#ALSO.... not sure hats going on with tags anymore so

[spatialwave]

"yes, sir."

pairing: pre-war!cooper howard x fem!reader word count: 3k ask: “Cooper x Reader where reader’s a girl with a kink for cowboys, and Cooper plays it up for her? Kind of a roleplay situation (smut), also if he’s into how small she is, that’d be great.” warnings/tags: mdni! smut, porn with plot, cowboy/cowgirl kink, size difference, age difference, dom!cooper, sub!reader, oral (m+f receiving), doggy-style, riding/cowgirl, edging/denial, praising, slight verbal degradation, bondage, gagging, you’re cooper’s babygirl. notes: big thank you to the anon who asked for a cowboy kink/size difference fic, hehe. i hope it was okay that i wrote pre war cooper, but when i think of cowboy, i think of him in that slutty little cowboy fit, lol.

“come on, coop, don’t be a prude,” you said with a big smile, standing in front of your partner with your hands interlocked in his, “you played a sheriff before, why can’t you do it for me?”

his lips curved into a smile as he titled his head down, his hat covering the red blush rising on his cheeks, “maybe i am turning into a prude,” he chuckled, rousing a laugh from you as you led him into the bedroom with a coy smile spread on your lips.

you’d been seeing cooper howard exclusively for a few weeks, having weaseled your way into his life a few short months after his divorce had been finalized. you were a young stable girl at the ranch where he’d kept sugarfoot, no longer living with barb in their old house meant he didn’t have the capacity to care for her on his own anymore. it was difficult, but he trusted one of the best ranchers just out of los angeles.

it was a stroke of luck to have been the one to help him the first day he stopped by your grandfather’s ranch, keeping yourself from bursting into excitement as you got his mare situated in her new home. there was immediate chemistry flowing between each other, but you knew cooper was tiptoeing around you, and you couldn’t blame him. 

you were certainly much younger than he was.

the movie star came around often, and although he’d spent most of his time riding sugarfoot, you couldn’t count on two hands the amount of times you’d caught him staring at you, covering it up by hiding his eyes behind the cowboy hat you’d always seen him wearing.

the sexual tension was mutual, so you acted on it.

you saw first-hand how incredibly pent-up he was, but you still couldn’t believe how quick he was to say yes when you offered him a blowjob a few days later. you didn’t beat around the bush when you knew what you wanted.

you led him behind one of the stables, covered up by a stack of hay bails, as you took him down your throat like the good girl you were. cooper didn’t last long, choking out a moan as he came in your mouth after a minute or two. 

since then, cooper was head over heels for you—the country girl he always wanted. someone who would say yes in a heartbeat if he asked you to go up to bakersfield with him to live on a ranch. it was dangerous territory, he was sure of it, but he’d never once felt so much fire in his heart when he was around you. you kept his spirit young.

likewise, cooper howard was everything you could’ve dreamed of in a man. handsome, kind-hearted, and eager to please.

that’s why he couldn’t say no when you asked so nicely for him to do some roleplaying with you in bed. wasn’t your fault that you had a thing for cowboys, and he just happened to be the hottest one you’d ever set eyes on.

so, there you were in his bedroom in nothing but a skimpy bra and panties set that he bought you a week earlier. red, see-through lace that cupped your perky tits and accentuated the curves of your ass. you made sure he was fully dressed, though, from a cowboy hat all the way down to the worn-in boots.

“see, baby?” you purred, kneeling on the edge of his bed like a minx, “there’s no one sexier than you, cowboy.”

it was hard to miss the flicker of interest in cooper’s eyes as you cooed at him. his cock twitching under his denim jeans that he desperately wanted off.

if this is what you wanted, then he’d sure as hell give it to you.

“don’t talk like you’re the one in charge here. i’m the sheriff around these parts,” he drawled through a smirk, his voice alone making you wet in anticipation, “so, be a good girl and listen to me,” cooper stepped forward, towering over your small frame as a calloused hand tilted your chin up to look at him, “ya’ think ya’ can do that for me, sweetheart?”

“yes, sir,” you murmured, a soft squeak escaping your lips when he pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, passionate kiss that made your stomach twist and turn in all the right ways. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, and you opened your lips for him to taste all of you, but he pulled back just to leave you craving more, “please.” you whimpered.

“shhh,” his lips pulled into a half-grin, and you knew then and there that he was enjoying this power dynamic as much as you were, “i need ya’ to be nice and quiet for me. don’t want anyone else in town listenin’ to what i do to you.”

your lips trembled as you sat patiently in front of him, heat building in your abdomen as your cunt squeezed and ached around nothing. cooper took off his hat, placing it nicely over your head—claiming you as his.

“lay back, darlin’,” he whispered, dipping his head low and following you as you landed onto the soft bed. he crawled over you, pressing wet kisses to your neck, down your chest until his lips teased around the band of your panties, “now, look at how wet you are. i barely even touched ya’,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cunt over the wet fabric.

you held onto his hat, keeping it on your head, as you arched your back and chewed down on your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pleasure. 

he tongued at the fabric, finding your swollen clit and giving it attention that you would’ve preferred without your underwear on. you kept quiet, though, knowing that if you were on your best behaviour, ‘the sheriff’ would be sure to give you everything you needed.

a whimper barely escaped your lips when he tugged the fabric aside, cool air making you pulse and twitch.

“christ, baby,” he groaned, “you want my cock so bad, don’t you? i bet you wanna’ ride me until you’re screamin’ my name and beggin’ for me to let you cum.”

you were fighting for your life as cooper’s thumb pressed slow circles on your bundle of nerves, the words falling from his tongue sending your stomach into a fit of butterflies. he had never been so vulgar with the way he spoke, you weren’t sure you’d be lasting long if he kept it up.

“cooper, please,” the words spilled from you before you could stop, a moan choking in your throat, “shit—i mean, sir,” you whined.

a man of his word, cooper pulled away from you, standing at the edge of the bed and watching the way you squirmed without his touch.

“i told you to be quiet,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unbuttoning the blue and yellow top that looked so perfect on him. accented with leather fringes hanging off his broad shoulder, and a little golden star on the left side—just like a sheriff, “i thought you’ were goin’ to be a good girl for me,” he sighed, “suppose i need to punish you, until you learn to behave.”

he finished unbuttoning the top, leaving his chest exposed, as he reached down and undid his belt buckle with one hand. cooper pulled the leather out from the belt loops of his denim, and your mind went haywire at the sharp sound.

“lay on your stomach,” he commanded, watching with a smirk as you obeyed. his hands took your wrists, pulling them behind you so he could snag them together until his belt had them forcefully restricted. he let out a whistle, “you look goddamn’ pretty all tied up,” he smiled, large hands reaching down and massaging your ass before pulling your panties off.

you looked over your shoulder at the cowboy, trying to pry your wrists apart, but he was good with a belt. eyes settled on his exposed chest and your mouth pooled with saliva, wishing you could turn around and let him fuck you while your fingernails scratched against his abs and left reddened marks on his skin.

cooper’s hands moved to your hips and lifted you onto spread knees on the edge of the bed, just high enough so he had the perfect angle to fuck you as good as he believed you deserved. you kept your face turned to the side, breathing heavy and biting back moans as you felt his fingers rub through your folds. already you felt your knees wanting to give up, but you willed yourself to stay upright. the last thing you needed was to upset him and be edged for hours—or worse, not allowed to cum at all.

he pushed a finger inside you, heavy-lidded hazel eyes watching your expression as your tight cunt contracted around his digit. your fingers bent and dug into the leather belt as he slid in a second, roughly finger fucking you as your eyes had begun to roll into the back of your head. it was so damned good, but it wasn’t enough—you rocked your hips back against his fingers, silently begging for him to fuck you harder and deeper. 

you held back a moan, the sound radiating deep in your chest and loud enough for cooper to hear.

“now, now, babygirl,” he murmured gently, free hand holding your hips still, “once i start fuckin’ you, i promise you can try bein’ as loud as you want.”

that alone made another whimper come from you, an agonizing feeling swallowing you whole when his fingers pulled out and left you empty and exposed. 

you opened your mouth, ready to talk out of turn and beg for his cock desperately, but you were met with your panties being shoved between your lips, rightly so. a makeshift gag that would make it near impossible to get any sounds out.

“good girl,” cooper uttered, his hand brushing back hair so he could see your face, “i did say ‘try’, didn’t i?” he chuckled, taking far too much pleasure in the dominance he had over you, and by the looks of you, he knew you loved it.

he shimmied the opened shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them to his thighs, so his cock sprung free. the cowboy didn’t waste time running the head along your wet pussy, watching as his pre-cum dripped out and coated your entrance. the lace gag muffled your moans as each stroke along you made your thighs quake in pleasure, leaving you a complete fucking mess.

“fuck,” he groaned lowly, holding the base of his cock with his right hand, the other holding your hip up so you didn’t collapse, “i don’t know how you’re gonna’ take this cock,” he breathed heavy, slowly pushing into your cunt, “so small… just a sweet little thing.” 

you groaned, your tongue pressing against the fabric in your mouth when tears stung your ears as his cock filled you. he wasn’t wrong, you weren’t sure how you managed to take him; he towered over you in height, and he was very well-endowed. he often fucked you so deep that your stomach bulged with each rough snap of his hips, his hand would press against your lower tummy so he could feel his cock fucking you dumb.

cooper groaned when he reached the hilt, giving you only a few seconds to adjust to the fullness you were a good girl who could take it, you’d proven that many times.

his thick cock slid through your swollen walls and stretched you with each forward push of his hips, balls slapping hard against your clit. you were gagging on the fabric pathetically, the sounds from you nothing more than muffled whimpers.

his hand tugged on the belt strapped tight around your wrists, using it as leverage as he fucked you so hard you felt like you might pass out. your eyes fluttered closed as they rolled back, body shaking in tandem with the bed as spit dripped down your chin after your panties fully soaked in your mouth.

with how tight you were squeezing around his cock, cooper knew you were close. 

“don’t cum, yet, baby,” he moaned, head falling back as he rocked hard against you, tugging harder on your wrists so you were pulled up from the bed, tits bouncing with every thrust.

you were seconds away from cumming when cooper dropped your wrists and pulled out—your cunt dripping with juices down your thighs. you landed hard against the bed, face buried in the blanket as it swallowed up the tears streaming down your cheeks from the denial. your lover undid the belt around your wrists, and you were quick to pull them apart, relishing in the freedom to touch where you wanted.

cooper bent down and pressed his tongue to your abused cunt, lapping at you wildly and getting a good taste. you pulled the gag out of your mouth just in time to let out a strangled moan, vibrating deep from your chest.

“fuck, cooper—“ you cried, hips and knees shaking uncontrollably, “you’re gonna’ make me cum, please, don’t stop. i wanna’ cum so bad.”

“you cum when i tell you, you can,” he mumbled against you, hands grabbing tight at your ass as his tongue pushed inside you.

it took everything for you to focus on holding back your climax, the way his tongue penetrated you nearly threw you over the edge, but he was good at knowing your triggers. he pulled back from you, licking his lips as he stood back up on his feet and kicked off his boots and jeans.

“ride me,” he said breathlessly, watching you crawl to your hands and knees as he moved to lay back on the bed with his head in the pillows, “you like ridin’ cowboys, don’t you?”

“yes, sir,” you mewled, chewing on your bottom lip as you moved to straddle him. cooper had never looked sexier to you, his forehead and chest were damp with sweat and his cheeks flushed a perfect shade of pink. 

with one hand, he reached behind you and unhooked the clasp of your bra, snagging the fabric from your body and tossing it off the bed. his hands were quick to massage your tits, squeezing your nipples between his fingers as you sunk down on his cock with one quick drop of your hips. 

you and cooper moaned together as he stretched you out, your body flushed hot as you pressed your hands to his chest and rocked your hips. 

he praised you often, saying sweet little nothing's and showering you in compliments as you rode him just the way he liked it. there was no better gratification than watching the way his face twisted in pleasure as he moaned your name over and over like a prayer.

“i want you to cum in me,” you said through a quick inhale, beginning to lose your breath, “please, sir. i’ve been so good for you.”

a guttural growl came from him as he grabbed at your jaw and yanked you down roughly into a hungry kiss. he licked into your mouth, and you were much too willing to part your lips and let him take your breath away.

cooper lifted his hips with his remaining strength, just enough so he could pull his cock from you and thrust back up, fucking you relentlessly. you buried your face against his neck, gurgled moans bubbling up your throat and into his ear as your body rolled toward the edge once again. his stubble rubbed against your cheek, and it was the only thing you focused on as you held back your orgasm until he gave you permission.

you had become nothing but a toy of pleasure for him, your body limp as he slammed his hips into yours, and the sound of your skin slapping together echoed louder than the headboard banging against the wall.

“you take my cock so fuckin’ good, baby. i want you to cum with me,” cooper whined into your ear, and you could hear his voice shaking, “fuck, i’m gonna’ cum,” he growled.

cooper reached a hand between you and thumbed at your clit, circling it several times in a quick pattern—all you needed for your pleasure to erupt you into a state of euphoria. you saw stars, a fucked out smile on your lips as your cunt tightened around his cock and left you babbling his name as cooper continued to fuck you. his thrusts stuttered a few times, unable to keep up the rhythm as your pulsing cunt milked out his orgasm. he came inside you with a deep-throated groan, filling you with wet, sticky cum.

his body finally gave in, and he collapsed back on the bed with you dropping to his chest. you were both covered in sweat, chests heaving as you caught your breath and gave your bodies time to be still and quiet. relishing in the aftermath of one of your kinkiest rendezvous.

cooper was the first to groan and shift in his position, his body already sore and knowing he’d be aching for a couple days. those beautiful hazel eyes of his stayed focused on your face as you leaned your head back to get a good look at him. he smiled lopsided, making you blush, as his hand brushed hair out of your face that clung to the sweat gathering on your skin.

“you’re so damn perfect,” he whispered to you in that thick southern accent, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips that made you fall in love with him all over again, “my babygirl.”

[slut4thebroken]

Home Improvements

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett does yard work while you’re outside tanning and you (both) get a little needy.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, humiliation, exhibitionism, a lil degradation, breeding, slight age gap, they’re so cute it kinda makes me sick lol.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | I’ve been wanting to write some consensual Emmett stuff for a while so thank you to the anon who sent an ask to @kiss-me-cill-me who ended up tagging me🤭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

More of these two

(Ignore the fact that idk how lawn mowers work lmaooo)

You were laying down on a lawn chair in your favorite bikini, sunglasses on and book in hand, but you weren’t reading anymore. You were completely focused on Emmett. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open and his already short sleeves were rolled up a little, showing even more of his muscles and tattoo in a way that made your mouth water. 

When you noticed he was standing still, you forced yourself to pay attention and realized he was looking at you. “What?” You called out. The engine of the lawn mower was still on, but it was quieter now that he wasn’t moving it. 

“I asked if it’s too loud.” Your heart fluttered a little— he’s always so considerate. 

“No it’s okay. Thank you for checking though.” You were out here first so of course he wanted to make sure he wasn’t disturbing your tanning/reading time. 

You continued watching him. Occasionally he’d stop and remove his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was getting through it pretty quickly, much to your displeasure. 

“Hey, Emmett?” You yelled, hoping he heard you with how far he was. He paused, turning toward you, and when you waved him over, he obeyed instantly.

“Yeah?” 

“Aren't you kind of hot? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” You said casually, confusing him. 

“A little, I guess.” He shrugged. 

“Maybe you should take your shirt off. Feeling the breeze really helps.” You suggested, glancing down at your mostly nude body to show that you weren’t completely bullshitting that excuse. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, looking away from you with a small smile. 

“Sure, baby.” You knew that he knew exactly what you were doing, but you didn’t care. You got what you wanted and that’s all that matters. He started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then tossed it onto the second lawn chair. Since he already knew, you decided to close your book and put it on the small table in between both chairs. 

“You know, it also might help if you work a little slower too. Going fast means using more effort, and that means getting hotter quicker.” You knew it was grasping at straws and completely cheesy, but he scoffed a laugh and played along. 

“Good point. Any other suggestions?” 

“None that don’t involve public indecency.” You said teasingly and he chuckled again before walking back over to the lawn mower to continue. You could see now that his torso was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, only getting you more worked up. 

There was something so incredibly hot about watching your husband do completely mundane, domestic tasks like mowing the lawn and barbecuing. He also had a really bad habit of doing home self improvements… so at any given time, there was at least one part of the house that was unfinished. The plus side to his love of home diy’s was that he’d build you things for the house, like extra storage in a weird space where nothing could really fit, or a new table after you accidentally spilled paint all over it and couldn’t get it off. 

You frowned when he turned the lawn mower off and started walking over to you. “It looks amazing, honey.” You smiled, shamelessly eyeing his body as he sat down on the chair next to yours. You offered him your glass of ice water which he took eagerly, gulping down more than half of it in one go. “You know, I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.” Honestly, it was more a reward for you being able to sit here for half an hour without jumping his bones. 

“You hate when I’m all sweaty.” You could tell that he wanted whatever you were offering though. 

“Yeah… but that just gives us an excuse to have round two in the shower.” You smirked and his lips curled up into a small smile. 

“Come here.” He said as he laid back in the lawn chair, letting you climb onto his lap. His hands settled on your hips as you took off your glasses and his hat before finally kissing him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, letting you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. When he pulled back, you whined quietly. “I don’t think I can do yard work while you’re tanning anymore. I’ve been hard since I walked out here.” You choked out a laugh, then started grinding on his bulge, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I agree. I’ve been wet since you started mowing.” You leaned down to kiss him again, still grinding your hips, and his hands dragged up your sides to cup your breasts, making you moan quietly. When he pulled your bikini down to rest below them, you let out a gasp that turned into a mewl when he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck- Emmett…” You said through a breath, tightening your grip on his hair. “People might see.” Even though you were in the backyard that had a wood fence all the way around the perimeter, there was still a chance. 

“Thought you said I deserve a reward.” He grumbled, moving to your other nipple to suck and nip at it teasingly. “And I want to fuck my wife on my own property. I don’t give a shit if someone sees.” You knew that wasn’t true. You’d have to stop him from commiting a felony if someone accidentally saw your body because of how jealous and possessive he could be. 

“I’m gonna be pissed if we get in trouble with the HOA.” A few years ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d be married, living in a suburban house, worried about the HOA. Despite your words, you started snaking your hands down his chest and stomach to his belt. You managed to unbuckle it, even with how close your bodies were, then you opened his pants and took out his cock, stroking him to full hardness. 

“Fuck.” He hissed, kissing up your chest to your neck, then sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a mark. “Need you, doll.” He whispered, hips bucking up toward your hand, desperately seeking out your tight, warm cunt. Since you were just as desperate, you quickly pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and sunk down on his cock, making both of you moan. You sat down on him completely, then paused, needing to let yourself adjust. 

When his hands snaked around to your back and tugged on the string of your bikini, you gasped and tried to keep the fabric from moving away— at least with it below your breasts, you could quickly cover yourself if needed. Emmett didn’t seem to care about that though as he pulled it over your head then threw it somewhere to the side. 

“Fuck..” You said through a breath. The risk was making you infinitely needier and as you continued to get more turned on, you started to care less about someone possibly seeing. 

“Come on, baby. Give me my reward.” He gruffed. As if your body was completely under his command, you started rocking your hips, warming yourself up a little. You cried out when he suddenly slapped your ass. “You know what I want.” His voice was much harsher now, making it clear that this was a demand, not a request. So you started bouncing up and down on his lap, forcing moans out of both of you. “That’s it… Be a good little wife and use that greedy cunt to please my cock.” He groaned, slapping your ass again before moving his hands up to grope your tits. You were starting to sweat now as you panted, quickly heating up from the exertion. 

Getting bolder, he suddenly reached for the strings on both hips, then quickly pulled to untie them. “Emmett..” You warned— being completely nude was way too risky.  

“We can move this to the front yard if you’d prefer.” He threatened, making you falter. When you gave up on trying to stop him, he smirked and removed the fabric, leaving you fully bare. “What would people say, honey?” He murmured mockingly. “If they knew that you liked riding me in public, in broad daylight, without wearing any clothes.” 

“Emmett…” You whined, his words making you needier. 

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “You can’t help being a whore, but it’s okay because you’re my whore. Isn’t that right?” 

“Yes.” You mewled, desperately moving your hips, chasing your release. 

“Say it.” His hands settled on your hips and he held you still, then started bucking up into you. 

“I’m your whore, Emmett.” You whined with a blush. He moved one hand to smack your ass as a warning, then immediately put it back on your hip. “I’m your whore!” You cried out, much louder this time. “Fuck— please make me come.” 

“Wait just a little longer, doll, I’m almost there.” He said breathily, tightening his grip on your hips almost painfully and bucking up into you so fast, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your breasts were moving embarrassingly with how hard he was pounding you, only furthering your humiliation… which only brought you closer to the edge. 

“Emmett.. please, I can’t hold it.” You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. 

“Go ahead, sweet girl…” He said through a breath. “Come for me.” You reached down to rub your clit and when your orgasm crashed over you, Emmett quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth, muffling what would’ve been a mix of a scream and a moan. You stared down at him with furrowed brows as your body trembled with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you. 

He cursed under his breath when your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock almost too tight, sending him over the edge as well. You only had to endure the overstimulation for a few seconds while he continued bucking up into you, riding it out. His grunts and breathy moans were creating a new pool of arousal in your stomach, but he was done before he could get you worked up all over again. 

When he relaxed his grip, you accidentally sunk down all the way, making you both wince from the sensitivity. You were still panting and Emmett was in a similar state, but he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss anyway. It was short, but still deep and passionate, leaving you even more breathless. 

“I’m going to look into building higher walls for the fence so you can start tanning naked.” His lips were curled up into a poorly concealed smirk. “Just so you don’t get tan lines, obviously...” He said coyly, making you laugh. 

I think I want to write more for them cause I really like their dynamic so send me some ideas <3

[techwrecker]

platonic Logan howlett x kid reader where Logan takes the kid under his wing because the reader didn’t have like, parents anymore???

Intentions (Mutations)

Summary: After living on the streets for years, Logan takes it upon himself to make sure you're taken care of after your mutation develops.

Genre: Fluff?, light angst?

Tags: SFW platonic!logan, gn!kid!reader, not really fluff but not really angst, logan goes dad mode again

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: Thank you for sending in the ask! I hope you enjoy what I have! This is the longest piece I've written yet. Please keep in mind, that I jumbled the already incoherent timeline a little bit- I hope that's okay! Let me know if there are any grammar/spelling errors please. as always, reblogs, likes, & comments are always appreciated ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

AO3//Taglist Sign-up

Other: dividers by @moosgraphics & @bunnysrph (tysm!)

The man standing at the mouth of the alley wasn't the usual kind of grungy, scoundrel that you were used to seeing. He was wearing a slick leather jacket over a pristine, white undershirt. His facial hair was well-kept and stylized unlike the scraggly, long beards that most around here men touted. His hair was seemingly done with a little tuft sticking out atop either side of his head. He could have just had bedhead or hat-hair, but they were too pointed to not be intentional. Ever since you were a kid, your intuition had never led you astray.

'''D'jya hear me, kid? I asked what the hell are y'doin' out in the cold all alone for." His voice was rocky and gruff, but it wasn't slurred or subdued by the weight of yellowed alcohol. You were surprised he even spotted you, huddled up against the frozen dumpster in the alley.

"Got nowhere else to go." You shrugged, attempting to retain the illusion of being unconcerned despite the wicked chill seeping beneath your layers. It wouldn't be long until the bite of winter dug its way deep into your body, carving you out and rattling your bones.

Living on the streets alone wasn't easy, especially in the winter. It had been about three years since your parents disappeared. You were yet but a tender 11 years old. At first, it was nice not having anyone around to make you get up early and go to school. But the days turned to weeks. Crying yourself to sleep night after night snuggled in deep between the fluffy pillows and lifeless covers of your parents' bed became your routine.

Eventually, the police came around after negligence reports by the school. You knew if you stayed alone any longer, you'd be taken away by force, sent off to live with strangers. Something in your stomach made it turn, telling you to run away. That bad things would happen if you stuck around. So, you packed up what your tiny frame could carry and struck out on your own, leaving the only home you had ever known.

"C'mere." He beckoned you out of the shadow with one hand and stuck it back in his jacket pocket. "Y'r gonna freeze if you stay out here any longer."

Under normal circumstances, letting strange men call you towards them late at night was a death wish, but there was something deep in your gut that told you it was safe to trust him. Besides, anywhere had to be better than in an odorous alley behind a slimy bar.

You shuffled to your feet, gripping the threadbare blanket tighter around your shoulders. You were just about to outgrow it. The ragged edge barely touched the tops of your feet anymore. Despite the trusting feeling that had wedged itself in your mind, you kept one eye on the man as you hoisted your grimy backpack onto your shoulder.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers, y’know," you said, cautiously getting closer to him.

"Yeah, well, you're also not supposed to be outside when it's 20 below."

You were now within arms reach of him. He lifted his arm out of his pocket, toward you. Instinctually, you flinched, using the backpack as a shield to cover you from any contact he might attempt.

"Relax, 'm not gonna hurt ya." He lifted his hand back in a surrendered position. "Just wanted to carry y'r pack for ya is all."

You peeked back around at him. Gingerly, you slid the backpack off your blanketed arm. You extended it to him, grip still secure on the strap. The man grabbed the other strap, but you didn't let go.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why’re you helping me?"

"'Cause I’mma bleedin' heart for the youth a tha nation, that's why," he retorted sarcastically.

You tugged the pack slightly back towards your chest. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand. Letting go of the strap, he stuffed both hands back into his pockets.

"Listen kid, y' remind me of someone 's all. I just wanna make sure you’re taken care of." He shrugged.

You stared at him silently, assessing him. Delicate flurries of snow started to fall from the sky. They nestled gently on the tips of his tufts creating a light blanket. The icy fluff reflected in the harsh streetlamp, mimicking a halo. You looked into his eyes. There was a genuine sincerity in them. That trusting feeling was pulling at your conscience again.

“‘Kay… but I’m watching you, old man.”

It wasn’t a joke, but he gave a little chuckle and shook his head, amused. He mumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite make out. Something about ‘christ’ and ‘regrets’.

“Whatever y’say, bub. You’re the boss here.” He started walking off down the street, expecting you to follow suit. You shrugged the heavy bag back onto your shoulder and started after him, slightly trailing behind him, just beyond his reach.

“So what’s your name?” You asked.

“Logan,” he said simply, not even bothering to look behind his shoulder.

Logan. It was a surprisingly mundane name. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t that.

“Just Logan?” If you were going to let the stranger lead you to an even stranger location, you should at least know his full name to give the police if things went south.

“Yeah. Kid, I don’t got all night. Get a move on.” He sounded annoyed.

But it was his fault you were tagging along in the first place, you thought. Whatever. 

You picked up the pace in a light trot to catch up with him, careful not to slide on the now-slick sidewalk. You were walking side-by-side with him now, but using up twice the effort to stay in step. Logan was tall, taking long strides to get to the unknown destination quickly. 

As you walked, you admired the frosty blanket beginning to layer the frozen city. Pale drifts of snow piling in corners glittered under bright street lamps, reflection shifting with every step. It may have been freezing, but even you had to admit, the untouched, pure snow was beautiful. The street was a silent beauty.

“So who is it?” You probed carefully.

“Hm? Who?”

“The person I remind you of. Who is it?”

“Oh, uh,” he started. “Her name’s Laura.” His voice softened at her name.

“Laura. Pretty. Is she your daughter?” Your intuition prompted you to ask.

“Yeah,” he replied shortly. Apparently, he was a man of few words. He let his head hang for a moment, watching his feet drag through the graying slurry. You watched as he inhaled sharply and lifted his head back up, staring straight ahead stoically, not paying you any mind.

The rest of the trip was made in freezing silence. You were still at his side, but slightly out of his arm’s reach. He was still a stranger, after all. It turned out his apartment building was only a few blocks from where you had been hunkered down. 

His keys jangled as he pulled them out of his pocket. The lock clicked open with a solid thunk. Warm, yellow light spilled out from the doorway onto the concrete steps and frozen metal railing. Logan gestured with his arm, prompting you to step in first. You didn’t like it when people stood where you couldn’t see them, but the comforting glow of the apartment was beckoning you in. He stepped through the threshold after you and shook out the snow that had nestled in his tufts of hair. They were starting to droop slightly as the snow melted in the warmth of his home.

He slipped his arms from his jacket and tossed it on a nearby table. You took in the space he called home. It was obvious that he lived here alone, a bachelor. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the plaid couch in the corner of the living room. Much like your blanket, it was becoming threadbare with pieces of stuffing starting to poke out from the arm rests. It was calling your weary, frozen name. You tore your eyes away to put together the rest of the space. A worn-in recliner propped toward a small television set, a coffee table covered in various newspapers, a few amber beer bottles and crushed aluminum cans. The space wasn’t grimy, just a little cluttered.

“Are y’hungry?” He was walking away, further into his home, toward the kitchen. You stood there, unmoving. It had been about three years since you had set foot in a nice, proper home. You were almost brought to tears.

“Yeah. Always.” 

Logan gave you a small smile and began pulling out ingredients.

You walked toward the kitchen, keeping your snow-crusted boots on and still bundled by your blanket and backpack. Though Logan’s home was exceptionally warmer than outside, the chill of the snow had taken root in your chest and had spread its way through your appendages. It would take you a while yet to thaw.

“How d’ya feel about grilled cheese?” The skillet was already warming on the stovetop and Logan had begun spreading butter across the two pieces of bread. Your mouth watered at the sight. The familiar pang of hunger ripped through your stomach. You almost wanted to tell him to nix the stove altogether so you could eat as soon as possible.

“I feel excellent about grilled cheese,” you said instead, gently tugging on one of the chairs at the small dining table. You sat cautiously on the edge of the seat. There were deep scratches gouged across the wooden tabletop. This was not typical wear and tear.

What on earth could have caused that? You wondered. Upon seeing the scratches, your over-active intuition strangely made you feel more at home. Apparently, there was more to this Logan guy than meets the eye.

He peeked at you from his peripheral vision, gauging your reaction to the gouges. You gave him a shrug. 

“Accidents happen,” you said, making yourself sink further back into the chair. You played it off as if the scratches were only a water ring made by an overly condensated glass sans coaster. Overcome with exhaustion and finally warming up, you decided to let yourself relax a little.

He smiled, like you had stumbled upon an inside joke he held only with himself. Though mostly humorous, the smile held a dash of contempt inside it.

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Not knowing what else to say, you took in the rest of the apartment. The windows were covered with yellowing slatted blinds, chips and cracks scattered throughout. The checkered linoleum floor probably hadn’t seen a mop for months. You couldn’t judge him too harshly though. In fact, you weren’t in a place to judge him at all. He led you off the street with pure intentions and into a warm home. 

The delicious smell emanating from the stove curled its way to you, tugging at your already-growling stomach. Logan reached into the skillet and flipped the sandwich with his bare hand. It was not a delicate pinch at the corners and he didn’t even wince or make any indication that the sandwich was hot at all. Strange.

“How’d you do that?” Your curiosity got the better of you.

“Magic.”

“Magic isn’t real. C’mon, tell me how you did it,” you begged.

“How ‘bout this,” he started. “Let’s make a deal. You ask a question, I ask a question. A trade off.”

You weighed the pros and cons. If the only exchange for satiating your curiosity was him prying into your own life, you came to the conclusion that it would be worth it.

You realized you were desperate for somebody to want to care about you. All you had known for the past few years was solidarity and seclusion. You had been in a constant state of fight or flight mode ever since running away from your parentless home. You just wanted somebody to want to look after you again.

“Okay, deal.”

“Great. I’ll start.” He set the plated sandwich down in front of you and took the other chair at the table. It creaked as he sat, as if it were straining every splinter to carry his weight. He certainly had a sturdy frame, but he was not by any means a big man. Strange again.

“Thanks,” you finished. It came out flatly, but you were genuinely grateful.

“Y’r welcome, kid.”

Careful so as not to scarf it down too quickly, you held the golden, crispy sandwich delicately between your dirty fingers, pulling it apart. The hot, gooey insides webbed between the pieces. Logan watched you take the first bite, letting you savor the first real meal you’d had in who knows how long before he asked his first question. It was cheesy, savory bliss. You could have cried, it was so tasty. It trailed warmth down your torso as you ate, taking bigger and faster bites. Before you knew it, you were licking your greasy fingers clean.

“Want another?” Logan asked.

“Yes please.” You were still starving. “Does that count as your question?” 

He smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Does that count as yours?” 

“Guess not.” You smiled back at him, sheepishly.

He took out two more pieces of bread and began on sandwich number two. You could tell he had done this before, taking care of young kids. He had a paternal instinct and it showed. He was slightly standoffish, but not so much that it was completely awkward. There was no ulterior motive behind his actions, you felt he just truly wanted to take care of you.

“‘Alright, bub. Why are y’on the street?”

You knew this question was coming, and yet your heart still skipped a beat, soaked with anxiety.

“I sort of ran away, but it’s not what you think.” You paused, seeing if he would interject. He didn’t make an attempt, so you continued. “I didn’t run away because I wanted to. I ran away because I had to. My parents disappeared and the police started coming around and I didn’t want to-”

“Hold on,” he cut you off. “Your parents disappeared and your bright idea was to run away? That’s probably the stupidest thing you coulda done.”

Embarrassment and annoyance prickled your cheeks. Logan was still a stranger to you, but you felt oddly compelled to defend your actions, to make him see your side.

“Yeah, well it’s better than being an orphan and forced into foster care. Placed with a family who couldn’t care less about you than the dirt on the ground!” You shot back.

The apartment was suddenly more than warm enough. It was almost sweltering. You twisted your shoulder out from under the strap of the backpack and shrugged off the blanket, letting it fall behind you. You felt a little dizzy as your heart pounded, loud against your chest. You were already weak from scraping together food all the time. Burning sweat began to bead against your hairline and coat your palms.

Logan turned his back to you, facing the stove. “Still seems stupid t’me. How long’ve ya been livin’ like this?” His voice was muffled, like cotton balls had been shoved in your ears. 

Suddenly, a chorus of pounding, pulsing sounds arose and started to drown out everything else. It surged to such a volume, you instinctually pressed your hands against your ears in an attempt to dampen it. It did nothing. The noise was inside your head. There was no stopping it. Your vision started to blur and you blinked hard, trying to rid the fuzz and dizziness with no avail. You opened your mouth to yell and felt the muscles in your throat move, but you couldn’t tell if any sound escaped. Your conscience was slipping, but the grip of the noise wouldn’t let you go. It was only getting louder, more painful. 

You must have made some kind of sound because a fuzzy, Logan-shaped form was moving toward you, seemingly in slow motion. You were slipping out of the seat in pain. He caught you in his muscled arms, right before your head hit the ground. He was yelling something at you, but you couldn’t make out what it was. His lips were moving desperately, his eyes frightened.

Logan was the last thing you saw before your mind surrendered to the stress of the noise, finally descending into unconsciousness.

Your eyes tried to open, fluttering against the bright, white lights on the ceiling. It was too bright to open them fully, but you adjusted fairly quickly. The room was made of sleek metal with a circular door on the opposite wall. It wasn’t a hospital, but it had the feeling of one. It was more unfamiliar and eerily quiet aside from a monitor’s steady beeping. The bed you were laying in looked like it came straight out of an exam room. You looked down at yourself. A tube was sticking out of the crook of your elbow, drips of a translucent liquid sliding into your veins.

The pounding noise in your head had ebbed to a dull ache instead of the throbbing pulse it was before. How much time had passed between Logan’s kitchen and now? Where was he? Had he just abandoned you in this strange room by yourself? You felt your heartbeat quicken in anxiety and as it did, the ache grew stronger. There must be a connection between the two. You had so many questions and nobody was around to answer them.

Just as you were about to start freaking out, the round door opened with a swoosh, the panels disappearing into either side of the wall. You sat up, startled. An older bald man in a wheelchair, a smartly-dressed woman with deep red hair, and the slightly-more-familiar Logan came into the room. The pounding noise and your heartbeat slowed back to normal at the sight of him, but three more louder, of sync beats took its place. The noise got louder as they got closer. Wincing, you wanted to cover your ears, to prepare for the worst. You didn’t want to pass out again or have to endure the painful drumming against your head.

“Ah, welcome back to the world of the conscious,” the bald man said, getting closer to you. His physical voice could barely be heard above the noise, but it somehow reverberated in your mind. “You gave our Logan quite a scare. That is a very difficult thing to do.” There was a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

You looked to Logan. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, still in the same outfit you last saw him in. Dark denim, white undershirt, boots. Maybe hardly any time had passed at all.

“Thanks… what happened?” You asked the trio. Your voice was hoarse from sleep. You couldn’t tell how loud, or quiet, you were being.

The woman reached over to the side table and poured a glass of water for you. Her face was beautiful and kind. She smiled sweetly at you. You took the cool glass from her and let the water soothe your throat.

“Your mutation began to manifest and you passed out,” she explained. Her lips were moving, but like the man, her voice echoed in your head, quieting the thrumming in your ears. “We aren’t quite sure what power your mutation will present itself as yet, but whatever it is, we’re here to help you.”

You looked from her to Logan, confused. The slight scowl on his face wasn’t encouraging.

“Where am I?”

“My dear, you are at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. I am Professor Charles Xavier and this is Jean Grey. Logan very wisely brought you here last night,” the man in the wheelchair said. “To our lab.”

Your eyes flickered between the strangers. The familiar feeling crept back into your gut. Your intuition told you he was telling the truth.

“If you’ll let me,” he continued with a soft smile. “I would like to utilize my mutation for your benefit. Jean and I are telepaths. I can enter your mind which might help us deduce what exactly your mutation is.”

No wonder you could hear their voices echoing in your head over the clashing, thrumming rhythms. They were projecting them into your mind.

You must have looked uneasy, because Jean placed a hand on your gown-covered shoulder, attempting to reassure you.

“It doesn’t hurt, but you will feel his presence in your mind. We just want to help you,” she said.

Again, you looked to Logan, anxious for his reassurance. Upon catching your eyes, his expression softened and he nodded slightly, giving you the go-ahead to let them help you.

You fiddled with the top sheet, nervous. It crinkled under your touch. Only hours ago you had been trying to survive the freezing temperatures alone in the dark.

They were all looking at you, expectantly. Without Jean or the Professor in your mind, the volume of the beats returned, still discordant with one another.

“Okay,” you agreed, meekly. You did not want a repeat of what happened last night. The pain was too much to bear again.

You watched the Professor close his eyes. He knit his brows together, slightly, in concentration. There was a mental push in your mind, like somebody was knocking on the door, asking to be let in. You obliged. As he began combing through the files of your brain, searching for answers to whatever your new-found ‘mutation’ might hold, you noticed one of the rhythms sped up a hair quicker. Logan’s scowl returned, eyes laced with concern.

Jean was right, it didn’t hurt, but it did feel a bit like an intrusion. However, you knew it was all for your benefit and would be for the best in the long run. You kept your eyes on Charles Xavier the entire time, hoping your own concentration on him would be helpful in some way. After a few, long, minutes, the Professor retreated from your mind and opened his eyes again.

“Well, my dear, it seems you have a mental ability as well,” he began. “You have the ability to hear heartbeats that are in close proximity to yourself, and in turn deduce the intentions of another person.”

“That’s what the pounding is? Heartbeats?”

“You can hear all three of ours currently, correct?” he asked.

“Yes.” For some reason, it felt like you were violating their privacy. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and your hands returned to folding the sheets between your fingers.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, you know. You’re special. Like us,” Jean said, smiling gently. She grabbed a metal clipboard with complicated-looking charts attached to it, flipping over the pages until she found the form she was looking for. She took the pen from behind her ear and jotted something down. You assumed it was a description of your ‘mutation’, or ‘power’, or whatever they call it.

“Why is this happening to me?” You asked quietly into the air, to nobody in particular. Your eyes were still trained on your nervous fingers. The burning in your face grew stronger, an angry red. Hot tears stung your waterline and the tip of your nose prickled with emotion.

Logan unfolded his arms, causing you to watch him through tear-filled vision cross the room and sit on the edge of your unfamiliar bed. His heartbeat grew louder as he got closer. You could see his lips moving, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. He looked at you expectantly, but all you could do was look at the Professor, silently asking for help. You watched him say something to Logan, probably telling him you couldn’t hear anything over the constant noise in your mind. The Professor closed his eyes again and again, the rhythms quieted to a hush. You looked back to Logan, the Professor still concentrating.

“You’re a mutant, kid. Simple as that,” he said, eyes full of tender but resolved concern. “But ‘m gonna take care of ya. Make sure y’r comfortable here.”

“H-here?” Your teary eyes went wide, your own heart speeding up anxiously. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna attend the school here with Jean an’ the Professor an’ me. You’ll learn how’da not let your power control you.”

“You’re a mutant too?”

“Especially him,” Jean cut in.

Logan gave her an irritated look, but raised both fists in front of his face. In a split second, long, metal claws shot out from between his knuckles into the open. You gasped. He carefully brought them down, letting you inspect them. You lightly pressed a delicate finger against the tip of one of the claws. It was freezing cold and razor sharp. A scarlet drop of blood fell from your fingerprint, staining the sterile sheet. He retracted the claws and you watched as the slits quickly stitched themselves back together.

It suddenly all became too much. The tears involuntarily spilled down your pink cheeks, overcome with the developments. Mutations, telepaths, claws … nothing made sense anymore. 

The quiet sobs wracked your small frame and as the emotions overtook you, the thrumming rhythms returned, making it all so much worse. Logan pulled you into his arms in a tight hug, pressing your head to his chest. His loud heartbeat was steady and strong. Reliable and solid. It overpowered everybody else’s rhythms, drowning them out. He let your tears soak through his once-pristine undershirt as you processed everything, his thumbs smoothing circles against your covered shoulder blades. You tried to focus on his grounding touch, tried to bring the tears to a halt. After what felt like an eternity, they finally slowed.

Finally, you pulled away from him. His heartbeat was still the only one you could hear. You looked around the metal room, swiping at your eyes. It was empty except for you and Logan. Jean and the Professor must have left some time ago, but you hadn’t heard their heartbeats soften.

He let go of you completely and picked up the chart Jean had been holding. He quickly scribbled something and flipped it to face you. ‘Feel better?’ he wrote.

You smiled and nodded, almost laughing at his solution to communication.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said. He only smiled in response, knowing you couldn’t hear him. “Now what?”

He held up a finger, asking for a moment, and reached toward the side table. He picked up a device that looked like a small disk, a couple inches thick. Pulling on either side revealed a metal wire that retracted back into the device when the disks were brought together again. The insides of the disks had padding in them. He brought it around behind your head and placed either end over your ears. 

Silence. Quiet. Peace.

You let out a sigh of relief. Logan’s pounding heartbeat was brought down to a manageable pulse. Even the rushing sound of the air conditioner and low hum of the electricity flowing through the lightbulbs couldn’t be heard anymore.

“Better?” He asked. 

You heard him! His voice was no longer fighting to be heard amongst the drum of his heartbeat. It was loud and clear. You burst into a smile.

“Yes,” you said, reaching back across the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck enthusiastically. He almost lost his balance against your grateful hug.

“C’mon, let’s go find Charles. Y’r gonna love it here.”

You let Logan lead you out of the lab and into the unknown for the second time in twenty-four hours. But this time it was different. You now knew that the trusting, gut-feeling you had about him was your mutation sensing his intentions all along. You knew he was going to make sure you were taken care of and continue to do so long into the future. It’s just the kind of man he is. The caregiver, the protector. He’s Logan.

[chuuyascumsock]

My Pride, My Poor— Dwindling Pride. || Minors DNI

Summary: I’ve never felt so utterly stressed out writing dominant men. Here’s your cake so you can eat it too, you filthy animals.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Afab reader, Top Chuuya, Bondage, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Brat Taming, Throat Fucking, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex, Lowkey Hand Kink, Ok— Highkey Hand Kink, I Don’t Hold Back With Obscene Descriptions Now Because I Don’t Care Anymore And All My Friends Know I Have A Pegging Kink Already So Fuck It, I’m Pulling Out The Big Guns.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you made your way into executive Chuuya Nakahara’s office with a bitter expression on your face and a fussy attitude. Taking it even further— you knew exactly how vexed it made him when you threw a stack of files upon his desk with some less-than-savory comments spewing past your vulgar lips. You wanted to take it out on someone and you didn’t care who fell victim to your sour mood. You hardly even remember what you said, so peeved off that you could barely think.

But it must’ve been directed forwards Chuuya with the twisted look of perplexion and irate on his face.

You don’t even spare him a look as you turn abruptly to leave— only to pause when hearing the gritting tone of Chuuya, “Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are coming into my office like that?” He seethes, thin brows furrowing into his glabella.

Teeth clack into a clench as you spin on your heel to face him, face scrunched up with frustration. With your mind too jumbled of the earlier events of your teammates detrimental fuck up on the recent mission you just got back from— you keep quiet with a glare. Anthracite eyes glare back at you, a fire beginning to kindle and burn behind his gaze.

If you had been anyone else, surely you wouldn’t have been standing for any longer than three seconds unharmed after disrespecting Chuuya in such a way.

But your relationship with Chuuya was a strange one.

“Have you forgotten your status? Because you have some nerve coming in here, throwing shit on my desk, insulting me under your breath, and then thinking that you can just waltz out like you own the goddamn place.” Chuuya snaps, his left hand gripping his pen that’s now visibly bending from his wrath. His right hand is clenched into a fist by his papers.

Your eyes linger on his gloved hands for a moment before trailing back to his eyes. You also note the way his hat that he normally wears is sitting on a nearby hat-rack. It seems the tension and festering anger were planting small thoughts within your mind. Thoughts that were meant to be kept outside of work when no one else was there to witness a different side of the man in front of you.

You had a new plan than just to piss off anyone who came across your path.

“Whatever.”

All it takes is a clipped— one worded response, and you know his patience that tenses against a string thins to its last thread.

There’s a suffocating pressure that constricts your body before you drop to your knees. You find yourself unable to move as Chuuya stands from his desk chair, legs screeching against the hard floor. “Are we really doing this right now?” He walks around the desk, his shoes clipping the ground brutally as he comes to stand in front of you. “Is this how it’s going to be today?” His chin tilts downwards to look you in the eyes sternly as his arms cross over his chest.

You don’t say anything in return, merely biting the inside of your cheek as you debate whether he was on the same page or genuinely about to kick your shit in. You take the chance and snarkily reply, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it?”

Chuuya swipes his tongue across the bottom row of his teeth in exasperation as he glares in borderline amusement at your attitude and his arms fall to his sides. “Apologize.”

A short laugh slips past your lips before you spit out, “No.”

His glare only hardens and his fingers clench into the palms of his gloves tightly, “Apologize, now.”

“Make me,” You tilt your chin up to stare directly at him with a challenging look.

You note the burning stare that pierces back at you in utter disbelief and silence from your words, his lips parting slightly, “… What did you just say to me?”

Your eyelids lull with mirth, “I said— make me.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before his bray laughter spills throughout his office as if he had been delusionally imagining the whole interaction and your blatant audacity. It wears off quickly into a grinning scowl as you’re manhandled off the floor and thrown to bend over Chuuya’s desk. Various papers, files, and pens fly off and scatter to the ground as you choke out a breathless gasp and attempt to catch your breath. There’s not much room to struggle with the effects of his ability pinning you down in place.

One of Chuuya’s gloved hands splay across your wrists to clasp around them tightly, his leathered fingers biting into your skin. He releases his ability as he leans over you, his front pressing tightly against your back.

“I am going to fucking ruin you,” His voice rasps into a growl.

You hiss through your teeth with each struggled breath before biting into your lower lip as he continues, “I’m sick of your prissy fucking attitude today, if you want to act like a damn brat— I guess I’ll just have to fuck it out of you, huh?” He grits out as his body weighs down further into your backside, giving you the feel of his strained bulge confined in his slacks against your ass.

Your breath hitches before falling into heavier sighs as your heart pounds against your rib cage and your thighs rub together in anticipation.

Chuuya notices and a scoff escapes him, “You can’t be serious.” His lips twitch indecisively as he doesn’t know whether to frown in annoyance or laugh at your absurd reasoning behind your antagonistic actions. “That’s what you wanted? Un-fucking-believable…” He chuckles softly before it gradually grows sinister and then trails off, “You have quite the mouth on you— always rambling those pretty lips away any other time just fine. But you couldn’t use your words to ask me to fuck you? You just had to rile me up— c’mon now, Doll, you’re better than that.”

You breathe in and out through your nose heavily a few times as your voice comes out strained from the pressure in your chest, “You… I… You’re hot when you’re mad.”

Chuuya’s brows arch at your revelation, his eyes scanning over how you try to squirm under his grip. It doesn’t take long for what you said to settle in and an arrogant grin crosses his lips, “Am I now? Huh, I‘ll remember that for next time then… For now…” His grip on your wrists tighten and the other comes down to your stockings, ”Why don’t I remind you of your place that you’ve seemingly forgotten?” His fingers dig into the nylon fabric of your pantyhose under your skirt before the tearing of fabric rips through your ears.

“You dick..! Those were my only pair!” You yelp and wriggle, kicking your feet at his shins.

Chuuya ignores you, continuing to speak over your struggles, “You know, you should be on your knees sucking my dick for forgiveness right about now,” He sighs, “But as usual— you’re spoiled and I can’t help but indulge in your wants for the moment.” A gloved finger moves your underwear to the side before easily sinking into your slick pussy.

A whine escapes your throat, toes stretching your body forward in an attempt to escape the teasing and unfulfilling touch of one finger. His other hand keeps you pinned and from moving anywhere as his finger slides in and out tediously as a means to drag on your frustration and need.

“Maybe it’s my fault for giving you everything you’ve wanted, and even till now,” Chuuya growls the last part to himself as another finger stuffs itself into your sopping cunt. “Y’know— you’re so fuckin’ lucky I can’t help myself when it comes to you, or things would’ve went a lot more differently today.” He huffs, mindlessly dragging and scissoring his leather clad fingers against your soft walls. “I get enough shit from the other bastards who think they have enough balls to even turn their noses up in my direction.”

“M’sorry, Chuu—“ Your voice pitches off into a moan as his digits curl and press into a familiar and sensitive spot.

Chuuya chuckles and goes back to slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, “I don’t care now, I know what you really want— but use your words next time instead of makin’ me think I did somethin’ wrong to deserve your attitude, ‘kay, Doll?”

You nod in return, though it’s subtle with how much you’ve already melted under his touch. Your eyelids flutter and you mumble about how you won’t don’t it again before your body tenses and a short, soft cry slips out from the sudden change in pace of his fingers that piston into you.

“Don’t think that you’re not going to be punished for your little stunt earlier just because you said sorry, though,” He clicks, pulling his fingers all the way out and slapping his wet digits against your clit. “You’re going to have to put that mouth to use for a proper apology.”

Blood rushes to your face and up the nape of your neck as a whimper creeps through, turbulent jolts of excitement flip in your lower stomach at his actions before hearing the subtle noise of his belt clinking. You only grow restless further as he nearly rips the belt from his pants to wrap the leather around your wrists, keeping them bound to your back. Chuuya slips an index finger into the loop of the tied belt, tugging you to stand up before you’re spun around and pushed by the shoulders to fall to your knees.

Your eyes set on his hard cock in front of your face, pre-cum weeping from the tip down his length. He wraps a gloved hand around his girth, stroking himself slowly as a smug grin presents itself on his face. His chin tilts down to look at you, index finger and thumb digging into your cheeks to unhinge your jaw.

“Open wide for me, Doll.”

The taste of his bitter cum has your mouth watering, tip gliding along your tongue until it nudges past your uvula and bullies the back of your throat softly. Your throat convulses around him before you gag, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as you breathe through your nose.

Chuuya groans, his hand moving from your jaw to weave through your hair, tugging the locks to strain against your scalp. He pulls you forward until your nose is buried against the happy trail leading down his lower stomach to his groin. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself choking on my cock right now,” He shakily breathes out as his eyes burn the image into his mind.

You pant heavily through your nose— or at least you try to— finding it hard to breathe with his cock stuffed half-way down your throat.

It isn’t until a few seconds later that he draws his hips back, allowing air to fill your lungs for a moment before bucking into your throat once more as he holds your head in place. Your fingers clench as your wrists jolt against the belt— an involuntary urge to dig your nails into his thighs clawing at you. There’s no build up in speed as he skips right into fucking your throat like a personal fleshlight, every thrust bruising your soft palate. Your whimpers are drowned out by the wet squelching of his girth slipping in and out of the convulsing walls of your throat along with Chuuya’s grunts and half-assed bitten back moans.

“Fuuuck, I could just come down your pretty fuckin’ throat like this,” He gasps before another guttural groan leaves him. Then, he lets out a breathy, rugged laugh as his eyes watch you leeringly, “Christ, Doll, you’re makin’ a mess.” He points out, a mix of his pre-cum and your saliva splatters against your chin messily every time he touches the back of your throat.

It takes a few more thrusts until he forces himself to pull out, leaving you coughing and sputtering violently. You gasp for air greedily through your mouth after he pulls out, tears spilling over from the coughing fit. He lifts your chin with a hand and wipes away his pre-cum mixed with your snot dripping from your nose with a satisfied grin. “God, you’re so good f’me, Doll,” He borderline slurs over his words before pulling you back up to your feet and pushing you back onto his desk.

The hardwood is uncomfortable underneath you as your arms are still tied and pressing into your back, but you’re too light headed and burning with need to notice. Chuuya is quick to shove his way past your thighs and bury himself inside you to the hilt. It takes everything in him not to come with your tight, sopping pussy clenching around him. You swear you can hear him whimper quietly into your chest as he presses his hips flush against yours.

“Please, please fuck me, I need to come s’bad, Chuu,” You plead weakly as tears dry against your cheeks, throat raw and sore from his relentless deep throating just prior moments ago.

He shudders at your broken voice before slowly grinding his hips against you, “Gimme a damn minute,” He growls before panting, “Or I’ll fuckin’ come right now.”

Your head drops back to rest against the desk as you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles at his lower back, the heels of your feet spurring him on to move.

His grinding turns into brief and shallow thrusts before he’s snapping his hips into you roughly, his hands finding purchase to grip at the edge of his desk on either side of your head. His forehead presses into your sternum as he desperately drives his cock as far as he can into your welcoming heat, pre-cum and slick frothing at the base of his length with every thrust.

Quickly, he reaches a hand down between your bodies to press and rub against your aching clit. Your lips part as pitchy moans and mewls fall through, the familiar knotting feeling in your lower stomach growing tenfold as your back arches into Chuuya. “M’gonna come, please— I can’t, I’m— fuck,” You ramble incoherently as you rut your hips to meet his thrusts, skin slapping wet aginst one another.

“I know, Doll, I know— Shit, you’re squeezing around my cock so fuckin’ tight,” He grits, eyes clenching shut as his hips begin to stutter and rolls your clit between his thumb and index finger.

A choked whine drags out as your legs tighten around him to bring him as close as possible and your body shudders violently under him as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Chuuya follows after a few more thrusts with a graveled moan, his cock burying itself as deep as possible as his cum smothers your walls in warmth.

He collapses against you, red in the face and covered in sweat that makes his bangs stick to his forehead and cheeks. You’re not much different aside from the occasional shiver from the aftermath. A few moments go by before you heavily sigh and your breathing steadies along with his.

“God damn…” He murmurs against the skin of your sternum before placing a soft peck over your calming heart. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me, Doll,” He picks his head up and leans over, pressing his lips against yours in a lingering kiss.

“Sorry,” You respond apathetically.

His brows scrunch together and his eyes squint, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Cause m’not really,” You tiredly grin, earning a quiet scoff from him.

“You’re something else.”

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[zoromuse]

want you (need you) pt. 2 | headcannons

taking an aphrodisiac with them and seeing who gives in first.

characters. Portgas D. Ace, Trafalgar Law, Shanks, Nico Robin

general cw. aphrodisiacs (obv)

a/n. based on this and this ask. also tagging @h3rfave bc she seemed to want robin a lot for these headcanons. thank you for all the support on the first part, hope yall like this one just as much <3

part one

PORTGAS D. ACE

cw. slight manhandling, squirting

I think he’d be the one to suggest it, he’s really open to trying anything in bed.

He immediately regrets it, the feeling is so strong, he’s never wanted you as much as he wants you now, but he’s trying to hide it. 

He’ll put his hat over his lap, trying to hide the boner he got just from seeing you on the other side of the room, just as horny as he is, yet you look more composed about it. 

He’ll walk over and throw you on his shoulder as he takes you to bed, and he doesn’t need to say anything to know you won’t be leaving his arms any time soon. 

“Take your fucking hand off, I wanna hear you” he says, referring to the hand over your mouth that muffled all of your moans. You couldn’t, not with all the embarrassing sounds you were making, so you shake your head “no” with teary eyes, hoping he’ll take a pity on you.

He doesn’t.

He’s quick to wrap his hand around your wrist and pull it back, making you gasp at the sheer force of his grip, or maybe it was because of the strength of his thrusts, you don’t know anymore.

Everything is so messy, your sweaty bodies are pressed against each other, your pebbled nipples graze against his chest, bringing all the more stimulation to your body. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, but you’re so sensitive to every single one of his touches, it’s almost humiliating. You’re so close, and he can tell with the way you’re becoming more vocal, your moans just a few octaves short from being downright pornographic.

“Ace, Ace-!” you say, throwing your head back, feeling your orgasm take over your body, shaking and trembling under his unrelenting grip. “‘m gonna… mmm fuck, Ace!”

“That’s it, cum f’me” he pulls out and swipes his fingers across your clit while your juices squirt out against your will, too fucked out to even notice the mess you were making of his sheets.

TRAFALGAR LAW

cw. lowkey mean dom law, lots of dirty talk, mirror sex, full nelson, mentions of dumbification

You’d have to provoke him in order to get him to agree.

“What, you’re afraid you can’t handle it?” 

He tries to keep his usual facade, even though the sweat on his forehead gives it away.

You’d have to be the first to give in, he’s too prideful to ask for it. 

He’s definitely going to tease you all night about it too. 

“Look at that” he says, pointing to the large mirror in front of you, and you’re embarrassed at what your reflection shows. You have a mess of tears and drool running down your cheeks, and what’s more, he’s holding your legs with his arms hooked around the back of your head, putting your cunt on full display for the mirror.

“And I’m the one who can’t handle it? Look how much you’re creaming around me” he says, fucking into you at an agonizingly fast pace. He’s so fast, so deep, it’s too much. He was right, you were the one who couldn’t handle it.

You’re leaking like a faucet down there, your slick covering his cock and leaving the prettiest ring of white around the base of his cock.

“Oh… you got tighter when I said that, you like creaming around my cock, huh? You’re such a messy little bitch”. He’s right, you’re being so messy, crying his name out in hopes he’ll take it easier on you, but he’s not stopping any time soon. “Are you gonna cum again? That’s right, make a mess for me. I’m not done though, I’ll make sure to fuck you until you go dumb, see if you can handle that, pretty”.

SHANKS

cw. manhandling if you squint, a little bit of dirty talk

I think he’s willing to take it, but he definitely won’t be giving in first. 

He’s gone for long periods of time sometimes, so he’s familiar with this feeling. 

And as much as he loves you and wants nothing more than to bend you over and fuck you until you’re babbling nonsense, he also really wants the satisfaction of winning, so you’re definitely going to have to give in first.

“Aw, giving up so soon, that’s a shame”

His big hands hold you in place when he enters you, pushing past the ring of tightness to be wrapped in your walls. 

“So good for me, taking it all like a good girl” he whispers, his chest is pressed to your back and his breath shuddered against your skin, making you arch into his touch. 

“You’re so wet, were you thinking about me?” he asks. Of course you were, who else could you be thinking about but the man who knows exactly how to touch you to make you melt in his hands? “Did you need me to take care of you, huh?”

“Yes, need you so bad, S-Shanks… want more, please!” you say, and as soon as you do, his hand is pushed against the back of your head, pushing you into the pillow that muffles all of your moans as he fucks you harder. 

“You want more? This pretty pussy’s already sucking me in, and you want more?” he says, laughing at your mindless request, but if that’s what you wanted, he’d be sure to provide for you. 

NICO ROBIN

cw. oral (f!receiving), fingering, scissoring, desperate robin

Probably the most hesitant out of everyone, but still willing to try it if you’re up for it.

The only way you would be able to tell is if you payed close attention to her, the way sweat was gathering at her temple, and her legs were crossed tightly, too tightly.

I think you’d both give in at the same time, mostly you.

“I just wanna kiss you, nothing more”, and then you were doing more.

“Robin! hm…” you bite your lip, her tongue tracing experienced circles on your clit, while she used her fingers to prod at the spot that drove you crazy. 

Too soon, she stopped touching you, her slick covered finger slipping out of you, leaving you with a disappointing emptiness. 

You all but pout at this, until she’s putting one of your legs over her shoulders and guiding her pussy on top of yours, her arousal mixing with your own as she’s now pressed against you.

“Need m-more,” she says, breathless, almost as if trying to explain herself. You don’t need an explanation, you quite enjoy seeing your usually composed girlfriend this desperate. 

You’re reveling in the sight of her sweaty body on top of yours when she takes you by surprise and starts grinding against you. She’s different, she’s usually so calm and collected, even when it comes to sex, she likes to be gentle with you, and take her time to enjoy every moment she has. This time though, she’s messily humping you, sloppily rubbing her clit against yours in an attempt to chase the high she needs. 

You wish she would show this side of her more often, because you love the look of pure bliss she has on her face when she’s cumming, half lidded eyes that are practically begging for more, and mouth agape from calling out your name in the middle of her euphoric high, all the while still grinding into you. 

©️ quanxxiluv 2023 | all content belongs to quanxxiluv, do not modify or repost

[doodle17]

🧡💜First annual RazLili week💜🧡

Alright trying to give this a shot, so here goes nothing!

Similar to many other art challenges, there's going to be a daily prompt that you can make a drawing, fanfic, etc. With that involves a certain type of theme. This theme is Raz/Lili!

The prompts will be listed under the read more down below, but allow me to lay some stuff out that you may have questions about.

💜 First things first: You can join in whenever you want!

🧡 The event will last from September 1st-7th

💜 There will be prizes! Since I'm the only one hosting, I'll be giving people who makes something for every day, a free sketch request of a PN character/AU/OC!

🧡 Back on the topic of prizes, if you want a sketch you have to make something for EVERY DAY.

💜 If there's a chance, say, you miss a day, but decide to draw the prompt from yesterday along with today's prompt, that works too!

🧡 The tag used will be raziliweek2024! Be sure to use it so I can see your stuff! You can also use character and fandom tags so people can see it too

💜 I'm going to try and reblog every post in the tag, so there's a chance its going to take me a hot minute to get to yours. If it's been a while though and I still haven't interacted with your post, it's okay to tag me!

🧡 You can use AUs!

💜Remember, these characters are children canonicaly. Anything too far/outright NSFW will not be accepted. (NSFW also includes any extreme violence/gore)

🧡 Dont feel pressured to draw everyday, esp if you're only doing it for fun. If there's a prompt you aren't interested in/don't know what to do with, you can just skip it until the next day

If you have anymore questions feel free to send me an ask! Jsyk, I'll be participating myself this year to try and help give it more attention. As promised, here's the prompt list! (Shout out to @loudlychoppedbread @iamblue15 @feral-witch-hat for helping with some of the prompts )

👇👇👇

💜 Animals

🧡 Argue

💜 Shopping

🧡 Parallel

💜 Kiss

🧡 Radio

💜 Comfort

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Room 1011 - Eddie

Day #23 - Up and Coming | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: Sex | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Famous Corroded Coffin, Touring, Winding Down After The Gig, Long-Term Relationship, Road Manager Steve Harrington

1 Night, 4 Rooms Each is standalone, but takes place on the same hotel floor.

Eddie | Goodie | Gareth | Jeff | Steve (Bonus morning after!)

"You ready?" Steve asks, stuffing his napkin into his empty beer glass, cleaning up the area surrounding his seat at the long table they've all been occupying tonight, at the bar they found after the show.

Eddie nods, because hell yeah. If Steve's ready, he's ready. Always.

He's just grateful Steve wanted to come out at all. This far into a tour, and with all the other stress he's been under just trying to keep them up and running, he's getting worn out.

Eddie knows that. 

Plus, it'll be nice to get back to the hotel before anyone else, anyway. They can do anything they want, as loud as they want, and not have to worry about Goodie hearing through the walls. Goodie's known for annoyingly banging on adjoining walls, or once, quite memorably, calling the fucking front desk and turning in a noise complaint like he didn't know them.

Hilarious, now.

At the time, not so much, as Eddie stood in the open doorway in his robe, Goodie watching out his own open room door, fucking cackling.

Tonight, Steve's set up a car to pick them up, and it's waiting. It'll circle back to wait for everyone else when they're ready to go.

Eddie holds the door for Steve, letting him get in first. 

It's not a long ride, but Steve has relaxed into the seat, head tilted back, like he could easily fall asleep right there, lulled by the vibration of the road beneath the tires.

Eddie rubs his thigh, lazy circles with his thumb, and before they get there Steve is snoring.

"Okay, sleeping beauty," Eddie says, when they pull up under the hotel canopy. Steve wakes easily, he always does, and is up and moving. He can sleep anywhere in short bursts, but can also be back in motion at the drop of a hat.

Eddie doesn't quite understand it, he could never.

In the room, Steve sheds his clothes and flops on the bed, facedown. Eddie does the same, and crawls in after him, running his hand up and down Steve's back. 

They're spreading him too thin. They probably should have skipped the bar entirely tonight. Eddie played a full gig, sure, but he's still running on adrenaline. 

Pulling his hand back, Eddie settles into bed next to Steve, closing his eyes. 

"Why'd you stop?" Steve asks, turning his head towards Eddie. 

"So you can sleep, sweetheart," Eddie answers, leaning forward and kissing Steve's head. 

Steve rolls onto his side, "We actually have a room, all to ourselves, and not a cramped bus bunk. I'll sleep after." 

Eddie laughs, "It seems like you needed to sleep before."

Steve scoots closer and closer until he's on top of Eddie, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's back. Holding him tight. Naked skin to naked skin.

"You work too much," Eddie tells him. "Tomorrow's a day off. Sleep in. Let us handle our own shit."

Steve laughs at that, and Eddie is aware of how unrealistic of an offer it is. They don't know shit about running their own lives, not anymore. 

There's a schedule, a plan, and Steve's made it. 

"How about you do all the work tonight, and I'll relax," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. 

He'll take that deal. He'll take any deal Steve will offer him. 

"Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen, sweetheart." 

"Just love me," Steve says. 

Eddie smiles, "That's a done deal." 

Steve laughs, his chest rumbling against Eddie's. 

Eddie taps his back, "Roll over. I've got you." 

Steve does, and Eddie situates himself between Steve's thighs.

He takes Steve's cock in his hand, already hard, and Eddie just wants to look at him in the low light. Feel him. 

And yeah, love him. 

He braces one hand against Steve's hip bone, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he makes himself comfortable between Steve's legs. 

Eddie rubs Steve's dick against his bottom lip, teasing Steve, just a little, before he slides down. Tongue and hand working together. 

Steve rests his hand on Eddie's head, and it doesn't feel like he's being guided, just touched. Grounded. 

Eddie looks up, expecting that Steve's eyes will be closed, but they aren't. They're half-lidden and hazy, just watching him. Eddie smiles, or tries to, since that's kind of hard to do around a mouthful of cock.

Steve gets the message loud and clear, though, because he smiles back. Moving his hand to cup Eddie's cheek. Thumb stroking, brushing against his lip. It's a little distracting, but in the very best way.

"Come up here," Steve says, and Eddie does. Straddling his hips, leaning forward, pressing his mouth against Steve's. He knows that's what Steve wants, to kiss him. Eddie grinds down against Steve, and if he just had some lube, he'd-

Steve reaches over, and comes up with the tube, reading his mind. He always does.

Eddie slicks up his palm, gripping the pair of them, stroking both cocks as he rocks his hips and fucks against him, trying to keep his mouth on Steve's as he does it.

It feels good. His own hand on one side, Steve's hard length on the other, just sliding together, rushing headlong. 

Steve makes a noise from deep in his throat, and comes, hot over Eddie's fist and Eddie keeps working himself against Steve until he can follow him over the edge, coming with a groan right against Steve's mouth.

Eventually he lets go, and cleans them up, curling against Steve, anchoring his leg over Steve's hip.

"Sleep in tomorrow morning, okay," Eddie says.

Steve hums in agreement.

"I love you, rest," Eddie whispers.

"Love you, too."

Eddie wakes up needing to piss, and it's just after eight. Steve's already up and gone, back to work. Eddie should just stay up. There's coffee already made in the room pot, and not even the smell of that brewing woke Eddie up.

He drinks a cup, and it's getting old. Already. 

Steve's been up that long. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[genericpuff]

On your post about rather having 100 mature readers than having a large group of immature readers for your comic, in the tags you mentioned the "hanza situation". If you don't mind me asking, what's that?

So there's been talk about Hanza , the creator of The Guy Upstairs on Webtoon, supposedly wanting to drop the comic altogether due to how their fanbase ships the main characters (one of which is a serial killer) and just due to the fact they've fallen out of love with their own comic over the course of publishing it on Webtoons. The comic isn't confirmed cancelled yet, it's just what they apparently want to do and are gonna be running it by WT for approval.

Which like, yeah, I don't blame them if that's true and if they've "fallen out of love" with their work, that shit can and does happen all the time especially when your work winds up exploding to a degree that you become 'detached' from it. And I don't blame them for being ick at the fandom for their comic shipping their main characters, apparently that started when it was being pirated on another site and miscategorized as a romance when it's a horror / thriller comic but that's just what I've heard from others who do read the comic.

The actual vibe on the whole situation is unclear, they posted like last week about how the two characters were siblings which I THOUGHT was an April Fool's joke because it was legit posted on April 1st. But now apparently they actually ARE siblings? So they deadass just spoiled their comic before it was over? Though apparently this was for the purpose of trying to get their fandom to knock it off, but it's just led to people getting even more pissed because they see that as Hanza 'baiting' them into reading a dark romance comic which... it never was.

IDK man I'm getting such mixed signals off the whole thing esp because we haven't seen these DM's/emails/etc. which like... okay obviously Hanza doesn't need to share anything they're not comfortable with but there's tinfoil hat theories about them using it as a cover for just not wanting to do the comic anymore. But I don't really subscribe fully to that theory because... why? I'm just not sure which thread of logic to follow here lmao

I honestly have no fucking clue what's going on with this situation anymore because it seems to get more complicated by the day LOL I don't read The Guy Upstairs so I have zero stake in it but let's just say this - I've been on Webtoons since 2016 and am more than aware of how the WT fandom tends to behave on a regular basis, and that's just an audience that I personally don't want, regardless of how positive or negative other people's experiences are. There are people in the WT fandom who are sane and normal, yes, but I'd like to think those people are also fully capable of finding comics outside of WT if they so choose. The general demographic of WT who don't travel outside of it as I've experienced it over the years is just not one I want to tailor to so I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if Hanza was experiencing this and just wanting it to stop. Someone mentioned to me the other day that Webtoons is like the webcomic version of BookTok and ngl I couldn't agree more 💀😆

But yeah, that's about all of my knowledge on the Hanza situation lol

[nburkhardt]

Whooooo wants another silly with Steve as a little shit fic?

The idea comes when Eddie rushes out of his house to go to band practice. It makes him smile at the plan forming in his head and the excitement and gasps he’ll get tomorrow.

The next morning is spent making sure the bags are packed and that he’s wearing his basketball jacket to complete the look.

He’s giddy with excitement as he drives to school, putting one backpack on his shoulder and carrying the other once he’s parked. Walking towards the school with a smirk in place. There’s already gasps and whispers as he enters through the doors. He casually makes his way towards a row of lockers, the opposite side of his own and leans against one and knocking on the open one next to it.

“Man, it’s not even eig- Stevie!” Eddie slams his locker shut and beams at him.

His smirk fades into a smile, “Hi lovely” he whispers mostly due to the other students clearly spying on them, “You forgot this yesterday”

Eddie looks confused and he lifts up the bag, “your backpack?”

He hears more gasps and poor attempts at whispering, there’s even sounds of a book dropping. It brings him joy, making him wiggle the backpack again. “Don’t play dumb, Teddy-baby, you know this is yours”

That time he doesn’t whisper, he’s actually a little loud.

Eddie’s eyes widen and his eyes flicker around them before settling back on him, an unsaid question on his face.

It softens when it’s answered by a nod, “yeah, yeah you’re right. My backpack, you got yours?”

Steve so happy that they’re actually learning to communicate while silent, he smiles back and stands straighter to turn away. Showing off the backpack. He looked in the mirror before leaving the house, it is a big contrast to his letterman jacket. What makes it even better is, since the straps are loosen and long, his name is visible over the top.

“Ye-yep, looking perfect, Sunshine boy.” It comes out pitchy and Eddie clears his throat shaking his head before throwing his arms around him, “always, sweet boy”

Steve brightens and looping his arms around him, keeping him close and loving not only the warm of the hug but also the gasps and loud gossiping around them. That brings him joy at the chaos. Eddie seems to enjoy it too by the laughter coming from him.

“Of all the ways to reveal our relationship, honey”

It brings Steve to a blush, he tightens his arms around Eddie and turns his head to press a kiss to his cheek, enjoying the blush that creeps up.

“Thought it would be fun, let everyone know who belongs to me”

~

The edible I took is definitely hitting because this isn’t make much sense anymore but it’s SILLY AND SHORT.

Facts ya don’t need but I’m now thinking about: Steve and Eddie have only been dating for a few weeks when pulls this. It’s also a modern au because I don’t wanna think about the 80s. They still in high school and Steve is wearing Eddie’s backpack that he painted on. There’s the hellfire logo, because he’s obsessed with it. There’s also pins and patches all over it, even a ice cream cone and sailor hat, along with cheer pom-poms (am I spelling that correctly? Idk) ANYWAY. Steve’s backpack is a basic blue, with some doodles from Eddie and Robin. Because of course Robin is there, she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate.

It’s also inspired by my brand new loungefly I got 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Under the cut with the tag list 🫡

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @strangersteddierthings

THE BACKPACK! Clearly not what I’m talking about Steve wearing but it’s glorious and perfect.

[sterekbros]

constellations in the dark (3930 words) by Winchesterek Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Kira Yukimura, Erica Reyes Additional Tags: Derek Hale & Kira Yukimura Friendship, Erica Reyes & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers Summary: After 10 years, Stiles and Derek see each other in Beacon Hills again. Also for @sterekbingo, @sterekweekly, @sterekmonthly

The last thing that Stiles thought he’d be on Valentine’s Day was alone. Of course, Lydia managed to get a date which meant their best friend night celebrating unattached drifters Christmas that they didn't participate in fell through. He sighed and glanced at his phone, where the usual texts from his friends littered his notifications. Really, he didn't need their pity. All of his friends either were in a relationship or they had dates.

Stiles closed out of his notifications and ran his hands over his face. All he wanted to do was veg out and eat and watch sappy movies, which meant that he probably shouldn’t. He reluctantly got off the couch and changed into normal clothes, then grabbed his cell phone, keys, and wallet before heading out.

He may not have a date, but coffee sounded pretty good right now. Living in downtown Beacon Hills had its perks. One of them was that Stiles didn't need to drive everywhere. Not that he didn't love his Jeep, he did, but with how much it cost to fill his tank these days he could go for a walk instead. Using it to go to and from work was about as much as he used it now.

Stiles walked a couple of blocks to the little coffee shop he frequented and opened the door, the bell tinkling as he walked inside. He ordered his usual, a honey almond milk flat white, which he refused to tell anyone about, and then heard a squeal behind him. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes.

”Stiles!” came the chipper voice. “Oh my god!”

The last thing that Stiles wanted to deal with right now was enthusiastic positivity. No matter how much he loved Kira.

He turned around and smiled at her as she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. “Hey, Kira. How’s it been?”

”Oh, you know. I’ve just been traveling. I’m here visiting my parents. It’s been so long!” Stiles forgot how pretty she was. It had been years since he’d seen her in person, but they followed each other on social media so he knew all about her travels.

Stiles had really been the only one who came back to Beacon Hills after he’d graduated college. Then again, he couldn't say he hated his job down at the police station. He was a deputy, but he was pretty sure he would be a shoo-in for Sheriff the next time the position was open. He just needed to throw his name into the hat for it.

Kira continued to chatter, which gave Stiles time to think about what exactly he was going to say to her. Not that he was really listening to what she was saying anymore as his mind drifted. Before he could form a response, a familiar figure walked up behind Kira.

Dark hair, broad shoulders, and a thick beard paired with kaleidoscope eyes that were exactly how Stiles remembered them. Although, Derek had a little bit of gray in his beard now.

”Derek,” Stiles said, unsure if he could control his surprise. Derek looked just as shocked as Stiles felt.

“Stiles,” was Derek’s short response. They locked eyes and Stiles had so many questions, like he always did when it came to Derek. How was he? Where had he been for the last ten years? Because it had been at least ten years since he’d seen Derek when he left for college.

Stiles was 28 now. Derek was almost 34, since his birthday was at the end of the year on Christmas Day. And he felt like he was 17 all over again, with his chest tight and his heart squeezing with unshared emotions. After all, Stiles had fallen in love with Derek that summer they spent together looking for Erica and Boyd, when he tried to help him look for the Alpha pack. Then they’d saved their lives. It was a summer that Stiles would never forget.

It felt like so long ago and only yesterday at the same time.

”I—uh, how have you been?” Stiles asked, clearing his voice.

”Good.” Derek nodded, pushing his hands into his leather jacket. “Traveling.”

Oh. So, then, he was traveling with Kira? Stiles looked between the two and Kira gave Stiles a sheepish look. They couldn't possibly be dating, could they? Stiles frowned in response, then raised his hand to rub it over his face. Hopefully to wipe the look off he was sure was still fighting for purchase. One of jealousy and confusion and pain.

Stiles dropped his hand to his side and heard his name called at the counter for his coffee. He breathed deeply and glanced at the barista, then back at Kira and Derek. “Well, it was good seeing you two. My coffee is ready.”

”Wait—Stiles. We should get together sometime this week. I’ll be here for a few days,” Kira said as he stepped backward.

”Yeah, sure. Text me.”

Both of them knew that they’d never hang out again this week, much less text each other. It was a pattern all of his friends he didn't keep in contact with on a daily basis had. The promise of more, with none of the follow through.

At that, Stiles retreated and grabbed his coffee, then fled as quickly as he could. The last thing he wanted Derek to see was how much seeing him had affected him.

***

Stiles stared at his phone and clicked on his contacts. The only person he wanted to call right now was Lydia, because he wanted to tell her about Derek, but she wouldn’t have the answers that he needed. He sighed and scrolled through his contacts, landing on the only name that would know all the details from the last ten years. They didn't talk often, but they were still friends. Erica was just really busy working and making bank. Stiles couldn't blame her though. She had moved to New York shortly after graduating from BHHS.

He poked her name with his finger on the screen and tapped the speaker button.

“Stiles?” Erica’s sharp voice answered. “Is the world ending again?”

Stiles laughed. Of course. He couldn't really blame her since life in Beacon Hills was basically one disaster after another. Erica’s life had been pretty calm once she got out of this hell hole.

“Uh, no. Well, not for the world, anyway. Now my personal life, there could be an argument made there,” he replied with a chuckle.

”Well that was a disaster before we graduated high school and hasn’t really made a comeback since.” Erica snickered and he could hear the sound of a keyboard clacking across the line.

Well, she wasn't wrong. Stiles had never really dated anyone since his and Lydia’s romantic relationship had fallen apart, despite them remaining best friends.

”And that is by design,” Stiles replied, joking, but really, it probably was. He hadn’t really cared to date anyone after he’d tried so hard to be in love with Lydia more than just being best friends when he was really in love with Derek. Something that he’d told himself he’d never confess. But he’d told Lydia, which was why they’d broken up.

”Sure,” Erica replied with another laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”

”Why are we even friends?” Stiles asked, sounding overly offended.

”Because I’m the only one that tells you how it is.”

Stiles thought about and that was a fair assumption.

”Which is why I called you in the first place.” Stiles paused, fingering the hem of his jeans. “So…I—uh, ran into Kira and Derek in town.”

Erica didn't respond, but the clacking on the other end stopped.

”In Beacon Hills?” She finally asked.

”Yeah…where the hell else would I be?” Stiles asked with a little bite in his voice.

”I wasn't sure if you’d finally decided to take that trip to Italy we talked about a few years ago. Sue me.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m sorry…I guess I’m just a little surprised and well, frustrated with the whole thing. I mean, he showed up with Kira so I was wondering—“

Erica barked a laugh. “Don't tell me you’re letting your mind overwork itself over that. Please, they’re just friends. You really think Kira would put up with Derek’s moody ass?”

”Maybe?” Stiles didn't really know what their relationship was, which was why he was calling Erica to find out. “I guess I thought—“

”No. They’re not dating. They never have and they never will. I mean, Derek’s kinda over the whole chick thing. I can’t remember the last time he even hooked up with a woman…or anyone, actually. He’s been celibate for a long time. With his relationship record, who could blame him?”

Erica did have a point. Derek had the worst luck when it came to relationships. At least the ones that Stiles knew about.

He hated that he felt relieved over Erica’s confirmation that Derek hadn’t dated anyone in a long time, though. Then again, if he’d decided to swear off people altogether, Stiles didn't have a chance. But did he really ever have one?

”Thanks, Erica.”

”No problem. I have to run, though. Text me”!

Before Stiles could reply, Erica disconnected, leaving Stiles in silence.

At least he knew Derek wasn't dating anyone now.

***

Derek’s phone buzzed and he frowned, pulling out of his pocket and staring at the notification.

There was a text message from Stiles.

Stiles.

Stiles who he hadn’t seen since he’d left for the academy. Derek thought Stiles had left Beacon Hills behind forever, but he guessed he’d been wrong about that. Stiles was the last person Derek ever thought he’d run into again. Especially here.

He’d kept track of Stiles for a few years when he’d been in Virginia, but after a while, it only hurt him because he didn't talk to Stiles. So, Derek decided he’d focus on himself instead. He’d finally worked on healing after all these years, traveling and finding himself again. Reinventing himself, mostly, and deciding what his life would be like without Beacon Hills and his family.

He was largely an Omega now, his pack having gone their own ways and living their lives, but he was happy for them and their success. What mattered was that they were alive to do so. That was the only thing that mattered to Derek.

He drew in a deep breath and opened the message. Derek stared at it, confused. All it said was Hey.

He frowned and tried to read into it, but he had no idea what hey meant.

He sighed and typed hi back. Three little dots came up on the screen and he waited. They stopped. Then started again, then stopped. Derek glared at the wiggling dots when they came up again, willing Stiles to just send the damn text already.

As if on cue, Stiles replied: Wanna meet up?

Stiles wanted to meet up. To talk? To….what?

“Hey,” Kira said as she walked into the room, looking comfortable in her pajamas as she sat across from Derek on the other couch. “Your face is speaking.”

Derek glared at her with his grumpy eyebrows and sighed. “Stiles texted me.”

”Oh?” Kira looked interested, as if she’d expected Stiles to text her instead of Derek. “What did he say?”

”He said he wants to meet up.” Derek stared at the message, not having responded yet.

Kira was quiet for a moment, watching Derek. “So…are you going to meet up with him?”

Derek wasn't sure how to answer that question. He wanted to meet up with Stiles, but he wasn't sure how well he’d take it, especially if Stiles just wanted to actually chat and hang out. Derek refused to let anyone other than Kira know that he held a flame for Stiles for so long. Since that summer they’d spent together looking for Erica and Boyd.

If he were honest with himself, he’d had feelings for Stiles before then, but he hadn’t really realized them until he’d spent all summer with Stiles. Not only had they researched and looked for his pack, but they’d hung out and watched movies…they did things that friends and couples did. Things that Derek had never really done in any relationship he’d had before, or after, then.

But Stiles had been seventeen. There was no way that Derek would let Stiles know he had feelings for him. He didn't want to take advantage of him. Plus, he doubted Stiles had more than brief horny-teenage-boy feelings for him anyway. After all, he’d ended up dating his cousin and Lydia at one point.

”I don't know…” he finally answered Kira.

Kira paused before she said, “I think you should. Even if it’s just for closure…”

Derek glanced at her and then back at the phone before taking a deep breath and texting Stiles back.

Derek: Meet you at our spot in the preserve?

Their spot. He wondered if Stiles would remember.

Stiles: When?

Derek: Two hours.

Stiles: I’ll be there.

“I guess I’m meeting him in two hours…” Derek locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

He might as well go there now before he decided against seeing Stiles again. Alone this time.

“I’ll see you later,” he told Kira before standing and heading out of their hotel room before she could say anything.

***

Stiles rubbed his hands together as the chilly weather made his fingertips cold. He wasn't even sure why he asked to meet Derek, other than he wanted to look into his eyes one last time in case he never saw him again.

He really hoped that never happened. Stiles wanted so much more than one last meeting before Derek disappeared back to wherever he’d come from.

Stiles could barely see as he walked through the preserve to the lookout point he and Derek frequented that one summer together. It had to be the spot Derek was talking about, because he sure wasn't talking about the old Hale house.

When he reached the spot, he could feel Derek before he could see him. That familiar warmth Derek always gave him and the hairs on the back of his neck standing as if his body knew a predator was watching him.

“I wasn't sure you’d come,” Stiles said as Derek stepped from the shadows.

“I wasn't sure I was showing up either, so I’ve been here for a couple of hours,” Derek admitted. “I’m already here so I might as well stay.”

Stiles chuckled. “Valid argument.”

He looked Derek over slowly, studying the lethal lines of his body, the broad set of his shoulders, how Derek held himself confidently, and that little speck of gray in his beard that Stiles was a little obsessed with.

“So…” Derek started, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, I thought maybe we could get a coffee, but we’re a little far out for that right now,” Stiles teased. He couldn't help himself. It was his default in most situations.

“Well…there could always be a next time.” The way Derek said it was hesitant and unsure, but it sent a flutter through Stiles’ chest at the potential for more.

“I thought you were traveling?” Stiles asked, kicking himself for not just saying yes, whatever Derek wanted was what he’d do.

“I could…stay, for a bit. I don't have any immediate plans,” Derek assured him, his eyes locking with Stiles’.

“Kira?”

“She can travel alone for a bit. We don't always travel together. We just met up in France because we were both there at the same time.” Derek shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh.” Well, that wasn't something Stiles really expected to hear. One, that Derek and Kira didn't travel together all the time, and two, Derek offering to stay. For him.

“I mean—I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” Stiles stepped closer, taking a steadying breath. “I was hoping…we could see more of each other. At least, until you decide to leave again.”

Derek was quiet as Stiles closed the space between them and he stood in front of Derek, a mere few inches separating their bodies.

“Okay…” Derek replied with a nod.

“Okay…” Stiles said with a smile. “So… constellations?” His smile grew as Derek’s did and he chuckled as Derek nodded.

They both walked to the ledge and sat together on a large rock, staring up into the night sky. They looked for constellations, pointing them out and naming them, their voices but a whisper in the darkness.

Stiles knew he’d stay here forever if Derek let him. If Derek wanted him. He knew he’d do anything to keep him just the same.

***

Stiles smiled at his phone, checking his messages and chuckling at the memes Derek sent him. It was a thing they’d started during the last month of Derek’s extended stay in Beacon Hills. Stiles pushed his phone into his pocket and focused on the files in front of him.

Minutes became hours and before Stiles knew it, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see Derek there, which made his heart skip a beat. It was the first time Derek had come to the station to see him at work and the first time Derek would see him in his deputy uniform.

“Derek.” He put the folder in his hand down and smiled.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise to show up at the end of your shift and take you out to eat,” Derek replied where he was leaning against the doorframe. Stiles’ eyes traveled over Derek’s body from head to toe, knowing that Derek could hear his heart flutter.

“I could eat.” Stiles grinned and pushed away from his desk before standing and stretching, turning to face Derek. “But, I was actually hoping we could stay in. I—uh, bought some stuff so we could make dinner together. How does that sound?”

“I’m up for whatever you want to do, as long as there is food,” Derek replied with a chuckle. “So, what are we making?”

“I thought we could make homemade pizza.” Stiles grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on.

“I don't think I’ve ever had homemade pizza…” Derek looked at him dubiously and Stiles laughed.

“Well, it’s taken me a long time to learn how to throw the dough. I’m pretty good at it now, but there were plenty of disasters and plenty of sacrifices made for that skill.” When Derek smiled, it reached his eyes and Stiles wanted to kiss him stupidly when he looked like that. He managed to refrain as he walked up to Derek, who was still leaning against the doorframe.

The faint hint of sandalwood and earth filled Stiles’ lungs. A scent that was uniquely Derek which Stiles longed for the more Derek was away from him. “So, you ready to head home for some homemade pizza?”

“I’m going wherever you’re going,” Derek said softly, not moving away as Stiles stayed in his space. It made Stiles’ heart flutter, even though he knew it was only his home and not their home. But Derek never corrected him.

After a few more moments, Derek added, “After you,” and reluctantly stepped back to give Stiles room to walk through the doorway.

Stiles nodded, stepping through the threshold, and led the way out of the police station.

Right.

Pizza.

***

The night had been partially a hilarious disaster and a success at the same time. Stiles tried to teach Derek how to throw the pizza dough and they’d made a mess, but Stiles saved the night by making a pizza for them. He let Derek put the toppings on in the end since Derek lacked the coordination to throw a pizza crust.

It had entertained Stiles more than it should have. He smiled as he sipped his wine. He didn't often indulge in it, but tonight was special. Or, at least, that had been Stiles’ plan.

“So…what did you think?” he asked, setting his glass on the counter and leaning back against it.

“I think your pizza was amazing. Much better than the one I didn't make.” Derek laughed. “Please tell no one.”

“Oh, that’s blackmail material for years to come,” Stiles teased, laughing as Derek walked closer and set his wine glass next to his, causing Derek to lean into Stiles’ space. Stiles reached out to grip Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers run along the zipper, keeping Derek close to him.

Derek didn't speak. If anything, it looked like he was holding his breath as much as Stiles was. This was it. This was the moment. It was either happening now or never again.

Stiles let his hand drop from Derek’s jacket, but only to press against his shirt over his abdomen. His breaths came shallower as his eyes met Derek’s and before Stiles could say anything, Derek was leaning in and closing the space between them.

Stiles melted when Derek’s lips pressed against his, one of Stiles’ hands moving to grip the back of Derek’s neck as Derek’s hands found Stiles’ hips. He moaned as he licked into Derek’s mouth, their tongues tangling together. It made Stiles’ skin burn for more, even as they broke from the kiss to breathe and Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek’s.

“Stiles—”

“Don't—” Stiles said softly. “I know you’ll eventually leave, but you’re here now… so be here with me,” he whispered against Derek’s lips. “Stay with me…”

Derek didn't say anything, kissing Stiles again instead. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he wrapped his arms around Derek, lifting himself as he felt Derek’s hands on his ass and then the back of his thighs. He wrapped his legs around Derek, moaning softly against his lips.

“Bedroom is down the hall on the right,” Stiles breathed between kisses.

He kissed Derek’s neck and shoulder as Derek carried him to his bedroom, impressed that Derek managed to open the door without letting go of him too much.

Stiles laughed as they made it to the bed and Derek dumped him into it, pressing him against the mattress as Derek’s lips found Stiles’ again. His hands moved to push Derek’s jacket off, both of them letting it fall somewhere on the floor before Stiles’ hands moved under Derek’s shirt, fingers exploring.

“God, Stiles…I’ve—” Derek started, groaning softly as Stiles nipped his bottom lip. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No dying,” Stiles replied with a grin. “If it was my choice you’d be safe with me forever.”

Stiles’ stomach felt like it was twisted into knots at his confession as Derek’s kisses slowed and he pulled away just enough to meet Sties’ eyes.

“How long is forever?” Derek asked, as if he didn't believe Stiles.

Stiles cupped Derek’s face, smoothing his thumb over Derek’s bearded cheek. “However long you want it to be. I want you, here, with me. I know I should have said something sooner…years ago. I just—”

Derek’s hand moved to rest on Stiles’ against his face. “I know. Me too,” Derek assured him. “But I’ll stay as long as you want me…”

“I never want you to leave,” Stiles confessed, kissing Derek softly. “Please, Derek.”

“Then I won't,” Derek promised.

It had taken them ten years, but Stiles always felt like he was with Derek, searching for constellations in the dark. He’d been waiting, just as long as Derek had, for this moment.

And Stiles knew they’d never let each other go again.

[spade-riddles]

🌋 Messages

Here are all of their messages in order received. Also click on the 🌋 tag at the bottom of this post to see previous discussions about these messages:

Received on September 12th:

Received on September 14th:

Received on November 14th:

Received on December 4th:

Received on December 26th:

Received on December 30th:

Received on January 3rd:

Received on January 13th:

Received on February 5th:

Received on February 20th:

Received on March 3rd:

Received on April 4th:

🌋

to a friend …

“i ask but one thing of you… to believe in beauty through all wrongs. o stay your hand, and leave my heart it’s songs!”

------------------------------------------

Received on April 6th:

🌋

you didn’t catch my mistake! the jumping of lettered keys, the words formed on the screen… through some sort of (ironically) advanced technology.

oh, the pride tied to the failure of care. the lack of revisitation. the naive sureness that my mind is above it all. forgive me. its, not it’s…

o stay your hand, and leave me its songs!

but in a way, it’s funny. symbolic. like a tear drop interrupting my words… ’

here’s to many, many, many more tears that will inevitably fall with me.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’

------------------------------------------

Received on April 10th:

🌋 i hope you’re not sick of me… allow me to share one more.

“i do not anymore wish to see

the world except through the veil

of your hair, so blonde, so pale…

over my sleepless eyes that stare

spread out the soft strands of hair

that seem to me gleaming rays of the moon…”

———————————————-

Received on May 3rd:

🌋

my hand’s on the door knob. i’m not afraid of the sound of creaking, just the voices that follow; the eyes that will land on me as the hinges squeak of shrill judgement. as i push down on the handle, i feel the gravity sinking in. what awaits on the other side of the door?

———————————————-

Received on June 12th:

🌋 a cross in poetry, born from the same story. intertwined, interlaced, interconnected.

that’s just how it works. that’s how you get the girl. imgonnagetHERback.

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Received on June 26th:

🌋 volcanoes erupt, and with chaos they triumph. fumes bloom, ashes blanket the town. lava flows in unpredictable patterns, like veins in our lifelines. if only you could cross mine.

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Received on July 9th:

🌋 cracks in our story and on the ground that we’ve paved, 3 years in advance like we’d live till this day.

light will bleed through and our secrets will follow, debris will subside and they’ll know of the hollow.

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Received on July 27th:

🌋 do you ever think about stones skipping? how they graze upon the surface of a lake? not knowing when their pattering will come to an end? you watch it trail, seeing how far it could go… just like the many tales you’ve told. until the rhythm comes to a halt and the stone sinks to the bottom. like a pit in your stomach.

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Received on August 20th:

🌋 will the ash fall and settle, or dissolve into august’s salt air?

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Received on August 23rd:

🌋 friday the 13th. a daunting day for some, a day to be brave for others. i am in between.

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Received on September 5th:

🌋 may tonight be the final show… wishful thinking?

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Received on September 9th:

🌋 false prophets and profits. are these the shapeless figures that i pulled out of the hat? did i only have one chance? who do i have to speak to about if i could redo??

[soobberries]

Dilf!Seonghwa

Edit: this is a repost from my old blog including the little description below and I decided to not change anything about it. The blog I tagged below doesn't seem to exist anymore. :( also lmao I already started working on a part 2 xD yay!

Guys ahsdgajha. Lmao please I need to provide background for this post. I read @atiny-thingz Dilf!Ateez post and lemme tell you, I screamed. It brought back the memory of this running joke my friends and I used to have in 11th grade about this really hot dad that everyone crushed on. So in honour of the post that inspired me and my real life experience, I decided I would write this.

It is only a headcanon/au thing, but let me know if I should perhaps do a part 2?

Edit: here's part 2

This is the first time I’m writing kinda suggestive content and I’m pretty new to it so go easy on me, but I would love some feedback. It’s only suggestive at the end though lol.

Warning: Despite this technically being based on a legal reader, since there is a somewhat large age-gap - thought I would clarify:

Please be aware that I do not condone any type of relationships between minors and adults, nor do I encourage the idea of being a homewrecker. This is all just fiction! So without further ado, let’s get started!

Genre: Doesn’t exactly have one but has elements of crack and is suggestive.

Age: This is written for a somewhat mature audience so please, no under 16s. Stay safe younglings <3

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Ah yes, another day, another random school fundraiser.

Your mom got you to look after one of her colleague’s daughter, Nila, for the week while they went on a business trip.

It was the middle of the week and, while this kid was adorable, you’d literally do anything else then go to this weird fundraiser on such a beautiful afternoon.

Oh well, duties are duties.

So as this cutie kid drags you along throughout the whole school, showing you all the stalls and requesting that you buy her some food before she has her ‘shift’, you can’t help but notice that there are only parents here. No other students, siblings - nothing.

A deep exasperated sigh left your mouth because you were here for a good three hours, and quite frankly, despite this little fundraiser having some talks you could attend, you really had no idea how you would busy yourself since the talks offered were a bit boring and you had to pay a large chunk to get a space. Bummer.

Anyway after sharing some mouth-watering cookies with the little girl she asks you to come with her to her stall where she and her peers would be selling cold drinks, and of course you couldn’t say no because this kid was actually a sweetheart and you had it nowhere in your heart to do such.

So obviously you proceed to accompany her there.

It’s a cute stall, and you smile at the youthful, yet ignorant excitement shining in the little girl’s eyes as she exchanges the ‘duty cap’ that one of her classmates had on just prior.

Oh if only they knew what a real job was like.

It wasn’t until after the other girls left, that you realised she was alone, causing you to enquire about her job, wondering if she’s working the shift by herself.

“No, don't worry! Yerim is also doing the job with me. I’m sure she’ll come soon. See? That’s why there’s two hats.” She said, gesturing towards the other cap on the counter.

You nodded quaintly and silently decided to wait with her until her friend came.

“Daddy! Look! Nila is working with me!” A shout came from behind you and a little girl came running to bear hug Nila, causing the both of them to burst into a fit of giggles.

You smiled at the pair and watched mindlessly as Nila got Yerim her hat.

“Oh? Are you looking after Nila?” A voice called out.

‘Oh boy, here we go. Time to get out the speaking to parents voice’

Those were your thoughts as you dreaded having to act somewhat proper so the snobby parents around you wouldn’t undermine you. You took a quick millisecond to gather yourself before turning to face th-

Holy shit.

A blessing.You’ve been blessed. You can die happily now.

This man’s smile-

It’s shining. Blinding you and you do not care, he can have your eyesight.

Cue the slo-mo scene in the movies where everything looks ethereal and suddenly you picture him taking your hand, giving you flowers, and asking the same thing he just did in a softer more seductive tone.

AHaha but it’s not a movie so get yourself together you thirsty piece of flesh.

“Uh yeah, I am, her mom is away on business.” You said smiling, dying inside at the realisation that today was the day you decided to wear such a boring outfit.

Oof pain.

“Oh? I don’t recall Shannon saying she was going away,” He said furrowing his eyebrows, before staring at you,

YO SHIT IS HE CHECKING YOU OUT? HE’S CHECKING YOU OUT FOR SURE.

“nor that she would be leaving such a cute babysitter in her place.” He chuckles nonchalantly.

How is he so calm after saying that like it’s nothing??? Tf???

Fine, two can play this game sir.

“Well she didn’t tell me she was acquainted with such an attractive man either.”

That wasn’t the strongest comeback but like you're nervous okay?

He smiled at the remark, seemingly about to say something, only to be interrupted by his darling daughter.

“Daddy you have to buy something ya know!”

He let out a chuckle that you could only describe as handsome.

“Mhhmm! You too y/n” Nila said toward you with such bright eyes you couldn’t bother saying no. [as mentioned earlier, this cute kid has you weak.]

“Hmm okay you two, since you're all grown up, tell us the prices of your drinks.” You say egging the two girls on, to the man beside you’s amusement.

As the two little girls hurriedly tried to find the price list and decide who’s speaking first, Mr. handsome man turned to you.

“I like that name, Y/n,” He reached out his hand in front of him, “I’m Seonghwa. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hehehehehehehe play it cool.

Daintely placing your hand in his and gently giving him a small squeeze as you do so, you let out:

“The pleasure is all mine.”

The two of you end up buying water bottles, him insisting that he pays for you so the girls have less to work out in terms of prices (apparently)

You greeted the girls, leaving them to attend to their shift, and discovered that Seonghwa was going to be here a while as well, in which the two of you concluded it would be a good idea to talk off the hours rather than wandering around alone.

You both wander around (a little awkwardly in silence mind you) until you find a table made to look like a wine barrel for a rustic vibe with two high chairs beside it. It matched the theme of this area which was made to be like an expensive barnhouse.

Now lemme tell you, water ain’t as classy as wine but that didn’t stop Seonghwa from calling over one of the workers serving cocktails, and asking for two empty wine glasses.

He then elegantly poured the water into both wine glasses.

“I suppose it’s too early to be drinking but never too early to stay hydrated in a classy way.” He said.

LMAO this guy has dad humour or very dry, dead humour.

You let out a genuine giggle since that was such a dorky thing to say.

“My peers would probably disagree with you as most of them pop out a beer by 9:05.”

“Yes of course, around your age, you don’t quite have the same responsibilities as I do.”

“Oh? Such as working and taking care of a kid? Because it would appear that I have to worry about that too” You replied cheekily even though you probably know he’s living a bit more of a tiring life by the way he spoke.

He let out a heavy sigh which you didn’t expect after your poor attempt of making the convo entertaining.

“Well yes that may be true, but at least you aren’t dealing with a toxic relationship - Only staying and sucking it up for the sake of your child.”

Oh. well that’s quite the share.

“I’m sorry to hear you're dealing with some hardships.” You utter out, genuinely sympathetic.

“But in my opinion, regardless of the child, you should make a decision that makes you happy. You can raise Yerim with no issue even when separated. Rather that, than letting her grow up in an unhappy home, no..? Then again what do I know?” You say while spinning the water in your glass as if it really was wine.

He paused while circling his pointer finger around the rim of his glass. His head resting on his other hand, seemingly in deep thought.

He looked towards you with an intense gaze. One that made you feel small and had your body urging you to run away. But it also captivated you, so you fought your body and held your breath instead to calm down the intimidation you were feeling.

His whole aura changed for some reason...

“You’re not wrong in what you're saying,” he leaned over the barrel, a little closer to you, “But what if the decision that makes me happy is looked down upon?” He said lowly, looking you up and down once again.

This shouldn’t make you nervous. In fact nothing could be considered remotely inappropriate and yet your breath was hitching and your stomach was churning.

Why? Why is this random man making you feel, for lack of better words, so weird.

Bad brain! Bad!

You must be looking too much into his words to think he could be insinuating something...right?

You wanted to back up a little, and lean away from him, feeling as though you needed to gather yourself, but as you leaned back the wine glass full of water was knocked over, splaying it’s contents over you.

The glass was saved, thankfully landing on some grass, protecting your wallet from a potential bill from the school or whoever owned this damned glass.

Your clothes and dignity however?

Can’t really say the same thing…

You stand up immediately picking up the glass and placing it on the table.

Only then do you tense up at the sudden coldness against your skin.

“Oh dear, are you alright, should I get you some paper towels or maybe a napkin?” Seonghwa stood up immediately at your side.

Even though this was painfully embarrassing and the looks you were getting from others didn’t help, you wanted to play it cool.

“No, no, don’t worry. I should’ve been more careful.”

You decided to look inside the little bag you had brought with you, trying to see if you have any sort of tissues with you.

What an awful day to be wearing a shirt that becomes somewhat transparent when wet…

As you're searching, you fail to realise just how transparent the shirt is, obliviously just trying to find an easy solution.

You may have been oblivious, but Seonghwa was not. He couldn’t help the large gulp he took as he saw the shirt stick to your skin, basically exposing anything underneath for everyone to see.

He had a few intrusive thoughts but he shook them off, instead, taking his jacket and placing it over you.

“What are-”

He takes your arm in his grasp and your bag in his other hand, leading you away from some of the snobby parents who had the audacity to still be looking at you in disgust because of your now ‘revealing’ shirt.

We don’t stan those parents alright?

Anyway he knows this school well and so he leads you towards a much more empty area and opens a door to what you’d assume is to be a guest restroom since it looked pretty fancy compared to the normal trashy bathrooms you see in highschools.

He placed your bag down onto the sink and locked the door behind him.

It wasn’t as small as a cubicle, but it was still a very small space to be in, not leaving much room to move around too much.

“Sorry, I just thought it would be more convenient if you cleaned and tried to dry up here.”

Oh? Well yeah this works you guess…

Then you see the mirror.

Cue heat rising to your cheeks and your breath hitching a little.

Oh that’s why he thought it would be a good idea…

Bro your torso is on display. Like, deadass.

Mental note: don’t wear white shirts and be a clumsy dumbass simultaneously in the future.

As you’re staring in the mirror in a small state of shock and further embarrassment, Seonghwa mindlessly grabs the towel next to the sink in the small cubicle, and tugs up your shirt a little bit so that he can place the towel on top of the wet mark a bit more easily.

Haha what?

It’s only when he notices that you’re extremely still, that he realises he shouldn’t just be wiping down a stranger’s shirt for them…

He immediately comes to a halt, while awkwardly glancing at you with the same slightly panicked expression that you held on your own face.

However, Seonghwa realised that, your face, flushed out a little, is frustratingly endearing to look at.

He almost felt the urge to just cradle your face in his hands right then and there...Maybe pulling you in closer

Mr. Park NO!

He shakes his thoughts away, immediately apologising, slowly retracting his arm.

But you know what your dumbass did?

Held his arm in place.

Yup.

You don’t know why, but it’s like your brain was straight out malfunctioning.

Body, actions, thoughts, rationality - all of it was not communicating with each other and you couldn’t logically explain your actions.

It just felt like maybe you should keep him there and let him take care of you, no matter how strange that may seem. It seemed right…

Either way this is just awkward and now there’s just so, so much tension.

The air is literally weighing on you a bit, especially since Seonghwa went silent after you instinctively grabbed his arm.

It was still, silent, and it felt as though if you moved, reality would break into pieces.

Dramatic way to explain the situation? Maybe. But it really did feel close to that.

“I uh...It’s okay. You can continue.” You let out shakily.

BRO WHAT ARE YOU SAYING OH MY GOSH. HE’S GOING TO THINK YOU’RE CRAZY.

I’m literally getting second hand embarrassment lmao, moving on.

He just adjusted his throat and gave a quaint nod before continuing what he was doing.

The issue was that now he was hyper focused on trying to not make any direct contact with your skin. His touches are so light, that it’s obviously ineffective, and you and him both know that, but no one wants to say anything.

He’s keeping his eyes glued to the wet patch on your shirt and as you look hopelessly at the soggy thing, you can’t help but let your eyes wander to his arms.

Holy shit his arms. You were already flustered, and now you have to sit still knowing his arms look so good? No way. It’s over for you.

His biceps bulged a little since it was bent, and the dress shirt he was wearing tightened around it, only accentuating how firm he was.

If he’s just that firm on his arms...Imagine what he’s like everywhere else…

Great… Now your feeling heat rush to more areas than just your cheeks.

Look away Y/n. Look away. Literally anywhere but there.

Ah yes, look at the ceiling.

You bit at your lip nervously, and in hopes that it would be a gentle reminder to restrain yourself from looking over at him.

“Can you-”

Your eyes meet his, and he darts his eyes elsewhere almost immediately.

He straightens himself up, letting go of your shirt and placing that hand now on the towel.

“Can you not bite your lip like that..?” He steals a glance at you before sighing.

“Ahem...Please.”

His ears are definitely a shade of pink and it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Honestly you couldn’t help but feel a bit prideful and more confident knowing that you weren’t the only one being flustered here.

You felt like you could breathe a little now.

Maybe your brain did a 180 a bit too quickly, since now you decided to lean closer to him, ensuring that your head popped up within his eye view, which was predominantly the floor at the moment.

You tilted your head tauntingly.

“Why? Does it make you nervous?” You said with a playful undertone in your voice - the seemingly newfound confidence urging you on in your antics.

He let out a scoff, turning his head to the side in disbelief before turning his head to look at you with his eyebrows raised, ready to challenge you.

He now leaned closer, clearly asserting a dominant aura with a small smirk graced on his face.

“Trust me, if I wanted to see you wet, this situation would be a lot different.”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

That was unexpected.

No you won’t back down. You’ve been flustered too much today and you’re tired.

Game face: on.

There’s no time to let the wet shirt of yours get the best of you. It is now no longer your priority in this moment.

[A/N: let’s go Y/N, show ‘em what you got]

You saunter close to him, pushing your hands on his chest causing him to lean back into the wall.

“Is that so?” You chuckle, reaching for his tie, tugging at it a little, before busying yourself with tightening it and making it look a little neater.

“And in what ways, would that situation be different?” you uttered out in the most seductive voice you could muster.

You held back a smirk as his breath audibly hitched.

He found his hand, crawling to grip your hip. Pulling you a bit closer towards him - bodies just touching.

“Well for starters, you wouldn’t have a shirt that would be able to get wet in the first place.”

You flattened out the tie, coming to a halt, taking time to gaze at him.

“Oh? And why’s that?” You said lowly, acting dumb.

His grip tightened around your hip, finally pulling you into his chest.

The slight dampening of his shirt didn’t bother him as much as his urge to touch you more did.

“Because, Y/n,” He spoke, leaning in so that you could now feel his breath fan your lips,

“In an ideal situation, you and I would both be naked.”

[sexybabystevie]

Hi! I just saw you reply the Steve comparing hands as flirting and I had to also then check that your requests are open, they are 😂 so could I please request that one? I had a boy flirt with me in grade 7 by doing that with shoes/feet (mind you I was oblivious 😂) and that reminded me of it and I had a giggle.

A/n: Okay so first of all, thank you for this request! It's SO cute, and I planned on this being maybe 1k, but it turned into a bigger fic, which I'm not mad about lol. This is seriously one of the softest things I have EVER written and I adore it. Like seriously, this has my heartbeat skipping down sixteenth avenue type shit 😭 Anyway, enjoy some soft Stevie, Family-Video-loserboy-with-a -crush style!

Small Hands, Big Heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Tags and Warnings: No Warnings, Pure Fluff, Soft!Steve Harrington, Semi-Shy!Reader, Flirting, Steve Harrington is a Major Dork, Family Video!Steve Harrington, Crushes, Hand Holding, Tooth-Rottening Fluff.

Word Count: 3581

Summary: Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes.

His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

Steve Harrington Masterlist

There’s an air about you – something laid back and relaxed, comfortable and familiar – that strikes Steve Harrington every time you walk into Family Video. Hair perfectly styled even on the days when you’re in sweatpants, gliding around the store like some kind of celebrity on the red carpet, he can practically see the golden, glittering stars surrounding your body like an angelic halo. You don’t even notice though, he can always tell in the way that you smile at him as you shyly ask if there’s a copy of Pretty in Pink available, like you might somehow be imposing upon him by asking him to do his job. Like he wouldn’t set his entire workplace on fire for you if you batted your pretty eyelashes and asked him to.

Okay, yeah, he’s in deep. Deeper than he should be for some enchanting stranger, that’s for sure.

But you’re cool. Yeah, that’s it, cool, and what’s he supposed to do? Just not think about slipping a paper with his number inside the case of the latest movie you decide to rent? Not have Robin point out how he gets lost in romantic fantasies while staring at you, completely forgetting to tend to the other customers in the store? As if.

No, Steve thinks he’s not about to let this go, even if it means eventually messing things up by accidentally saying his favorite genre of movies is boobies – massive apology to Rachel Moore for that disaster, although at least Robin found new reason to start up another You Rule, You Suck chart on one of the fancy sticky notes embellished with the Family Video logo. Yeah, that was great.

So far, he’s losing zero to twelve, a score that’s humiliatingly worse than anything he ever achieved – or didn’t achieve – working at Scoops Ahoy, and he doesn’t even have to wear that stupid hat anymore. His self-proclaimed best quality is flawless and in full view of anyone around, a little messier than his high school days but stylistically so, and yet he still can’t work the charm like he could just a few years ago. If it wasn’t the ridiculous sailor uniform or the hat that covered up his hair, then did he just lack game entirely?

No, absolutely not. He still had it, and he was going to prove it. He would find some way to talk to you – really talk to you, not just the small conversation he’d make while searching your name into the computer system to charge your account – and he would pull it off. He was going to get a perfect grade from Miss Professor Robin, doctorate in the study of loser and non-loser romantic interactions. So much so that she would have to give him a million You Rule tally marks, something totally achievable and normal to want, he was certain.

Were you out of his league? Absolutely. Did that deter his persistence? Not at all.

He was going to do this, even if it turned out to be a dumpster fire. Even if his hair wasn’t looking exactly the way he wanted it to be. Even if Robin was jokingly preying on his downfall in that long-time-best-friend way that she did. Even if the doorbell was ringing right now to signal your superstar arrival, and even if you were flashing him a smile that literally made him forget how to breathe for approximately forty-seven seconds.

Shit.

Steve’s leaning forward, his elbows plastered to the countertop, almost falling over it because he’s so glued to watching you. You give him a little wave that nearly sends him toppling backwards into the floor – now that he thinks of it, are you sure you aren’t a god with some kind of wind powers? You certainly are pretty enough to be one – before beelining straight to the romcom section. Like usual. He can’t help but smile to himself, definitely the lovesick puppy look Robin said he had mastered recently.

As you peruse the movies in stock, his mind does its typical wandering. Romantic-comedy seemed to be your favorite movie genre, but what was your favorite type of music? Favorite food, favorite color? Were you more into pop music, sweet vanilla cupcakes, and various shades of lilac, or did you prefer the darker hues of colors, savory cheeseburgers, and something a little more lyrically intense? Or were you a mix of both, maybe even neither?

Everything about you was addictively unknown; you were a package of silly little mysteries he wanted to unwrap bit by bit, saving the more intimate and personal details for later. The best for last, right? Thinking of the possibilities was driving him wild, though, because how could he not know your all-time favorite song yet? And, god forbid, your favorite ice cream flavor? Now that was something he was skilled in – he’d probably never forget the sweet but slightly nutty scent of pistachio ice cream ever in his lifetime – and maybe he could show you that. Would it impress you if he let you try the mean banana split he could conjure up? It was good enough to be the primary thing Erica Sinclair ever ordered from the ice cream parlor, even demanding that Steve be the one to make it himself instead of the other workers. Poor Robin – or maybe lucky Robin, knowing the sass of the young girl all too well. Yeah, lucky Robin, for sure.

But maybe Steve could be lucky too. He knew the moves other guys his age made, flirtatious comments that were borderline crude – and yeah, okay, he admits he has occasional conversations about boobies – but he doesn’t want to play that kind of game with you. He doesn’t want to be like all the other guys, expendable and almost disrespectful in his mannerisms and language; no, he wants to treat you right. He wants to be good to you, to treat you with all the care and love and wonder of a da Vinci painting, and if he’s finally lucky then maybe you’ll let him, because, really, what did the Mona Lisa even have on someone as beautiful as you, anyway?

Robin’s elbow crashes into Steve’s side a little too forcefully, which she seems to be aware of since she gives him a slightly serious, apologetic grimace before her eyes become knowing in that way that he sometimes is afraid of. Her head jerks to the leftt and she leans in to whisper, “Incoming, ten o’clock. Shoot your shot, dingus!”

It takes him too much time to realize that she means ten o’clock as in the direction the little hand of a clock makes, though, and he doesn’t have time to prepare his lines before you’re at the counter with a VHS tape between your fingers. He doesn’t even have time to properly wipe away his token furrowed brows of confusion, so when he turns to look at you, there’s a moment where his face is half grimace, half giant smile. Your eyes narrow a bit, undeniably trying to understand what that face is about, and Steve internally face palms. Great start, Harrington, you probably look like a total nutjob.

He quickly shakes himself out of it and relaxes his face into a kind smile, leaning off of the counter to make room for you to slide your movie on top of it. You do, but he’s too busy staring into your eyes – has he ever seen eyes as magnetic, as charming as yours? – to really notice.

“Hey,” he says, just like he’s talking to any other pleasant customer, except his voice is softer, more gentle. “How are you doing?” Unlike with any other customer, he genuinely wants to know the answer.

The way your eyes light up as he asks… he didn’t possibly think he could find them more adorable. If asking about your day did that, then how would you react to him actually making moves?

“Good,” you reply, tone matching the care in his. You then glance around the store briefly, giving Steve the chance to admire the soft curve of your jawline. He pretends not to have been staring when your gaze falls back onto him. “You must be pretty bored today. This place is empty besides me.”

Was there a hint of something teasing in that last remark of yours, or is Steve imagining things?

Either way, it’s only now that he realizes you’re right – they haven’t really had any other customers. Not very typical for a Tuesday night, but he couldn’t care less, really. Not when you’re here.

“Don’t worry. You’re my favorite, anyway,” he says, heart thudding with an annoying intensity. He resists the urge to wink at you – god, he really is a loser, isn’t he? – and his hand moves to rake across his head, fingers nervously tangling in his brown hair.

You don’t answer, eyes wide with a hint of surprise. Your smile grows more bashful, something that makes Steve’s mouth grow dry, and you look down, a few strands of your own hair moving to cover your eyes. The sight of you – so shy and cute – standing right in front of him, only separated by a mere old countertop, sends his mind reeling. So close, but there’s an island between you – literally.

Seeming to overcome your brief embarrassment, you look back at Steve and smile again, this time a hint of your teeth showing behind the tiniest gap between your lips. Noticing all the small details, wondering what other little things he could find out and memorize about you, he almost feels like he’s drowning in emotion.

Get it together, dude! he thinks to himself, the voice in his head sounding suspiciously like Robin.

He’s snapped out of it by your hand meekly pushing the tape further up the counter, undoubtedly trying to get him to do his actual job instead of being ridiculously distracted by you.

Like he could help it, though; you were practically his dream. Hell, he hoped that he had dreams of you each night, that he could spend time with you even if he managed to screw it up in reality. Dreams were less intimidating, despite the fact that he had no control in them. Reality was where he held the cards, where he could choose what to say and do. Somehow, that thought’s empowering enough to bring him back down to earth.

Steve takes one look at the movie you’ve chosen, though, and laughs to himself as he reads the title. Instead of staying in his mind this time, he can’t help but speak his thoughts aloud.

“Christine, huh?” He can’t fight the amused little smirk that takes over his face even if he wants to. “That’s quite a shift from your usual, isn’t it?”

You just give him a simple shrug, unapologetic aside from the way you cheekily bite the inside of your lip. Now there’s definitely a hint of that same playfulness that he thought he saw earlier, and Steve could scream out in joy as he notices that gleam in your eye. Maybe he really didn’t lose all his charm.

“Thought I might switch it up a bit, you know?”

Steve nods and turns to the giant computer next to him, tape in one hand as his other slowly and loudly types away at the clunky keyboard. He finds Christine in the film catalog and quickly flips over the tape to type in the exact product number before his deep brown eyes glance back at you. It’s like you’re a golden statue shimmering in the sun, the only neon sign in a pitch-black forest. His gaze just naturally gravitates towards you, not that he’d ever complain about it.

“You didn’t strike me as the type for Stephen King,” Steve remarks, unable to keep his true thoughts to himself.

“Is that a bad thing?” You let out a soft giggle, head tilting in a way that reminds Steve of a parrot learning how to speak. Have you been waiting to learn more about him like he has about you? You did always seem to stop by Family Video when he was on shift, making sure to have small conversations with him about your movie choices while he added the rented tape to your account, making sure that you always were in his line to be checked out, even if there were lots of other customers…

“Oh no, not at all. It was just a little surprising,” he says, shaking his head and letting out his own small chuckle. He makes sure to look you in the eyes as he says, “I’m the kinda guy who likes surprises.”

He doesn’t mention that he doesn’t like the more world-ending, Upside-Down-related surprises that seem to haunt him and his unusual friend group. No, that’s more of a fourth or fifth date kind of thing to bring up.

Steve relishes the more prominent curl of your lips – oh god, don’t look at them, don’t think about how soft they would be, don’t do it! – and the way it makes you look a bit smug as you say, “Noted.”

He could think of millions of ways for that to come back into play, each one making his chest swell in an almost delightful way, but instead he continues adding Christine to your Family Video account. He finally gets to the webpage where he has to type in the customer’s name, and you must be familiar with the process because you open your mouth, the first syllable of your name escaping your lips, before Steve cuts you off. He says your name before you can, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself for the way your mouth parted in shock.

A little cockily, he says your name again as he types it. “I remembered.”

You’re only left gaping for a few moments, your expression then changing into a smile that’s even brighter than any from before, if that’s even possible. Looking at you out of the corner of his eye as the computer processes your name, Steve Harrington feels like he’s hit the jackpot.

A part of him can’t believe that you’d be so stunned at him remembering you. As if he didn’t spend far too much time thinking about you, as if he didn’t somehow end up telling everyone around him about you despite barely knowing you. As if everyone else who knew him didn’t know he was utterly infatuated and bewitched by you and your pretty little smile.

The computer finally processes the movie with a ding! and Steve reaches under the counter for a plastic bag. He takes some time packing the tape, a tiny thread of dread sewn into his heart because, while he’d certainly done a little bit of vague flirting, he still hadn’t made his real move yet, and he was running out of time. His fingers fumble with the handles of the bag as he racks his mind for anything that can help him – any line or gesture that might seal the deal.

It’s when he reaches out to pass you the plastic bag, and it’s when your knuckles brush against his that he gets a last-minute idea. With no time left to lose, he goes for it.

“Woah, you have really small hands!” he exclaims, and he’s not wrong, which is part of why it works. The other part, unbeknownst to him at the moment, is that you’ve got just as much of a silly crush on him as he has on you. “Here–” he raises one of his hands, palm facing you, “–put yours against mine and you’ll see what I mean.”

You search Steve’s eyes for a minute, a glimpse of a knowing smile on your lips, and he doesn’t even have to worry about you disagreeing or getting upset. He can just tell that you’re catching on, and that you may even be up to something when you lift your hand and press it to his.

Skin meets skin, and Steve feels dizzy. Nothing could have prepared him for how soft, how warm, it feels to have his palm against yours. It’s barely anything, an action that could be casual or friendly with anyone else, but it still makes his fingertips tingle.

He’s never felt like this with anyone else, never been quite this flustered at such a simple movement before. Not with any of the girls he knew or messed around with in high school, not with anyone else that he had few fleeting moments with working at Scoops Ahoy or Family Video. Not even with Nancy Wheeler.

He was always the cool one, always unbothered and rarely found himself blushing, never ever swooning. But here he was, feeling like he could fly over the moon because your palms were flush against each other, and despite everything, the anxiety and nerves were welcome. He likes the butterflies that gather in his stomach, that being around you puts him a little on edge, but in the best possible way.

If this is what it feels like to have a genuine, no-bullshit-attached crush on someone, he thinks that maybe he can get used to it.

He was right too; your hands are small. With the heels of your palms level with one another, your fingertips end where his finger pads begin. It’s cute, only making Steve’s heart race even faster – and if he really thinks about it, he can feel the vague vibration of your heartbeat in your thumb. He doesn’t even have to wonder if it’s pumping far too quickly like his own, he already knows it is.

His gaze moves from your hands together to your face, flickering to try and see what expression will be on that gorgeous face of yours. It’s a timid, happy smile and eyes that are staring right back at him, soft and doelike. The expression is so gentle, so special, that it makes his breath catch in his throat. He silently hopes that he’s the only one you’ve ever looked at like that.

“Told you,” he says quietly, to match the intimacy of the moment. “Small hands, but… they’re cute.”

Seemingly an instant after he says that, you shift your hand around and position your fingers between his. Before he can ask any questions or really even process it, you intertwine your fingers to hold his hand.

Luckily his body responds before his brain does, curling his own fingers and moving his thumb to rest on top of yours. Heat rises to his cheeks as he stares, and he can feel the dopey grin hopping onto his face before it’s fully there.

You giggle again, a bit louder this time, and for once his goofiness isn’t something he wants to internally chastise himself for. You actually think it’s cute, maybe even silly. He can be cute and silly for you, if that’s what you want.

Something in your eyes tells him that it is exactly what you want.

“You know,” you start, pursing your lips for a split second. “I’m used to watching all these fluffy, silly romance movies.”

You pause, eyebrows slightly risen as you wait for him to catch on to what you’re implying. He doesn’t, though; you can blame his heightened state of absence on the warmth of your skin. He’s far too caught up in that, in the fact that maybe he still does have game – thank god – to process anything you’re trying to hint towards.

The trance he’s in is visible – eyes spaced out on your face, his lips left parted so he can breathe out of his mouth slowly, and his hand gripping yours with more strength than before, like maybe you’re too good to be true and will disappear if he blinks. It’s all too much and you laugh – a real, genuine, hearty laugh that Steve immediately loves with every ounce of his heart. He’s certain that your laugh could cure anything that ails him.

“What I mean is,” you start again, taking a deep breath to recover from your short bout of joy. “I might get scared watching a horror movie.” Your eyes focus on his, giving him a little wink as you continue. “I might need someone there to keep me safe, Steve.”

The gears click in his brain, everything falling into place, and he becomes the embodiment of smugness with that signature smirk of his.

With a chuckle, he shakes his head and replies. “Well, what kind of guy would I be if I denied you that?”

The smirk fades down into a heartfelt smile, and his voice softens as his hand gives yours a brief squeeze. He can tease, but he also wants to make sure that he is being serious. “I’d love to.”

Half an hour later, after a little more conversation, you leave Family Video with a movie, a Family Video sticky note with Steve Harrington’s phone number on it in swoopy penmanship, and a promise to meet at his house tonight for a movie date.

Robin makes a reappearance from the back room, smirk on her face – Steve doesn't even have to ask her if she was watching the whole scene on the grainy security cameras, he knows her too well to already know that she was – as she marks a line and writes ‘You did it!’ under the You Rule portion of her notepad in congratulations. “Maybe you can be pretty lucky sometimes, Harrington.”

Steve can’t help but agree.

[aerodaltonimperial]

the junglecorpse story primer

so i've been pretty obsessively cataloguing everything between them in my last year or so of being in AEW fandom, and since they are my Hyperfixation™️, i thought i would put together a little primer for the people who may not have been spending every waking thought thinking about the chemistry these two end up having with each other and how their story has played out. there's some videos in here that are fun watches and hopefully this adds a little bit to the knowledge bank!! (i love wrestling so much lol)

2019//

as far as we can tell, their first time ever wrestling was in 2019, which is what we like to call "the lost 2019 bar match," on february 24, 2019, at the high hat in los angeles. when we say lost, we literally mean lost. i would cut off my left arm to get a video of this damn match-up. the only video we have is a short bit from when they were hitting each other with empty water bottles, shown here. (tumblr won't let me embed these links without crashing.)

there's also one photograph of this match, posted on instagram, by a wrestling photographer:

according to cagematch, darby won this match. given how many people in that crowd have phones out, i cannot BELIEVE that we haven't been able to hunt down the rest of the videos, but here we are, crying into the abyss that we can't find this. someone has it. name your price lol. i'm very open to negotiation.

2020 //

the only thing that 2020 had in it was another "lost match," this time from the jericho cruise, so we hate jericho even more for refusing to video the matches there so we can see them when we do not have $5k to go on this trip. but this one is just a 3 v 3 match, where private party and darby beat jurassic express (jack, lucha, and marko). probably not life-changing, but i still want to see it, as a completionist.

2021 //

by 2021, they had both been in aew for several years and were settling in. darby had the TNT belt, and jack was working up through both the singles division on his own, and the tag division with luchasaurus. surprisingly, they never matched up on their own! but in april of 2021, aew asked twitter to pick darby's next opponent for the TNT, and twitter chose jack. this is where things get interesting.

darby makes a promo talking to jack about the match that gets posted on darby's twitter here and reposted to aew's twitter here. (the link doesn't work to the video anymore, but don't worry, i backed it up on my yt account because i knew twitter would implode eventually.)

this is the first time, that we can find, that anyone has gone after the "if you stop being such a goodie two-shoes, you could be great" angle with jack. this promo actually pre-dates christian cage even joining AEW (he would join in the next month or two)! but this thread remains pulled alongside jack's next several years of kayfabe stories, so it's worth pointing out that darby may have been the first person to use it.

video link to youtube

jack makes a follow-up video for this and it gets posted on aew's twitter, and as luck would have it, that tweet no longer exists. i'm not sure where it went, to be honest. it wasn't much except "i've proven myself" and "my record is great now." it's worth noting that neither of them tag the other in their promos, which makes me laugh. darby calls jack "jungle jack," which also makes me laugh.

they have their 2021 match, which is amazing, and don't worry, i also have that video link, so if you'd like to watch it, the full thing lives here. after this, darby loses the TNT belt to miro, and jack wins the battle royale after throwing christian cage out of the ring. important story beats for both of them.

2022 //

in 2022, they end up on the same side of a 6 v 6 match that i'm assuming was kind of just random match-ups, on june 1st at the kia forum. we've watched it, because of course we have, but it wasn't anything particularly interesting haha. however, in january of 2022, jurassic express wins the tag belts. they hold them until that summer, when they lose them, and christian turns on jack. lucha then also turns on jack. jack's heel turn gets majorly delayed due to christian's injury that takes him out through the whole end of the year. at the end of 2022, junglehook starts up after hook comes out to save jack from getting the shit beat out of him (this is the start of his heel turn).

2023 //

and then we get to 2023, the year that i was watching and promptly lost my mind, because we got the pillars storyline! right before this, jack beats christian in the coffin match, which finishes that particular aspect, but it butts right up to the pillars stuff. i've waxed poetic for like 4k about how jack was supposed to be a heel in the pillars story, but everything got delayed due to christian's injury, and they had to run him as a face for this because too many people were involved, and that's not really the point here, but it sure makes a lot of the decisions made in the pillars story fucking unhinged as shit lol.

i've made a video for the junglecorpse moments in the pillars storyline that is here if you have 23 minutes to experience the absurdity of what they chose to do here.

but abridged version is that jack and darby have to team up for the pillars tag match, and don't seem to get along well. they run a full thing where mjf asks jack to betray darby (so they lose) and jack gets up in his face, and then darby walks in to see it. after this, darby comes out for jack (and sammy comes out after) to save him from LFI killing him after jack beats rush.

prior to their tag match, they run this promo with the two of them, where darby references the lost 2019 bar match (DOES HE ALSO SIT AND THINK ABOUT IT FOR HOURS??? LIKE I DO???) and also mentions that they would probably be friends if they weren't wrestlers, which is worth holding onto lmao.

in the actual pillars PPV 4-way at double or nothing, they run a large segment of jack having the belt and a clear shot to take darby out with it (and win) and he doesn't end up doing it. they make a big thing out of it. this is insane given that a month later, jack turns on hook at forbidden door 2023 and eventually takes the FTW off him. i wish to speak to whoever thought this was normal. he couldn't cheat to beat darby, who he supposedly doesn't even like, for the world championship, but can betray his best friend for an unsanctioned belt a month later??????? this makes me insane. don't touch me chompie.

also worth mentioning is jack tweeting this during the storyline, with nothing else attached to it. merry early christmas to me. (jack tends to post a single photo for important story beats, with no text on it. he's done this for quite a number of things within the last few years. weird that he did that here, when they had one tag match together.)

2024 //

and that bring us to this year! jack is back in AEW after his unjust and sad-making time out. anarchy in the arena happens at double or nothing 2024, and jack and darby spend 75% of the match beating each other up alone backstage. jack hits darby with the bus, darby sets jack on fire. it's lovely.

if you haven't seen the video that leaked of jack preparing for the fire spot in the early part of 2024 with a stunt team, it's worth watching. (no sound)

darby is out again to recover since i don't know how he managed to get clear for AITA in the first place, and then he comes back with an obsessive single-mindedness to call out jack perry by beating up brandon cutler. jack then also beats up brandon cutler in the strangest mating rituals i've ever fucking seen lmao. INTRICATE RITUALS!!

that's all i've got right now, but hopefully this ends up being a decent overview of all the stuff i tend to reference in my fics. 💚💚💚 sorry tumblr won't let me embed these videos in here, but it kept crashing the draft, so i had to revert them all just to links. homophobia.

[erikiara80]

@starsarefire824 You asked me to explain my tags about Will “vanishing” from many scenes. It took me a while, but I’m here with the evidence.

I talk about the snow ball here . I was rewatching the episode and I noticed that after Mike and El kiss, I can’t see Will anymore. 

We see him dancing with that girl, so he should be there, but he’s not. Before the last shot with the Mind Flayer it seems like Will never went to the snow ball. And it’s very interesting, since the whole show starts with his disappearance, and Joyce, Mike and other characters ask many times where’s Will? or can’t find him.

And every time it happens, there’s always something going on with the UD or even the lab.

In S3, Will seems to disappear behind Billy/MindFlayer/Vecna. This is so intentional. It really seems like Will isn’t there, right?

In S4, it happens more than once. Especially at Suzie’s. The scenes in her house are definitely foreshadowing of the rest of the season, and imo, of S5 too. So here Will disappears during “the love confession” (so, connection to Byler but also Vecna)

Noah slowly moves and then poof, you can’t see him anymore.

But here it’s even more clear, because in the third shot Noah is not there at all. I rewatched the scene many times. And I’m not sure what this moment with the kids in the kitchen means, but they mention Peter and salt, two things that are connected to Henry and water (salt kills spores. Also, Bobokahn’s theory in the comments) This is when Cornelius turns out the lights. And in the Creel House Nancy said: When Will was in the UD, lights came to life...

In this shot in the desert we can still see Will’s arms, but it’s so weird if not done on purpose. Plus, look at the difference between his outfit and Mike’s! Will's basically blends in with the desert.

But while I was looking for scenes with Will, I found something about Mike too. I could be wrong, but I can’t see him, and even if he’s there, it’s hard to see him.

This is when Eddie is talking to Jason. 

But then, where’s Mike?

Techically, he’s behind the girl with the glasses, but my point is, it’s like they’re trying to hide him. Because we can still see Dustin and his hat.

So, yeah. It’s intentional. And imo it’s all connected to Joyce’s question in S2. The most important question. What happens when my boy is gone? 

Owens never answers, but I think we’ll get the answer to that question in S5.

And Mike is part of that answer, because, of course he is