Steve says. “I don’t appreciate being played. And I especially don’t appreciate you cheating on Chrissy.”

“Nor do I,” Chrissy says, rounding on Jason. “How dare you?”

“I didn’t!”

“Oh, yeah, like I believe that. How long? How many times, Jason? How many times were you home late because work went long, because you had meetings?” She laughs, loud and sardonic. “Oh, and let’s not forget that business trip to Florida. Unless that wasn’t for business at all, was it?” She laughs again, then walks away, shaking her head. “Get your shit and get out of here.”

She walks into the kitchen. Steve and Eddie exchange a glance, then immediately follow her.

“Chris?” Eddie murmurs. “You alright?”

She rolls her eyes at him, reaching for a mug. Her hand is shaking. Steve immediately jumps for the coffee pot, pours her a cup. “Would anybody be alright? After having something like that happen?”

“Probably not,” Eddie admits. “What can we do?”

She sighs, shakes her head. “I don’t think there’s anything to do. I’m just seeing a lot of ice cream in my future.”

Steve snorts. “I’ve been there. Actually, uh.” He shifts uncomfortably. “The last time I was there was about four months ago.”

Chrissy’s smart, so it’s only a second before she connects the dots, and she spins around to stare open-mouthed at him. “Him?”

Steve nods. “I don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna hear it.”

“I absolutely want to hear it,” she tells him. “What happened?”

“Well,” Steve says, “we call him terrible hookup Liam even though I’ve never hooked up with another Liam. Or, I guess, a Liam at all, considering his name is actually Jason.” He frowns. “And why’d he change his name anyways? It’s not like we knew each other four months ago.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes. “Who knows. What happened that made it so terrible?”

Steve snorts. “Well, first I think we need to establish what you’re comfortable with hearing.”

She leans towards him, eyes big and serious. “I’ve seen every inch of that man. There is nothing that you could say that I wouldn’t be comfortable with.”

Steve studies her for a minute, then shrugs. “Okay. So it’s a hookup, right? We’d met at a bar, there weren’t any sparks but there didn’t have to be for a hookup, just mutual attraction, and that was there, at least on the surface. So we go back to his place and he fucks me. And I swear to God I’ve never had a worse fuck. He didn’t hurt me or anything, but he was trying to get himself off and wasn’t really caring about how I was doing, y’know?”

Chrissy snorts. “I know, trust me.”

Steve winces. “Right. He lasted maybe five minutes? Pulled out, got up, and basically went alright, nice meeting you, now leave please. Meanwhile I’m laying there completely unsatisfied. He couldn’t have missed more if he’d tried. And I’m just… dumbfounded, basically. I’ve never met anyone like that before. So I leave and head back home, and Ed’s waiting up for me-”

“I’d nearly forgotten,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s when I realized I loved him.”

“Oh?” Chrissy says, interest piqued.

Eddie nods. “Mhm. He got home and was ranting about how terrible his hookup had been, and all I can think about is how he deserves better, how I would do better, if I could, never let him go, never leave him unsatisfied again-”

Steve’s breath catches. He remembers the night, remembers the fight they’d had, how he wanted to go back out the next night but Eddie-

Eddie had yelled, because he does that; he gets excited and he rants and rambles and throws his arms around and forgets things like personal space.

I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself like this, Eddie had said, too loud for the room, for Steve’s fragile heart.

So don’t, Steve had said, and slammed the door to his room.

They didn’t talk about it again.

But that was just- that was Eddie, just being his friend. Heart on his sleeve, because that’s how it is with the people he trusts.

He shakes the thought away, focuses back on the conversation at hand.

“That’s so sweet,” Chrissy coos, brows drawn up. “You two are so lucky to have each other.”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, smiling at Steve.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Steve smiles back, sad and a little lost. “I think one of us should probably keep an eye on Jason,” he says quietly. “I’d do it, but since he and I know each other-”

Eddie shakes his head. “It could end badly, I know. I’ll go.”

Jason does, in fact, get his shit and get out. Steve and Eddie follow him down, Eddie cites work as a reason they can’t stay even though Steve knows he doesn’t have work for a few more hours.

When they get back to their apartment, Eddie immediately sequesters himself in his room.

At a loss, Steve heads to his room. Shuts the door. Doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Wakes up when the front door shuts, signaling Eddie leaving.

He’s not sure why his chest hurts at that thought.

The next day Eddie’s back to normal, so Steve does his best to act normal too. Chalks it up to thinking about the worst fight they’d had to date.

Life goes back to normal, and soon they’re back to their regular schedule. They go to the gym together as often as not, since their schedules usually align.

There’s one such day Eddie’s climbing, taking a break on a bouldering route and holding on by three points, letting his right arm hang loose, get some blood back into it. He looks around the gym, sees Steve hopping off the treadmill.

He watches as Steve lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe his face, and oh-

Hello, stomach. Hello, happy trail.

Eddie’s left hand flexes. Relaxes. He falls.

“Shit!”

He knows how to fall, lands on his feet and rolls backwards, distributing the force. Lays there for a minute, breathing hard, categorizing.

He’s known he’s liked Steve for a while. That’s an open secret to anyone except Steve, though maybe that’s not so true anymore, based on that day at Chrissy’s.

But Eddie’s never seen him work out before. Never seen his abs as he flexes slightly, the little bit of pouch he gets when he leans over, and that fucking hair-

“Eddie!” Steve calls, dropping to his knees at Eddie’s side. “That was, like, a ten-foot fall, man, are you okay?”

Eddie blinks up at him. A fluorescent angel, backlit by bulbs high in the ceiling. “Fine,” he says, when he can find his words again. “Just a bruised ego.”

Steve tilts concerned brows at him. “Are you sure? Your ankles are fine? You didn’t hit your head?”

Eddie smiles, shakes his head, sits up. “I’m fine, I swear. I’ve fallen from higher. Hell, I’ve jumped from higher.”

“You’re sure?”

Eddie laughs, shakes his head. Stands and offers Steve a hand up. “C’mon, let me show you.” He scans the wall, picks an easy route, white holds. “This is the easiest route we’re gonna find here. I’m gonna teach you how to fall, ready?” He jumps up, grabs a hold. Shows off a little, pulls himself up by his arm to grab another hold higher up, gets his feet on the wall too. Releases his left arm, grins down at Steve, only about three feet below him. “We’re gonna start here to learn, ‘cause it’s pretty hard to fuck up badly enough at three feet to actually injure yourself. You’re gonna let go, land on your feet, and roll back.” He looks at Steve, studies the ground around them. “Move back a foot? Yeah, good. Now watch. Feet, then roll to your back.” He jumps and does as he said, grinning at Steve once he’s on his back again. “See? Just like parkour, you’re distributing the energy you get from jumping. This way you don’t end with a fucked ankle or knee.” He rocks himself up to a sitting position, unclips his chalk bag, and offers it to Steve with another grin. “Chalk up, big boy, your turn.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but chalks up anyways. Climbs up to where Eddie was. It takes him longer, and he’s sure he looks more awkward than Eddie had, but it’s easy enough.

He looks down at Eddie, then further still to the ground. It looks far, even though he knows there’s only about three feet of distance. He takes a deep breath and lets go, letting the momentum carry him over onto his back.

He explodes into a breathless laugh, accepting Eddie’s arm up. “See?” Eddie says, then hands over the chalk bag again. “One more time, then you’re going all the way to the top.”

Steve glances up nervously. Eddie smiles, hands him the bag, and shows him the route. “Feet here, hands here to start, yeah? Your legs are stronger than your arms, so push up with your legs instead of pulling with your arms. Make a mental map of the route before you start and stick to it if you can. This bit can be a bit tricky; right hand reaches over here, and left hand takes the hold your right was just on, see?” He drops his left hand to look down at Steve. “Got it so far?”

Steve’s face is the picture of doubt. “I think so.”

Eddie snorts, scrambles to the top. “It’s easier once you’re doing it anyways. Hands-on is easier than watching. Then once you’re up here, you grab onto this last one with both hands, and that means you’ve completed the route. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Now from here, you’ve got two options. You can climb back down the way you came, which is possible but it means you tire yourself out faster.”

“Or?”

Eddie grins, lets go. “You jump!”

He lands on his feet, lets the momentum take him down onto his back with a giggle. “Your turn.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. “Okay.”

“It’s not gonna be as easy as I made it look,” Eddie tells him. “I’ve been doing this for months.” He points to a sign. “This route, with the white holds, is v-zero, see? Then it goes up, v-one, two, three, all the way up to eleven. I’m regularly climbing v-seven, sometimes v-eight. It takes time to get up to that level, and I’ve learned a lot that you can really only learn through doing. Robin’s been going for a while, too, right? And she’s about at v-four, sometimes five if it’s an easier climb.”

“So you’re saying…”

Eddie chuckles. “Don’t beat yourself up if you can’t do it, or if it’s harder for you than I made it look.”

“Cool,” Steve nods. “Probably gonna beat myself up if I can’t do it.”

“Steve!” Eddie laughs, shoving him a little.

Steve laughs back, reaches for the bag, which Eddie hands him. “Here, clip it on around your waist. That way if your hands get sweaty on the climb, you can re-chalk them so you can get a better grip.”

Steve does, glances at the wall, takes a breath, and grabs on.

He gets about halfway up before he begins to slow, and about three-quarters of the way up before he’s moving at practically a snail’s pace, looking between his hands and feet, looking for the next hold. He gets to the place Eddie had warned him about. He moves his right hand over, almost gets a grip, tries again-

And falls.

“Shit!” He yelps. He does his best to fall the way Eddie had shown him, and finds that not only does it work, it doesn’t hurt and it’s actually kind of fun.

He bursts out laughing as soon as he meets Eddie’s worried eyes. Eddie’s brows smooth out, and he chuckles as he offers Steve a hand up. “Harder than you thought, huh?”

“Much,” Steve nods with a grin. “Fun, though. Can I try again?”

“Hell yeah!” Eddie grins. “Go for it! Might want to shake your hands out before you do, get your blood flowing to them again. You were pretty spread out, your hands were above you a lot of the time, and you got less blood to your hands than you should’ve. Try keeping your arms a little closer next time, really rely on your legs to push you up. And when you get up to that spot again-” he points, then sighs. “Fuck it, give me a second.”

He scrambles up, puts his hands and feet on the holds Steve had. “Here’s where you were, right? And here-” he moves his feet to holds a little higher “-is where I was. See how my arms aren’t quite as high above me anymore? It also means this hold is easier to reach.” He grabs the next hold, then decides to show off some and dangle from that hand, grinning at Steve.

Steve laughs, pretends to throw the chalk bag at him. “Showoff!”

“If I can’t now, when can I?” Eddie retorts, dropping back down to the mat and rolling all the way back, over his shoulder to end up kneeling.

Steve snorts, shakes his arms out, chalks up again, and tries one more time.

This time he makes it to the top, and Eddie whoops as soon as he touches the last hold with both hands. “Nice one, Stevie! You’re a natural!”

Steve laughs, glances down at Eddie, and drops, rolling back the way Eddie had taught him. “Okay, your turn. Show me what you can do.” He hands him the chalk bag, and Eddie grins, looking around as he clips it back on.

“Okay, here, these green holds, see? That tag is the same color as v-seven, and I did that climb last time I was here.” He chalks up, scans the route, nods, and starts.

He’s up in a little under two minutes, grinning down at Steve after he taps the final hold.

“Damn,” Steve grins. “Think I could try?”

Eddie snorts, jumps down. “Sure.” He’s stands up and gestures Steve closer to the wall. “See how there’s two tags here? One here, one there? That means you start by holding both of these. Then you get your feet up here, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, so Eddie moves back and Steve tries.

He almost immediately falls. “What the fuck,” he laughs, “how do you hold on?”

Eddie grins. “Hard, isn’t it? You’ve gotta get your fingers around best you can and pull together. Like the, uh.” He holds his arms out to the side, then brings them both forward. “Whatever machine this is.”

Steve snickers. “Chest fly. That makes sense, but are your fingers strong enough to grip like that? How do you build up the strength?”

Eddie shrugs. “How do you go from benching one plate to two?”

Steve snorts. “Okay, I get it.” He tries again and is able to hold on longer this time, but ends up on his ass anyways.

“Here,” Eddie says, “let’s try this. Get back up there, and I’ll help hold your hands there, so you can still start the right way.”

Steve gets back up, and Eddie slots in behind him, slides his fingers between Steve’s, and supports him. “There,” he murmurs. “Now you see that hold above you? You’re going to reach with your right hand and grab it. Pull with your left a little when you let go with your right so you stay on the wall.”

Steve turns his head to the side, and only then does Eddie realize how close they are; his nose brushes Steve’s cheek as he nods. “Got it. You won’t let me fall?”

“Never,” Eddie promises in a whisper. “I’ve got you, Stevie.”

Steve takes a breath. Nods. Rocks to his right, then as he moves to his left, Eddie lets go of his hands and brings his own hands to Steve’s hips, stabilizing him. “You’re going to want to keep pulling your arms together,” Eddie tells him. “Keep that tension. Now see that hold up and to your left?”

“Uh-huh. That’s where my left hand goes?”

“Exactly. Swing up and grab it.”

Steve does so, then moves his feet up to a couple of higher holds as well.

“Now this is what we call dyno,” Eddie tells him. “Short for dynamic. See that hold above you?”

“Oh, you mean the y-shaped one? Or the little button-looking one? Or maybe you mean the one that looks like a mushroom.”

Eddie snickers, carefully moves away from Steve, then scrambles up on some holds next to him. “This one.” He taps it twice, then jumps down and quickly gets back in position. “Try and reach it.”

Steve does, and immediately fails. “What the fuck? How do I reach that?”

“That’s the dyno move I was talking about. You keep your feet here, crouch down best you can, and jump. Let me get out of the way, because you’re probably going to fall and I’d rather it not be on me.” He moves off to the side, then nods at Steve. “Go ahead.”

Steve narrows his eyes, crouches down, and jumps up. His hand grazes the hold, but he isn’t able to grab it and ultimately falls onto the mat.

“I call bull,” he laughs. “No way you can do that.”

Eddie laughs. “You just saw me do it!”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. That’s impossible. I didn’t see you jump.”

Eddie grins, rolls his eyes, chalks up real quick before climbing back up to that spot. “This is probably what you saw,” he says, reaching up with his hands while staying crouched, then exploding up and grabbing the hold. “I made it more all of one movement, instead of stopping and then jumping.” He releases his left hand to grin down at Steve.

Steve looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. “That’s impressive,” he says.

Eddie frowns, jumps down. “Are you okay?”

Steve takes a breath, smoothes his features out. “I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad.”

Steve smiles. “I know. You didn’t. I’m fine, I swear.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, unsure. “Um. Are you ready to go? Done working out?”

“Sure,” Steve agrees, and digs his keys out, offering them to Eddie. “Would you mind driving?”

“Okay,” Eddie says, half joking, “now I know there’s something wrong.”

Steve sighs, ducks his head. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Steve looks up at Eddie from under his lashes with a half-smile. “No. But thanks.”

“You’ll tell me if that changes and I can help?”

Steve snorts. “I swear on your Uncle Wayne.”

“Good,” Eddie tells him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him out. “Coffee on me?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me rephrase. I’m getting coffee.”

Steve snickers. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Stevie.”

They’re back at the gym a few days later when Steve slots his arm around Eddie.

Eddie, who was studying a route, jerks in surprise. “Please play along,” Steve murmurs. “This girl will not leave me alone.”

Eddie laughs like Steve had said something funny, pulls him in, and presses his lips to Steve’s cheek. “I gotcha,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “What’s going on?”

Steve shakes his head. “What were you looking at?”

Eddie points at the wall, traces a line. “See the blue holds? See the three close together, then the one further, kinda up and to the left?”

“Mhm. That’s a… uh, a dyno move?”

“Exactly. The problem is, see the holds below? There’s not a comfortable place for my feet. They’re either too high or too low.”

Steve frowns. “Could you… maybe put your feet on the higher one, then use your hands and kind of… swing up to the higher one?”

“Probably,” Eddie admits. “I think what I need more than anything else is practice on this route.”

Steve hums, moves away. “Show me?”

Eddie does, groaning when he falls again. He pops back up before Steve can worry and spins around to find Steve talking with a girl.

His body language looks extremely uncomfortable, is the first thing Eddie sees. He’s leaning away from her, one foot back like he’s about to walk away, arms crossed. He’s got his customer service smile on, so Eddie bounds over with a, “Stevie!” He grabs onto Steve’s shoulders with a bright smile.

Steve laughs and grins back at him, then just as suddenly his expression falls. “I missed it! Did you do it?”

“Nope!” Eddie snickers. “Think I just need practice. Who’s your friend, baby?”

“Oh, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, meet Eddie, my boyfriend.”

Eddie releases Steve and grins as he extends his hand to shake, which she does with some reluctance. “Nice to meet you!”

“Yeah, you too. Anyways, Steve, I’ve gotta get going, but it was nice to meet you!”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “you too,” but he’s still got his customer service smile on.

Eddie wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders as she walks away. “She the one who was giving you trouble?”

Steve hums affirmatively. “Apparently I don’t look bi. Do I look bi? I do, right?”

“The bi-est,” Eddie agrees. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

Steve chuckles, then nudges Eddie over to the wall. “Okay, no interruptions this time, show me?”

Something in Eddie thrills at the fact that Steve is asking, wants to learn more about something Eddie’s passionate about. He grins wide and bounds over, makes his way to the problem area, swings up as he jumps-

And grabs the hold.

“You did it!” Steve yells, just as Eddie is realizing that very fact.

“Holy shit!” He grins down at Steve, gets his other hand and his feet on the holds. “Okay, from here should be easy enough.”

Steve snorts. “None of that is easy, dude.”

Eddie completes the route and jumps down, rolling on his back and grinning up at Steve. “Would’ve been cooler if I could’ve flashed it, though.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Not sure the wall cares about that, but the employees might.”

Eddie snickers and shakes his head. “No, flashing means completing a route the first time you try it. Mind outta the gutter, Stevie. ‘Sides, I can’t show just anyone the goods.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a grin. “Yeah, yeah, you’re not a slut like I am, I know.”

“Hey, you said it, not me.”

They both laugh, and Steve slaps Eddie on the back before he walks away, back to the wall to attempt a different climb.

They’re back home the next day when Eddie walks into the kitchen to see Steve staring at a tub of peanut butter. “I hate you.”

Eddie blinks. “You talking to me or the peanut butter?”

Steve pouts up at him. “My forearms are sore, and my hands hurt, and I can’t open the peanut butter because you were the last one to close it.”

“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, and opens the jar for him. “Sorry, man, I never get that sore anymore.”

Steve waves him off, dumps some peanut butter in the blender. “I’m used to being sore, and it’s a good hurt, y’know? Building muscle.” He puts the peanut butter away, grabs the milk from the fridge. Pours some of that, too. “Do you know when Chrissy’s working next? I know she broke up with Jason not too long ago, but she hasn’t met Robin yet.”

“Oh, shit, yeah, they’d be great together! I think… Tuesday? Or- no, shit, that was last week.” He sighs, pulls his phone out. “I’ll text her. Are we gonna try and wingman?”

Steve considers it, pulls the protein powder from the pantry. “For any normal person, I’d say yes. But you know how Robin is. She’s a rambler. If they can’t handle it right out of the gate, they don’t have a chance. It’s best to just let Robin be.”

“You know Chrissy’s gonna be sweet about the rambling.”

“I also know Robin rambles even more when confronted with a cute girl. I know Chrissy is pretty exactly her type. And I know Chrissy’s got a dirty mind but blushes at the slightest thing. I think they’re gonna be perfect for each other.”

Eddie grins back at Steve, tosses him a banana. Pulls his phone out of his pocket and grins at the screen. “She works today, tomorrow, and Friday.”

Steve tilts his head, looks at the ceiling. Eddie grabs the chocolate syrup and drizzles some into the blender, capping it before turning it on.

“Thanks. Thursday work?”

“It should. Rob doesn’t have school that day and she doesn’t work until that night. When do you work that day?”

“I don’t, actually, the new guy’s taking all my shifts.”

Steve chuckles. “I work that morning but I should be back by eleven, if you want to head to the gym then?”

“Sure, I’ll get Buck up with the promise of muffins.”

“Ooh,” Steve says, “blueberry?”

“Always,” Eddie agrees. “Although I might do some chocolate chip this time, too, I know you’ve got a sweet tooth.” He looks significantly at the blender, and Steve laughs.

“You don’t have to make them just for me.”

“Oh, right, cause I’m not going to have a chocolate chip muffin. And Robin definitely won’t.” He shrugs. “Besides, even if it was just for you, it’d be worth it.”

He’s hesitant as he says it, not sure how his heart will be received, but it’s worth it for the bright blush that Steve turns away to hide.

Eddie sighs, grabs a bowl and the Honeycomb. Steve pours his shake into a glass, and together they separately get on with their day.

Thursday dawns with Eddie cursing his promise to Steve. He’s not a morning person, and the muffins take a while to make.

He finally gets them in the oven and collapses onto the couch with a sigh, pulling his phone out and opening his messages with Steve.

Eddie: are you heading by the coffee shop on your way home 👀

Steve: I could be 👀

Eddie: 👀

Steve: I’ll be home 11:15

Eddie: 👍

Steve gets home with their coffees just as Robin’s trudging to the table to eat. If Eddie’s not a morning person, he doesn’t know what Robin is; she’s a zombie until she gets coffee, and even then she needs not to be spoken to until she’s finished her mug.

She stops in her tracks and makes desperate grabby hands at Steve, who chuckles, kisses her temple, and hands her a cup.

He hip-checks Eddie as he hands him his coffee then continues into his room to change out of his work clothes and into gym clothes.

He’s back in a few minutes, chugging the rest of his own coffee and throwing it in the trash on his way to the table, sitting down with a happy sigh. “Thanks, Eds.”

Eddie chuckles. “No problem, Stevie.”

“You have a plan for the gym?”

“I don’t have a plan for my life, dude. I just climb whatever I want to climb.”

Robin mutters something under her breath about climbing and Steve and trees. Under the table, Steve kicks her.

Eddie decides he doesn’t want to get in the middle of that.

Soon enough they’re on their way to the gym. Steve’s driving, and Robin has permanent passenger privilege, which means Eddie’s relegated to the backseat. He doesn’t mind, he knows how Steve and Robin are, but he lets his mind wander.

Sure, Steve’s hot. That’s a pretty objective fact. But he’s also kind. He can also be kind of a bitch, but really that just adds to his charm. He’s fiercely protective of his friends but will let people walk all over him.

Eddie wants to protect him. He wants to show Steve that he’s worth just as much as anyone else is; more, to Eddie. He wants to take Steve on drives, hold his hand over the console. He wants to get a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater and spend most of the movie eating popcorn and talking shit about the characters, fingers getting tangled when there’s just unpopped kernels left.

He wants them to know each other so well that they don’t need to ask, just do instead; he wants to surprise Steve with a coffee because he knows he’s tired, or a sweet treat because he knows he’s had a bad day.

They get to the gym before he can follow that specific train of thought too far.

“Chrissy!” He yells, grinning at the redhead, who grins back.

“Eddie! And Steve, hi! And- is this your sister?”

“This is Robin,” Steve agrees, pushing her forward.

“Hi,” she squeaks out, eyes wide.

“I like your name,” she says.

“Oh. Um. Thank you? I didn’t pick it.”

Chrissy giggles. “No, but you didn’t change it, either, that’s gotta count for something. You’re here for a membership, right? Have you been here before?”

“Y-yeah, and uh, I have, a few times.”

Chrissy pouts. “And I’m just now meeting you? That’s not fair!” She blushes a little, focuses on the counter when she says, “Maybe we could get to know each other more? Maybe over dinner?”

Robin blinks until Steve nudges her. “Yes!” She bursts out. “Please. I’d, um, I’d like that?”

Chrissy grins at her. “I’m glad. I can’t get your number while I’m on the clock, but maybe I could give you mine? We could text, find a time to meet up?”

“O-okay,” Robin agrees.

Steve nudges Eddie, and they slip away after scanning their tags.

Steve sighs happily. “I knew they’d get along.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “Casanova, I know. You gonna climb or work out today?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Probably just work out, but I’ll definitely come watch you two when I finish.”

“Cool,” Eddie says. “Um. You can come find me if anyone bothers you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees warmly. “Same to you.”

Eddie snorts. “Right, like this is so attractive.” He gestures to himself, and Steve stops in his tracks, brows furrowed.

“You- you’re joking, right?” Eddie gives him a confused look, and Steve’s brows skyrocket. “Dude, you know you’re insanely hot, right?”

“Tell that to all of the boyfriends I’ve had. Oh, wait, I haven’t had any.”

“Okay, and that’s their loss. You’re a great friend and I know you’d be a great boyfriend. Or fuck, if you’re looking for a one night stand. You’re attentive and conscientious and you put others’ needs above your own. And, again, you’re hot. Hell, if I’d ever had any indication you wanted me back, I’d be all over you.”

“You-” Eddie blinks. “What?”

Steve winces. “I didn’t really mean to say that here. Can we, like, ignore it? Until we’re home? Or forever?”

“I mean, it takes two to have a conversation, so I don’t really have a choice unless I wanna talk at you, but…” he shakes his head. “What the fuck, dude?”

Steve winces again. “I know, I’m sorry, I swear Robin rubs off on me and I just start rambling. But I can- I mean, it’s been this long and I haven’t, like, acted on it, and I can just… continue to not act on it, y’know? Nothing- nothing has to change.”

“I think everything’s going to change,” Eddie says, then notices the way Steve’s holding himself, small and unsure, and relents. “We can wait till we’re home,” he says softly.

Just then, Robin runs up and flings herself at Steve. “Dingus!” She exclaims. “I have a date!”

Eddie watches Steve pull back behind a wall, plaster a smile on his face. Only the edges peel a little, let Eddie know it’s not real. Robin would notice, too, if she weren’t so excited. “That’s great, Robs!”

“I know! I mean, we don’t actually have a date yet, but we’re going to, unless I completely misread what she meant by get to know me-”

“You didn’t.”

“Okay cool, cool. Ah! I’m so excited!”

Steve grins at her. “That’s seriously great, Robbie. I’m super excited for you. Where are you going?”

“There’s that new coffee shop down by the mall, y’know? She’s never been, and I’ve never been- should I go first? To, like, figure it out? So I don’t look stupid?”

“I mean,” Steve says, “she hasn’t gone either, right? So whatever happens, you’ll learn together.”

“Oh, that’s true. Okay. I won’t go first, then.”

Steve snorts. “Okay. You want the car or were you planning to take the bus?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know I don’t drive unless I don’t have a choice. And the bus goes right to the mall anyways, and it’s not that far a walk to the coffee shop.”

“Okay,” Steve shrugs.

“Okay,” Robin says, clapping her hands with a grin and looking between the two of them. “What are we doing first?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” Steve tells her. “I’m just working out today.”

Eddie’s heart tugs pitifully. He pushes it away. “I’ve got no idea what I’m gonna climb,” he says, and looks around. “Maybe that route, with the green holds to start?”

Robin frowns at him. “I can do that one.” Eddie shrugs, so she does, too. “Alright. I guess just… yell? When you’re ready to go?”

“Can do,” Steve nods, and takes off for the gym.

Eddie turns to the wall with a quiet sigh as Robin heads off in search of a route to climb.

Eddie tends to throw himself into things, he’s well aware. He knows putting his earbuds in won’t help that fact, but it’ll help distract him, so he does it.

It’s only when there’s a tap on his shoulder that he wakes up and realizes his hands are shaking. “Hey,” Robin says when he takes his earbud out. “Steve’s waiting up front for us.”

He follows her out, slips into the backseat. Can’t help but notice the way Steve’s eyes slide over his face in the rearview mirror.

When they get back, Eddie’s barely extricated himself from the backseat by the time Steve’s in the apartment with his door shut.

With a heavy heart, feeling like he’s walking to the gallows, he knocks on Steve’s door. “Steve?” He asks. “Can… can we talk? Please?”

He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t make a sound. Doesn’t come out that night, even for dinner.

Eddie goes to bed with a heavy heart, but doesn’t actually fall asleep until nearly four in the morning. He wakes up to the sound of Steve’s door closing again. He rolls over, buries his face in his pillow, and quietly cries himself to sleep again.

He doesn’t see Steve at all that day. He finally catches him the next morning. It’s earlier than he’d like to be awake, but it’s not like he’s going to be able to sleep without talking to him.

He walks out to the kitchen and stops short at the sight of Steve.

He looks terrible. His eyes are puffy, his hair is flat and greasy, and his shirt is creased and rumpled.

“Steve,” he murmurs, flinching when Steve jumps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Sorry,” Steve says nonsensically, hurrying around the kitchen. He won’t look at Eddie. “Sorry, I- I’m almost done, I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Steve,” he quietly repeats. “Can we talk?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again. “We- we don’t have to, I can- I’ll get over it, nothing has to change. Or- if you’re not comfortable with it, if you want to move- or if you want me to move-”

“I don’t want to move. And I don’t want you to move. Steve, please. Just talk to me.”

Steve shudders out a sigh. “I think I said it all already. What, you want to hear it again?”

“Clearly this time,” Eddie says. “Yes. Please.”

Steve sighs, runs his finger along a crack in the countertop, where two pieces join up. “I like you,” he whispers. “And I have for a while.” He grips his mug tight, shuts his eyes. His shoulders round, his head dips. “And I- I know you don’t feel the same, and that’s fine, I can get over it-”

“Hang on a second, Stevie,” Eddie requests. He takes a small step forward. “Who said I don’t like you back?”

“Well, why would you?” He asks. “I love too fast and too hard. Even Nancy couldn’t keep up and she’s the most intense person I know.”

“There’s a difference between just plain intensity and devotion,” Eddie murmurs. He takes another step forward, leans sideways on the counter. “I know devotion. I’ve known it, I think, since you walked into my life.” Steve sobs once before cutting himself off, curling into himself even more. “Stevie?”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Please don’t.”

“It’s true.”

“It can’t be. I- I don’t get that. I don’t get you. It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Eddie questions. “It’s the truth, Stevie, I liked you the moment I saw you. Then I saw you interact with Robin, and I saw the bitchy persona you pull out sometimes, and I saw you tired and sad and mad and sick and goofy, and I’ve loved every single facet of you that I’ve seen. What haven’t I seen yet, Stevie? Why can’t I like you? How can I prove that I do?”

Steve shakes his head, releases his mug to wrap his arms around himself. “You can’t.”

“Then how can I help you prove it? Stevie,” he murmurs, taking another careful step forward. “Sweetheart. Can I hug you?”

Another choked noise. A small nod.

Eddie steps forward again, his last two strides taking him all the way to Steve. He gently pulls him in, tucks his head on his shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist and runs a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs again, “how could I not love you?”

“No one ever has. Why would you be different?”

“Robin?”

“‘S different.”

“Then maybe I am, too.”

He pulls back, pushes Steve’s hair out of his face with a sad smile on. “Hey. You got anywhere to be for the next little bit?” Steve shakes his head. “Good, then c’mon. You can bring your coffee.” He pulls back entirely, just holding on to Steve’s left hand so he can grab his mug, then leads him to the living room, where he pulls Steve down onto the couch and into his arms again.

“I don’t know if you caught it,” he murmurs, “but when we were at Chrissy’s and she asked how we met, I told her the story of when I knew I fell in love with you. That was all true.”

“I heard it,” Steve admits. “I just couldn’t let myself believe it.”

“All this time,” Eddie breathes. “We could’ve skipped all of this if I’d just told you. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘S not your fault. ‘S mine.”

“Now I just refuse to believe that,” Eddie tells him. “First of all, I could’ve told you ages ago. That’s on no one but myself. You couldn’t have known how I was feeling.”

After a pause, Steve lifts his head to ask, “and second of all?”

“Okay, I don’t really have one.” Steve hits him with the bitchiest look, and Eddie collapses into giggles.

Suddenly Steve looks unsure. “You even like me when I’m being a bitch?”

“I love you all of the time,” Eddie tells him. “But you being a bitch is definitely one of the reasons I originally fell for you.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Are you gonna tease me if I say I think it’s hot?”

Steve hums, lays his head back down. “Only a little.”

Eddie snorts. “It is. You can hold your own, and you’re so smart, and… I dunno. It’s hot.”

Steve snorts. “So eloquent.”

Eddie chuckles. “Believe me yet?”

“I’m starting to,” Steve promises. “I think… I think I just need time.”

“Take all the time you need, as long as I can hold you like this in the meantime.”

Steve hides his smile in Eddie’s chest. “Deal.”

They’re still there two hours later when Robin stumbles out of her room.

“Morning,” Steve tells her happily. “Eddie and I are dating.”

“I thought you already were,” Chrissy says, appearing in Robin’s doorway.

[ptergwen]

Hi there, I'm SO HAPPY YOUR BACK! I was wondering if you could maybe write a Tom Holland Peter Parker x fem Stark reader based on this prompt?: You’re unconscious after a mission gone wrong, and Peter’s voice shakes as he desperately calls your name, when Tony comes. If you don't want to do it, its ok

stay

ask box  |  taglist  |  blurb masterlist  |  main masterlist

w/c: 2,005

warnings: mentions of blood, angst (happy ending!)

a/n: hi lovely thank you sm! you guys know i love my angst so i felt very in my element with this one hehe, thanks for the patience while i get used to writing again! feel free to keep sending in your reqs and chatting, i love hearing from y'all and will answer asap ♡

"y/n? it's over, i got him. i’ll come find you, okay?"

you don't answer.

"y/n/n? can you hear me?"

there's only silence on peter's end of the headset. peter isn't worried, not at first. he figures maybe you just got disconnected.

"y/n?"

nothing.

now that peter hasn't heard from you on the third try, he is starting to worry. the two of you had gotten separated during your mission. the plan was for you to distract your opponent and peter to web him up, but you lost him somewhere along the way. it was hard to stick together in the dark, twisty tunnels. he'd thought it would be best to take care of your opponent himself and find you after.

tony is going to kill him if he let anything happen to you. it's okay, though. he can just use his suit to track your location.

"friday?"

"yes, peter?"

"take me to y/n."

peter swings through the tunnels to get to you faster. friday guides him, which he's grateful for because he doesn't have a great sense of navigation as is. it's even more difficult underground. peter lands where friday tells him to, but he doesn't see you.

"are you sure this is where she is? i think she might've lost connection... maybe her location didn't update."

"y/n's watch is online, peter."

peter notices something on the ground, its blinking light catching his attention. he picks it up. sure enough, it's your stark tech watch, but where are you?

"would you like me to check again?"

peter makes out a figure a few feet away. it isn't moving. he takes a few steps toward the figure, reaching for his mask.

"that's okay. thanks, friday."

he removes his mask to see better, brows knitting together. something doesn't feel right. peter's senses confirm it, the hairs on his arms standing up and eyes focusing harder in the darkness. in peter's head, he already knows it's you. in his heart, he hopes it isn't.

peter crouches down and puts a hand on the figure's shoulder, rolling them over to face him.

it's you.

your spandex suit has some rips in it, and dirt is coating your back. your mask is pulled up part of the way. peter takes it off, revealing blood dripping down your forehead, your eyes just barely open. tears roll down your cheeks. peter cups your face tenderly in his hands, eyes desperately searching for yours.

"oh my god, baby, what happened?"

"that guy."

your voice comes out weak. despite the blood and tears staining his gloved fingers and the tightening in his throat, peter does his best to stay calm.

"what guy? the one we were fighting?"

"yeah."

"he did this to you?"

you hum in response. peter props an arm behind your head for support.

"it's okay. everything's gonna be okay."

"but... it hurts."

"i know, baby. but you're gonna be okay. we're gonna get you home and..."

your eyes flutter closed.

"hey, hey, hey. look at me."

peter strokes your cheek, willing you to stay awake. you grunt.

"tell me where it hurts so i can take a look. can you do that for me, y/n? where does it hurt?"

"my head. on top."

peter carefully parts your hair, searching for the source of your bleeding. there's a damp patch of hair near the top of your head. he moves it aside and finds a gash. it's small, but fairly deep. he doesn't think he can handle this on his own; he needs to tell tony.

"i’m gonna call your dad, okay?"

you don't respond. your eyes are closed when peter looks for them.

"y/n? you have to stay awake."

you don't say or do anything to indicate that you hear him. tears prick peter's eyes, threatening to spill over. he doesn't know much about head injuries, but he knows this isn't good.

"please wake up, y/n/n."

peter grabs both your shoulders and shakes, hard enough that it should wake you. nothing. you seem to have slipped into some sort of an unconscious state.

your watch starts to beep with an incoming call from your dad. peter accepts it with a shaking hand.

"friday tells me your vitals are suspiciously low, little lady. what's going on?"

peter fights to keep his tears at bay. he cradles your head with one hand, placing his other on your heart. he needs to feel your heartbeat to remind himself you're still here.

"it's me, tony."

"kid? where's y/n?"

a quiet sob escapes him, tears finally falling. tony doesn't need to hear anything else.

"i’m on my way."

it doesn't take long for tony to get to you and peter. he comes whirring through the tunnels, retracting his iron man suit when he lands. you lie on the ground, your head in peter's lap. you'd woken up shortly after peter spoke to your dad, but you aren't really responsive. peter is cradling your head gently in both hands and whispering words of reassurance.

he's so focused on you that he doesn't even notice tony is there until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"what happened, kid?"

tony kneels down next to peter.

"i... i don't know. the guy we were fighting... i didn't see, i think she hit her head."

"okay, okay. let me see the damage."

tony uses his watch to illuminate the dark area. there's dry blood all around the crown of your head, in your hair. it's worse than he expected. he doesn't let it show, though. he doesn't want to alarm you any more than you already are, or peter for that matter; he's a mess.

"i found this."

peter moves your hair to show your dad the wound on your head. tony shines the light on you to get a better look. concern flashes in his eyes briefly, but long enough for peter to see it.

"friday, call the med bay. tell them it's my daughter."

"yes, boss. it appears y/n may have a concussion. i've detected a large contusion."

you bring a hand up to your head, trying to feel the wound. peter coaxes your hand away with a don't touch, baby. you try to say something, but you can't. you're in too much pain. your dad and peter share a knowing look.

"we'll be there soon, fri. make sure they're ready for us. and call happy, tell him to pick us up asap."

"i’ll let them know right away, boss."

a bright light shines directly in your eyes, making you stir a bit in peter's lap. you whine and squeeze your eyes shut. fresh tears fall down your cheeks.

"it's okay, it's okay. it's just your old man."

you squint your eyes open.

"dad?"

"hey, y/n/n."

"what... what're you doing?"

"just gotta take a look at something. look up?"

you try to open your eyes again, but your eyelids feel heavy. tony holds one of your eyes open himself, then the other. he clicks his tongue.

"what's wrong? is she okay?" peter asks your dad.

"pupils are bigger than they should be. still reacting to light, though. that's good."

"what does it mean if her pupils are too big?"

"friday's right. she could have a mild concussion."

the light turns off, your body finally relaxing. peter's body stiffens.

"that's serious, isn't it?"

peter looks from tony to you, stroking your hair and cupping your cheek, then back up at tony. tony can see the fear in his eyes.

"it shouldn't be, the bleeding just gave us a scare. we'll know more when we get her home."

you grab at peter's knee. he places his hand over yours, thumb smoothing along the back of your hand. you look around the tunnel with blurry vision.

peter doesn't like the uncertainty of this. they don't even know the extent of your injuries, just that they might be serious. he knows you're going to be okay, that tony and the med bay team know what to do and you'll bounce back from this because you're you, but he's scared. you've never been hurt this badly before.

"happy's got our location. he'll be here as soon as he can," tony tells you, voice uncharacteristically soft. you blink your eyes in response. "how long is that gonna be?" peter asks.

"i’m not sure, kid."

hot, frustrated tears fill peter's eyes.

"we can't just wait around anymore. she's been like this for a while."

"trust me, pete. i don't like waiting either."

"then let's just bring her back ourselves."

tony gives peter a stern look.

"let's not."

"why not? it's faster if one of us takes her. i’ll swing her there right now."

peter is already scooping you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. you groan at the sudden movement. tony removes you from peter's arms and takes you into his own protectively.

"i said no. we're not flying her home, and we're definitely not swinging her. it isn't safe."

peter stays quiet, blinking back tears.

"you've gotta remember, y/n isn't like you. she doesn't have powers. for the stark's, it's just us out there."

he knows tony is right, of course he is. he forgets how vulnerable you actually are because you're always so strong. riding home with happy may take longer than peter wants it to, but it's safer for you. he needs to think about your best interest. putting other things first caused all of this in the first place.

if peter had found you earlier instead of finishing the fight, maybe he would have been able to get you help sooner. maybe you wouldn't be in this bad of a condition.

"i’m sorry, tony. i’m really, really sorry."

"no biggie, i get it. you're just looking out for her."

"no, that's the problem. i wasn't."

"what're you talking about?"

peter can't hold back his tears any longer.

"i wasn't there when y/n got hurt. it must've happened when we separated. when i found her, she... she was already like this."

"hey, kid. don't do that, don't blame yourself. you didn't know."

"i could've known if i paid more attention. i could've heard, or... or maybe she said something."

peter avoids tony's gaze, too ashamed to look at him, and too guilty to look at you.

"everyone gets caught up, pete. hell, you know i do. but you know what? you're here for y/n now, and we're taking care of her. that's what matters."

"you mean, you're not mad at me?"

tony surprises him by outstretching an arm and pulling him into a side hug. peter manages a small smile, wiping at his watery eyes.

"do i seem mad?"

"guess not. thanks."

tony pats him on the shoulder.

"time to go. happy'll be here any minute."

"okay, i’ll go ahead of you guys so you can see where you're going."

peter starts to collect your things while your dad helps you up. you're disoriented, head pounding, and you stumble a bit because you don't quite have your balance. tony is quick to catch you.

"easy, y/n/n. you're alright, yeah?"

"i want peter."

"he's right here, just leading the way. i’m gonna help you."

"no, i want peter."

peter's heart clenches. he looks to your dad for permission.

"alright, parker. i'll trade you. but be careful, she's precious cargo."

tony lets go of you, but he stays close just in case. he takes your things from peter. you fling yourself into peter's arms, hiding your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. peter hugs you to his chest. tony smiles at peter and nods in approval, making peter smile back.

"i got you," peter coos. "are you gonna need help walking, or you got it?"

"i dunno, i'm dizzy. carry me?"

"sure, baby."

peter picks you up bridal style, one arm secured under you and the other supporting your head. you loosely wrap your arms around his neck.

"can you stay with me when we get there?"

peter kisses the side of your head lightly.

"i’m not going anywhere."

tags (join my new taglist!)

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety

[smolwriter]

Notes game !

Spamming is allowed but not to much :3 (watch me regret this)

10 notes - I’ll write 100 words (FINISHED)

25 notes - I’ll write 200 more words (FINISHED)

35 notes - I do a writing sprint for thirty minutes without getting distracted (FINISHED)

50 notes - I’ll hit 2k words on the lotus story 🪷 (tbh I might hit it before you guys get here due to the other note goals) (FINISHED)

75 notes - I’ll hit 2.5k🪷(FINISHED)

90 notes - I’ll hit 3k🪷 (FINISHED)

100 notes - I’ll continue brainstorming a project(s?) that I forgot about (FINISHED)

110 notes - I’ll work on lore documents for my projects (IN PROGRESS)

120 notes - I’ll plot some project (IN PROGRESS)

130 notes - im going to finish writing traditionally for some of my other projects (IN PROGRESS)

150 notes - at least write down the project ideas I have even though I have so many others (IN PROGRESS)

200 notes - I’ll do some writing dares from y’all (anything that is within my boundaries) (FINISHED/you guys can send me stuff whenever you want :>)

225 notes - I write 250 words (FINISHED)

250 notes - I work on a different writing prompt for a bit (FINISHED)

275 notes- I write 400 words (FINISHED)

290 notes- I write quicker (you slow idiot) (FINISHED)

300 notes - try to do some of my new writing ideas even though I have a lot (wahhh) (FINISHED)

320 notes - make actual writing posts (FINISHED)

330 notes - work on fanfics (self indulgent or not, im working on them) (FINISHED)

340 notes - do pomorodo while writing (FINISHED)

355 notes - hit whatever milestone is next (FINISHED)

here im just writing down the things i need to do since SOMEONE spammed it all the way to 400 notes

360 notes - write (FINISHED)

380 notes - read a fanfic for inspo (FINISHED)

400 notes - be productive (FINISHED)

420 notes - hey abt you write that fanfic in your head you daydreaming idiot (IN PROGRESS)

425 notes - work on other wips (IN PROGRESS)

435 notes - make progress on the goals (FINISHED)

440 notes - i finish the lotus story (IN PROGRESS

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Sugar, Baby

Chapter Three: Unraveling

Bruce Wayne x Sugar Baby! Reader

| Part 1 | | Part 2 |

I pinky promise there will be smut in the next part🤞 I just felt like making this one a bit of a slow burn

Taglist: @shadowqueen1322 @secretsideofbree @lillyrob

It started with nights at the manor.

At first, it was just a casual thing—Bruce would send a car, and you’d spend an evening talking over expensive whiskey, letting the world outside the Wayne estate fade into irrelevance. You still worked at the bar, still went to class, but somehow, Bruce had become a fixture in your life.

And it wasn’t just the money.

Yes, he still tipped you ridiculous amounts when he showed up at the bar. Yes, the black card he’d given you sat in your wallet, burning a hole you had yet to fill. But more than that, he was there.

The texts started coming more frequently.

B: You still alive?

You: Barely. My professor is trying to kill me with this assignment.

B: Send me the prompt. I’ll have my team handle it.

You: Absolutely not.

B: I don’t like seeing you stressed.

You: And I don’t like billionaire academic fraud.

B: Fair point.

He called, too—not often, but enough that you found yourself waiting for the sound of his voice on the other end of the line.

The nights at the manor got longer.

At first, it was just drinks and conversation, but then there were the quiet dinners Alfred started preparing for two instead of one. The slow walks through the grand halls of the estate, the firelit nights spent sprawled on the couch in the library, his arm slung lazily over the backrest behind you.

And then, of course, there were the kisses.

God, the kisses.

They started slow, teasing, an extension of whatever sharp-witted conversation you’d been having before he inevitably leaned in. Bruce kissed with purpose, with intent, with the kind of control that made you dizzy.

But that’s all it was.

Kissing.

He never pushed, never let things go further than you could handle, and part of you wondered if he knew.

If he had already pieced together that you had never done this before.

Not this—not just the kisses, but the way he made you feel.

Because it wasn’t just physical.

Bruce knew you.

He listened when you ranted about your classes, when you muttered about your deadlines, when you offhandedly mentioned your favorite books or movies. He remembered, too—casually dropping facts about your life into conversation, surprising you with small gestures that proved he had been paying attention.

“Tell me something real,” you murmured one night, curled up next to him on the oversized couch in his study.

Bruce glanced down at you, brow raising slightly. “Something real?”

You nodded. “Something not in the tabloids.”

He was silent for a moment, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your knee.

“I never sleep for more than three hours at a time,” he admitted finally. “It’s been that way since I was a kid.”

You frowned, shifting to get a better look at him. “Why?”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his expression. “You know why.”

You did.

Gotham knew the story of Thomas and Martha Wayne—the billionaire philanthropists gunned down in an alley, the grieving son left behind.

“I dream about them,” Bruce continued, voice quieter now. “Not always in the way you’d think. Sometimes it’s just… glimpses. My mother’s perfume. My father’s laugh. I wake up before I can hold onto any of it.”

Your chest tightened.

You reached for his hand without thinking, threading your fingers through his. Bruce blinked, as if surprised, before his grip tightened around yours.

He didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, rubbing a slow, deliberate pattern over your knuckles. “I just—”

“I’m glad you told me,” you interrupted softly.

He exhaled, eyes flickering toward your lips.

That night, the kisses were softer.

Not urgent. Not desperate. Just there.

Something real.

—

It was a few weeks later when you finally asked.

You were sitting in Bruce’s bedroom—an indulgently large space that still somehow felt distinctly him. There was a fireplace crackling in the corner, the low golden light casting shadows across the room.

Bruce was on the bed beside you, leaning against the headboard, sleeves rolled up as he scrolled through something on his phone. You had a book open in your lap, though you weren’t really reading it.

Instead, you were watching him.

“Bruce.”

He glanced up at the sound of your voice. “Mm?”

You hesitated. “Are you… waiting for something?”

He set his phone down, eyes scanning your face. “What do you mean?”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the book. “I mean, we’ve been… this for a while now.”

Bruce’s lips twitched. “This?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted.

You exhaled. “So, are you waiting? For me?”

His expression shifted, something fond passing through his features.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Your stomach flipped. “Why?”

Bruce sat up, moving closer. One of his hands found your knee, fingers brushing against the fabric of your leggings.

“Because I know you,” he said, voice low. “I know you wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t real for you.”

You swallowed hard. “And?”

His thumb traced slow circles against your leg.

“And I want to take my time with you.”

You felt yourself flush, warmth spreading through your body at the implication.

Bruce smirked slightly, tilting your chin up with the crook of his finger.

“You deserve more than rushed decisions,” he murmured. “I don’t need more. Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You inhaled sharply. “I—”

His lips brushed against yours, soft and coaxing.

“Don’t overthink it,” he whispered against your mouth.

And for once, you didn’t.

—

It didn’t happen that night.

Or the next.

Or the one after that.

But somehow, the waiting didn’t feel like waiting.

Masterlist

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 1.

-

“—are priced wrong. You need to fix that.”

“Hmm? Sorry?” you ask, mind snapping out of whatever fog it’d descended into upon seeing John Price’s truck pull up out front of the grocer. You blink a couple times before focusing on the older lady lined up at your till, her face pinched with displeasure. It deepens when she realizes that you haven’t been paying a lick of attention to whatever she’d just spent the better half of a minute complaining about. 

“The beefsteak tomatoes are priced wrong. They’re supposed to be two dollars a pound—it’s in the catalogue.”

Before you can so much assure her that you’ll certainly honour the advertised price and save yourself the headache, she’s already opening up her purse to pull out the crinkled grocery catalogue, unfolding it across your conveyor belt; it goes out in the local paper once a week with all the sales and rippable coupons, and this isn’t the first time you’ve had someone try to lecture you about discrepant prices (Kate, your manager, is a sweet, gungho lady, that often sends off discount confirmations to the editorial staff of the local paper without informing anyone that actually works in the shop day-to-day). 

From the corner of your eye, you see John slam the door shut on his truck and make his way towards the shop, hands shoved into his pockets. Even from a ways away, the sight of him makes your cheeks redden; his beard’s gotten fuller in the week since you last saw him, clad in even more layers of flannel and tweed now with the fast approach of winter. He looks properly ready for the winter months, with just an air of heaviness present in the lines on his forehead and the tilt of his head. 

You feel your lips slip down into a frown. Helpless, you can only watch in defeat as John lumbers into the grocery store, brushing his hand over his hat to shake off the snowflakes onto the mat by the automatic doors. He picks up one of the baskets by the front door before heading down one of the aisles. His eyes don’t flicker to meet yours so much as once. 

Your shoulders slump when he ducks out of sight before you focus your attention back on the woman in front of you. She’s pointing out the tomato print with the little two dollar sign in the advertisement with a stiff finger, eyebrow cocked like she’s pulled one over on you. You really can’t imagine there being anything less important to you than the price of beefsteak tomatoes, never mind having to refund someone a whole dollar because you inadvertently overcharged them and you happened to get stuck with the one customer that would spend a full thirty seconds reviewing their bill before leaving the shop. 

“See?” she says, the word coming out sibilant and stressed. You blink.

Turning back to the till, you click a couple buttons before the register pops back out again and you pluck up a dollar to hand back to your customer. On the receipt that’s printed out, you hastily scrawl the reason for the refund and shove the seller's copy back into the till. The woman stares at the dollar now sitting on the belt in front of her.

“Of course, ma’am,” you say, a robotic smile stretching across your face. “Apologies for the inconvenience. I’ll get someone to reprice the tomatoes so this doesn’t happen again.”

She doesn’t say anything when she snatches up the dollar along with her groceries and hobbles out the front door, the automatic doors swooshing behind her. With her finally gone, you close your eyes for a second, a private moment just to yourself.

Someone clears their throat from just off to the side. Your heart bursts into a frantic pitter-patter when you open your eyes to find John waiting patiently at the end of your till, his basket filled up with bottles of mustard, gherkins, and other preserves. 

“A paper bag, please,” he says in a gruff voice, like he tousled with sleep just a few minutes ago. It makes your head spin. 

You nod, hardly able to even respond.

Up close, he smells like firewood and smoke, the ever-present cigar usually hanging off his lip nowhere to be seen but still clinging to his jacket and flannel beneath it. The mutton chops of his beard have grown out more than the rest, but his jaw is covered in a layer of fur in comparison to the week previous. John doesn’t really make eye contact as you scan his groceries, almost too tired to raise them from the conveyor belt. Not for lack of respect—it comes off as pure exhaustion. 

You know John as the gruff, taciturn park ranger that comes in once a week to load up on steaks, cold cuts and fresh produce, but in the months you’ve lived in this town, he’s always fresh off work, a little rough around the edges and not quite fit for human interaction just yet. He just grunts and nods when you tell him his total, towers over you and never really makes much eye contact. 

It’s always non-perishables with him these days. At least for the past several weeks, as far as you know. Cans and jars and freezer-ready meals. He doesn’t strike you as much of a prepper, but his order speaks for itself. It’s one of the things you like most about your job—getting to peek into the small crack of life laid bare before you. 

“Getting ready for the winter?” you ask. 

John grunts, eyes meeting yours just briefly before dropping down again. Dark brown. Sometimes you swear you catch the faintest glimmer of gold in them, like a honey glaze, but it’s likely just a trick of the lights. 

“Gonna be a rough one.” 

You try not to shiver at the sound of his voice. It’s not often that you get to hear it; even though you moved into the house next to his almost six months ago, he spends most of his days in the mountains, working up there as a ranger. He comes home after dark nearly every day—not so hard now that the sun sets early on in the day, but even back in the summer you’d spy him coming back from his shift well after dark. 

He’s gotten more heavyset in the last couple of weeks, a comfortable weight to his midsection and arms. Beefier, more solid. When John is in front of you, it’s like no one else in the world exists at that moment; he removes them all from sight and mind. It soothes some of the worry that his constant late coming has stirred up in you, knowing that he’s fed. Not all of it though.

“You know the, uh—” you start, clearing your throat midway through, almost losing your nerve under his sudden attention at the sound of your voice, “—the butter’s twenty percent off this week. I, um…I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed.” You catch his little frown and clarify. “You usually get butter.”

“Thank you, but not this time,” he says gruffly. “Got enough of it in the freezer.”

“Oh…well…” you trail off like you’re going to say something else but you let the conversation fall flat instead. 

He’s quiet the rest of the time as you bag his groceries. John always is. There’s a hurt side of you, silently begging for more, but you’ve watched him enough around town to know that this is just what he’s like. Gruff with the other rangers on the mountain, taciturn after a long day’s work, and sweet as apple pie with the older townsfolk. You’ve seen him help people at crosswalks and more than once he’s footed someone’s grocery bill when they’ve come short. 

Maybe you’re not interesting enough to merit conversation or that same goodwill he extends to others. Not that John has ever been anything less than polite with you, but—your thoughts scatter like birds when you recite his total without thinking and watch him wordlessly as he pays. 

“Thanks, honey,” John says, eyes meeting yours again. “See you next week.” He finally manages a smile, his eyes crinkling under the weight of it. 

You could get lost in his smile if you let yourself. It comes freely but seldomly these days, kept at bay by rough days out in the woods helping lost hikers, ticketing hunters for going over their allotment, and managing the wildlife. But when he smiles, you feel the blood go hot under your cheeks and fight every vision you have of him suddenly leaning across the counter and tipping your chin up for a kiss.

Tongue-tied, you nod. You can’t even force a smile on your face, wide eyes still set on him in wonderment. He doesn’t wait around for you to find your words.

But—you think again wistfully as he turns to leave—it might be nice once in a while. For him to look at you like you’re more than a stranger. 

You mourn your chance to talk to him once he’s out the door, wishing you could call him back. It’s not his fault that just the mere sight of him leaves you tongue-tied. It folds up like a cherry stem in your mouth when he speaks to you and you haven’t yet managed to untangle it in his presence. Maybe someday. 

That’s just life though. 

He’s always made you feel nervous, like a schoolgirl with her first crush, but it’s a safe kind of crush. The kind that feels fun to indulge in because there’s no possibility of reciprocation, like you can just ogle him and pine over him without having to worry about what you’d do if he felt the same way. You mourn the loss of him when he leaves, but like a tender bruise on your knee that you sometimes press just to shy away from. 

The rest of your shift pales in comparison to the eight minutes spent in his presence. Rinse and repeat. Someone else complains about the tomatoes and you write a note for your manager to read the next day. It’ll be her fault if someone finally emails in to complain or takes it to the news; there’s always an op-ed in the papers that’s little more than a thinly veiled bad Yelp review. 

John’s car is outside his house when you make it home at the end of the day, the lights still on inside. You sit in your car and stare at the light hidden behind the curtains. 

It would be nice, you think, resting your head back against the seat, to go up and knock at his door. If only you were braver. You’d march right up, knock on his door, and offer him something to eat. You could do it too. In the six months you’ve lived here, it’s not as though you’ve ever treated him particularly neighbourly. 

You squeak when you see John pull the curtain back and peer out the window, sliding down in the front seat so he doesn’t notice you there.

Maybe some other day then.

[princessfbi]

For the shivering prompts: bucktommy + 5 if it inspires anything! 💜

5. "Oh. I didn't notice. I'm... I don't feel very well." + Bucktommy

To be completely honest, Tommy wasn't surprised when he got the call. In fact, he was going to take a lot of joy in telling Evan I told you so at an undetermined date in the near future. Not now. Not when he was already down and out for the count. But soon.

If anyone minded that Tommy double parked in front of the station, no one said. As much as he was fully prepared to give Evan the ultimate I told you so of all I told you so's... There was also an itch beneath his skin that crawled up the back of his neck and wouldn't quit until he could lay eyes on Evan.

“Hey,” Tommy said as he spotted Chimney in the ambulance bay.

“Hey!” Chimney’s eyes lit up as he waved him in. “Thanks for coming. I would’ve called Maddie but she’s on shift.”

The thought of anyone else being where Tommy was standing made something coarse twist in his chest. It was amazing what a few near death experiences and an adorable blue eyed reincarnation of his own personal sun could do to a guy. It was the same firehouse where the mere thought of anyone even hinting at his sexuality would’ve sent Tommy running only a few years earlier. Maybe a few months earlier even. But that had more to do with the intensity of the ache in his chest from all his own deep insecurities prodding at him than being outed.

He fell for Evan Buckley hard and fast and it was terrifying still.

But Tommy wasn’t running. At least not away and he didn’t intend to do so again any time soon.

“Thanks for calling,” Tommy said instead. “I tried to tell him this morning but you know.”

He had. Multiple times. In multiple different versions throughout his house as Evan slugged through his morning routine trying to get to his shift on time.

Chimney snorted as he nodded.

“Buck’s got to Buck.” Chimney popped his gum between his molars as he led Tommy through the station. “Hey, do me a favor. I don’t love the sound of his lungs but there isn’t anything worth sending him to the ER for yet. Just keep any eye out and keep me updated?”

The tedious balance between humor and worry tipped further on the scale as Tommy nodded.

Something must have shown on his face because Chimney waved a hand as if to displace the slinking cobwebs of doubt that had crept into Tommy’s mind.

“I don’t think it’s anything some antibiotics and rest won’t fix. Probably just something he picked up when he fell into the drink last shift.”

Right. The rescue at the pier where their teams had crossed paths assisting the 133. Harbor station hadn’t arrive until after the incident where one victim had panicked and shoved Evan right off the pier giving nearly everyone a heart attack in the process before he resurfaced and held up a thumbs up to them. But Tommy had been able to sneak aside his wet pouting boyfriend shivering beneath a rescue blanket for a quick kiss to try and make it better.

Evan had said he was fine. He’d said that Hen and Chimney had looked him over and then Eddie after their shift had ended. He’d said he was fine.

A pit opened up in Tommy’s stomach as he stepped in to the bunk room and spotted him in the corner.

Evan’s long legs were curled up tight to his chest beneath a blanket that was still too small for his long frame. The fanning of his eyelashes shadowed against his pale face, splotchy with pink from the fever that was raging through his body and the thinnest wheeze whistled past his lips on his every exhale.

“Thanks Howie,” Tommy said quietly. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Let me know if you need help getting him to the truck.” Chimney said in parting before he closed the door behind him.

Tommy sucked on his cheek as he stepped over to Evan’s bunk and bent down sit on the bed. Evan barely stirred, only curling into Tommy like he was the only source of warmth he knew even subconsciously.

“Evan,” Tommy said softly, sweeping his fingers through loose curls. “Time to wake up sleepy head.”

Evan’s face scrunched in annoyance before he tried to burrow away in the blankets his fist had pulled up to his nose.

“Hey,” Tommy said and tried not to frown at the harsher wheeze that fell from Evan’s lips as he exhaled. “C’mon baby.”

The full body trembling only seemed to rocket up in frequency as a bleary eye opened into a slit to stare up at him.

“Hey you.” Tommy smiled and settled his hand on Evan’s scalp, rubbing his thumb in circles at his temples.

“T-my?” Evan croaked before a congested cough rattled its way up through his chest. “Mm’Doing here?”

“Taking you home.”

A frown twisted on Evan’s pink plump lips. “I still got a shift.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said with a shake of his head. “That shipped sailed a while ago. Your teeth are chattering, babe.”

The mention of his trembling only seemed to make them worse and Tommy already regretted not bringing in his hoodie from the truck.

“Oh. I didn't notice. I'm...” Evan rolled his lips together like he didn’t know how to use them anymore. The fever blazing off him was already sending Tommy’s blood pressure through the roof. He didn’t think anything else could pierce through the armor surrounding his chest cavity until watery, tired, vulnerable blue eyes stared up at him in dawning defeat. “I don't feel very well."

Tommy pushed back his hair and leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. “I know. But I’m here to take you home now.”

Evan groaned as he tried to curl into Tommy like he could shield him from the rest of the world. God, only knew how hard he tried to do just that sometimes.

“Don’t think I can walk that far.” It was a quiet confession. One that was blanketed with humor to hide the vulnerability beneath it.

Tommy heard it anyway.

“‘S okay,” Tommy said. “I can carry you.”

He back wouldn’t thank him. Not for the distance it would take to get Evan from the bunk room to his truck. But he’d do it.

And Buck smiled, small and tired, but a smile all the same.

“C’mon,” Tommy said. “Let’s get you home.”

[nanaslutt]

Dude your freaky fans are sending slurs and suicide bait to other JJK fans just for doing slightly similar joke posts to you. Is that the community you're trying to foster?

IMPORTANT.

i have said 4,000 times i dont gaf if people use the same ideas as me, i dont have any control over anyone’s actions i cant make someone stop sending hate to someone, all i can do is make it clear that if you send hate to another creator in “defense” of me when they have done nothing wrong u fucking suck and u need to stop!!

if ur a creator of a smau who’s getting hate, im sorry, sincerely, but there is literally nothing i can do if people like that attack u even though i tell them not to, if one of my “fans” is sending u hate, block and report them

and if ur the people sending hate, for the love of god stop it, u aren’t children (i hope) if you think another smau creator REALLY copied my work, dm me and i’ll deal with it privately, u gain nothing from telling someone to off themselves because of something as minuscule as that, i’m a fanfic writer/smau creator on tumblr, it’s not that deep i promise u

some of u make it impossible for me to be friends with other creators on here because u guys attack them for doing anything inspired by me, for the love of everythinnngggg stop being weird and sending hate to other creators, let people have fun and write the same prompts as me without trying to bite their head off

note to anon: blaming me for other GROWN ASS ADULTS actions is diabolical, esp when ive openly talked out abt those weird ass keyboard warriors, that is all