#band made of love and light and friendship. actually

[staryuee]

GIVING THEM A FRIENDSHIP BRACELET

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread…:3

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . how would your significant other react when you give them a friendship bracelet made by your own kind hands?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . diluc, kazuha, kokomi, scaramouche, heizou, itto, cyno, lyney, lynette, freminet, furina, neuvillette, navia, ga ming, chiori, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . this reminded of primary school days of making randomly coloured loom band bracelets…sniffles, the good ol’ days of giving your crush bundled up daisies that had bugs on them from the schools yard and then immediately running away (i am a lesbian i had no such experience in just talking for the sake of poetry ☆〜（ゝ。∂)

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

“what’s this, my love?” he cautiously surveyed the tiny strings and charms with a shocked yet rather satisfied expression. so this is what you were so focused on for the last couple hours…? he can’t help but feel slightly relieved that instead of wasting away at work you were merely crafting a cutely childish gift for him.

“it’s a friendship bracelet! look, i even managed to find these cute strawberry charms for you.” you laughed and start fiddling with the short strands near his scalp, fiddling with them and folding them over to create a stem-like shape.

diluc softly exhaled in amusement, wrapping the small piece of jewellery around his already bedazzled wrist. it takes him a real good second to actually realise what you just said. awkwardly coughing into his hand, diluc catches your attention, “darling, you do realise we’re married?”

a smile possesses your face as you hook your arm with his. “of course i do! i just thought it’d be cute, you know?” he smiled in response.

diluc is no stranger to friendship bracelets. after all, him and kaeya used to make those for each other all the time. sometimes that young triplet consisting of a very dedicated jean, a shy kaeya and a mischievous diluc (sometimes a cutsey barbara who tried to eat the beads) would gather together to create and exchange such bracelets.

a tradition that diluc might’ve let go of but had never forgotten. when you go to sleep at night diluc immediately places your bracelet into a drawer where he kept all of the ones from his childhood.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

“is this a friendship bracelet? that’s very considerate of you, my love.” kazuha tilts your chin to press a feather-light kiss onto your lips, his touch so tender it was like being touched by sunlight itself. “but i thought we were passed our journey of friendship?” his hand travel down to your hips. squeezing them intently to bring you close to his flowery scent.

“or do i need to remind you that we’re lovers?” taking your hand in his, kazuha leaned his head down to press his lips against your knuckles, eyes peeking through his bangs as if to entice you. and, well, of course it did. kazuha knew just a simple glance at you paired with an affectionate grin was enough to lure you into loving his arms.

kazuha didn’t expect for a piece of handmade jewellery consisting of maple leaf charms with red string to become so sentimental to him, but it was only a matter of time till the bracelet helped become an engraved memory of you. he’d kiss it each time you were apart, hold it up against moonlight while stargazing, trying to illustrate your figure within a constellation.

wandering became more exciting. he’d get to slowly part from your lips, while still having a perpetual reminder of the love you shared with a few pieces of strings tied to his wrist alone.

kazuha, though content with this, always secretly craved to hear the sound of your voice as you called his name and reached out to him. however, within his life he’s learned one thing that has truly stood out; it’s the small things in life that mirror true beauty.

S. KOKOMI — 珊瑚宫心海

“your excellency? what is that on your wrist?” gorou tilted his head curiously, his ears twitching in tandem.

“hm? oh, this?” she shakes the coral coloured bracelet, making the beads and fish charms jingle excitedly as if they were jumping within sea waves. “haha, [name] gave it to me. it’s a friendship bracelet!” kokomi shows it off with pride, a flutter of flapping fins hit her ribcage in the form of her beating heart at the prospect of people seeing the deepness of your ocean-depth bond with just a few beads on a string.

burnout is utterly debilitating. as kokomi spends only a few minutes in her recluse corner within watatsumi, even the shimmering of pearls and the quiet sound of the shore isn’t enough to bring her fragmented energy to rest. nesting her head upon the bundled arms that laid carefully on her desk, she attempted to snooze. finding that she can just barely flutter her curled eyelashes close before an unbearable ache pinches her eyebrows into a knot.

feeling defeated, kokomi sits back up and taps her fingers absentmindedly on the wood, finding just a tiny bit of solace in the sound of clicking and clacking. wait…she quickly glanced at her wrist, noticing she completely forgot to take off her bracelet when preforming her duties. despite her fatigue, kokomi can’t help but exhale a smile. calloused fingers tweezing the bubbly fish charms in an attempt for stimuli that wasn’t so agonising.

she’s so glad she has you, even if that memory of you is withheld in something children share for an intended promise of foreverness.

SCARAMOUCHE — 斯卡拉姆齐

“are you twelve?“ scaramouche raises his eyebrows at you with a sneer, a look of either disgust or confusion on his face. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you were mocking me.”

“you’re short but not kid short!” you retorted to appease him, rolling your eyes at his annoying theatrics. did he really have to be so bitchy all the time? i guess when people say that short people tend to be the most angry because all that wrath is bottled into such a teeny body it’s very true…

the friendship bracelets (yes you made two!) were a representation of his journey from the malicious “balladeer” to the slightly less malicious and more so bittersweet wanderer. a contradicting colour palette yet his frosty and asshole attitude remained the same no matter what hue of the rainbow he was dipped in (should’ve been named skittle not scaramouche).

“if you don’t like it that much you don’t have to wear it, it’s not like i’m forcing you.” a pang of disappointed squeezed your chest heavily. it would’ve been fine if he just threw it away after a week or so. you would’ve been extremely hurt yes, but it’s better than having your own lover reject a handmade gift without even a thought for your feelings.

seeing your frown lines and the way your eyebrows scrunched together, scaramouche sighed and immediately snatched the bracelets back. quickly covering them over his wrist and crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “i never said i wouldn’t wear it, stop being whiny.”

the slight embarrassment he felt was worth every stroke of blush on his cheeks if it meant he could see you smile brightly at something so childish.

S. HEIZOU — 鹿野院平藏

“it’s not our anniversary.” heizou stated simply.

“nope.”

“neither of our birthdays.”

“nope.”

“not a special achievement either.”

“nope.”

“alright, love, spill. what’s the occasion, hm? just in the mood to spoil me with your affections?” heizou threw his hands up in defeat. not being able to use his detective experience into deciphering why you decided to be so cute today and bless his otherwise uneventful day.

carefully, you wrapped the bracelet around his eager wrist. “no occasion~ just felt like giving you a friendship bracelet to show my love for you.” he raises an eyebrow. leaning to your eye level, heizou procures a look of confused distaste at your seemingly innocent admission. “friendship?” he looks away dejected, placing his hands on his hips. “and here i thought i was your very cool and sweet boyfriend.”

brushing away his dramatics and looping your arms around his neck to pull his pouty face in closer, you retaliate. “oh hush, you’re still my lovely dramatic boyfriend.” heizou smirked and leaned in impossibly close, his breath tickling your soft skin generously.

“then, could you show your love for me in another way too?” begrudgingly, you caved. moulding your lips with his while his hands gradually situated themselves on your hips. a chuckle escapes his occupied mouth, leaving a tingling feeling down your spine as you pull away, a bright smirk on his face. “thanks for the bracelet, baby~ i’ll be sure to wear it as my lucky charm during investigations!”

A. ITTO — 荒泷一斗

“well of course you’d want to bless the almighty arataki itto with such a gift! i humbly accept your offering~” itto sways a thumbs up, tongue rolling across his pointy teeth in an extravagant display of confident hubris. all in vain, of course. no amount of bravado could dull the charming blush on his cheeks; the way his grin hoisted into a genuine smile of gratitude or the way his eyes glistened with a familiar light; childlike wonder.

itto was never and has never been accustomed to such small things in life. honestly, he was lucky for a stranger to not throw insults, physical objects, hits, kicks, spit, and the like for his mere existence. a friendship bracelet was an event that was so far out of reach for the oni that the only thing he wanted to do right now was to kiss you stupid.

but, he couldn’t. he stood still, twiddling with the beads that nested against his wrist with a haze that was absentminded you felt like tapping him would cause a bubble to burst above his head for water to splash him awake.

the word “friend” doesn’t even register into his brain. he’s too content with the knowledge that your bond meant something to you. that he meant something to you.

you’ve never seen itto so quiet before. he’s usually this giant (literally) ball of energy that bounces around the place and shares an infectious attitude of confidence and joy with no restraint even to the most stoic, but right now, it was like he was that small vulnerable child again given a chance at redemption for simply living.

CYNO — 赛诺

cyno tilts his head to the side as he stares with pinched brows at the weaved threads of purple and yellow beads and charms that you held in front of you with a delicate hand. “what’s the bracelet for?”

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” taking the initiative, you wrap the bracelet around his relatively small wrist and watch in awe as it seems to match his palette perfectly. perhaps not his personality, but maybe if he wore this around regularly people wouldn’t be so frightened by his frozen features.

cyno went quiet for a moment, a look of confusion on his face. a look that made you shrink in shame. did he not like it? was something wrong with it? is it too childish for someone with such an esteemed status? all such baseless thoughts get immediately dispelled once cyno’s lips curl into a subtle grin, his eyes narrowing devilishly.

you’ve often seen this look when he’s about to score a rewarding win in a tcg tournament. but, he also had this look when…fuck. you sigh in defeat and simply let him say it. “why did the friendship bracelet break up with its partner?”

“…ha. why?”

“because it felt tied down.”

you know how in animes when someone says something very fucking stupid, it’s like the world echoes with silence to allow the person to truly feel the embarrassment from their words? you hoped that’s what cyno felt when you blank stared him with a thin line for your lips, hands clenching and unclenching as you fought the urge to squeeze his cheeks together.

“do you get it?” he asks, but before he can ramble about the absolutely articulate construction of his pun, you spring into action and press your lips passionately on his. of course, he replies eagerly. enjoying the clicking of the beads hitting together as his hand made it’s swift, instinctive movement to your waist.

LYNEY — 林尼

“mon ange…is this for me?” lyney smiles gently at you, sneaking the red bracelet onto his wrist. unable to take his away from the fine craftsmanship and the adorable details of hats, doves and some card charms. knowing you thought of him so directly and so in depth made his heart flutter the same way a dove’s wings expand after being liberated from a cooped cage.

“of course it is, it’s a friendship bracelet!” you clasp your hands behind your back, awaiting either his praise or his teasing — whatever he was in the mood for more. despite the happiness that surged through his heart like a bad game of throw the dart, believe me you shot him hard in the feels, lyney frowns.

“but, mon chéri…” he sighs in despair, a theatric hand over the very heart you had gripped tightly in your hand with a mere few beads of coloured wax. “i haven’t gotten a gift for you, i feel rather ashamed of myself.”

“don’t worry about that, this is just meant to be my good luck charm for you during your shows and…” your voice trailed off to him. not because he was uninterested but because he loved the buzzing sound of your melodic syllables each time your lips opened.

“ah, my dear,” lyney paused your affectionate rambles politely, “you’ve got something here…” you tilt your head to the side quizzically and await for him to point at it or take it out. he grins wildly. “well, isn’t that cute?” lyney chuckles softly and while leaning suuuper close to your ear, ‘magically’ pulls out a rainbow rose from seemingly no where.

“it seems we’re even now, hm?” he gestures, handing the rose over with a wink, leaving a cheeky kiss to your jawline in gratitude.

LYNETTE — 琳妮特

knowing lynette’s character and demeanour intricately, you’re aware that grand gestures aren’t at all her thing. she can barely handle a tea time conversation with someone if she’s forced to play an active role.

the bracelet sat enclosed within your palm as you rambled on about your day to lynette, feeling an unshakable amount of anxiety vomiting into your gut for no reason but overthinking. you’ve been avoiding giving her this bracelet for a week now in fear she’ll find very little value or use in something so minimal.

“you have something you want to give me.” a phrase intended as a question, but said more so as a statement.

“i…uh, how did you know?” you laugh and play with the strings of the bracelet cautiously as to not break it.

“your eyebrows are furrowed and you keep glancing away from me.” she analyses you like a real robot…i guess she’s really committed to that bit. either that or she just loves you too much that being unable to read your expressions would be a grievous sin on her part.

with a sigh of defeat, you slide over the bracelet to her with an awkward smile paling your usually joyous lips. “i made a friendship bracelet for you…thought it’d be cute.” lynette doesn’t understand people around her a majority of the time. truly, she doesn’t even want to, it’s not like she needs to either since she has her brother to leech on and others to fool with her robotic party trick and yet, she can’t help but wonder why it is you choose to defend yourself over something so sweet.

“thank you, it’s cute. i’ll wear it for my next show if i’m able to.” her lips curve upward in what to most would seem like a twenty degree uplift, but to you, it meant quite literally everything.

FREMINET — 菲米尼

nothing. no amount of experiences with his interactions with people could’ve prepared him for the absolute heart attack that was this gesture.

he loved it, too much. he wishes he could just dip back into the ocean depths. indulge in a meaningless conversation with the tidalga, or even express his feelings of adoration to you to pers. but currently, it was only you two sharing a humble moment together. no person he could lean in, no space he could rush the words he’d love to say to you in gratitude for the gift.

and you knew that. and that’s what he also loved about you. how willing you were to accept and love him even with him being less socially adept than a coral reef. feeling the cool and vibrant coloured bracelet tilt around his wrist and knot in place, he smiled wobbly.

between the silence, you knew that the quiet smile and nod meant more than his stammered and hushed words could ever express. leaning in to press a kiss to the side of his wrist and cheek, freminet manages to gulp a bit of courage and swallow his static and tingly anxiety, reaching to kiss your forehead. letting his lips linger momentarily before he backed away. “thank you…”

FURINA — 芙宁娜

heartbeat pounding in her ears. eyes narrowing into puffy circles. her bottom lip bitten brutally by her gnashing teeth. hands shaky, making her teacup tremble within her grip. why were you glaring at her so intensely?!

first the invitation for a tea party with only you two as the special guests. second the ominous letter claiming you two “need to talk.” and now, you were completely quiet and calmly snacking, drinking away several blends of tea without a word! it was absolutely ridiculous to think the one person she has entrusted her still mending heart with is ignoring all the clear signs of hesitance and vulnerabilities within the relationship despite them all being initiated by them!

“so, furina.” you clasp your hands together, an impish look transforming your usually peaceful face. her heartbeat stammers as her eyes meet yours in a tender glance. “uhm..yeah?” furina attempts to appear more courageous than she is, but truly, she’s shitting it (for lack of a better term).

the silence stretched on for too long before you giggled and pulled up a blue and white toned bracelet from your sleeves, shaking it with your fingertips with a kind smile. “i made you a friendship bracelet!”

a ghost wavered out of her frightened soul, the tea in her hand put down at this point so she can savour the comforting feeling of her head in her hands. being a gorgeous, shining star in the spotlight of fontaine’s grand stage, furina isn’t a secondhand stranger to gifts. whether they’ve been given to her personally, awkwardly, silently, with no words signed or a creepy letter attached expressing their reverence.

she wishes you’d sometimes go that route instead of matching her in these theatrics! begrudgingly, despite the little flutter in her heart, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and looked at you with a pout that you couldn’t help but lean in to kiss.

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

neuvillette hums a tune along to the orchestra of the vinyl. an accompanying sound of his pen hastily itching onto the paper adding to the rhythm. his door opens and while he’d normally remain quietly focused on his piling paperwork, he recognised this particular patter of footsteps coming towards him. you.

smiling habitually and peering his head up, neuvillette greeted you lovingly. “hello, my love. what brings you here today? did you get in trouble?” he knew the reason you’d come ushering into his office was hardly with the intention of getting him to aid you with your troublesome quarrels, but rather, you just wanting his love and affection that he was more than willing to fulfil. if time allowed, of course.

“no, no. nothing like that, yet…” you grinned and neuvillette looked at you with a playful look of disappointment at the hesitance. “i made you a gift!” with a prideful aura that was less arrogance and more pure joy, you presented the bracelet to him. he wasted no time in stirring the small bundle of fabric and beads with his gloves. “look,” you pointed eagerly, “i even managed to commission some furina and melusine charms! you know how we always joke about them being like our children? i thought i’d be a cute addition!”

he exhaled a satisfactory laugh in agreement, interlocking your hand in his to press a kiss to your knuckles in thanks. “cute, indeed. thank you, mon chéri. you’re too sweet sometimes.” you sit on the edge of his desk, watching excitedly as he places the bracelet onto his wrist. “as a gift in return, after i’m done with work, how about we take a nice stroll together? i assure you, no rain will interrupt our serenity so long as you’re by my side.”

NAVIA — 娜维娅

immediately gushes at you as your palm opens to present the gold and blue hued bracelet to her, adorned with rose charms that you personally painted in gold and a greyish blue to accentuate her outfit if she decides to wear it. it was less a decision and more a necessity.

she delicately handled the bracelet onto her wrist and kissed both of your cheeks in gratitude, “thank you so much, sweetheart! this is so cute…but what’s the occasion? it’s not our anniversary or anything like that.” navia smiled at you, playing with some of the little roses and twirling them around in appreciation.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!”

her lips pucker into a pout as she starts to coddle you within her arms, occasionally swinging you around gently. “you’re so absolutely adorable!” she nips at your earlobe, kissing it as a form of apology. “but honey, you do know we aren’t just friends right?” navia captures your cheeks within her palms. “we’re lovers!” she presses several kisses across your face, ending her affectionate spillage with a press of her lips on yours.

“oops— haha, sorry i got lipstick all over you, darling.” navia chuckled and began wiping away all the lipstick smudges from your pretty face. yet her attempts bore no fruit. instead of wiping away anything, she only made it oh so much worse. “ah well, guess we both got presents from one another today?” she snickers, twirling her wrist to show off the bracelet with a wink.

GA MING — 嘉明

if you thought this man’s eyes couldn’t get any brighter, then you’re absolutely dead wrong. if you thought he could jump high while lion dancing, you’re also absolutely dead wrong!

he could outrun god right now. if you asked him to defeat a hoard of lined up mondstadt and liyue treasure hoarders, he’d do it in a heartbeat. what possessed you to be so cute?! do you seriously think he can take another heart attack like this after the one he had during lantern rite?

you aren’t able to say much or even explain your reasons for as to why you decided to make this nor what it even is or represents before ga ming smacks his lips messily all over your face. a mixture of your own gloss from kissing you earlier and his own saliva stick to your skin sloppily and you can’t help but feel both enamoured and grossly repulsed at the mixture of sticky wetness on your cheeks as well as the love that seemed to glow like fireworks.

“mmuah~! i love you so much…are you trying to make me cry?” he pouts, becoming a giggling mess as soon as you roll your eyes at his dramatics.

he keeps the bracelet on every day. sometimes he’ll be pouty all day if he’s unable to wear it in fear of it snapping and wasting away all your precious hard work due to either his negligence or the pains of manual labour…he’ll have to cope with simply glancing at the red imprints the beads had left intended onto his skin for satisfaction.

CHIORI — 千织

“what is this?” she jingles the vivid and strong orange coloured bracelet in front of her face, appreciating the tiny details of the cute sewing equipment charms and what looked to be handmade porcelain bows embedded onto some beads.

“it’s a friendship bracelet!” you gleam at her, pride evident in your face at your creation. she hums in agreement; it was certainly something alright.

“oh. cute.” that’s all the genuine feedback she could give you without mentioning how tacky it would look with her attire — it was an affectionate gesture, one which she didn’t want to undermine and therefore, with little complaint despite her own personal conflicts, she slipped the bracelet onto her wrist, extending her hand out and twirling it to admire the craftsmanship.

you won’t see her actively wearing it out in every day life, perhaps you’ll manage to sneak a glimpse of her playing with the beads while she’s going over some designs in her sketchbook but otherwise, her gloved hands contain nothing but the smell of perfume.

not that she’d admit it outright until you asked, but the real reason she refuses to wear your bracelet daily is for a simple reason; she doesn’t want it to break in order to have that constant reminder of you as she goes to bed and stares up at her ceiling with the bracelet being coddled between her fingertips.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

“you’re so childish.” she muses, tracing her nails across the beads, eliciting a weird clacking sound as the charms and beads hit against each other. “but i suppose that’s also an alluring aspect to you.” she ushers the bracelet onto her wrist. despite it being completely covered, there was something even more intimate about her gift being a part of a hidden identity for her; your affection only intended for your gorgeous eyes and her narrowed ones.

tilting your head to her eye-level, you can smell her musky perfume. she leaned in for a kiss. her lips tasting like flavoured gloss consisting of all sorts of red berries, an accurate mirror to the rosey colour of her bright lips. a sneaky hand traced circles around your hips and waist as she attempted to take your breath away. a scythe is a befitting weapon for a woman who’s kiss was practically a notion for death.

she’s used to her children offering gifts and trinkets to her. rocks, random jewellery they crafted with glue, messy crayon drawings, sometimes even in the most macabre scenarios, blood itself. each of those, however, she cherished wholeheartedly. the same way she’d cherish the bond between you two that she’d never allow for anyone to break.

so long as she continuously receives silly gestures like this, she’s convinced she’ll be able to hold you within her embrace with very little effort.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[rrat-king]

some Bad Girls accesory headcannons:

adaine

doesn't need glasses but wears blue light ones because the light gives her migraines. the glasses are round silver wire frames that she has broken and cast mending on too many times

she loses her glasses constantly so gorgug made her a glasses chain so they can just hang when she's not wearing them. it has little star charms and blue and silver beads

it's my hc that adaine didn't actually give kristen her pinky back, keeping the philange instead so she has the bone on a little necklace she wears. its morbid but sweet.

she has a leather book holster that ayda made her after she complimented her's so that they are matching. keeps her spellbook in it

has three bracelets from kristen: a red rubber 'vote for applebees' bracelet as well as two woven friendship bracelets, a purple and blue chevron as well as a orange white and blue striped

elf ears are... so stupidly sensitive so she has a hard time wearing earings but she does steal fig's ear cuffs a lot

kristen

wears dog tags with jawbone's number as her emergency contact in case anything happens. he doesn't legally have custody but its a safe way of making sure he gets called over her parents

got her septum peirced with fig in leviathan, was originally a silver barbell but had to take it out when she realized the silver meant that tracker wouldn't kiss her, so wears a little golden hoop instead

has six trillion bracelets. most of them are friendship bracelets she's made herself, but she also has a rubber sig figs bracelet, a pony bead bracelet that says 'little shrimp' as well as a 'WWCD?' she made with her campaign rubbers

bad at wearing rings but has a number of them that she keeps on a carabiner that tracker got her (most of them found in the river while throwing rocks with riz. don't ask her why there are so many lost rings in the river she doesn't question it)

she got rid of her cross necklace after meeting helio but still has the saint necklace she got at first cornmunion. it's saint iree, patron saint of the lost harvest

fig

has one of gorthalaxes guitar picks as a necklace along with a million others

wears rings around her horns, most of which she makes herself but fabian gifted her a few of his that he doesn't wear cuz 'they interfere with my fighting, thank you' that are nice elven gold

has a matching septum with kristen as well as a million other peircings

she. loves. mixing. metals. she wears a million pieces of jewelry and they are all mishmashed but because none of it matches it works

constantly stealing her mom's earings. it drives sandra lynn crazy

hardcore believer in scrunchys over hairties. always has one either in her hair on on her wrist even they somewhat clash with her aesthetic.

wears compression gloves under her fingerless gloves to help with her joints swelling

has a million pins including: some of her mom's old band pins that she let her have, band pins of her own, kristen's campaign buttons as well as kipperlillys but she doodles over those, pins she's made herself out of bottle caps, a little tin skateboard pin gorgug made her, and a red compass pin that ayda gave her that belonged to one of the previous ayda's

(will make one for the boys eventually when i have time to come to terms with riz's new found accessory addiction this season)

[buff-muffin]

ASL thoughts and head canons.

1. Sabo’s missing tooth he had as a kid didn’t actually fall out. He chipped it back when he was still living with his family. And his parents thinking that made him look disgusting and rowdy had the rest of the tooth removed before his adult tooth was even remotely ready to move in. Thus there was a gap in his teeth for ages. It started growing in when Sabo set sail.

2. Luffy loved using Ace’s freckles as a dot to dot. Both brothers heavily think he doesn’t have a fucking clue what animals he’s trying to conjure and Ace is getting sick of having to fight him tooth and nail every time Luffy finds a marker

3. In his early days of friendship with Ace. Sabo refused to believe that he could eat an entire bear by himself. He thought Ace was exaggerating like when someone says “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” yet when he saw it with his own eyes he was horrified. Ace was also confused why Sabo didn’t want a bear to himself. But didn’t complain. Hunting one bear for the both of them and fighting over it was pretty fun. And scavenging berries for a desert never bothered them.

4. Sabo grew his hair out while he was a run away. He hated how it looked buzzed. And while he probably didn’t let it get any longer then his brother’s he loved the freedom. His mother cut his hair the second he was taken back home

5. Ace and Sabo hadn’t thought twice about bugs. Ace saw them as pests like the moths that would huddle around the candle light and Sabo was taught that they were gross. Luffy on the other hand adored them. He showed them bug fighting and showed them all sorts of cool and pretty bugs. He would also put beetles in his brothers’ shoes for fun but in the end they had come out of it for a new respect for bugs and a little bit more love-hate for Luffy.

6. Sabo tried to tell his adopted brother about his real brothers but he refused to believe Sabo was telling the truth. I mean beating up a giant tiger in the woods? Being made of rubber? Being able to eat 5 times their body weight in a matter of minutes? He thought Sabo was loony.

7. When taken back to his parents, Sabo refused to eat with his brother. Sharing a meal with someone made you friends and sharing a cup of sake made you brothers. And he wanted nothing to do with him.

8. Sabo was Dadans favourite. At first. Originally Sabo was… as well behaved as he was going to be around his brothers because that need to respect authority was so engrained in him. Though as he grew more comfortable with Dadan and trusting she really wasn’t going to kick him out other dumb things. He started joining in on the bullying Dadan band wagon. And she hated them all equally again.

9. Luffy and Ace find it absolutely hilarious how bad Sabo would get sun burnt in the summer. They would chase him around trying to slap him for hours. Dadan taught him how to make a remedy and over the years he gained a tan and freckles that he knew would have his bio dad blow a fuse.

10. Luffy always wants to be in fights of strength with his brothers to prove he’s strong. You know, arm wrestling. That weird thing were you put your feet together and push with all you’re might. And of course rough housing. But in the super early years of being a rubber man that was impossible cause his body would just. Bend. Arm wrestling? Womp womp no elbow for you. Foot wrestle? His legs fold like a piece of paper. He was humiliated and his face was bright red every time Ace and Sabo would laugh.

11. One of the best training methods the brothers had found for Luffy was actually made as a joke. Still completely pathetic at landing a damn punch Sabo jokingly said he should train by trying to catch bugs by stretching your arms. And after a lot of frustrated afternoons his aim did improve an alarming amount. Luffy to this day continues to train that way and he always thinks of Sabo when he does.

12. They never finished that bottle of sake they stole from Dadan. At the time they all thought the drink was absolutely putrid though drank their cups if it meant they were brothers. The bottle is still in the treehouse. Even after everything. It’s completely oxidised but the smell keeps animal from making their treehouse a nest so Ace and Luffy never minded all that much.

[momotonescreaming]

Teenage Dream - Part 6

AKA - the Jeff and Eddie have crushes on jocks series Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Chrissy had waved him goodbye as they exited the library, a cute wiggle of her fingers as they went their separate ways down the hall. It was almost embarrassing how much it put Jeff in a good mood. How lighter he felt, giddy and happy, and trying not to smile in the halls. It made the rest of the day easier, go by faster. And Jeff sure as hell wasn’t complaining. She took his day and lifted it up, just by the virtue of being in it.

The rest of the day passed in a rush of classes, and of teachers, and of notes and a drifting mind. Drifting to band, and Hellfire, and Chrissy. To guitar chords and crooned words. To strawberry ponytails and matching scrunchies. And next thing he knew the bell was ringing.

Time for band practice. Corroded Coffin tried their best to get together and practice once a week, every week. It was a good excuse to hang out at first, when they were all building their friendships. Talk shit, talk music, riff off each other. Then they got their gig at The Hideout, and practice became a lot more serious.

Granted, they only played to a handful of drunks, but it was a start! It was invigorating, being on the stage, feeling the heat of the shitty lights, the sound of their music coming out the amps, the energy that flowed through them.

Jeff didn’t quite know how he was going to focus on it all tonight. This has been the first practice since her. Since she sat with him and they had an actual conversation, at least. If he finds himself recommending they start playing love songs, he’s going to put his head through one of Gareth’s drums.

He was walking through the halls in a daze, trying to leave the building without colliding into someone in the veritable flood of students all leaving at the same time. Bag strap clutched tightly in his hand, shoulders tight as he weaves past a row of jocks trying their best to take up the entire width of the hall. A voice shakes him out of his reverie.

“Hey Jeff,” Frank greets with a nod of his head, walking in tandem with Jeff as they finally, finally, leave Hawkins High for the day. “You heading to Gareth’s?”

“Gotta do the school run first,” He says with a grimace, slowly heading to the car park, Frank by his side. “Mom’s at work and Dad can’t pick my brothers up. So I’ll drop them home first. Why’d you ask?”

“Mind giving me a ride?” Frank asks, brows gently furrowed as he asks.

“Yeah no worries man. As long as you don’t mind tagging along as I deliver shithead one and two home.”

Frank snorts. “It beats the bus, and Eddie drives like an animal.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Jeff jokes, tilting his head and smiling to Frank, braces bared. Eddie knows they think he drives like a maniac — they’ve all told him as such — but it hasn’t done shit to make him drive like a normal person. Eddie’s the one to drive them to their gigs at The Hideout — he’s got the van, it’s the biggest — and it’s a fucking ordeal every time.

Jeff collects his brothers, both of them only complaining the whole time that Frank’s claimed the front seat and taken control of the stereo. Had put in one of Jeff’s Black Sabbath cassettes to his delight, and his brothers dismay. They had groaned in unison the second the music started, so naturally Jeff turned the volume up. Him and Frank, head-banging the whole way home. Singing louder and louder to smother the sounds of his complaining brothers. His car, his music.

It was fun. Had helped him get more into the zone, the right mindset for practice. Left him breathless and laughing, volume cranked up high.

He had dropped his brothers home, picked up his guitar, and then it was just him and Frank in the car. Frank holding Jeff’s guitar in between his knees, making sure it doesn’t slip and damage anything. Making sure it doesn’t get damaged. It’s precious. It’s his. He had saved up for it, had asked for money for his birthday and Christmas, picked a day there was a big sale on at their local music store when he bought it.

It’s not Eddie’s sweetheart, but it’s fucking good kit if he says so himself.

They were making the drive to Gareth’s, and things were good. But Frank was giving him looks from across the centre console. Now that they were alone, without the annoying constant presence of his brothers — he had the room to do so. Frank was the ‘silent but deadly’ type. Was content to sit back and listen, wasn’t pressed to make a comment if he didn’t have to. But it also meant the guy was scarily good at picking up on things. Reading in between the lines.

Things you weren’t sure you wanted to be picked up on.

“Jeff,” Frank starts, voice only just loud enough to be heard over the music pounding out of the car stereo. There was something in his voice, his tone, something pondering. Knowing. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Oh fuck, he does know something. Whether he knows the specificity of the something is another thing entirely. So does the fact that he’s not sure if he wants to tell or not. Open this can of worms, release the hounds.

He focuses his gaze on the road ahead of him, on the chipped asphalt and the feel of the steering wheel under the palms of his hands. On Frank’s calm, steady gaze on the side of his head.

Frank wouldn’t be mean about it. Wouldn’t be unnecessarily rude, or cruel. Jeff wouldn’t befriend anyone like that, and Frank wouldn’t be that sort of person.

Maybe he doesn’t have to tell him it’s Chrissy specifically. Maybe he can just say he’s got a crush. Developed feelings. It’s just taking up a lot of space in his mind right now. It might be nice, to tell someone else. Ease the pressure. Lessen the burden. Maybe it won’t be so bad, if more than just Eddie knows Jeff is falling hopelessly.

But before he can say anything, before Jeff can even open his mouth — he’s pulling up at Gareth’s house. Drove the entire way without thinking about it. Completely on auto-pilot. He pulls to the kerb, parks the car, and turns to look at Frank. Gives him a small smile.

“I know.”

Frank just nods, and Jeff lets himself sigh a little. Guess they’re tabling this discussion for another time.

Eddie’s van is parked a little ways up the road — at an angle, tail end sticking into the road. Frank snorts as he sees it, exiting the car and shutting the door behind him. “Very glad I didn’t catch a ride with him now.”

Walking up to Gareth’s open garage, guitar in hand, Jeff sees Eddie and Gareth standing in the middle, an amp on the floor between them. Right in front of Gareth’s drum kit, unplugged, decidedly not where it should be.

Gareth’s kit was in the centre, right underneath the handmade Corroded Coffin banner they had strung across the back of the garage. It looked sick as hell, and thankfully Gareth’s parents were cool enough to leave it there. Jeff’s parents would never. Him wanting to learn the guitar was fine, great even. A creative outlet. His mother was less impressed when it evolved into metal music. And an electric guitar. It was louder.

She conceded it was fine when he told he he could plug his headphones into the amp, listen to it that way so he wouldn’t bother the family. No way in hell was she going to let him host band practice though.

Eddie lived in a trailer, and Frank’s place only had an open carport, not a closed in Garage. For a while at the start there they all thought they were shit out of luck.

Thankfully, they had Gareth. Who’s parents were fine with the metal, the band, the DnD. Who were just on the edge of rich that their garage was mostly sound proof. That they could shred as loud as they wanted and it wasn’t a problem (not until the neighbours complained, of course).

“I’m just saying, dude” Eddie exclaims, waving his hands around as he speaks. Rings catching the light, wallet chain lightly jingling at his side. “If we put an amp on either side of your drums, it’ll look sick as hell.”

“It’ll also blow my eardrums out,” Gareth retorted, that familiar scowl on his face, gesturing to his head, and then over at the wall. “Plus, all the outlets are over there, y’know, where we usually plug the amps in?”

“Where’s your vision Gare-Bear!” Eddie says, almost hopping in place. “Your sense of drama! Theatre! Performance!”

“Not here in my parents garage!”

“Jeff, Frankie-Baby,” Eddie adds, whipping around to address them as they approach. Hands clapsed together in front of him like he’s pleading.  “Tell Gareth he’s wrong.”

“I mean,” Jeff starts, dragging out the word as he thinks. Runs his tongue over his braces.  “Where are the outlets in The Hideout? What’s the point in moving them here, if they’re just gonna be somewhere different on stage?”

“See!” Gareth exclaims, before shoving the amp in Eddie’s direction. “We should just leave them off to the side as normal.”

“We are used to them over there,” Jeff adds, not sure if he’s helping anyone.

Eddie moves towards Frank, almost shuffling as his feet scoot across the concrete floor. Hands still clasped together. “Franklin, back me up.”

If the ground were softer Jeff thinks Eddie would be on his knees, really hamming it up, looking up at Frank like he was praying to an uncaring god.

“I think we should hurry up and start practising,” He eventually says, holding back a smile as Eddie groans. “Gareth, you still have my bass?”

Gareth nods, leading Frank over to the back of the garage with the pile of stuff they haven’t moved or organised yet. Jeff snorts as he looks over at Eddie to find him pouting. “Come on drama queen, lets plug this in.”

They get everything set up — still in the same layout they always use, despite Eddie’s complaints — Eddie and Jeff moving the amps into place and untangling the cables. Plugging in their guitars, Frank’s bass, as Gareth fidgeted and fussed with his kit. Adjusting his seat, moving a cymbal over, getting the pedals into position.

“We start same as always?” Frank asks, absently fidgeting and tuning his bass. Plucking strings, eyes flicking between it and the guys.

“Well,” Eddie teases, smiling and tilting his head.

“Do not start, oh my god,” Gareth replies, gathering up his drumsticks.

Practice continues as normal, playing covers, practising riffs, showing off for each other. Talking about original songs, snacking, invading Gareth’s mom’s kitchen for cans of coke. Well, mostly normal, if not for the looks Eddie is giving him from across the garage. Eyes wide, trying to gesture with his eyes, his head. Like’s he’s asking a question, inquiring, all without saying the words.

And Jeff knows exactly what Eddie is asking about. It’s what he’s always asking Jeff about these days — Chrissy. About their meeting in free period, about her sitting with him willingly. About Eddie’s unofficial bet about her being there again. About how he said he’d tell Jeff I told you so at practice. And ah fuck, Eddie’s trying to cash in. He tries to give him a look back from across the garage, saying not now, and also fuck off, you were right. Chrissy was there in free period, had remembered his name and sat with him again.

It felt like the start of a friendship, almost. The start of something new. Like kindergartners sitting together at the playground and declaring they were friends right then, right there.

But why did he have to do this now, where Frank and Gareth were there, watching, not knowing what they were trying to communicate. Gareth peering over his drum kit with his familiar scowl, brows furrowed and mouth tight. Fucking suspicious bastard.

He didn’t look at Frank. He knew he’d see that look on his face again. That he had figured out exactly what they were trying to talk about. He knew, but Gareth didn’t. And Gareth was going to be the tough one to crack, he was feisty, a real spitfire. Held on tight. Clutching onto that metal head title, the culture, the community.

“What the fuck are you two looking like that for,” he says, as one of their songs are winding down.

“Nothing,” Jeff deflects, letting go of his guitar, letting it hang from the strap across his chest. “Just Eddie being Eddie.”

“Oh et tu, Jeffus?” Eddie replies, feigning betrayal, but they can all see him smiling. “You’d betray me right here, in front of god and satan and everyone?”

“You started it,” he says with a shrug, tone light as Frank snorts back a laugh.

Eddie makes a noise of indignation, really starting to play it up now, as everyone watches him. He turns to Gareth, his hand on his heart, and bow his head. “It’s a guitarist thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh you can fuck right off then,” Gareth retorts, threatening to throw a drum stick over at Eddie. “Go eat shit somewhere else.”

“Maybe I will,” Eddie laughs, slowly backing out of the garage, watching as the cable extends between his guitar and the amp. “I don’t need you. Me and Jeff will go start a two man band, really kill it out there.”

“Don’t drag me into this!” Jeff says, laughing as Eddie continues to slowly shuffle his way out of the garage.

“Oh you’ve been dragged,” Eddie laughs, sweeping a hand out to the side. “You signed up for this, as my bestest friend in the whole wide world — and as my fellow guitarist.”

“What would you name your two man band?” Frank asks, successfully deflecting. Jeff feels himself sigh, the air leave his lungs. The tightness unfold its way out of his body. “And don’t say Corroded Coffin.”

Tag List: @goosesister @scarlet-malfoy @mavernanche @manda-panda-monium @yoriposts @grtwdsmwhr @panicatthediaz @m-owo-n @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaosgremlinmunson @thespaceantwhowrites @perseus-notjackson @eyesofshinigami @hotluncheddie @novacorpsrecruit @nburkhardt @pansexuality-activated @silentiumdelirium @steaddie-on @steddie-as-they-go @redfreckledwolf @lavender248 @actualwakingnightmare @queenie-ofthe-void @a-little-unsteddie

[abeautylives]

Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

[morningberriesao3]

Bully!Scoops!Steve Harrington X Dom!Eddie Munson

Summary: Steve and Eddie don't get along. Never have, never will. One night, after their shifts end at the mall, Eddie finally releases some of that pent up aggression that he's been harbouring for years.

Word Count: 13.6 K

Chapters: 1 of 1

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… mildly dubious consent, aggression, fight sex, hate sex, spit kink, internalized homophobia and homophobia language, aggression, face-fucking, under-negotiated kink, choking, gagging, car sex (semi-public), dirty talk, degradation, allusions to anal sex, anal play, cum eating, orgasm denial, exhibitionism, voyeurism, light s&m, light dacryphilia

Tags: enemies to lovers (but they’re actually enemies), Steve Harrington’s Scoops Ahoy uniform, Robin Buckley/Eddie Munson friendship, pre-season three, Eddie hates Steve

All characters are—and always will be—18 or older, whether explicitly stated or not

Hate the Way It Feels So Good

Eddie and Steve don’t get along.  

It started as far back as middle school, when cliques started forming and kids started dividing themselves into two very distinct categories: cool, and not cool. They were basically on opposite sides of the spectrum. Natural born enemies.

Steve did things like toss balls into hoops and get sweaty in the gym with a bunch of other dudes, and then corner Eddie at lunch hour and call him the queer. As if he was the one chest to chest with Billy fucking Hargrove an hour earlier, sliding all over him in a tangle of pent-up testosterone.

But no, Eddie was the queer, because he spent his time playing Dungeons and Dragons with his fellow nerds.

At first, it was just another word that got tossed at him. Freak, loser, dork. Queer. At first, Eddie didn’t let it get to him.

Until he was fifteen years old, and he suddenly noticed Trevor Brown’s shoulder muscles underneath his t-shirt. The way they stretched the fabric and made it cling to them like plastic wrap. How the hem of that same shirt rode up above the band of his jeans when he lifted his arms above his head to expose a strip of skin. And how Eddie wanted to run his fingers on it.

The word queer from that day on felt like a bullet flying from a loaded gun.

For three years, Eddie tried to suppress those feelings. He dated Liv from his D&D club for half of that time—thought maybe he could learn to love a girl. To look at her skin the same way he’d looked at Trevor’s all those years ago.

Four months into dating, Eddie and Liv had sex. The whole time, it felt like there was a stone the size of a cherry pit stuck in Eddie’s throat. One that he couldn’t for the life of him swallow down. He didn’t want to look at her. Felt his fingers shaking with something that wasn’t lust as he dug them into her hips. Had to consciously remind himself to keep his eyes on her and not the ceiling, the walls, the pillows. Not to keep them squeezed shut.

He dated her for ten more months after that. They had sex a dozen more times. It never got easier.

Eddie’s friends would talk about their hookups, how good they felt. How they hoped they could do it again. And Eddie just felt nauseous at the thought. He’d make up excuses that he wouldn’t be home, that Wayne would be home, that he was sick, that he had homework, guitar lessons, a family obligation, a job interview. Anything to keep Liv out of his bedroom for as long as possible.

In April of 1984—Eddie’s first time in grade twelve—he decided to break things off. He had to focus on his grades next year, he said, and she was finished with high school, so he really didn’t have the time. All excuses, but she seemed to accept them without pause.

It was about a month after that, that Eddie went to Indianapolis and kissed another man for the first time. Three seconds into it before he realized exactly what his friends had been talking about—his body reacting in a way it never had before. Carnal desire. An urge to go further, to not stop. No cherry pit lodged in his tonsils.

The next months came with a lot of internal loathing. And then experimentation. And then… not quite acceptance. But something close.

It helped that he met band geek Robin Buckley near the end of the school year when they both happened to wander into the practice room one lunch hour. They bonded pretty quickly over music, even though their tastes didn’t intersect that often. But they were both unpopular and quirky and had very little filters, so it was easy enough to form a friendship.

Eddie was able to tell her one summer night as they got high by Lover’s Lake, that he thought he was gay. It only came out when she started blubbering about her crush on Tammy Thompson and then started blubbering harder to try to cover it up.

Needless to say, Eddie and Robin became very close, very fast. She was the only person who knew all of Eddie. And he was the only person who knew all of her.

Eddie was thrilled on Robin’s first day at Scoops Ahoy a year later. The ice cream shop sat directly parallel to Camelot Music where he worked a few hours most days after school, and even longer shifts on the weekends. He knew he’d be able to sit at his register and steal glances of his friend struggling to get through training, and then later, on the slower days, they’d be able to sneak into the hall and cause trouble.

His giddiness was squashed when he saw who the second hire was.

Steve Harrington, standing with his too-big hands on his swimmer’s hips, his eyebrows pinched together above the bridge of his nose, staring down at the buckets of Vanilla-Bean-Caramel and Pineapple-Raspberry ice cream as their boss showed them how to form a proper scoop. Robin stood next to him, looking far less perplexed—and annoyingly calm about having to work next to Eddie’s arch nemesis. Not that she really knew the extent of his hate, beyond the few times he muttered prick under his breath when Steve’s name was mentioned.

“He’s not that bad,” Robin had said when Eddie cornered her after her first shift.

“What do you mean he’s not that bad? He’s a total fuckwad.”

Robin simply shrugged one of her shoulders and said, “I never said he wasn’t.”

Eddie had let it drop that night. But it got harder and harder as time went on.

It was the last day of Steve Harrington’s high school career, 1985, when Eddie took his first swing at that perfect Roman nose of his.

Eddie had been minding his own fucking business in the cafeteria. He can’t remember exactly what had riled him up, but maybe he was being a little flamboyant in a public place. Sometimes he just can’t help himself. But he wasn’t hurting anybody as he scurried around his table and tried to make his friends laugh.

Jason Carver—prick supreme—had something to say about it (as always), flanked by none other than Steve Harrington, who seemed distracted as he zoned off into the distance. “Keep your voice down, freak.”

Sometimes, Eddie had enough control to keep his retorts to himself. But not this day. “You seem to seek me out these days, Carver. I would argue that you like my voice.”

Jason’s nose wrinkled. “You wish, queer.”

Steve seemed to zone back into reality, his eyes narrowing in on Jason and then on Eddie, who twisted his features up into a mockery of a flirtatious smile and said, all too sweetly, “Oh, I do wish. Why don’t you come on over tonight, Jason, and I’ll show you just how much.”

Steve choked on his own saliva then, as if he couldn’t hold back the gag from the thought of someone being gay. Or maybe more specifically, Eddie being gay. Either way, it pissed Eddie off to no end.

“You have an issue, Harrington?”

Steve’s eyes widened, but then he schooled his face back into a mask of nonchalance. “Nope.”

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like you have an issue.” Eddie stepped into Steve’s personal space. Their shoulders brushed against each other. “Maybe you want to come over instead. This queer can show you a great time.”

The look of pure horror on Steve’s face might have been hilarious if Eddie hadn’t been feeling so fired up. “Absolutely not, man. No way.”

“Bit of a bigot, are we, Stevie?” Eddie puffed himself up as big as he could get. His chest bumped into Steve, who took half a step back in shock.

“I didn’t say that,” Steve had said, almost defensively. For a second, Eddie almost thought he would turn around and leave him alone. Until Steve’s eyes found Jason’s, and he tacked on for good measure, “I’m just not like you.”

Eddie saw red. “Like me?”

“Yeah. You know. A fairy—”

Eddie’s fist nearly whistled through the air as he tried to connect it with Steve’s face. Only, Steve’s reflexes were pretty great after all his years training in whichever sports Eddie knew nothing about, so he managed to sidestep the swing. Jason grabbed Eddie’s wrist and laid his own punch against his cheekbone. Eddie landed flat on his ass in front of a growing crowd of school kids who were thrilled about a brawl breaking out.

Five minutes later, Eddie had found himself in the principal’s office, getting reprimanded about how next year would be his last chance to graduate, and how he was ruining his future by getting into fights, and maybe he just needed to go to church over the summer to help find his path in life.

Jason was asked if he was alright and was sent home with a pat on his back.

It has been two weeks since that incident. The cut on Eddie’s cheek from Jason’s knuckles has nearly healed.

He’s currently running his finger over what’s left of the scab, staring through slitted eyes at Harrington desperately trying to flirt with girls, even as he’s dressed in his stupid sailor’s outfit.

Eddie snickers to himself, watching the girls side-eye each other. They giggle condescendingly as they walk away from the ice cream counter. Another fallout.

He notices Robin take out a dry-erase marker to add another tally under the “You Suck” category of the T-chart she made for Steve. At least she’s humbling him, even if she doesn’t agree that he’s the worst person to ever walk the planet.

It’s a Saturday, nearing four o’clock. It’s time for Eddie’s break, and he always stops by Scoops to see if Robin can join him. This has led to way more interactions with Steve than he would ever like to admit, but they’re usually short-lived. Eddie glares at Steve, and Steve stares back at him like he might catch the Freak Disease if he gets too close. It’s a routine.

He hands the keys to his coworker and slowly makes his way across the tiles of the wide mall hallway. Steve sees his approach, and Eddie can see the panic set in. Steve’s puppy eyes go large, and he turns quickly on his heels. He tears the dumb sailor’s hat from his perfectly coiffed hair, saying something unintelligible to Robin.

Her eyes lock on Eddie just as he approaches the register. “Ahoy, Eddie. Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of fla—”

“Can it, Robin,” Steve cuts in from his now lazy stance at the back of the shop. “You don’t need to do the whole spiel to Munson every time he visits you at work.”

“But it’s funny,” she argues. She turns to Eddie. “Don’t you think it’s funny?”

“It’s hilarious,” Eddie says. Any chance to disagree with Harrington. “I would be so disappointed if you were to stop. Please, continue?”

“Are you ready to set sail on this ocean of flavour?” Robin wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at Eddie. “I’ll be your captain. I’m Steve Har—”

“I knew it!” Steve whines. “I knew this was a way for you to make fun of me!”

Robin unleashes a vault of snort-laughter that sounds like she’s been holding it in all day. Eddie has to physically contain himself from joining along, especially when he sees how disgruntled Steve looks from the low blow.

“It’s not like I want to say that shit,” Steve continues. “They told me to. I’m just doing my job—I just—It’s just—”

Eddie slaps his hand over his mouth, but he can’t stop himself from giggling alongside Robin. It’s especially ironic that Steve is so pressed about getting made fun of when just two weeks ago, he was joining alongside Jason to do that very thing to Eddie. Call it karma.

“Whatever.” Steve crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Assholes. Leave me alone. Customers are coming.”

Robin takes her time slipping her hat from her head and placing it on a stool behind her. The group of young women appear in front of Steve, who also abandons his hat. Showing off his hair must be the only chance he has at getting laid anymore.

“Ahoy ladies, I’m St—” Steve’s eyes dart sideways to a snickering Robin, and then at Eddie who can feel one of his brows raised like a dare. Steve clears his throat. “I’m Steve. What can I get for you?”

Eddie scoffs at the same time Robin snorts and says, “See you in an hour, Dingus.”

Steve ignores her.

They leave the ice cream shop and make their way to the Burger King in the opposite corner of the food court. Finally, Eddie feels far away enough to ask, “Dingus?”

“Yeah.” Robin scans the menu behind the counter like she’s not just going to order the chicken sandwich. “He’s totally a dingus. I thought you’d agree on that one.”

“There are a lot of colourful words I’d use to describe Steve Harrington,” Eddie mumbles. “But I guess a dingus is a start.”

“There’s the spirit.” Robin slaps Eddie on the back, totally unaware that he is once again stewing over the jock that makes his life a living hell. “Let me buy you something. Whopper or Nuggets?”

“Nuggets. And fries, because all this talk about Steve is really putting me through it.”

“He’s really not that—”

“Not that bad. I know, you’ve said so a thousand times. But do you see my damn cheek?” Eddie points to the nearly healed wound like Robin hasn’t watched it through the red-to-purple-to-yellow healing phases.

She purses her lips and seems to choose her next words carefully. “Right. Okay. But from what I understand, Steve didn’t punch you. Jason did.”

Eddie stares at her incredulously. “Seriously? You’re gonna get hung up on the details? He called me a—” he lowers his voice to a whisper “—a fairy.”

“I know. And that is seriously not cool. But Jason called you a queer,” Robin retorts, just as quietly. “Fairy is better than the other F word he could have said.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending him.” Eddie points to the cashier who is now waiting to take their order. “I also want a Coke.”

Robin rolls her eyes but buys Eddie his meal, which he thinks is the bare minimum that he deserves after all this emotional distress.

The hour seems to fly by, and Eddie thanks whatever power there might be in the universe that Steve doesn’t get mentioned again. Until the walk back to their respective jobs.

“Oh—I forgot to mention. Steve is taking over the closing shift tonight, so I won’t be catching a ride with you.”

Eddie hovers between Camelot Music and Scoops. “Ugh. It’s so desolate here for closing. You better hope I don’t get murdered walking alone in the parking lot after dark.”

“You’ll be fine.” Robin turns away, heading towards Steve who looks like he’s struggling with a gaggle of children ordering milkshakes and sundaes. Eddie swears he hears her breathe under her breath, “Steve will be here.”

Eddie tries not to let that statement paint his face in a scowl for the rest of his shift, but as he inches closer to the clock chiming 9pm, he feels himself failing. It is way too obvious that, yes, Steve will be there as he closes shop. The rest of the food court close their doors at 8, but for some reason the owner of Scoops thinks that an ice cream shop has to stay open late. Like there are children that will be needing their sugar fix before bedtime.

As if.

There are a few other stores besides Camelot that also close at 9, but they’re located near Entrance C. Meaning, for the last hour of his shift, Eddie is forced to stare at Steve pacing behind the fluorescent lights of his ice cream coolers while he sits and simmers behind his own register.

Every now and then, Eddie swears he can see Steve look over in his direction. But each time he turns his head to catch him and hopefully be able to scream out what the fuck do you want?, Steve’s gaze is back on his Nikes.

It’s a major relief when it’s finally 9, and Eddie can swing the gates closed to the front of Camelot. He decides to take longer than usual to tidy up shop, carefully folding the t-shirt display and making sure to pull stock forward on the shelves so they look full for the morning staff. He cashes out, drops the envelope into the safe in the ground, and wipes off the counter. The lights in the front of Scoops have been off for roughly seven minutes (not that Eddie has been staring at the clock since they went dark), so he figures it’s safe to leave from the back entrance.

The heavy door latches behind him as he steps into the giant parking lot. He’d only been half joking with Robin at the mention of getting murdered. It would be a prime spot for some crimes to be committed after dark like this—only a few vehicles still scattered the pavement, far and few between. His van is the farthest of them all.

Regardless, he sucks in a breath and starts to make his way across the eerily quiet lot. It only takes him a few seconds to get a strange tingling sensation on the back on his neck, like he’s being watched. He opens his ears, realises that he can hear a second set of footsteps beyond his own. And they sound close.

Eddie whirs around with his fingers clenched into fists, ready to strike at—

“Steve?” Eddie huffs a sigh of relief, but then realises he still might be very much in danger of getting his ass kicked. He keeps his hands balled up. “What the fuck, man? Why are you following me?”

Steve isn’t exactly geared up to fight. He’s walking on the other side of the lane, his hands in his pockets. Maybe not relaxed, but a lot more relaxed than Eddie feels.

“I’m not following you. I’m walking to my car.” Steve lifts one of his hands from his pockets to point at the burgundy BMW parked a few dozen feet away from Eddie’s van. “I closed. Didn’t Robin tell you?”

“She did, but you closed up ten minutes before I left. You should be gone.”

Steve shrugs. “I was in the back.”

“Convenient,” Eddie says under his breath, mostly to himself. “Look, man, I’m really not in the mood to get jumped tonight. My face is barely back to normal from the last time.”

“Uhuh. How’s that healing?” Steve’s eyes trail over Eddie’s body, like he’s scanning for damage. Eddie feels himself tense under the scrutiny, wondering why Steve might be sizing him up. What kind of carnage he has in mind. Why it sounds like he’s actually curious about Eddie’s face and not being sarcastic. Impossible. “About what I said—”

“What,” Eddie spits, “that I’m a fairy?”

“Yeah—”

“You know, I find it funny.” Eddie keeps his voice low and menacing, a nod to his DM charade he puts on for Hellfire Club. “You go around calling me a fairy like you aren’t the one who got his ass beat by the quiet, gentle photographer not that long ago.”

Steve’s face twists up in confusion. “Byers?”

“Mhmm. I thought you were supposed to be king. Oh—but wait—that title was recently taken from you, wasn’t it? By… who was it again? Oh, yeah, Billy Hargrove.” Eddie’s teeth ache around the name. If there’s anyone who gives Steve a run for his money being Captain Asshole, it’s Billy. “He’s the one I saw you rolling around with, all sweaty and topless in the gym, isn’t it?”

Steve’s face seems to stain red. “He’s on the basketball team.”

“I don’t know. It all seems a little”—Eddie waggles his fingers—“homoerotic to me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It seems as if Steve has to physically swallow down his rage. Eddie knows it’s not safe to poke the bear, but he just can’t help how he gets around the guy.

“I don’t know what that means.”

Eddie scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Let me dumb it down a bit for you, Stevie. Put it in terms you understand.” He gets so close to Steve’s face that they almost bump noses. “Queer. It seems queer.”

Steve’s jaw visibly twitches, and Eddie can see that his fingernails are biting into the palm of his hands, much like his own. “I’m not like that.”

“You keep saying that,” Eddie condescends, “but each time it’s feeling more and more like an excuse.”

“Shut up.” Steve’s hands twitch at his sides as if they’re begging to be unleashed in a fit of rage. It should be enough to make Eddie back down.

But his own fists are trembling. And his heart is hammering. And he’s filled with a heat that he needs to let escape.

He takes a step into Steve, who stumbles back to create more space between them. “Is that what this is, Harrington? Some sort of coping mechanism?”

“Shut up.” Steve’s eyes seem tumultuous beneath their hazel irises. His skin is staining red. His jaw looks locked.

Just a few more words.

“Are you…” Eddie makes his voice sound mockingly disappointed. Disgusted. “Are you a fag?”

Steve’s composure snaps.

A fist full of Eddie’s t-shirt is suddenly clenched inside one of Steve’s unforgiving fists, tightening around the base of his neck, pulling him flush into the solid mass of Steve’s chest.

The breath is knocked out of him. His hands instinctually grasp around Steve’s grip as he’s virtually hoisted onto his tiptoes. Even though they’re of similar height, it seems that Steve is staring down the bridge of his nose at Eddie. He can feel hot breath puffing against his lips that smells as if Steve just had a smoke.

Eddie braces himself for impact—his own doing, really. But at least he got a word in edge wise. He knew he’d never be able to beat Steve in a fight.

But Steve just… keeps him there. Menacingly close. Bodies shoved against one another. His eyes bore into Eddie’s threateningly. Eddie feels a rush of endorphins, excited to see what Steve does next.

For what seems like ages, Steve doesn’t make a move. Eddie sees the bob of his throat when he swallows, and the angry glimmer in his eye extinguish. He drops Eddie’s shirt and takes a step back.

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds as he regains his footing. He’s not sure why Steve didn’t take his chance. There’s nobody else in sight. They’re even out of view from the closest road.

And for some reason… he’s disappointed. He knows he doesn’t really want a shiner. But the way Steve was staring at him—is still staring at him—he’s curious what might have come of… whatever just happened.

His body is still twitching with pent up energy, and anger towards Steve for the last years of his life that have been a living hell thanks to him, and Eddie already feels accomplished standing up for himself. So he takes it one step further.

Eddie looks straight into Steve’s eyes, and says, “Pussy.”

And he spits straight onto Steve’s white and red Nikes.

He turns before he knows what Steve’s reaction might be. He feels invigorated, and wildly in danger. And all he needs to do is get to his van, get out of the parking lot and he would feel like he won.

But Eddie barely makes it outside of his van before Steve is bulldozing into him, rougher than before. The metal wall of his van makes a hallow thump as Steve drives him face-first into it, one arm slung around Eddie’s neck in a chokehold, the other locking around his waist and elbows to immobilize him.

“You think you’re gonna spit on me and just walk away, Munson?”

Eddie squirms in Steve’s grip, shivering against the hot feeling of Steve’s breath so close to his ear. The wall of his van is cold as it’s pressed up against his cheek. And for some reason Eddie can’t explain, all he can think about is the press of Steve’s crotch against his ass, driving him forward, his fly dragging across his hip—

No. No.

That’s not what this is.

That’s not even what he wants. Steve is the bane of his existence, not some hot bar hookup in the alleyway.

“Fuck you, man. Get off me!” Eddie struggles against Steve’s grip. It shouldn’t surprise him how strong he is, considering the guy plays sports 24/7, but he’s a little taken aback when he can’t even get Steve to let up by one measly inch.

Steve only presses harder into him. Eddie’s cheek smooshes against the cold side of his van, probably smearing dirt all over his cheek. It’s been ages since he’s washed it. “You’re the one who fucking spat on me, Munson.”

“And I’d do it again,” Eddie growls, twisting his face up into what he hopes is an intimidating smile.

“Bullshit.” Steve ruts against Eddie so hard that his chin hits his van and snaps his jaw shut. But then, just as quickly, he’s free from Steve’s crazy wrestler’s headlock. He twists around as fast as he can manage, only to find that Steve didn’t step too far away. He’s just standing there, cockily, like he doesn’t believe Eddie could harm a single perfect hair on his head. “Do it then.”

Eddie gawks back at him, slightly phased by Steve’s dare. “What?”

“Try it,” he repeats. “See, I think past your hard exterior and don’t-give-two-shits personality, you don’t actually have the balls to pick a fight with anyone, let alone me—”

Eddie feels a fire travelling to his head. It’s uncontrollable. In a normal circumstance, Steve would be right; Eddie would like to remain lowkey, keep himself out of trouble. But he refuses to let Steve Harrington, of all people, bully him into backing down.

So he purses his lips and spits right onto Steve’s, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Eddie can see his saliva caught on the bottom of Steve’s mouth as it hangs open in stunned silence. It travels down his chin, and then across the angle of his jaw. Finally, it drips onto the pavement below their feet.

He knows he’s essentially started a war, so Eddie balls up his fists and waits for Steve’s next move. What he wasn’t expecting, was for Steve’s tongue to flick out and catch the bead of spit that still remained on his pout; and even less, him sucking that lower lip between his teeth to clean it off.

The breath is sucked right out of his lungs as Steve stares straight into his eyes and catches the collar of his shirt in his hand once more. There noses bump against each other. And their foreheads. And their chests.

“You fucking freak,” Steve says lowly. But it’s paired with his thigh shoving between Eddie’s legs hard enough that it makes his balls ache as his driven against the side of his van. He tries to stop it, but his cock twitches, the seam of his jeans rubbing against it in a frustratingly amazing way.

Something about the threat of violence mixed with friction, a body pressed against his own, a low voice growling in his ear, and an objectively attractive man, gets Eddie going. Even though he’s ashamed that he’s getting hot over a guy he was more than thrilled to see beaten to a pulp earlier in the year.

He wiggles against Steve’s thigh. It doesn’t help the throbbing between his legs. “Back away, Harrington.”

“Make me.”

“I swear to God…”

“What? You swear to God, what?”

“You have three fucking seconds, man!” Eddie shouts. What comes after three seconds? He’s not sure. But that’s all Steve has before Eddie does it.

The threat doesn’t help. Steve starts counting down with a sneer on his face. “Three… Two…”

All of Eddie’s pent up rage channels through his fist.

“One!” Eddie finishes, and clips Steve in the jaw with his knuckles. It sends a shock through his wrist, up into his forearm.

There are a few things that go through Eddie’s mind in that moment.

First, he’s wildly proud of physically standing up for himself. It has been years of letting guys like Harrington and Carver and Hagan touch him without repercussion. It’s time he got a real hit in.

Second—even more than being proud—he’s frightened. Because Steve’s gaze is so fiery that he swears he can almost see his eyes starting to glow red.

This brings Eddie to his third and final thought. That he’s about to die. Because Steve is going to fucking kill him. He’s kind of ashamed to admit that his tummy hurts from the nerves of it all.

Steve only stumbles backwards half a step, Eddie’s shirt still balled up in one of his fists, whose legs are still splayed around Harrington’s strong thigh. Steve’s free hand comes up to wipe at his lip, which Eddie now notices has a split in it that is starting to bloom red. They both stare at his skin stained up with blood as he wipes it away.

“You…” Steve starts, his eyes wild as they dart around Eddie’s face. “You made me bleed.”

Eddie swallows down his fear, manages to spit out, quietly, “You deserve it.”

Antagonizing a guy who has thirty pounds on him is probably not the best idea. But he’s already done the worst. Might as well really commit to the schtick.

He holds his breath. Waits for Steve to make the next move, which he assumes will be his own split lip, maybe another bruised cheekbone, maybe a broken nose.

Steve’s thigh presses even harder between his legs. Eddie’s balls throb against the pressure of it, the feeling of his weight bearing down on Steve’s leg, the solidity of his knee. Eddie tries to wiggle his way away from the pain, but it stirs something in the pit of his stomach. The familiar feeling of pleasure, a need for Steve to move against him.

Eddie makes a noise, soft and quiet. It could mean anything, really; that he’s uncomfortable, or scared, or even angry.

Only he knows for sure what it really means.

That he’s turned on. That his cock is twitching as blood starts to rush south.

And that he really needs to get off Steve’s thigh before he sees it. Feels it.

“Steve,” Eddie says desperately, his toes barely scraping the pavement below them. Each time he moves, it makes his dick pulse. He wants to wiggle away, but he knows it will only hinder him. And if Steve finds out that Eddie’s getting hard, he’ll probably be beaten within an inch of his life.

That’s why he’s shocked when Steve rams forward, and aggressively presses his lips onto Eddie’s.

There’s this moment where, rationally, Eddie cannot believe that Steve is kissing him. His mouth is parted in shock, he can feel Steve’s hot breath, his smoky tongue shoving deep into Eddie’s mouth, the distinct flavour of blood—a coppery tang—dancing on his tastebuds. And for a second—purely on instinct—he kisses back. The wet slide of their tongues gliding together, as brief as it is, makes Eddie groan into Steve’s mouth.

But then, reality strikes.

He shoves against Steve’s chest, forcing their faces apart. “What the fuck, man!”

Steve stumbles back, his leg finally dislodging from between Eddie’s. He wipes at the corner of his mouth, maybe to catch the blood, or maybe the spit. He looks wild as he stares into Eddie’s eyes. “What? You gonna hit me?”

Eddie clenches his jaw. His face is burning up. With rage, with desire. The line between the two is starting to blur. “It seems like you’re asking for it.”

“Maybe I am,” Steve says, with a glimmer in his eye that challenges Eddie. Some sort of silent communication. A dare, or… an invitation?

Eddie swallows down the feeling that this must be some sort of joke, that Steve’s trying to catch him in some sort of gay act that he can use as fuel against him to make his life a living hell. But Steve wouldn’t kiss Eddie just to get a reaction from him. He rationally knows that. But still, his eyes scan the parking lot, searching for any signs of Steve’s friends who might be waiting for the opportunity to jump him.

There’s nothing. No one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he makes a fast and impulsive decision, slipping the key into the back door of his van and prying the doors open.

Eddie points inside. “Get the fuck in.”

A few second pass, Eddie nearly drowning in nerves that maybe he’s reading the situation wrong. Maybe this isn’t some kink thing for Steve, maybe the kiss wasn’t a kiss and was… fuck, he doesn’t even know.

But he doesn’t have to worry too long, because Steve—jaw tight—pushes past Eddie, and hauls himself into the back of the van. His head bows under the low ceiling as he circles back, gives Eddie a look somewhere between inquisitive and angry, and then finally sits down on a crumpled blanket. His shoulders rest against the back of the passenger seat, his legs bent and spread in front of him.

Steve reaches down and squeezes between his legs, where Eddie just now notices the distinct outline of his cock, sitting sideways in his little blue shorts against his hip bone. Against his better judgement, his mouth waters.

A large part of him wants to ask Steve what’s going on. What he wants. How far this thing is supposed to go. Whether or not it’s a game.

But the other part of Eddie—albeit, the smaller one—already knows the answers to those questions.

He pulls all of his confidence out of the recesses of his mind, decides then and there that he’s running the show. That Steve likes him running the show.

“Pathetic,” he says, letting all of his malice towards high school jocks, towards Steve, seep into his tone. “You’re getting stiff from a split lip and my spit running down your face.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just fists his fingers into the blanket under his body. He cants his hips forward, as if he’s answering Eddie. Showing him just how hard he really is by displaying the bulge in the front of his shorts.

Eddie holds back the moan that he desperately wants to loose.

He’s seen Steve in a state of undress before. Not completely, but enough to know that the panes of his chest are flat and solid, that his skin always seems sun kissed, even in the winter, that he has a patch of chest hair that he’s started to grow out since quitting the swim team. He’s always noticed the lump in the front of Steve’s Levi’s. Knew that he was packing from that alone.

But now he can see just how big Steve really is as his cock strains beneath his uniform.

Eddie takes a step forward, cocks his head to one side as he sizes Steve up.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” he says.

Another step forward.

Steve’s brows twitch inward, almost apologetically, but he still doesn’t say anything. Just stares up at Eddie with the biggest, roundest hazel eyes he’s ever seen.

Eddie shoves his boot between Steve’s Nikes, uses it to pry Steve’s legs further apart.

A small gasp escapes Steve’s lips as his knees fall open, the hems of his shorts riding up his thighs. Eddie lets himself ogle the strength of Steve’s legs, how the hair that grows on them thins on the soft inner portion, the closer it gets to his crotch.

He plants his boots on either side of Steve’s hips, bends down to grip his fingers in the red bow on the front of Steve’s shirt. “What a fruity little costume. Where’s your hat?”

Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Pocket.”

“Put it on.”

Steve lifts his hips, his right hand reaching under him to fish out his uniform’s hat from the back of his shorts. Eddie tries not to tremble as Steve’s crotch gets closer to him. He suppresses the urge to sink down onto it, to feel the outline of Steve’s cock against his ass. To rut against it and listen to the noises he can ring out of Steve.

Steve quietly places the hat on his head, fidgeting with his hair, adjusting the way it sits. Eddie reaches out and smacks away Steve’s hand.

He condescendingly studies Steve, makes sure to really stew in the silence as he trails his eyes over Steve’s appearance, from the dumb hat to the dumb shirt, to the… strangely not dumb shorts. At least, not dumb in the way they fit Steve, the way they look riding up his thighs.

Slowly, Eddie sinks down onto his knees, hovering over Steve’s crotch. Only inches separate them, where Steve is hard and Eddie is now almost just as hard, and for a moment he thinks about how bazaar this all is. But he decides not to focus on that.

“Ahoy,” Eddie says, his voice low and amused as he flicks his fingers over the brim of Steve’s hat. He leans further down, feels the brush of Steve’s upper thighs against the ass of his jeans, hears the way Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He slaps away the dumb hat, watches it fly to the other side of the van. “Never mind. You look better without it.”

Then, he lowers himself the rest of the way, until he’s fully seated in Steve’s lap. Their faces are inches apart. Steve’s eyes are blown and glassy, and Eddie can feel the subtle twitch of his thighs as he presses himself harder onto Steve’s crotch.

“Shit,” Steve breathes. His hands loosen from their balls by his hips, lift up to instead splay on Eddie’s thighs as they clench around Steve.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Eddie laces his fingers through the thick top of Steve’s hair. He can feel the crunch of hairspray as he tugs Steve’s head back, exposing the long column of his throat. The tendons strain as Eddie twists his hand tighter in Steve’s locks, forcing his head sideways. “Seems a little gay to me, Stevie.”

“Shut up—Ah!” Steve cries out as Eddie tugs harder; he can feel the tension of Steve’s scalp as he forces his head so far back that the angle of his jawline is right by his lips.

Since the opportunity presents itself, he leans forward and drags his mouth against the line of Steve’s jaw. Steve smells like the remnants of the expensive cologne that still clings to his neck after his shift, like the cigarette he’d been smoking in the lot, like sweat and man.

It drives Eddie crazy, makes him open his mouth and nip down behind Steve’s ear sharply, then run his tongue over the spot he pinched when Steve whimpers softly at the pain.

“Look at you,” Eddie says lowly, trailing his teeth down Steve’s neck. He can feel his heart beating erratically under his lips as they trace his pulse point, can feel the bob of his throat as Steve swallows his nerves. “So excited to have another man in your lap.”

“I’m not gay.” The denial in Steve’s voice is genuine.

A part of Eddie feels bad, like he should drop it, like he shouldn’t push. But it feels good to make Steve suffer for all the years he said the same things about Eddie. At least this was between them. Eddie hadn’t been so lucky when he’d been called queer in front of the entire school.

So he lifts his head higher, bites on Steve’s lower lip, sucks on the split to force blood back up to the surface. He can tell it hurts as Steve twitches away, but he soon leans into Eddie’s kiss when it softens again, parting his lips to let Eddie lick deep into him mouth.

“No?” he says, pulling back from Steve even though the latter chases his lips with his own. “Then why do you love my tongue so much, hmm?” He grinds his ass against Steve’s straining cock, makes him moan into his face. “Why are you ready to bust from me touching you?”

Steve’s eyes flutter open. He looks conflicted, but past the point of coherency. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know.”

“You want to know what I think?” Eddie doesn’t give Steve a chance to respond, just lowers his face until he can feel the brush of Steve’s ear on his lips. He whispers, “I think you’re the fairy.”

“No!” Steve cries, but his hips grind against Eddie as he chases the friction he craves.

“Oh, baby.��� Eddie circles his hips. He can feel the line of Steve’s cock getting caught on the back seam of his jeans each time he moves, Steve’s eyes rolling into the back of his skull like it’s driving him mad. “Then why are you about to take my cock into your mouth?”

Steve’s eyes go wide, and he starts to shake his head, but Eddie is already climbing from Steve’s lap, pulling him by the collar of his shirt onto his hands and knees.

Like a good boy, he stays where Eddie moves him.

“Take this off,” Eddie says with another tug of Steve’s shirt. He untangles his hand from the fabric, leans back to watch as Steve grabs it by the hem and pulls it from his shoulders. Steve’s abs flutter and tighten as he tosses his uniform across the van, and resumes his position on all fours. “Fuck. That’s good.”

Eddie straightens out on his knees. His belt clinks as he undoes the heavy buckle, Steve’s eyes bugging out when he undoes his button and tugs down his fly.

“I’m not—”

“Shut up,” Eddie interrupts.

Steve’s eyes are latched onto Eddie’s cock tenting his boxers, his pink lips pulled between his teeth.

Eddie leans forward, popping his thumb into Steve’s mouth instead.

“Open wide.” He pries Steve’s jaw open with a twist of his fingers. If he’s being honest, he’s not met with much resistance. Steve’s mouth just kind of falls open willingly. “Stick your tongue out.”

A small moan falls from Steve’s throat as his tongue lolls out of his mouth, dripping and pink, pushing on Eddie’s thumb. He runs it against the valley of Steve’s tongue, spreading around the little pool of spit that makes his cock kick under his boxers.

“Now stay still,” Eddie says, bringing his wet thumb to the front of his underwear. He shoves them down, his cock springing free so close to Steve’s face that he has a hard time not immediately ramming forward. He tucks the band under his balls, drawing them tighter against his body, creating a delicious pressure that makes him throb with want.

He wraps his fingers around his shaft, gently. He doesn’t want to work himself up too quickly, wants this thing that’s happening to last as long as it can. He knows his dick is already wet from how much he’s leaking, but he still brings his thumb—covered in Steve’s spit—to circle the slit of his cock.

Steve’s eyes watch, transfixed, as Eddie pulls away—a string of his precum connecting this thumb and the reddened tip of his cock.

“Jesus,” Steve says, his voice full of lust. His sticks his tongue back out before Eddie has to tell him to, a long rope of saliva falling from it onto the van’s floor.

Eddie is so hard that his cock is curving upwards, the veins under his skin so swollen that they seem as if they might burst. It feels like it’s a real possibility.

“How many cocks have you sucked before, Steve?” Eddie asks, carding his hand through Steve’s hair once again. He wraps the tendrils around his fingers, tugs Steve forward.

Steve shakes his head in answer, but he doesn’t close his mouth, doesn’t put is tongue back between his lips.

With his left hand, Eddie guides his dick towards Steve’s face. The tip of it grazes Steve’s forehead, then down the bridge of his nose. Across his cheeks. It leaves a little shining trail in its wake.

“That’s okay.” Eddie rubs his cockhead against the expanse of Steve’s tongue. He rings his fingers around himself, pushes forward until he milks a drop of precum from his slit. He wipes it so it mixes with Steve’s saliva in a little pool in his mouth. “I’ll teach you.”

He sinks forward.

The glide of Steve’s tongue is delicious as Eddie moves against it. There’s not a lot of anything, besides the heat and the wetness, but just the visual of it all really gets Eddie going. Steve’s eyes shine up at him, nearly black, never breaking eye contact even as Eddie watches him with unwavering attention.

“Fuck,” he hisses as Steve moves forward on his own. The tip of his cock glides against the roof of his mouth, inches towards the back of his throat.

Eddie pulls back, and rocks forward. Pulls back and rocks forward. Each time he moves deeper into Steve’s mouth he earns a noise from Steve, a hum or a grunt. Spit starts to leak from the side of Steve’s lips; he tries to pull away from Eddie to wipe at it, but Eddie tugs his head further forward and says, “Leave it. I like it messy. Oh my God, this feels good.”

He grips even tighter at Steve’s hair, pulls his head back before shoving him forward again. This time, he feels his cock hit the back of Steve’s throat. It constricts around him as Steve gags. And it feels fucking incredible.

“Shit, Steve.” He rams his hips forward, his cock spearing into Steve with a force that makes him wretch and spasm, makes his mouth go slippery with saliva. Steve’s eyes start watering—he tries to gasp for air when Eddie pulls back, but he fucks back into Steve’s throat before he can manage. “Your mouth…”

He pitches forward again, as deep as he can go. At this point, Steve is struggling against him, desperate for a breath as Eddie’s dick literally chokes him. He’s trying to tear out of Eddie’s grip, his eyes squeezed shut, but still rimmed in red as they stream tears. But Eddie has a vice grip in Steve’s hair, keeping him stilled as his throat pulses around his dick.

And Eddie knows he should back off and let Steve get some air, he knows he should give Steve’s throat a break from the assault of his cock ramming into it. But Steve’s nose is buried in Eddie’s pubes, his balls are pressed against Steve’s chin that’s sopping wet from how much he’s drooling.

And he likes seeing Steve struggle.

He likes that Steve is trying to escape. That the pleasure has probably toppled into a type of pain for him. He likes seeing how small Steve looks on his hands and knees, likes seeing him cry, likes seeing him break under Eddie’s will. He has the power, whether to let Steve breathe. And he doesn’t want him to.

Eddie ruts forward again, even though there’s nowhere for him to go. Steve’s throat tightens around him even more as he gags aggressively around Eddie’s cock, as he shakes his head back and forth, really grapples against Eddie’s hold.

“That’s it,” Eddie growls, the ball of pleasure coiling tight in his lower abdomen. “That’s it—fucking—swallow—"

Steve’s throat tries, but he’s not thinking clearly. His eyes spring open now, in fear. He hasn’t breathed for probably 45 seconds; his jaw is closing reflexively around Eddie’s dick, his teeth scraping sharply against his swollen shaft.

Eddie kind of likes it.

But as much as Eddie wants to push the boundaries, he finally retreats.

Steve starts hacking up a lung as he bows his head, catches himself on the floor with one hand while the other clutches his chest. He gasps. And then gasps, and gasps, and chokes on his own spit that falls out of his mouth in filthy little rivers.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eddie says, because he literally cannot help himself when Steve is so wrecked in front of him. But to dilute the sentiment a bit he adds, “At least you’re good for something.”

Steve whimpers as he palms at his crotch. Eddie can see a dark blue patch where his cock has wept through the fabric of his shorts.

“Eddie,” he moans, squeezing at his engorged dick over and over again, chasing his own pleasure as if he’s right on the brink. Just like Eddie is.

So he liked getting his throat fucked.

Eddie feels his balls drawing close to his body just thinking about Steve’s desperation. He wants to touch Steve but he also wants to watch Steve suffer after all the shit he put him through.

“Turn over.” Eddie grabs his cock, strokes it as he watches Steve’s eyes go wide once again, face wet from tears and drool, lips swollen, cheeks red.

“What?”

“Turn the fuck over, dude. Now.” He grabs at Steve’s shoulder and digs his fingers into his flesh as he pulls him sideways.

“I—I don’t want you to fuck me,” Steve says, afraid again. But he follows Eddie’s direction, flipping over in the opposite direction. His slutty little Scoops shorts strain tightly over his ass, makes it look round and definitely fuckable.

As much as Eddie knows he’s already been a lot—would like to continue to be a lot, make Steve squirm and cry and fucking scream—he’s really not that much of an asshole to force himself on Steve when he says no.

But Eddie has no issues with making it seem like he is.

“Do you think I give a fuck?”  he says lowly as he bends forward to press his lips into the shell of Steve’s ear. “Arch your back for me.”

He straightens up, smacks his hand on the curve of Steve’s back, and pushes. Eddie pushed until Steve’s spine is bowed in, his cheek plastered against the blanket on the floor, his ass high and his knees spread. His other hand runs against the jut of Steve’s ass, grips into its flesh so hard that he’ll leave a handprint.

Steve moans unabashedly, his mouth hanging open and his eyes squeezing shut. His hands flounder to grab onto something, eventually stretching straight forward to grip at the base of the passenger’s seat. His hips push into Eddie’s hands like he wants more.

Who is Eddie to say no?

He curls his pointer fingers, tucks them under the waistband of Steve’s shorts. He tugs enough to slip them down a couple of inches on Steve’s hips, but not enough to strip him completely.

“This uniform should never have been approved,” Eddie muses, tugging the shorts down even more. Steve’s ass is halfway nude, Eddie ogling at the seam down his body like it leads to a pot of literal gold. “Why did they make these shorts so tight?”

“Just—just take them off, dude,” Steve pants from where he’s basically buried in the blanket by his head.

Eddie pauses, cocks his head sideways to stare down at Steve. “You’re not exactly in a position to make requests, dude. I’ll do what I want to do.”

A sound of indignity escapes Steve. Maybe a scoff, or a moan, or a whimper. Kind of a mix of all three.

“In fact,” Eddie continues, “maybe I’ll stop here. Maybe your shorts will just stay on the whole time.”

“No,” Steve cries in complaint as Eddie pulls his shorts back up onto his hips.

It’s not a real threat. There’s no way in Hell that Eddie would end this thing without getting a good look at Steve’s cock. He’s heard rumours in the halls of Hawkins High, wants to know if any of them ring true. Although, he can already tell by the thick outline between Steve’s legs that the rumour about Harrington having a massive dick is more than true. Overly true.

There’s a part of Eddie that wishes this wouldn’t be a one-time thing, even though every rational part of his brain is telling him it will be. He wants to find out if any of the other rumours are true too—if Steve really is good with his mouth, if he fucks like a god, if he’s able to go more than one round.

Some things, unfortunately, are bound to stay a mystery.

But for now, Eddie has Steve pliant underneath him, moving where he moves, bending where he bends. He’s going to enjoy it.

He grabs at Steve’s hips, brings them towards where his dick is still hard and wet. The tip of his length runs along the fabric, leaves a little wet trail where Eddie guides it over Steve’s clothed asscheeks, and then the seam down the middle of his shorts. He rams his hips forward, so his cock shoves between Steve’s legs from behind.

Eddie knows his cock is dragging where Steve’s balls are more than likely aching underneath his clothes. He knows he feels it too when Steve groans and shoves his ass even harder into Eddie’s hips.

“Oh, fuck.” Steve rocks forward, slams back once more against Eddie where his dick is nestled between Steve’s spread thighs. “Fuck, yeah, keep doing that.”

Eddie guides Steve’s hips roughly, starts fucking against Steve with intention.

The van rocks each time Eddie’s hips slap into Steve’s cheeks, the windows starting to fog up as they both pant into the stale air. It’s humid and muggy, everything feels sticky and damp, and it’s so incredibly hot. Eddie secretly wants to run his tongue over the panes of Steve’s chest, wants to trail it between the defined lines of his muscles like it’s some sort of maze. He wants to bury his face in the patch of chest hair that Steve has between his pecs, trail his mouth over his nipples, catch the beads of sweat that run into it from his neck.

But all of that is too much. He can’t do that with Steve, hasn’t even done that with anyone. Eddie knows he has to keep things impersonal, but that doesn’t stop his desire from rearing its ugly head.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” Eddie says, pitching his hips so far forward that he can feel the heat of Steve’s erection on the top of his own. His mouth runs away from his as he repeats, “I want to fuck you. Want to watch you take my cock.”

Steve whines, his knuckles going white from how hard they’re gripping the base of the seat in front of him. “No, I don’t—I don’t want that.”

“Yes, you do. You want cock up your ass—admit it. You want my cock up your ass.”

“No. No.” One of Steve’s hands fly backwards, grabs at Eddie’s hips. It holds him painfully close, enough that Eddie can feel the tremor in Steve’s thighs, the pulse of his cock as it sits untouched in his shorts.

“Think about how good it’ll feel, Steve. I bet you fuck yourself with your fingers all the time. I bet you wish it was me.”

Eddie can feel how close he is to coming. Ten seconds is all he has to decide what he wants to do, if he’ll stain up Steve’s pretty uniform and make it unwearable for tomorrow’s shift. It’s a tempting idea. But Eddie wants to feel Steve’s skin against him before he’s spent.

He pulls away from Steve; his cock bucking wildly against his abdomen from the loss of stimulation. It’s red and raw where he was rubbing against the fabric of Steve’s shorts, and Eddie knows it’ll be uncomfortable tomorrow.

No part of him cares.

“Take these off,” Eddie says, but he’s already pulling Steve’s shorts off before the other man can comprehend his words.

The seams pop as Eddie pulls them down Steve’s thighs, down to his knees where they draw close together from the restriction of the fabric. Which just won’t do, really, so Eddie tears them down further, until they’re pulled past Steve’s knee-high socks.

Those are definitely staying on, Eddie decides as he stares down at a completely naked Steve. It’s like something from a porno mag as Steve resumes his position, spreading his knees and arching his back, the slutty little socks the only piece of clothing left on him.

And from this angle, everything is exposed. Eddie’s eyes glue between Steve’s legs where is ass is spread open, his asshole winking up at him, pink and inviting. Lower, where Steve’s balls hang heavily, perfectly groomed. And past that, his prick, so fucking swollen that Eddie is perplexed how he hasn’t nutted ten times over in his own boxers.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, stroking himself a few times because he physically cannot hold back when Steve is so goddamn pornographic. He takes his hand, drops his cock. Instead reaches forward and runs his fingers from the small of Steve’s back, down the seam of his ass. He stops at his hole, presses his thumb there. Feels Steve flutter against the pad of it. “I bet you’re so tight. Closeted guys usually are. Virgins, you know? At least where it counts.”

“I’m not—” Steve starts, but he cuts himself off when Eddie applies pressure to his asshole. He wants to slip his thumb inside, but he won’t do it unless Steve tells him to. “Fuuuccckk!”

Below their knees, an impressive pearl of precum pushes from the tip of Steve’s dick where it hangs between his legs. It reaches the floor before it disconnects from his body. Eddie wants to lick it up.

In fact, he wants to do everything to Steve—for Steve. He’s always been a giver. Loves the weight of a dick on his tongue, loves making a guy lose control and shout his name, loves the way cum shoots into his throat and coats his tongue in hot pools of white. He wants to fuck Steve and have Steve fuck him. Wants to teach him all the different places he can come from.

It’s not just a want anymore, it’s a need. But he won’t do it. At least not this time.

Eddie leans forward, tangles his hand in Steve’s hair for the second time tonight. Hauls him upright long enough that he can whisper into his ear, “I’m gonna fuck you, Steve Harrington. Mark my words. You’ll think about me every goddamn night until your fantasies just won’t cut it anymore. You’ll come crawling on your hands and knees begging for it. You’re gonna beg for my cock, Steve, and when you do, I’m gonna fuck the part of you that still thinks you’re straight right out of that dumb head of yours.”

Steve’s mouth hangs open and he fucking cries into the air, his eyes squeezing shut and his hand reaching for his own dick as it dribbles into the blankets under his knees.

Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to say anything, just shoves him face first into the ground. He gathers all of the moisture in his mouth and spits with perfect precision straight onto Steve’s asshole. The puddle of saliva gathers on the rim of muscle, until it flexes hard enough to force its path down his crack, over his perinium. It reaches his balls, leaves a little shining trail before it dissipates into his skin.

His hips surge forward, pressing the tip of his dick where his thumb had just been. A promise for a later date. But instead of pushing inside, Eddie ruts against the line of Steve’s ass, watching as the pink tip of his cock gathers the wet and slips above Steve’s tailbone.

“Gonna come,” Eddie pants, grasping at Steve’s asscheeks and forcing them closer together so they better hug around the base of his dick. His abs clench, and suddenly he’s seeing stars as he paints the moles on Steve’s back with his load.

His dick visibly pulses in tandem with his heartbeat, the veins protruding even more than before, the colour of it turning so red it borders on purple.

And he shouts so loud that his voice breaks, because he’s coming harder than he ever has in his life. More than he ever has in his life. The cum on Steve’s back gathers in the valley of his spine, all the way down to where Eddie’s dick is still twitching against the small of his back. Some even reached his hair, and Eddie can’t help but be smug that he ruined something Steve’s prides himself on.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie falls back on his knees, his spent cock starting to soften as it hangs above his jeans. He tries to catch his breath, tries to stop the pounding in his ears that he genuinely thinks could make him pass out.

In front of him, Steve whines where he’s been left stranded.

The part of Eddie that cares wants to reach forward, touch Steve, get him off. He’s never left someone hanging before; it’s just not his style.

But this isn’t someone, this is Steve. The guy that made—makes—his life a living hell whenever he’s at school. Sure, it’s gotten better in recent years, but he’s never apologised for actively bullying him. For spending endless hours calling him a loser, and a dork, and a freak. For helping spread rumours that Eddie is gay.

And Eddie is smart enough to know that Steve is probably projecting his fears, blah blah blah. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck about that. All he gives a fuck about is that he has a chance to make Steve feel as forgotten about as Eddie has since he was in goddamn middle school.

So he takes a step back on his knees, starts tucking himself back away in his boxers as Steve cranes his neck to throw him a pleading look.

“Please touch me,” Steve begs. He rights himself so he’s facing Eddie, no longer on his knees. He spreads his legs, grips his cock so hard by the base that it looks like it’s about to pop. “I want you to suck me.”

The way Steve phrases that literally makes Eddie’s mouth water, almost has him bending to get on his knees and take Steve into his mouth.

He could get hard again just by the thought of it.

But he sticks to his guns, zipping up his jeans, doing up his button, languidly sliding the leather of his belt back through the buckle.

“Nah, I’m not feeling up to it,” Eddie says, which is a bold-faced lie, but Steve doesn’t have to know that. He shrugs his shoulders noncommittally as he fishes his smokes from his pocket, places one between his lips. “But I won’t stop you if you want to get yourself off.”

He hopes Steve takes the bait. He wants to watch Steve come, as much as it would still be satisfying to watch him scurry off with the worst case of blue balls he’ll ever have in his life.

Steve gawks at Eddie, his brows pinching above the bridge of his nose, so he gets that signature little crease when he gets all confused. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly.” Eddie lights up the cigarette and settles his back against the wall of his van like he doesn’t care whether Steve stays or goes.

But damn, he wants him to stay.

Steve’s (insanely) pink lips part. He looks so shattered that he might actually cry, which has Eddie feeling only slightly bad.

Not enough to change his mind, but enough that he’ll point it out.

“Please?” Steve says, voice desperate. “Is that what you want? For me to—to beg?”

Eddie doesn’t answer. He wants to see what Steve does without his instruction. Wants to see him humiliate himself without Eddie even having to ask. So he just takes a drag from his smoke and blows it towards Steve’s face.

“Will you—will you please touch me?” Steve pleads quietly. He strokes his cock lightly, not enough to make himself come because he’s obviously still hoping that Eddie will do it for him. “Please? Please, Eddie?”

What a fucking sight to behold, King Steve begging The Freak for whatever he’ll give to him. It almost makes him bend. Probably one more desperate word from Steve’s pretty mouth would convince him.

He almost hopes he’ll be swayed.

“No, Steve,” Eddie still says, his voice only wavering mildly. He hopes Steve didn’t catch it. “See, I think it would be pretty gay of me to get you off, you know? As one straight guy to another, I know you’ll understand.”

It’s a pretty low blow, but Eddie has never been above pettiness.

The apple in Steve’s throat bobs as he thinks through his options, his hand barely slowing from the miniscule touches he grants himself. He eyes the pile of blue clothing in the corner of the van.

Eddie holds his breath, begging the universe to make Steve stay.

“You’re an asshole,” Steve says. But he leans back against the seat, facing Eddie, and he starts touching himself intentionally.

“I learned from the best.” Eddie locks his eyes on Steve’s hand as he strokes his cock. His foreskin doesn’t stretch quite enough to cover the cherry-red tip each time his fingers ring upwards, but it moves with each pump of his hand, helps it glide over his skin. Eddie can’t help but choke out, “Shit.”

Steve’s feet plant themselves firmly on the floor, his hips tilting towards his fist like he’s chasing his own touch. His fingers loosen, reaching down to squeeze at his balls that look like they’re tight, like he’s already on the brink of coming.

“I wish you’d touch me,” Steve says softly, reverently, and Eddie thinks how unfair it is that Steve seems sweet. Like he could be sweet anyway, if he wasn’t such a cunt.

That being said, it’s the final straw for Eddie’s willpower, he can’t not touch Steve anymore. He’s never been a strong man, and it seems he’s found another weakness.

So Eddie snaps, he’s unable to stop himself from crawling towards Steve, whose eyes go wide with gratification and lust, like all his prayers have been answered.

Without a word, Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s fuzzy thighs gently, revels in how soft his skin feels, how pliant it is under his fingertips. It gets even softer as he slips his palms behinds Steve’s knees. They seem to unfurl, as if Steve is inviting Eddie to hook his arms beneath them.

So that’s exactly what he does.

Eddie hauls Steve up with all his strength. And Steve uses his own muscle as well, his abs going taut as he flings his legs over Eddie’s shoulders.

It might be the hottest thing Eddie has ever seen before—Steve’s stomach creasing as he pushes forwards, forwards, forwards until Steve’s nearly bent in half. And the sounds he’s making—these pathetic little mewls—are nearly fucking unfathomable, his hand slapping wetly against his flesh as he fucks himself raw, fast, hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna come—” Steve’s mouth falls opens in a silent scream, his thighs tremoring under Eddie’s grip.

Eddie reaches forward at the very last moment, squeezes his hand around Steve’s cock right as he starts to cry out. It’s hot and thick in his hands. Smooth. Hard as fucking steel, but Eddie still rings his fingers so tight that the red crown squishes slightly under the pressure.

He stores away all of that information for later, knows already that he’ll make himself come to the memory of Steve’s cock in his hand, the face Steve makes when he tumbles over the ledge, the way his cum shoots with each wave of his orgasm.

With Steve’s gaping mouth, and his body bent in on itself, Eddie takes the opportunity to aim Steve’s cock towards his parted lips. They’re really only a few inches apart, considering the compromising position Steve is in. The opportunity presents itself on a silver platter, and it seems rude if Eddie just passes it up.

So Eddie aims it towards Steve’s lips as they fall open in pleasure, and he forces him to come onto his own tongue.

It’s probably the most erotic thing Eddie has ever seen; Steve’s cum paints his lips in white, his lungs heave, his voice escapes in tiny little ah, ah, ah’s each time Eddie’s fist pumps out another rope, and another, and another. Eddie can feel Steve’s dick pulsating as hard as his own did earlier. He can tell that he probably came as hard, too, by the amount of cum that fills his mouth.

Shit, Steve barely seems conscious of that fact. His irises have disappeared into his skull like he needs a goddamn exorcism. But he’s shaking like he’s currently getting one.

Undoubtedly, Eddie is rock solid again in the confines of his jeans, battling more fantasies about sticking his cock inside Steve before he has the chance to come down from his high, making him scream as he pounds his prostate and uses his cum to jerk his overly sensitive dick until it gets hard again.

It’s a very vivid image in Eddie’s mind. So much so that he has to drop Steve’s knees immediately or he’s just gonna… do it.

Steve gasps as his lower body hits the floor, watching confusedly as Eddie scurries back to the farthest corner. The spark of recognition flashes in his eyes, and Eddie can tell that Steve is now gaining some clarity, that he’s realising he, A: let Eddie touch his dick, B: just lost his goddamn composure enough that he was whimpering and shit, and C (Eddie’s favourite): has a mouthful of his own jizz.

It would normally be hilarious when Steve frantically sits up, swallows his cum (much to Eddie’s surprise), and starts grappling to find his discarded uniform that’s strewn in every corner of the van. Only, Eddie is dealing with his own revelations of, well, very similar things. Like… He just touched Steve’s dick. He made Steve whimper and shit. And, yes, he made Steve cum in his own mouth.

Everything is already a fever dream. There is no way. There is just… no way.

Eddie hauls his knees closer to his chest, makes sure Steve can’t see that he’s hard again. Suddenly, it feels pathetic, now that the heat of the moment has simmered back into something… cold. Whatever it was before.

Only now there will be this knowing between them. A shared memory of… of… this. Touching, and begging, and talking. The things Eddie said to Steve like he’s a guy that says stuff like that. It’s mortifying.

Eddie’s hands tremble as he reaches for the cigarette that was dropped on the floor. It burnt a hole in his blanket, but whatever, there’s a million more where that came from. And he lights it back up to hopefully stop the panic that’s starting to settle in.

Steve has already pulled on his boxers and his shorts, that have suspicious little trails of sticky stains. Eddie can’t look, so he focuses on the wall in front of him, and hopes Steve doesn’t notice the tremble in his fingers.

“Can you hurry up, dude?” Eddie says, because he needs to stick his head between his knees before he passes out.

Are things gonna be better at school next year because if this? Or worse? The same?

He can’t imagine that Steve would sick Jason on him now that he’s graduated. But there’s more impossible things that have happened in this world. Like, for instance, what just happened between them.

Steve knows Eddie’s for sure gay. But by basically fucking him, which should be a comfort to Eddie. Still, he’s worried Steve will somehow manipulate it into something bad, like he’s some sort of homo predator. Will he tell his friends, who will tell the whole school? Will Eddie’s life be miserable next year as he repeats his third time being a senior while Steve isn’t around to reap any of the consequences?

Steve pulls his head through his shirt, his hair sticking out in all different directions. Eddie swears there’s still cum on the side of his lips, but he doesn’t want to think about it.

“I’m—I’m going.”

“Go faster.”

Steve tumbles forward, trips over the balled-up blanket as he reaches for the back doors, his top still scrunched to expose a strip of his lower abdomen. But he makes it, flings open the van and flies forward, his face nearly kissing the pavement.

The cool air hits Eddie like a brick wall, but a welcome one. It reminds him that he’s a human and not just some buzzing ball of anxiety. So he leans towards it, takes a deep breath, opens his eyes.

That’s when he notices that Steve has turned around, that he’s stalling. He nervously fidgets with the red tie on his top, stares at Eddie like he wants to say something.

And for a minute, Eddie thinks he will. His lips open, and then close. And then open again. He gets that crease above the bridge of his nose. He cards his hand through the top of his hair that’s sweaty and sticky, and Eddie can tell he realises that as his face scrunches up a bit.

But he doesn’t. At least, not what he was going to say. His jaw just sets in the tense way it had been at the beginning of the night, and he says, “See ya.”

Turns towards his BMW.

Eddie doesn’t stay to gawk. As soon as Steve starts walking away, Eddie slams the back doors and scrambles to the driver’s seat. He doesn’t waist time starting his van, tires squealing as he pushes the clutch to its limit to make it shoot forward.

And once he’s back at the trailer and settled into bed, he pretends he doesn’t come three more times that night to the thought of Steve’s O-face.

***

“Can you please just give it to Steve,” Eddie begs for the hundredth time. Eddie’s throat closes up over Steve’s name, makes it sound thick as he speaks it. But he doesn’t really care. He’s too tired to care, and definitely too tired for this conversation.

Sleep had come so sporadically last night that Eddie almost called off work. But he needs the money, and needs even more to not look like a pussy who’s avoiding Steve after last night.

“I just don’t understand why you have Steve’s Scoops hat.” Robin quirks her brow, stares at where Eddie is extending the piece of Steve’s uniform that had been forgotten in the back of his van last night. It was comforting, in a way, to have physical proof that he hadn’t just completely lost his mind and made the whole thing up.

“I told you, I found it in the parking lot.”

“How do you know it’s Steve’s?” Robin presses.

“Because, it… it was near where he parked his car.”

“How do you know where he parked his car?”

“I saw him drive away last night.”

“But you didn’t see him drop the hat?”

“I wasn’t staring at Steve,” Eddie says with a scoff. Which is absolutely a blatant lie. He had done a lot of staring. “Why would I see him drop the goddamn hat?”

Robin picks at her fries. Eddie had purchased her food on break today, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue. And he also thought it might make her behave.

Neither of those things had worked out.

“I just think it’s weird.”

Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “What’s weird, Rob?”

“It’s just… Steve has this cut on his lip, and a bruise.”

Eddie’s heart picks up in his chest.

Oh, shit.

“And?” he asks, dropping his eyes to focus on his now fidgeting fingers.

“And he said he got it from Jason last night. That they got into a spat.”

Eddie’s heart slows down the tiniest bit. Okay. That’s… yeah. He can work with that. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“He said that Jason met up with him after work. In the parking lot.” Robin’s eyes narrows and they zero in on Eddie. “After he saw you drive away.”

Eddie’s world stops spinning for a split second, realising he got caught in the lie. Of course Steve would have his own story. Of course it wouldn’t align with his own.

But, he knew even though Robin knew he was lying, she wouldn’t know why he was lying. I fucked Steve Harrington last night, is not something she’d expect. At least there’s that.

“I—I guess Steve didn’t actually drive away last night. I don’t really remember, maybe his car was still there. I just found his hat—”

“But didn’t give it to him? If he was still there?”

“I hate the guy,” Eddie says. It’s not a lie. Not really. “Why would I give it to him?”

Robin shoves a handful of fries into her mouth, chews thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But why would you even care enough to pick up his hat, in that case?”

Eddie can feel his face getting red. Can see that Robin notices it too, as she judges him silently from under her lashes. “Why are you pressing me about this?”

She shrugs, takes a sip of her Coke now. “I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

The clock strikes five. That’s their cue to pack up and head back to their jobs. The legs of the chairs squeak as they push them back into the table.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Eddie asks, tossing out their trays full of garbage.

They head towards Scoops and Camelot Music. Eddie makes sure to stay far on his side of the hall, so he doesn’t have to face Steve.

“I just want to make sure nothing happened between you and Steve last night that you’re not telling me about.”

Eddie nearly chokes on his soda, can feel it bubbling up his throat and nearly out of his nose. He doesn’t catch his breath until they’re nearly standing in front of Camelot, Robin staring at him with concern, but also with this unsettling sense of knowing.

“What do you think happened?” Eddie’s voice comes out raw after he hacked up a lung. He goes with this question, because he figures it’s better than digging himself into a deeper hole.

“I’m not sure,” Robin says, poking at the hat in Eddie’s pocket. She turns towards Scoops without taking it, leaving Eddie with a literal white flag hanging from the back of his jeans. “But I hope it was nothing bad.”

She glares at Eddie, turns her sights towards Steve instead. He’s standing there in a freshly washed uniform. Hair perfect, because there’s no hat to squash it down. He’s staring at Eddie and Robin, but as soon as Eddie catches him, he straightens up and looks towards the buckets of ice cream instead.

“Why?”

“Because—” Robin places her hat on her head. Hikes up her own socks that slipped down her calves “—he asked if he could take my closing shift again tonight.”

Eddie’s face ignites, his eyes flying towards Steve accusingly. Eddie can tell he’s a few shades redder than normal as he twiddles his thumbs behind the counter, pointedly not looking in Eddie’s direction. Like he knows exactly what beans Robin just spilled.

“Fuck,” Eddie cries quietly to himself. He grabs the hat again, one last attempt to hand it to Rob. “Please—just—give this back to him.”

Robin purses her lips, takes a few steps away. “Give it to him yourself, tonight after work. You guys need to work through whatever hatred you have for each other. I’m not gonna be the middleman anymore.”

Eddie’s hand hangs limp between them as Robin turns away.

But she casts Eddie one more look before joining a blushing Steve behind the counter. “Just don’t leave any more marks on Steve. He’s really not that great of a fighter.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything more. Just watches as Robin walks back to the ice cream stand.

Before he looks away, Steve’s eyes lift from his feet. They meet with Eddie’s, and they’re filled with a certain type on intention.

Eddie knows in that moment that Robin will be disappointed tomorrow, when Steve shows up to his shift covered in bruises.

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[toychest321]

Finding information on Jamila wasn't particularly easy, but from what I can gather...

(credit to @eepop-stuffs btw for getting her on my radar!)

Jamila was first released in 2006 by Simba Toys Middle East. According to an article published upon her debut at the 2006 Middle East Toy Fair in Dubai, her prototype initially intended to include fashions representing Turkey, Bangladesh, and Indonesia. However, these concepts never made it to final release, and we unfortunately have no photos of what they would have looked like.

Her initial lineup consisted of four dolls: herself, her male Arabic friend Jamil, her Indian friend Sunayana, and her Egyptian friend Kareema.

The name Jamila means "beautiful", and she seems to have only really been released with one outfit. She wore a black abaya with silver detailing with black shoes, and underneath wore a light blue tanktop with a white pencil skirt. Like her friends Sunayana and Kareema, Jamila has dark hair, brown eyes, and henna on her hands and feet.

(Credit to Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

For those unaware, Henna is a form of body decoration which originated from Africa and the Middle East, used with a natural dye from the Mehendi (lawsonia inermis). It is commonly tied to religious ceremonies such as engagements, weddings, Diwali, and Eid!

For Eid Al-Fitr, Henna would be applied towards the end of Ramadan as a symbol of the earthly delight of being alive. Jamila (and Sunayana if we're to believe they had identical Henna) seems to have eye imagery in hers, which represents protection from evil thoughts or wishes. It's also found on the top of her hands, also symbolizing protection, and on her feet, meant to soothe the nerves.

The name Jamil means "handsome". Jamil was initially released clean-shaven, but it seems later releases gave him facial hair. This might have been around the same time he was changed from Jamila's male friend to her husband, likely because (although opposite-sex friendships aren't explicitly forbidden) certain Muslims worry such friendships might result in inappropriate romantic thoughts. While this doesn't seem to be a unanimous belief across the board (many believing opposite-sex friendships are fine so long as you're careful), it might have caused enough controversy that Simba felt the need to marry the two so there weren't any implications. (Credit to Jan Unwichtig and Bababolond on Flickr for the images)

Ngl tho he is giving me major Kenergy...

Jamil comes with a white Thobe with silver buttons, a white Serwal ( undergarments traditionally worn beneath the Thobe), a white cotton undershirt, a white headscarf known as a Ghutra (tied with a black band called the Egal), black sandals, and a small dagger.

I'm actually not sure why his doll comes with a knife? The closest I could find was the Kirpan: a knife or sword which serves as a reminder to promote justice and protect the weak, mandatory for Amritdhari Sikhs to wear at all times. However, although non-Muslims sometimes confuse the two, Sikhism is a completely separate religion from Islam.

If anyone knows what this knife might be intended to represent, please let me know and I'll reblog an edit to this post!

After they were married, Jamila and Jamil had two children: Asad (meaning "Lion") and Almira (meaning "Princess"), both seen in the first illustration on this post. However, I can only seem to find one doll release for their daughter Almira, and none for Asad. Jamila comes in this playset in her base outfit, while her daughter (who cries when you press her stomach) wears pink pajamas. The playset includes a crib and several plastic accessories, including two hair brushes, a blow drier, and a baby bottle. Not only is this only release for Almira, but this also seems to be the only other release for Jamila aside from her initial core doll.

Sunayana means "woman with lovely eyes". She has long braided black hair, wearing a blue Lehenga Choli with a yellow Dupatta. Like Jamila, she also has henna on her hands and feet. She wears silver bangles, a silver necklace, and what I believe might be a Maang Tikka. Based on her images on the back of the doll boxes, I'm fairly certain she came wearing yellow sandal heels as well!

Honestly she might be one of my favorites of the line, since you sadly don't see many culturally-accurate Indian dolls compared to other ethnic groups. I especially love the use of color, and just how much jewelry she comes with!

Finally we have Jamila's Egyptian friend Kareema, whose name means "generous" or "kind". She has pale pink undergarments painted on beneath her clothes, which I assume Jamila has as well. Weirdly enough, however, she doesn't seem to have Henna like the other two.

Like Sunayana and Jamila she has long black hair, which is kept beneath a white hijab. She wears a long blue overcoat, matching jeans, blue shoes, and a multicolored striped shirt. As far as I can tell, her clothing doesn't seem to have Egyptian cultural roots like Sunayana's has Indian, however her modest style of dress and hijab are common for most Muslim women.

I've been meaning to make this post for at least a full week, and it's nice to finally get to share another beautiful yet obscure Muslim doll! It's a shame this doll didn't have more releases, since I'm honestly curious with the direction the might have taken with her and her friends based on the prior illustration! Regardless, I'm happy I got to share her and her friends with you all :)

Ramadan Kareem!

[avatar-anna]

Idk if you like this concept but i can't stop thinking about harry with swiftie y/n who always sings London Boy to him. And likes to tease him about the fact that he dated Taylor

swiftie!y/n by @harrysfolklore is superior, but i did my best!

(also, i know london boy isn't actually about harry, he's just being a tease)

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“Hello everyone. My name is Y/n Y/l/n, but only because my boyfriend hasn't proposed to me yet.”

In the dim lighting, you could just make out Harry's figure at the back of the bar, where he promptly flipped you off. Laughing a bit, you continued.

“He told me we weren’t going home tonight until I got up here and performed, and while you are all a lovely bunch, I fear I am growing a little tired, so here I am.”

You and Harry were spending some time in Japan. Tokyo, to be exact. He'd just come off his first solo tour, and you both thought it would be nice to get away for a little while. He liked Japan, and you had never been, so it was perfect.

In the few weeks of being in Japan, you and Harry frequented a couple of places, one of which was a karaoke bar a few blocks from the apartment you were staying at. It was all locals and the two of you, but everyone was welcoming, especially when Harry started doing rounds of sake and getting on the small stage to perform here and there. You were content to watch, though Harry tried multiple times to get you to at the very least join him. And now that it was nearing the end of your stay, he was pressing a little harder.

So now you were on the stage with a microphone in your hand, trying not to look at anyone for too long.

“You got this, babe!” Harry shouted from his seat, resting his fingers in his mouth to blow a sharp whistle.

“Thank you,” you said. “This song goes out to my boyfriend, my London boy. And Taylor Swift, who I am forever grateful to for breaking up with my boyfriend so that I could have him one day, and I hope she'll follow me on Instagram one day so we can become best friends and dress up as Charlie’s Angels together for Halloween.”

You weren’t typically the kind of person that over shared, but it took a good amount of alcohol to get a microphone in your hands, and you tended to share a little too much about yourself when you were drunk.

Harry gave you a thumbs up as the music started, and since you called Taylor Swift “mother” on a regular basis, you didn't really need the words on the screen to help you along.

“We can go drivin' in, on my scooter. Uh, you know, just riding in London. Alright. I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal. And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey...”

It was safe to say that you loved Taylor Swift. You grew up with her music, each album speaking to the different phases of your life as you went through them. Her music, her lyrics, the stories she told...you just understood all of it, you felt understood by her songs.

Meeting Harry, falling in love with him, it was all chance. He came into the clothing store you worked at, and you only recognized him as the guy from that boy band who dated Taylor Swift (which you did not tell him until much, much later). But he took you by surprise. His hair was long and his smile was shy but kind, and instead of talking about clothing suggestions like you were paid to do, he asked about you, and you asked about him, and instead of walking out with shopping bags, he left with your number, and the rest was history.

You never really expected to fall in love with Harry. Honestly, you thought he would forget about asking for your number. But he texted you a couple hours after you met, and you stayed up almost all night talking about whatever popped into your heads. He made his interest in you quite obvious, so there was never a period where friendship became more, but you still considered him your best friend. You were just two young people in love and experiencing the world together, and you wouldn't have wanted anyone else by your side.

Harry knew now what a fan of Taylor Swift you were, courtesy of a night where you had a little too much to drink and accidentally showed him a picture of a teenage you dressed in a “You Belong With Me” costume at one of her concerts.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“So, you’re a fan, are you?” he asked.

“That might be an understatement,” you told him, crawling into his lap. “You should know, if I believed in hall passes...”

Harry bursted out laughing, throwing his head back as you giggled with him. You thought he might be put off by your love for your favorite artist, but when he sobered up, he kissed the top of your head and said, “Noted. I’m very thankful that you don't believe in hall passes then.”

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.**.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

“You know I love a London boy, I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon. He likes my American smile. Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you...”

You were no performer, but you did your best, skipping between tables and trying your hardest not to sound horrible. You tried not to look at Harry too, because you knew he would be smiling no matter how good or bad you were, and you needed to make it through the song without getting flustered.

However, as the song came to a close, you went over to where he was and planted yourself on his lap, singing the last few lines just to him.

You could tell he was a little drunk too. His green eyes hooded as he smiled down at you. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and his grip on your waist made it hard to focus, but you managed to make it to the end of the song before kissing him.

His lips tasted like alcohol and the lip balm he kept in his pocket at all times. You held the sides of his face in your hands, thumbs rubbing at his temples as the patrons of the bar applauded your big finale. Eventually you pulled away to give the microphone back to the person in charge of the karaoke machine, but Harry didn't let you get far, his arms circling around your waist and holding you close.

“Let’s go home,” he mumbled as the next person got ready to perform.

“Can we grab something to eat on the way back? That left me starving. I don't know how Taylor does it.”

Harry chuckled as he stood up from his seat, leaving a couple bills on the bar before taking your hand in his as the two of you walked out into the chilly night air. “I perform too, you know.”

“I know, but she has these huge dance numbers too. It must be exhausting.”

“Are you saying I need dance numbers in my performances now?” he asked, but he knew you were joking around. He was a close second in your list of favorite artists, and he was well aware of that.

You shook your head, shivering a little as the wind picked up. Harry pulled you close, resting an arm over your shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his middle as you walked, pressing your cheek against his chest and savoring the warmth emanating from him.

You were both quiet as you walked down the street, content to just be next to each other. Until,

“You know I’m not from London, though, right?”

“Oh, I know. But Holmes Chapel boy doesn't have the same ring to it!”

Harry leaned down to brush his lips against yours. It was short and sweet and perfect, his most nudging yours as he pulled back just a little. “You’re right. I’ll have to give her a ring about that.”

“You have her number?”

[fish-eat-fish]

dating gwen or miles while also being a spider person hc’s?

Gwen x gn!reader Headcanons

a/n: i kind of perished trying to write so much stuff so sorry for the late requests! i’ve never written headcanons before so sorry if the formatting is weird. i’ll whip up the miles one soon!

✰✰✰

- Took a lot of time for her to warm up to you, she’s never really let anyone else into her life after Peter

- You always tried to cheer her up, whether it was through small gestures or horrible jokes–you always wanted to lighten the mood around her

- You lost it when she mentioned that she was in a band, you thought it was the coolest thing ever

- “You play on drums!? Gwen! That’s so cool!” With you actually beaming, Gwen was surprised at your excitement

- She just felt an incredible ego boost, and flushed a little bit at your interest in her playing (she was coerced into showing you some time)

- The whole dynamic between the two of you feels a little push and pull at times

- Like, you two can have amazing moments of understanding and bonding, just for her to push you further away later

- Arguments here and there, but at the end of it all, you always stick with Gwen (she really appreciates your patience with her)

- Eventually, things got really awkward between the two of you, and Gwen couldn’t understand why

- She seriously never knows what she’s feeling because she doesn’t take the time to reflect on her emotions

- She really missed dropping by your dimension and swinging around with you

- You both would swing through the cities, and you’d take her to the tallest buildings to impress her with the most gorgeous views (you did accidentally hold her hand like once, because you were scared she would’ve fallen somehow)

- Feelings were confronted, confessions were said (through your window at the middle of the night)

- Gwen was so nervous and afraid to ruin your friendship, speaking with a shaky voice whilst messing with her hair (a nervous habit she had)

- You shot a web at her, yanking on it and pulling her into a dramatic kiss–hands on her cheeks

- She was absolutely losing her mind over this, panicking so hard in the moment, hovering her hands over you, until wrapped them behind your back, bringing you in closer

- She could not stop tripping over her words after, which made you laugh because you’d never seen her so flustered before

- Gwen isn’t the best with being affectionate, so you usually have to initiate it, but you don’t mind it when you see her reactions

- She’s usually pretty calm, so when she drops the most unexpected compliment or flirtatious comment, you scream inside (she’s so embarrassed and has no idea what came over her but she hides it well, changing the subject)

- You yell at her a lot to take care of herself on the job at the end of the day when the both of you are done with your spider-duties

- Gwen brushes it off, which upsets you

- So you have to obviously pamper this girl and take care of her for the night: dinner, tea, backrub, facemasks, and cuddling at night

- Gwen giggles at the feeling of kisses on her neck, she’s super ticklish there

- Loves being the big spoon for some reason, or prefers to face you and sleep in a hug

- It takes a while for her to pass out or get comfortable, but she usually passes out as soon as you start playing with her hair

- Light sleeper, so if she wakes up first, she admires you and brushes her hand against yours

- She likes stealing your clothes, always owning at least a few of your clothes to wear at home or outside

- Gwen isn’t too big on PDA, but always physically gravitates towards you when the two of you are hanging out in public

- Drums on your arm or leg like she’s playing music, and mimics drumset sounds which makes you laugh

- She loves seeing you in your Spidersuit since it fits you so well

- The two of you rant about the craziest things you saw in your dimension whilst swinging around the city, she loves listening to you

- It’s a little tough leaving each other to head back to your own dimensions, but Gwen always makes sure to give you a goodbye kiss

- She let’s you know she’ll be thinking about you when she’s back in her dimension (which leads to your special collection of trinkets gifted by Gwen, little things that remind her of you or represent inside jokes the two of you share)

- Overall, she loves and adores you so much, but isn’t the best at showing it

[minhosbitterriver]

Hihihihi!! Hru!

I was wondering if you could write a stray kids x 9th member!reader where their a a maknae and their family lives far away so chans kinda a father figure for them? Like he looks after her and helps her fall asleep when they’re struggling, and maybe in skz vlogs or codes fans can see how much of a father figure he is to them. Its okay if you can’t ilyy bye❤️❤️

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦋 how he cares 𓂅 ໋⋅

「other works by green. 」

‧₊° pairing. chan x female reader ( platonically ! )

‧₊° content warnings. not proofread.

‧₊° rating. everyone

‧₊° summary. an episode of 2 kids’ show reveals just how deep your friendship with chan runs.

2 Kids’ Show has come to mean a lot for STAY, a fact that warmed your heart as you glanced around the set which was definitely an upgrade to the old yellow room with the blue couch, although the latter was a symbol of simpler times in a lot of ways. Still, the dingy feeling of a garage being occupied by a band was an aesthetic you hadn’t realized you’d appreciate this much.

Minho was already sitting on his assigned velvety green chair, a small stack of talking-point cards with the freshly designed logo of the show printed on the back in his hands as he waited for his cue to begin. Chan stood by your side, chatting lightly with his hairstylist as she ensured that his hair was perfect. You were already set and ready to begin, no trace of the tingling anxiety that usually plagued you before interviews and you knew it was because the only people you’d have to interact with were the very same people you spoke to daily — this was a relief to you these days.

“Okay!” The manager announced with a sharp clap of his hands in order to attract everyone’s attention. All of the staff quickly made their ways to their needed positions and the hairstylist Chan had been speaking to left him be. “Ready? Scene!”

“Where two kids share their secret stories and music, this is 2 Kids’ Show,” announced Minho, pausing for a moment for a light applause — to which you and Chan obliged albeit belatedly to tease your friend. Minho’s eyes playfully narrowed in your and Chan’s direction, though he quickly moved on with a smile. “I am 2 Kids’ Show’s handsome MC, Lee Know.”

You cupped your hands around your mouth to cheer exaggeratedly, overcompensating for the lack of an enthusiastic applause just a moment prior. Minho winced away from you even with the distance between the two of you. “You were scolding Hyunjin and Jeongin before, you don’t have any grounds to complain saying I don’t cheer now!”

“I do have a complaint actually, you’re being too loud! It hurts my ears!” Minho rolled his eyes playfully before glancing back at the cards in his hands with an amused smile. “Anyway, as you can see, today we have a special pair with us — Stray Kids’ wolf and bumblebee duo that STAY have always loved. To me, they’re a good representation of an endearing friendship, our oldest and youngest members — Chan and Y/N!”

Chan pressed a hand on your lower back to urge you forward, and you let yourself be guided by him with a practiced bright grin as you waved at your group member. You end up seated in between the two men, quickly grabbing one of the cushions of the couch and placing it on your lap out of habit. Chan followed suit, but only so he could fiddle with the fuzz.

“It’s so strange seeing you as our MC,” you commented lightly.

“Is it? Good or bad?”

You shrug innocently. “I guess we’re going to have to wait and see!”

“Careful,” Minho teased with an exaggerated ominous grin. “I’m the one leading this interview.”

Chan chuckled beside you, though he remained quiet otherwise.

“Okay! Chan and Y/N how have you two been lately?”

You glance over at Chan, unsure of whether he should begin speaking of you, but he made the choice for you as he absentmindedly nodded at you whilst keeping his eyes glued on the pillow. With an understanding nod, you clear your throat and turn to face Minho. Chan has been a bit on the quieter side, evidently exhausted by the grueling hours of work and the pressure of the recent comeback almost weighing him down slightly — although he would never admit it. “I’ve been pretty good, actually. Yesterday was my day off, so I was able to tend to my plants at home.”

“Oh, how are they?”

A frown tugged at yourself, pushing your lower lip into a frown. “Titi, my tradescantia died, which was really sad since it’d managed to live so long. They’re really difficult to keep alive since they require a lot of water, and I’ve heard how often they tend to die so I was very proud of myself when I managed to keep it for a bit despite our busy schedule.”

“Oh, Titi died?” Chan questioned, highly surprised by this new piece of information. It wasn’t uncommon for you to call or text him whenever one of your plants died since you had a deep love for them and always took their ends straight to your heart — it was a failure you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive, and it always made you work harder with the next plant. Not to say that you didn’t have a green thumb, your experience caring for them since childhood was more than enough proof of your abilities, but death comes to all and yet it hurts nevertheless. Titi in particular had been struggling for quite a bit despite your constant attempts to make things better for her, and by the time you found her completely lifeless in your pot, you were painfully aware of Chan being asleep after spending all night awake.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a slightly guilty smile. “It was quite tragic, actually. But my gardenia flowers have just started blooming a few days ago, and I’m really excited to see them in their prime. It’s also nerve-wracking because they’re also said to be extremely difficult to maintain and I really don’t want to deal with another Titi. Since I don’t have an actual garden in a subtropical country, I had to invest in a container so I can control the temperature. They’re actually said to thrive really well with moderate warmth that is somewhere between 18°C and 21°C and their soil must be kept consistently moist at all times and also —”

Minho splayed his hands in front of himself to signal for you to stop, and so you snapped your mouth shut as a slight tinge of color rose to your cheeks. “You know we love you, and I will ask you about this after the interview. But we should probably move on with the questions.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chan chuckled a bit, reaching out to rub your back in small circles to soothe you like he always did. Minho, catching the kind gesture, grinned brightly and pointed at Chan’s hand that stopped immediately when caught.

“That’s actually one of the things we wanted to talk about here,” Minho announced with a slight glint of mischief. “I think it’ll be okay if I jump a few questions now that we’re on the topic and then circle back to the others, right?”

The three of you glanced at your manager and director, both of whom nodded and motioned for Minho to continue. Chan drew his hand back, focusing on the pillow once more.

“Right, so I think we’re all guilty of watching some of the videos that STAYs make online. I for one find them to be very entertaining, but I also noticed that there’s a greater amount of content made of you two — a lot of people really admire your friendship, so how’s that looking so far?”

This time, you nudged Chan’s knee with your own. He glanced up and cleared his own throat. “I love watching those videos, honestly. I think it’s really interesting to see how many STAYs can appreciate it. I know Y/N and I have been through a lot together and it really makes me appreciate her even more these days.”

“Channie,” you teased. “You make it sound like we’re dating.”

“I was just about to say! Right?” Minho burst out, chuckling as Chan rolled his eyes. It’s a joke as old as time, really, and it couldn’t be further from the truth — no matter how many fans believe it to be true. You didn’t blame those who viewed you and Chan as something more than friends, however, because everyone is entitled to their own opinions when it really comes down to it, and it’s a consequence of being an idol that you needed to embrace regardless of how frustrating it could be at times. All that being said, you and the boys have found a way to bring humor into the whole thing, which oftentimes makes it easier to deal with.

As Chan reached across from your body to swat at Minho with his pillow, you couldn’t help but giggle. “Anyway,” he continued as he sent his friend a pointed look. “I just think that after being friends for so long, it’s natural for us to become as close as we are. Besides, Y/N always needs me, which makes me very happy.”

His words seemed to warm every cell in your body, these thoughts of his were not new to you since it was something that he frequently mentioned during those late nights spent either working or having a drink together. It was the mere thought of you making him feel as wanted as you knew he deserved to feel that made you content, it was the least you could do for him when he sacrificed so much for everyone in the group on a daily basis.

“I think we’ve earned the right to be this close.” Minho cocked his head to the side, silently urging you to elaborate on your comment. “I mean, I’m not born or raised in Korea like most of the other members are, and the only ones who could really understand what it meant to be homesick were him and Felix. Oftentimes, I would find myself in bed just wide awake because I couldn’t help but obsess over my troubles. Every time my mind was just spinning like that, I knew I could count on Chan, to calm me down.

It’s especially sweet, too, because we all know Chan is a bit of a workaholic, but whenever someone needs him he just…stops and turns all of his focus on us and it made me feel very seen. He listens, and offers his own insights and is just like the big brother I always need around. Usually those nights end with us in the living room, and I’ll fall asleep to the sounds of his keyboards click-clacking as he continues working. Chan just has that soothing aura that helps so much.”

Chan could only watch as you spoke about him, those mini stars that only seemed to appear when watching his members. You held his gaze for only a moment, hoping he could feel the sincerity oozing from your expression.

“I think it’s safe to say that STAYs really do see that.” Minho was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, lips curled up into a soft lopsided smile as he watched the interaction between the two. All of the members shared their own special friendships with you that you adored and appreciated with every fiber of your being, but the fact that Chan was your platonic soulmate was an undeniable fact. “The fact that Y/N is our maknae also probably plays a part in this friendship. Chan, has there ever been a time in which Y/N felt like she was older?”

After a moment of careful consideration, Chan responded with: “I think Y/N can be very nurturing when she wants to be. She’s always making sure that I’ve drank enough water and she often brings me meals when she can because I do spend an awful lot of time working. But other than that, she’s still very much a big baby — OW!”

Your hand stung slightly from when you smacked his arm, guilt seeped into your smile since you hadn’t meant for it to hurt that much. Nevertheless, you stood your ground.

“Would a big baby be that strong?”

Minho chuckled at the scene. “I think you’re proving him right, though.”

“I’ll hit you too, you know.’

“Okay, okay, let us move on from this before you start getting all violent.” Although he was partly teasing, Minho was not a stranger to your slaps that always hit harder than you’d mean to, as though you were a large puppy that didn’t know its strength. “Y/N, has Chan ever felt like he was younger?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even think about it,” Chan chortled.

“Don’t have to,” you said with a wicked grin curling up your lips. “He’s a big baby when he doesn’t get any attention and also when he’s sick.”

At this, Minho burst out laughing. “No, you’re right. She’s right.”

It was now Chan’s turn to let his hand fly and make contact with your arm, though his slap was significantly lighter than yours. You still pretended to be distressed due to the pain, clutching the area that he touched and twisting your face in mock suffering.

The questions on Minho’s talking-point cards continued rolling off of his tongue as the interview carried on. It was a time that, had the goal truly been to cover every single aspect of yours and Chan’s relationship, it’d never end. He was the kind of guy you trusted with everything, and you knew he felt the same way towards you. Bang Chan was your best friend, the brother you always needed, and your guide when in the darkness. By the time the cameras stopped rolling almost immediately after your collaborative singing in the end, the promise of buying lunch was on the tip of your tongue as you jogged to catch with his wider footsteps.

word count: 2.2k 🦋 posted: 01 • 03 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

First of all, Happy New Years! Hope it’s 2024 is being kind to everyone thus far.

Secondly, thank you for the request my dear Anonnie! I really hope this is good, I’ve never written anything about a ninth member, much less in a platonic way so I struggled slightly on how to do it. I’m gonna be very honest right now and say that I am not a platonic anything haha, my girlfriend (who found my account recently) will tell you that much. We did a lot of “platonic” shit before we finally admitted that we were, in fact, not being platonic at all. So, yeah. I do love a challenge so I really appreciate it!

Finally, I’m finally feeling better! All I have is a mild cough, nothing too bad compared to what I was dealing before so be ready for more posts!

⨳ kofi ⨳

( 🏷️ ) taglist: @grandpafelixx , @agi-ppangx

[alwaysonthemend]

Ménage a Quatre

Author’s Note: Requested by @ignite-my-fire , this fic was an absolute delight to write. It’s way longer than I had initially planned so sorry for the delay. I think this is the fic that’s officially making me go to hell but I’d say it’s fucking worth it because damn was this fun to write. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sorry for any typos/mistakes! Please note, there is no slash in this fic, as this is not Alabama. (I can make that joke because I was born there)

Summary: You’ve known the Kiszkas for practically their entire lives. Your friendship with them is a little unique given that you’ve slept with all three of them over the years, but you never made it official with any of them. You figure it’s just a matter of time before they find out the truth and  you know that once they do, you’ll probably never hear from any of them ever again. They're just about to finish up the last leg of tour and you discover that it’s actually quite the opposite. 

Content Warnings: Forgive me father for I have sinned. Foursome. Cussing, dirty talk, name calling, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, hand jobs, unprotected sex. Overall just very dirty. Needless to say, 18+ MINORS DNI (plz) 

Word Count: 5056

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

These situations were rarely ever simple. And yours is extra complicated given that you’d been friends with the Kiszka brothers for most of their lives. You’d met them all the way back in middle school when you’d shared a class with Sam. He had invited you over to his house to hang out and, as the years passed, you became good friends with Jake and Josh as well. You had been with them for all of it – from their first few band practices in the garage to Greta Van Fleet becoming famous. And somehow, they still considered you family, despite their newfound rockstar status. 

It started, you suppose, with Sammy. Since you two are the same age, he’d always been the one that you considered yourself closest to. And sure, you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive, especially as he grew into the man he is now. And he’d always been the one that you figured you might have a shot with. He’d been your first kiss in the 8th grade, and he’d been the one to take your virginity after a drunken homecoming party your senior year. And though it had been incredible, and the two of you slept with each other a few more times that summer, you had never made it official. 

Things changed though when you were a sophomore in college and Josh had come alone to visit you. The thing about Josh is that he always comes across as a little flirty, and you had never paid it any mind. But during that particular visit, the banter back and forth between the two of you had been at an all time high. Little touches of his would linger, and you would often catch him staring at you as you passed. Inevitably, you fell into bed with him – just as you had with Sam years before. It was incredible. Josh is a giving lover (just as you always assumed he’d be) and your time together that night haunted your dreams for months after he left. You’d always had a little crush on Sam, but suddenly you found yourself looking at Josh in a brand new light. You felt terribly guilty and chalked it up to the Kiszka charm and did your best to push the both of them from your mind. 

And then came your graduation party. Josh, Jake, and Sam – along with all of your other friends and family were present. The night was full of excitement and catching up and plenty of alcohol to go around. You would blame that alcohol for a long time for what happened. Sleeping with the third Kiszka brother was, you insisted to yourself, merely a result of drinking way too much. Jake was nothing like Josh or Sam. He was dominant, commanding. And you loved every minute of it. His fingers were fucking magical, calloused and talented, and he had brought you to the edge so many times you had lost count. And as you laid there that night, head resting on his shoulder as he slept, you realized that you were completely, irrevocably, and utterly fucked. 

Sleeping with your childhood best friend was one thing, but fucking both of his older brothers was a whole other problem. The guilt ate away at you, consuming your thoughts and souring any moment you shared with them. And the worst part of it was, you couldn’t really make yourself regret any of it. All three of them had given you nights that you would never forget, and any other man you tried to sleep with paled in comparison. You couldn’t even pleasure yourself without your mind drifting to those nights – imagining the way Sam thrust into powerfully, or the way Josh ate you out like a man starved, or the way Jake had stared into your eyes has he edged you for what felt like the millionth time. You’d had a taste of the talented Kiszka brothers, and you were hungry for me – no matter how wrong it was. 

The years passed and, despite your best efforts, you slept with them all a handle of times each. And each and every time the guilt chipped away at you, eating away at your thoughts constantly. You never said a word to any of them about the whole situation, and as the years passed it got harder and harder to think of a way to bring it up to them. Eventually, you just accepted that one day they’d all find out and your friendship with the Kiszkas would be ruined forever and that there was nothing you could really do about it. The best you could do was enjoy each encounter as much as you could and be thankful while it lasted. 

But things would soon change for all four of you. The release of the Battle at Garden’s Gate and the beginning of the Dreams in Gold Tour changed your world completely. The first leg had been brutal as you hardly got to see the boys at all. On one of the few instances in which they were all at home, taking a break, Sam had approached you with an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

“Y/n,” He’d said one day whilst the two of you were sitting at the table eating a light lunch, “how would you feel about coming with us for this last leg of the tour?” 

Your eyes had grown comically large and you stared at him. 

“I mean, ya! I’d love to but… why?” You wrung your hands together, nervous. “I mean, I FaceTime you guys all the time. It’s not like we never get to talk when you’re on tour.”

“I know.” Sam had said, eyes staring at you intently. “But the truth is… I miss the way we used to be.” He glanced down, suddenly bashful. “I miss the nights we used to have together and I thought that maybe, if you were on tour with us, we could do it again.” 

The panic that washed over you had been unlike anything you’d ever felt before. The back of your neck grew hot as the guilt that you thought you had escaped reared its ugly head ten fold. The fear must have shown on your face because Sam was quick to backtrack. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to! I… I just thought I’d ask.” 

“It’s not that, Sammy. I want to. Of course I want to. It’s just…” You trailed off, desperately trying to come up with a reason other than the terrible truth. You couldn’t think of anything. 

“Sam, there’s no way for me to tell you this without sounding like the worst fucking person on the planet, and I hope we can still be at least sort of friends after I tell you… but I understand if you decide against ever talking to me ever again because-” 

“Y/n.” Sam silenced your rambling. “I know. We all know.” 

You stared, unbelieving. 

“Know what?” It couldn’t be true. 

“Do you really think three brothers aren’t going to brag to each other about sleeping with the hottest fucking girl we know?” He laughed and took a sip of his drink. “Granted, we didn’t immediately know we all were talking about the same one but… once we did, none of us really cared.” 

Your jaw fell open as you stared at him. Your brain was barely processing the words he was saying. They had known? All these years? And not one of them had thought to mention it to you… 

“And… you’re all, you know… okay with it?” You asked in a shaky voice. 

“Duh. I’m not the only one who wants you on tour with us. Josh and Jake both wholeheartedly want you there with us, too.” He watched your face morph from emotion to emotion – from panic, fear, confusion, and finally doubt. “I promise y/n. We’re all cool with it. I wouldn’t have asked you to come along with us if we all hadn’t talked about it first. So,” He spread his arms wide and grinned at you, “What'll it be, y/n?” 

And that’s how you found yourself traveling the world with Greta Van Fleet, spending your nights partying with them and sleeping with them whenever they pleased. It was weird at first, having sex with each of them whilst knowing that they all knew, but eventually the oddness faded. Sam, Jake, and Josh were the handsomest fuckers to ever walk the planet, and you were lucky enough to be able to have all three of them. And to be honest, you were having the time of your fucking life. 

As time passed, the whole situation began to feel a little less strange. Granted, your situation was anything but normal – but you found yourself and the Kiszkas enjoying life far more than you had been before. There was never any weirdness or animosity between you all – much to your relief. Even if one of them walked in on you with another, there were never any hard feelings. Usually just a smirk and an apology, often accompanied by a laugh as they exited the room. The life became normal – despite being so atypical, and time flew by. Before you all knew it, the tour was drawing to a close. 

It was the night of the last show. The boys had absolutely killed it out on stage (just like they always did) but there had been something particularly special about their performance this time. Sam had looked downright ethereal out on stage, effortlessly playing the best he had all tour. Josh’s vocals had been heavenly, and the raw emotion that he was feeling at the end of the tour had been evident – making his singing even more powerful than usual. And Jake’s last Weight of Dreams solo had been mesmerizing, his mannerisms becoming practically feral by the end as he basically fucked his guitar on stage. By the end, you excused yourself to your hotel room, completely wound up after the show. You needed some relief, and you didn’t care which of them it was. At this point, you just needed whoever showed up at your door first. They all had their own spare key, so you were sure it was a race of who could get here first.

It was Jake that made it first. You heard the door unlock and he strode across the room quickly, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a hot kiss to your neck. He was still sweaty and warm against you, and you could easily feel his cock through his stage pants. You turned in his grasp to face him, pressing your lips to his in a needy kiss. 

“You looked incredible out there tonight, Jakey.” You said between kisses. He chuckled as he detached himself from you to close the door behind himself. 

“Thank you, y/n. Got myself a little worked up.” He turned back around and gave you a pointed grin. 

“Oh?” You asked, walking slowly over to the bed. “Something I can help with?” 

Jake let out a growl deep in his chest as he wasted no time in stripping his stage clothes, tossing them to the floor in a heap. He walked confidently over to you, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your head back to expose your throat. 

“You know exactly what I need, sweet girl.” He released you. “Strip.” He ordered, and you quickly complied, almost falling over in your haste to rid yourself of your own clothes. 

Once free of your clothes, you crawled onto the bed and leaned back, hair splayed out like a halo around your head. You let your legs fall apart, giving Jake a clear view of your glistening folds. 

“Well then,” You said, eyes hooded and heart racing, “come and take it.” 

Jake wasted no time before jumping onto the bed, the springs creaking as his weight settled. He dove between your thighs, licking a stripe up your pussy. You threw your head back and moaned loudly, uncaring if anyone heard you. Jake began to eat you out like he was a starving man given his first meal, and he quickly had you spewing curses and moans loudly. So loud, in fact, that neither of you heard the door to the room open and close. 

“God damn, she is a fucking sight to behold.” Your eyes snapped open at the sound of Josh’s voice. Jake detached himself from your dripping cunt, turning to give his twin a smirk. 

“Don’t stop on my account, brother.” Josh said grinning, eyes still trained on your pussy. “Do you mind if I join in on the fun? It is the last show and all…”

They both were looking at you now, and neither of their gazes were demanding. Truly, it was your choice, and you knew that you could say ‘no’ without either of them becoming upset. You thought for a moment, weighing the idea in your mind. Though you’d been sharing them the whole time, none of you had ever crossed the line of sharing at the same time. But you’d be a big fat liar if you said you hadn’t imagined it before – secret, dirty dreams in which you got to have all three of them at once. And well, two out of three ain’t bad. 

“I’d love for you to join.” You said, voice still a little shaky from Jake’s earlier attention. 

“You sure?” Jake asked, placing a warm palm on your thigh. “It’s okay if you say no.”

“No hard feelings at all, love. Promise.” Josh added, giving you a sweet smile. 

“I’m sure. Promise.” You echo Josh’s words and both of their smiles grow. 

“Perfect.” Josh said, already beginning to step out of his jumpsuit. He lets it pool around his feet before stepping out of it and you can’t help but moan at the sight of him. Jake brings his mouth back down on your throbbing cunt, and you clench your eyes shut and groan loudly. You feel the bed dip next to you as Josh climbs in, leaning down to press wet kisses to your tits. 

“Sammy’s gonna be so jealous that he’s missing out.” You sigh, fighting to keep your voice from cracking. 

“Mmm. Probably.” Josh agrees, before swirling his tongue around one of your hard nipples. You moan loudly as Jake suckles on your clit for a moment before sitting up. His face is wet with your juices and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Do you want me to text him?” Jake asks quietly, and Josh sits up as well. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Jake hastily adds. “Two is one thing. All three might be the death of you.” He grins and Josh scoffs at him. 

“There were probably a million better ways you could have phrased that.” You laugh at Josh’s comment and Jake gives you both a joking scowl. 

“Yeah, probably.”  You pause again, gathering your racing thoughts. This whole night is becoming a wet dream come true. “Text him, Jake.”

He nods and rises from the bed to extract his phone from the pile of clothes on the floor by the door. He taps his fingers quickly across the screen. 

“He was waiting just down in the lobby bar.” He says, clicking his phone off and lying it back on top of his clothes. “He was gonna wait for his turn.” He chuckles as he returns to the bed. 

It doesn’t take long for the door to open again, and Sam enters the room. His hair is framing his pretty face beautifully and you lick your lips at the sight of him. 

“Hey, Sammy.” You whisper, eyes dark and chest flushed with excitement. He’s only wearing his stage pants and you can see his cock straining beneath them.

“Hey, y/n.” He says, walking over to the side of the bed. 

The three brothers look to each other, eyes dancing back and forth amongst themselves, almost as if they’re carrying a conversation with each other. Knowing them and their close bonds, they probably are.  

“Well,” Josh finally says, voice horse and gruff, “a menage a quatre it is, then.” He grins and Sam and Jake do the same, before all of their eyes turn to you. You gulp. You feel like prey, being stalked through the woods by a pack of wild animals. And in a sense, you are. This whole experience with them has been eye opening, as you’ve learned more about yourself and what you like than ever before. Sam, Josh, and Jake have given you a freedom that you’ve never had before, and one that you probably won’t have again. 

‘Tonight, pretty girl,” Sammy whispers, “you’re ours.” He says, tracing a finger along the curve of your jaw. 

“All ours, my dear.” Josh murmurs as he leans down, ghosting his lips over your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. 

Jake roughly grips the meat of one of your ass cheeks and squeezes, calloused fingers digging into your flesh. 

“And you’re gonna fucking take it however we want it.” He says, eyes dark and sparkling. 

You swallow thickly and nod your head wordlessly, senses already overwhelmed and every nerve in your body on fire. Sam slides his pants down and off him, allowing his hard cock to spring free. He climbs onto the bed and settles onto his knees by your feet. You turn your head to watch him, entranced by the grace of his movements. In your peripheral you see Josh’s curly head descend upon your skin, leaving wet, hot kisses on your neck. He nips and bites as he goes, drawing breathy little moans from you. 

“So pretty like this, baby girl.” He says as he licks into your mouth, tongue plunging into you to explore. He swallows your moan as Sam takes over from Jake earlier, lapping between your folds and circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck.” You whine, tossing your head back as Josh brings his mouth back to your tits while one hand tweaks your other nipple. He wraps his free hand around his cock and begins to fuck into his own hand. 

“Such pretty noises.” He moans around your breast. 

“Such pretty lips, too.” Jake says, sinking to his knees above your head, looking down on you as his hair falls around his face. “Bet they’d look so nice wrapped around my cock.” 

“She’s a little slut for sucking cock, Jake.” Sam says, rising briefly from your cunt and your pussy clenches at the loss of stimulation.

Jake grips your jaw with his hand and forces it open before sliding his hard length into your waiting mouth. You relax your tongue and swallow him down deep as you can go and hollow your cheeks. He fucks into your mouth and you can only watch as his eyes fall closed and he throws his head back in pleasure. 

Without warning, Sam plunges two fingers into you, stroking your walls with a ‘come here’ motion. You moan and almost choke around Jake’s cock, but you push through it and your eyes water with the effort. Your every sense is overwhelmed as Josh nips and bites at your tits. Jake’s moans and grunts as he fucks into your mouth are fucking pornographic and Sam’s fingers are quickly guiding you onto the edge. 

You reach your right hand out blindly, finding Josh’s hand where he’s stroking himself. You swat it away, relying only on your peripheral to see. You begin to pump his cock for him instead and he lets out a loud groan. 

“See that, Jake?” He says through clenched teeth. “Letting you fuck into her mouth and jacking me off at the same time… Such a talented little whore.” 

You moan at his words and the vibration makes Jake moan as well. He pulls his cock from you and a string of saliva falls from your lips. 

“Mmm.” He nods, brushing your sweaty hair from your forehead. “Such a good girl.” Jake observes you with dark eyes as you practically writhe on the bed. He can tell that you’re about to cum all over Sam’s fingers and yet you’re still giving Josh the handjob of his life. 

“Cum for me, y/n.” Sam demands, pumping his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Cum on my fingers.” And that’s all it takes for the coil in your belly to snap. Your hand drops from Josh’s dick as your mouth drops open and you let out a wail as you ride through the pleasure. 

“Fucking gorgeous.” Josh whispers, watching you fall apart. When you finally come down, you're met with all the Kiszkas looking at you like you’re the only girl in the whole world. And to them, you are. You’re struck again by the craziness of the situation you’ve found yourself in, surrounded by the three most attractive men you’ve ever met, all willing to share in your pleasure. 

“Get on your hands and knees.” Sam commands, snapping you back into the moment. 

You scramble up from your lying down position and do as you're told, sinking to your hands and knees in the middle of the bed. It creaks loudly as you let your weight settle, making sure to stick your ass up in the air to give them a show. 

“Always so fucking eager to please…” Jake mutters approvingly, giving your ass an appreciative squeeze before sliding underneath you on his back. In this position, his hard cock rests at attention between your breasts and his mouth is right beneath your dripping pussy. You rest your forearms on either side of his hips and lick his cock, swirling your tongue around the head. He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you down so that you're sitting on his face. He plunges his tongue into you, moving in and out slowly. 

Josh rises from his place by your side and scoots over so that he’s directly behind you. Sitting up on his knees, he fucks into his own hand lazily as he admires the sight of your ass up in the air. 

“You ready for my cock, baby?” He asks and you nod. 

He slides into you in one long thrust, moaning loudly as he bottoms out. 

“Shit!” You cry, the feeling of his cock stretching you coupled with Jake’s tongue is fucking overwhelming.

“Jesus, look at you.” Sam says, coming to rest at Jake’s feet. 

“Lemme suck you off, Sammy.” You moan, looking up at him with hooded eyes. 

“You guys hear that?” Sam says, chuckling darkly. “She wants to suck my cock.” 

“Fuck, y/n,” Josh says, thrusting in and out of you. “You’re a fucking sight to behold. Jesus.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” Sam sits up and you open your mouth and wrap your lips around him. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head as much as you can. The pleasure washing over you is so intense you can hardly focus and drool is falling from the corners of your lips, but you keep going. 

Jake suckles on your clit and you yelp around Sam’s cock, and Josh squeezes your ass cheeks as he pistons his hips in and out of you. Beneath you, Jake begins sliding his cock between your breasts, – never once letting up with his tongue, but still in desperate need for his own release. The sounds you’re making are making him feel fucking feral. 

Sam moans as you suck him off, and he tangles his fingers in your hair as he begins to fuck into your mouth in earnest. His cock hits the back of your throat and he groans loudly. You’re wound so tight you can hardly fucking stand it and your second orgasm is quickly overtaking you. You pull off Sam’s cock for a moment, wailing loudly. 

“I’m gonna fucking cum. Oh fuck.” The moan that falls from your mouth as you cum for the second time is high pitched and needy, and you’d probably be embarrassed if you weren’t so drunk on pleasure. Your mouth falls open in a perfect ‘o,’ and Sam takes the opportunity to thrust his cock back between your lips again. Your pussy clenches around Josh’s cock, pulling a loud moan from him and Jake laps at your release. You can feel his dick twitch between your breasts and he moans as he tastes you. 

“Fuck, y/n. You’re so fucking tight.” Josh says through clenched teeth, and his chest is flushed as he continues to fuck into you. Jake plunges his tongue back between your folds, mercilessly swirling your clit and you whine loudly, dancing on the edge between pain and pleasure. You’re so overstimulated and tears leak from your eyes, but none of them let up. You moan around Sam’s cock and he groans loudly. 

“You’re such a good whore for us, y/n. So fucking good.” You whine deep in your throat and clench your eyes shut. Between Josh’s cock and Jake’s tongue – not to mention the sounds that Sam is making, you feel like you could fucking explode. 

“So good.” Josh pants. “And all ours.” 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” Sam throws his head back and that’s all the warning you get before his release spills down your throat. You greedily swallow it all down and milk him for all he’s got. He pulls his cock from you with a pop and falls back against the headboard. 

The sound of his release sends you spiraling into a third orgasm, this one quick and sharp and without warning. You wail loudly as it crashes over you, and you clench hard around Josh. 

“Jesus, mama. Shit! So fucking tight. Gonna fucking cum. So fucking close.” His thrusts are sloppy and erratic, and it isn’t long before he reaches his own release, painting your walls with thick ropes of cum. The sound that falls from his lips is sinful, and your eyes roll back as Jake continues to eat you out. Jake is desperately rutting his dick up between your tits and you can tell he’s on the edge, but he’s not going to let himself fall off that crest without making you cum one more time. You need it so badly and your whole body feels like it’s on fucking fire. 

“Come on, y/n.” Sam encourages, voice silky smooth. “One more.”

“You can do it, pretty girl. Come on. Let us see you fall apart one more time.” Josh says between shaky breaths, pulling his soft cock from your pussy. 

You’re spewing profanities and whines and you're wailing their names as the coil in your belly somehow begins to tighten again. You have no idea what you’re saying and your vision is beginning to go black around the edges. With one last swirl of his tongue around your clit, Jake has you falling apart for the fourth time. Your eyes roll back in your head and you scream as you cum. You’re a babbling mess and the sight and sound of you makes Jake finally come apart himself. Ropes upon ropes of his cum paint your chest as he ruts his cock against your smooth skin and he moans your name loudly. 

“Fuck, y/n!” He cries as he finally comes down from his high. He slides out from under you and you collapse onto the bed, completely and utterly spent. 

Josh rises from the bed and hooks one arm beneath your knees and the other around your waist. He lifts you gently and Sam pulls the covers down to the foot of the bed. Josh lays you gingerly onto your back and wipes your hair from your face. You crack your eyes open at him. 

“Hey, mama.” He says with a sweet smile. “You okay?” 

You just hum and close your eyes again. Jake rises to grab a washcloth from the bathroom. He runs it under the warm water of the sink and brings it back over to the bed while Sam goes to grab you a glass of water. Jake cleans you up carefully, wiping the evidence of the night's activities from your skin. Josh helps you sit up and Sammy brings the glass to your lips and you take large, greedy gulps of it. When you’re finished, he places it on the nightstand. 

“You did so good for us, baby.” Jake says, voice almost a whisper. 

“So fucking good.” Josh murmurs as well, reaching down to grab his jumpsuit off the floor. He steps back into it and pulls it up, not bothering to zip it all the way. Jake does the same, pulling his pants on and grabbing his jacket and phone. 

“Get some rest.” He says. 

“Think I’m gonna sleep for a week.” You say tiredly, and the three of them laugh. “You were right, Jakey. All three of you was definitely the death of me.” 

“A valiant and noble death, m’lady.” Josh says with a dramatic bow. You giggle at his perpetual goofiness. 

“You guys have a good night.” Sam says, crawling into the bed and pulling the covers over you both. “I’ll take good care of her.” 

“You better.” Jake says and points a finger at him. “She needs some good rest.” 

“You kids be good.” Josh says, following Jake to the door to the hotel room. “I’ll have breakfast delivered to her in the morning.”

“What about me?” Sam said and you laughed at the indignation in his voice. 

“You’re a big kid, Sammy boy.” Josh laughs and Jake rolls his eyes at the both of them. “I’m sure you’ll manage.” 

The twins both give you soft, matching smiles before turning to open the door. 

“Thank you.” You tell them. 

Jake gives you a cheeky grin and a salute. 

“Any time.” And with that, he disappears out the door. 

“The pleasure was all mine, good lady.” Josh bowed once more and followed Jake, softly closing the door behind him. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam says, extending his arm to turn off the light before settling back down. 

“You kidding me?” You ask, lying your head down and practically sinking into the bed. “That was a wet dream come true.”

Tags:

@blojaysimpson

[jakejizzka]

Forbidden - pt. 1

jake kiszka x reader

18+ NSFW

TW: drinking, cheating, slight dom vibe, unprotected sex

I have a lot of ideas for this series so I hope you guys like it!

summary: you go to a concert that turns into a night with you will never forget

You were nervous, you’ve never done anything like this before. It’s not a normal occurrence your favorite band would be playing in your city, so after considering your options of company you ultimately decided to go alone. You convince yourself it will be freeing, and a big step for you to do something like this alone. You were going to make Greta Van Fleet’s arena your bitch tonight.

You finish putting on your outfit, which consists of tight black jeans, a cropped low-cut lace black tank top, and a tattered cream linen button up opened with the ends shredded and sleeves rolled up. You put on your assortment of necklaces and golden hoop earrings. Finishing the look with your pit vipers with the word “JOSH” bedazzled across them in red gemstones.

The makeup you put on for this wasn’t your usual but this was your night to be creative, creating thick lines of black eyeliner and a dark red lipstick. After seeing pictures from their last show, you noticed all of them upping their make up game so you threw on some gold tears as well.

You throw on your ankle boots and grab your keys. Let’s do this.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You get to the venue and the nerves are trying to get the best of you, so you veer to the bathroom for some deep breaths alone in a stall. When you exit, another girl is there with black hair and two blue streaks in the front. She smiles and tells you she loves your Jake outfit. You smile and thank her and laugh as you walk out, not realizing you had done it so obviously. You knew Jake had a girlfriend, they all did actually. Except Josh, and that’s what initially drew you to him as your favorite. At least in your delusions, you could hypothetically stand a chance. You would never admit it, but Jake always seemed to catch your eye but part of you felt guilty…?

You make your way onto the floor and see it’s not as packed as you expected, but the front is definitely full. Making your way over you notice the girl from the bathroom at the barricade, and she waves at you. This was your way in, and you couldn’t thank this kind stranger enough. You scoot through the crowd playing up your friendship with this girl so maybe less people will silently hate you for pushing your way up.

After some small talk with your new acquaintance the arena goes quiet, and then we hear Reason’s For Waiting start echoing around. Suddenly all the nerves in your body have flew out through you into the atmosphere, this is the night you’ve been dreaming of and it’s happening.

Before you know it you hear Josh’s monologue start, and the lights are glowing behind the curtain, suddenly you see their shadows one by one entering the stage and a giant smile spreads across your face.

Then, the curtain dropped.

You were so close the stage lights made you feel like you were glowing, and you watch as the first song played trying to let your eyes adjust. The bass is moving through your chest and you’re screaming the lyrics song after song.

About halfway through you had fully acclimated to your surroundings. Josh is to your left slightly, you were standing on barricade between the middle and Jake’s side. When you decided to move on to take in the next of them, you look at Jake and you swear he was looking back. Deciding you were just wrapped up in the moment, your eyes dance back over to Josh and Danny and keep singing. After another two songs they start playing The Barbarians and the intro guitar solo is coming up, you pan over to Jake and he’s as close as he can get to the edge of the stage. You instinctively lean as far as you can to stare at this man perform magic in front of you. His guitar wails the first note, and he looks up right at you and you swear there’s a smirk on his face. Suddenly your entire body is on fire, the blush consuming your entire face seems to please him because he winks when Josh starts singing and slowly backs up back onto the stage.

You look around sure other people had to of seen what just happened, nobody is phased and you wonder if you’re letting the delusions win again per usual. As if he can read your thoughts, he reappears at the edge of the stage leaning down for the solo at the end of the song and he’s going even harder almost like he doesn’t want you to look away again.

The song comes to an end, with Jake cracking his hand down onto the guitar with a slap, and an apparently necessary glance at you. Your mind is spinning, the gaslighting you are doing to yourself right now is clinical because you know this can’t be real. You know Jake publicly has a long term girlfriend, and nobody else seems to have noticed so why does it feel like he’s making the guitar whine for you and only you right now?

The lights go down after the last song, and they all jog off stage before the encore. You take the few minutes of intermission to collect yourself and ground yourself back to reality, no more delusions. Continuing your chat with the girl next to you, no mention of Jake’s actions were mentioned so you are able to calm down a bit more laughing at yourself. Shots of fireball are being passed around barricade and you gratefully take one.

The crowd roars and you turn around to see the band taking the stage again in the dark. You smile over at your new friend in excitement. Waiting for the lights, security comes out to front the barricade and you see them holding set lists. You know that usually they have security pass these out to avoid any fights breaking out in the front, and you feel excited knowing you’re finally close enough at a show to possibly get one. A tall muscular security member walks over directly in front of you and suddenly you feel bodies pressing on you from all directions, the man reaches to pull your arm far out passed the barricade to ensure the set list goes into your hand specifically.

You smile at his kindness, and wonder what made him choose you but thank him regardless and hold it close to your chest scared of opening it surrounded by everyone. You tuck it into your bra, and grab back onto the rails waiting for lights to blast on.

The lights come on, and they’ve all assumed their positions again with grins. It warms your heart to see your favorite people enjoying their show so much, knowing this arena is filled with people cheering them on. You look to Josh as he’s talking into the microphone and you remember your sunglasses.

Taking them off you start swinging them around out past the rails hoping by some miracle he takes them for the encore. He sees you and shoots you a smile, but continues talking. The next thing you know, the same security guard is taking them from you to hand up and it feels like the floor is going to cave in below you or maybe you’ll float to the ceiling.

But then, you watch the glasses go up to Jake. He thanks the security guard, and looks at you then reads the glasses and rolls his eyes. He looks at you shakes his head and puts them on with a mischievous grin. You look up at him and feel heat flooding your cheeks. Then the song starts, and he’s gone again.

You are feeling a whirlwind of thoughts consume you, irrational, rational, it feels like your mind can’t keep up with the emotions coursing through your body right now. After this last interaction, it’s as if Jake is the only one on this stage. You can’t look away and he seems to know because he doesn’t give you anymore attention the rest of the night almost like he’s playing some game you don’t know about.

You stare on longing for one more glance, and finally you get it. Seconds before the lights cut again and they leave for good, he looks dead at you and gives you a big grin showing his teeth and his eyes were piercing into yours in a way that had you feeling like that fireball shot was actually 5.

Lights cut off, they leave and everyone starts shuffling away. Still stunned and shocked you stand there in a daze for apparently too long because security starts shooing people off the rails and you snap back into reality. Looking around it’s apparent your new friend was here with a group because everyone is gone, and you’re just slowly exiting trying to process what all just happened.

You get back to your car and start loading your bag into the back, and pull out a hoodie to throw on over your revealing top because it’s late now and the temperature has dropped. Sitting down, you crank the car and reach into your shirt and pull out your set list finally safe to look at. Smiling, you open it up and your jaw drops.

There’s a guitar pick taped int the middle of it with Jake’s name on it, and when you go to remove it, you see in small sneaky handwriting there’s a phone number underneath it. There’s no way this is….? Thinking you’re being pranked you grab your cell phone before taking off on the drive, and type in the number to text.

“Whoever this is, this isn’t funny. I don’t know what you think you saw but I don’t appreciate the mocking.”

There’s no immediate response so you close the screen, and throw it in the passenger seat starting your drive home.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You arrive home, and start your way upstairs to your apartment when you feel a buzzing in your pocket.

“If part of you didn’t think it might be me, then why’d you text this number hm?”

Suddenly you forget how to breathe, you almost drop your phone. This isn’t happening, this isn’t…..nope. No way. Not possible

“Prove it.”

You hurry up the stairs and before you even reach the top your phone buzzes again, twice.

“I’m going to try to not let this hurt my feelings, by the way.”

A picture of the JOSH sunglasses sitting on an unfamiliar table follows.

You feel goosebumps start all over your body, and a blush spreading across your cheeks. What….what do you even say? How is this…another buzz comes through.

“I trust you to not share this number with anyone, and in return maybe we can meet up for a little after party of our own?”

A gigantic smile takes over you and as you look down at your phone. You’re not crazy…all of those things really DID happen. He was just so smooth nobody else seemed to catch any of it.

You type back,

“Well…okay. Just tell me when and where. P.S.- Jealous about the glasses still?”

You walk into your apartment and sit your things down plopping onto the couch staring at the conversation waiting for the next message to come through in disbelief.

“Send me your address, and I will come bearing alcohol & gifts. P.S. Yes, very.”

Your better judgment says not to do this, but who else could have taken a picture like that of the glasses you know you made…this is actually happening and that reality is sinking in now.

You send him your address and say nothing else. Looking around your apartment you panic thinking about Jake Fucking Kiszka being in here. The blow off the nervous energy you start rearranging things, cleaning surfaces, lighting candles. You put on your favorite playlist at the moment, making sure it’s not one with any Greta Van Fleet so you don’t look corny as hell. It’s all coming together the best it will, when you hear three tiny knocks at your door.

You almost yelp in surprise and jump up, cautiously moving to the door. Looking out the peep hole you see a smug Jake Kiszka staring right into it. Holy. Fucking. Shit. His linen pants and black tee shirt are fit against his body perfectly, he has his hair pulled back and those god forsaken sunglasses.

Your hand is shaking and you unlock the door and crack it open and stare with your jaw open. He chuckles and slides his hand in the small opening you’ve allowed then says “So can I come in? Or are you trying to get me caught already?” he gestures to the openness of your parking lot with cars pulling in and out. You stare at his deep warm brown eyes for a moment getting lost.

You snap into reality and open the door all the way and just mumble “yeah sorry..um”. He walks in and sets the liquor he brought on your coffee table and then you see him take a deep breath before turning around to face you.

He stands a little awkwardly but still confident in your living room.

“So are you going to tell me your name now? Or just stand there with your mouth open because I can work with that too…up to you” He winks at you. It takes your brain a moment to catch up to the flirty joke.

“Oh um, yeah I’m y/n. Hi.” You try to keep your jaw attached to your face and act normal, softly laughing.

“I know you’re probably confused as fuck right now why Jake Kiszka is standing in your apartment right?” you nod in response to his statement. He looks at you for a moment, seeming hesitant then you see the hesitation fade in his eyes.

He smirks, “Well the bad news is I don’t have an explanation for you. Besides the fact I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all night tonight. You really truly almost made me mess up a few of my solos, so thanks for that.” He rolls his eyes at you with a smile, almost seeming like he’s the nervous one now.

You start stuttering, “I thought……you have…..don’t you……you are..with..”

He cuts you off, pressing his finger to your mouth and moving in closer to you. He gets so close, you can smell him now and it makes you blush, it’s a mix of rum and a warm vanilla with sweat. He takes off his sunglasses finally, I mean it’s almost midnight for christ sakes anyway.

“I know you don’t owe me anything y/n, but please don’t make me think about it. About her. I need this, if you’ll allow me to have it…” He trails off and stares at you with warm amber colored eyes, and you can see there’s something in there you can’t place. Maybe it’s a hint of vulnerability. Whatever it is, it makes you let your guard down and smile at him.

“Okay so, I won’t ask too many questions I guess. What are we drinking?” You head to the kitchen to grab some glasses. On the way there your mind is spinning.

You hear a sigh of relief come from the living room and a quiet “I brought options since I don’t know you really…yet anyway” you sense the smile in his voice at the last two words.

You walk out with two glasses analyzing the options and your eyes widen at the vodka. “Oh great, my favorite. I actually don’t even like fireball you know…” You say with a smirk.

This gets a laugh out of him and the mood is lifted instantly, his laugh makes your heart flutter in your chest. His shoulders relax a bit and he gives you a soft smile. He pours you both your drinks and you go to sit on the couch, while he makes himself at home going through your vinyl collection. His hand stops on The Battle at Garden’s Gate, and he looks over at you with the dumbest grin and you roll your eyes.

Chuckling he makes his way over to you, and sits down beside you on the couch resting a hand on your thigh.

“Listen, y/n I know that you know…I have my girlfriend. But things just…..” he trails off “Things aren’t great…for me..right now…for us…and I just felt something watching you tonight I haven’t felt in awhile. I needed to see you to see if….you’d want to help me out with these…feelings..to see if you think I’m crazy or if you felt it too maybe.” He looks into your eyes hoping you understand his scattered thoughts, and you do.

You nod, and without much thought just vodka confidence you lean in to him and whisper in his ear “I’ll help you with any kind of feelings you need me to Jake”.

He visibly shivers at your breath going down his neck, and something in his eyes darkens. “Tell me at any point if you want me to stop or leave or anything and I will, okay?”

“Okay” you smile, knowing that’s the last thing that’s going to happen.

“Okay” he repeats biting his lip staring at yours. He leans in and presses his lips to yours and you can feel him melt against you.

You move your hand up his neck and reach back to the hair tie in his hair pulling it out letting his hair go. He smiles against the kiss when you do this, your new found confidence clearly impressing him.

With his hair down now, you run your hands up into it and give it a gentle tug wondering if he’ll notice. A small groan from his throat is his response, and he pushes his tongue against your lips begging to be let in. You lick his lips back, and soon your tongues are dancing in and out of each other’s mouths with heavy breaths.

You pull away, and look at him taking in his beautiful hair and beautiful face for a second and he raises and eyebrow at you. “I was going to see if you want to go to my bedroom?” you ask trying to hide your blushing.

“Oh, y/n that’s exactly why I came here darling” he grins at you and tucks your hair behind your ear. He stands up and reaches out for your hand in a dramatic Jake-esque instagram picture way that makes you roll your eyes into the back of your skull. You grab his hand and he starts laughing.

“Lead the way princess” he whispers.

You led him down the hallway to your bedroom and before you’ve even fully walked into the room your being pressed against the wall and he’s kissing you like his life depends on it. The darkness in his eyes is on full blast when you look at him, and his lips twitch up in the corner before diving into your neck covering it in kisses and bites.

Without realizing it you’re letting out whimpers with each bite, and it’s driving him insane. He growls when he says “Fuck you sound so pretty, darling” and that sends a full body shiver through you.

He lifts you off the wall onto his waist and carries you over to the bed laying you down carefully. He’s looking down at you like he hasn’t eaten in weeks, and you’re the only meal in sight. Slowly, he leans down over you and places another deep kiss on your lips.

He moves down beside your ear, and whispers “After tonight, you’re not going to be able to look at any of my brothers ever again, not the way you’ll look at me.”

A moan escapes out past your lips and it surprises you, sending a blush down your body. He smiles like a predator showing its teeth to its prey.

His hands are everywhere, he’s touching over your body frantically small groans coming from his chest the whole time, “God I needed this, you have no idea y/n”

You run a hand through his hair while he’s working his hand up your shirt, and you whisper “You can use me to meet your needs anytime, sir” and then the most heavenly reverberating moan comes from his mouth.

He starts undressing you as quickly as his hands let him, heavily breathing out “beautiful” and “unbelievable” and other praises the whole time. Once you’re fully naked, exposed to him, he stands up to undress himself and just stares at you with eyes full of wonder and lust. Once he’s completely naked you gasp, involuntarily, at just how truly beautiful this man is. He looks up through his hair smiling, before climbing back over you.

With him on top of you, you can feel his heartbeat racing and his pupils are blown wide open. You see how much he needs this so you ask, “Could you lay down for a second and I can take care of you a little bit..if you’d like that?”

His eyes flutter for a moment and a smirk grows on his face as he lays down on his back he says “I would fucking love that, you have no idea. God you’re perfect.”

You move to hover over him straddling his lap, every movement you make gaining grunts and moans from him. You start kissing his neck making sure to take your time so he can enjoy this as much as you can tell he needs to.

You lick from his neck down to his chest and then finally to his stomach. God is it perfect, so soft and so completely Jake. You couldn’t have dreamed you’d ever be seeing it with your own two eyes this way. You place kisses all over his stomach, making your way to his hips placing gentle bites at both of them. He bites his lips and you swear you hear a little whimper come out.

You waste no more time, and lick down his entire length stunned at the size. You swirl your tongue around his head, and his hips start moving up begging for more.

You take all of him into your mouth, moaning onto him. His hand travels down and grabs a handful of your hair.

Pulling the fistful of hair tighter he says, “That’s it baby, good girl.”

His praise encourages you and you sink down feeling him fill the back of your throat. The moan that comes out of him in reaction is heavenly. You want to hear it over and over.

He starts thrusting his hips up into you, taking control but you can tell he’s still holding back trying to be gentle with you.

The grip in your hair gets tighter and the sting sends a shiver through you. God he looks so perfect right now. His eyes closed, biting his lip moaning sweet praises.

Suddenly he’s slips himself out of your mouth, and he’s positioned you on your hands and knees.

“I’m hoping you will see me again soon, and I want to really take my time with you over and over.” He leans down into your ear and whispers, “but I need you right fucking now, so will you be a good girl for me and let me fuck you?”

Hearing him talk to you that way makes you start aching and throbbing for him. “Please Jake, yes.”

He grabs your hair again, and you feel him teasing you with his head spreading your wetness all over himself. “Please, what?” He growls out.

“Yes, sir. Please. I need it.”

That sends him plunging into you hard, and his hands grip onto your hips with force. His pace is brutal in the best imaginable way and your vision starts blurring from the pleasure building up in you already.

Without missing a stroke he sends his hand flying down to smack your ass, the sting makes you whimper and then another wave of pleasure crashes down.

He’s already losing the battle he’s putting up to last longer and he is wincing fighting back the release coming. “F-fuck baby, I think I’m close already. God.”

You feel it building in you as well, a tightness creeping through all your muscles “Let go sir, for me?” And next thing you know he’s going even harder, sending himself crashing over the edge of his orgasm into you. Your own following right behind him, you scream out his name at the force of his last stroke.

After a riding through it together, he collapses onto your back and pulls you close. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, and just whispers “Thank you y/n, thank you…”

Once you both catch your breath and lay there for a few minutes kissing and still touching you hear something on the floor buzzing.

His eyes grow wide and he jumps up to grab his phone.

“Fuck!” He starts pacing and getting dressed in the process. He looks at you with regretful eyes, as he answers the phone.

“Hey baby, what’s up?”

Silence, while you hear a woman on the other end. His eyes never leave yours and you know he’s not hearing a word she’s saying.

“Hey, sweetie can I call you when I get back on the bus? It’s hard to hear right now I’m out with the boys.”

After a few moments, he hangs up and silently finishes getting dressed then helping you do the same.

“I’m so sorry y/n, you don’t deserve that right after….after that. It was so amazing, and I’m just sorry that happened.”

Unknown to him, it didn’t seem to phase you for some reason. Did part of you…even like it? Being his secret?…you notice him staring at you waiting for a response so you just shake your head.

“It’s fine Jake…i uh, I get it.”

His eyes are soft as he grabs your chin placing another kiss on your lips. “If I text you, will you still answer? I need to see you again.” His eyes are big, almost begging.

You smile at him and reply, “Just let me know when and where Jakey, I’ll be there for you.”

After some probably inappropriate jokes and flirty remarks he walks to your front door holding your hand. He turns before opening it, and it looks like he has more to say but he doesn’t. He just places a hand on the side of your head gently and kisses your forehead.

He turns, and walks out your door. And you’re left stunned, trying to grasp what the fuck kind of night you just had. You should feel guilty, or maybe sad after that phone call….but all you can do is smile and wonder when he will text you again.

You start to drift off to sleep, and you see your phone light up with one notification. A single text from Jake that just reads,

“Thank you”

You smile and let the exhaustion take you, and drift off reliving your night in your head.

[my-proof-is-you]

I Wonder About You - Pt. 5

Hi, I’ve missed you all :)

Request from @waywardsistersandpie:

“Hi Sam!

I was wondering if I could request a really angsty Dean x Reader One Shot based of this?

I Wonder About You by Robert M. Drake.”

Summary: Is it possible to love with a broken heart?

How many times can the muscle be shattered and put back together?

How can it pump blood–keep you alive–when it’s held together with pieces of tape and rubber bands?

How can the person that stomps on it over and over also be the one that keeps it from turning to dust?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Angst

*I do not own pics or gifs

Masterlist | Tag Yourself!

Dean

The last week had been torture for Dean. 

Not only had this nightmares returned, but for some reason he had actually listened to Sam.

All he knew when he saw you laying in your bed and unmoving last week was that he wanted to fix it. So when Sam came out of your room and forcefully told him to give you space, he listened. Sammy was your best friend, after all. Dean was sure his little brother knew what you needed. 

Of course, this also meant that he hadn’t gotten to hang out with his best friend in a week. 

He missed goofing around with you. He missed picking on you. He missed watching Dr. Sexy with you. 

And most of all—not that he would ever admit it to anyone—he missed having you there at night to talk him through his nightmares. The way your fingers would card softly through his hair as he tried to fall back asleep. The way you’d ground him—remind him where he really was and that you were there. The warmth of your body next to his as you inevitably fell asleep next to him for the rest of the night. 

Why was it so hard to leave you alone, though? He missed his best friend, of course. But you were his friend. Friends come and go. It was a part of life. And you hadn’t even really gone. He was just giving you space. 

He hadn’t realized how much you’d become a part of his day to day. 

Waking up to a beautiful woman laying next to him was nice, of course. Any guy would like that. 

But it was something different with you. Dean realized that waking up with you next to him made him smile. He thought about how he would sometimes watch you after he woke and you were still asleep. He would memorize the way your hair fell across his pillow, making a note to inhale the scent your shampoo left there later. 

He looked forward to making you laugh every day. He loved the sound of your giggles, like little peals of a bell. He loved the way your brow would crinkle when he annoyed you--the little shove you’d give him when he made fun of you. 

All of those things, he was starting to realize, weren’t things he paid much attention to. He’d ignored them, attributing them to your friendship. 

The absence of you in his life made him realize the truth:

You were more than his best friend. You were everything. 

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Dean asked, jogging into the kitchen. 

Sam sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed a glass from the cupboard. 

“I thought you were leaving her alone,” he replied as he turned around. 

“I was. But then I realized something. Just...do you know where she is?” 

“I don’t know, Dean. Check her room.”

Dean ignored his brother’s sass and turned around, jogging back down the hall to your room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no response, he cracked it open. 

“Y/N?” he said. He flipped on the light, shocked when the room was illuminated.

No…

Your room was empty. All of your personal items were gone. Your pictures of you and the brothers that usually sat on your dresser; your stuffed dog you’d had since you were a kid that usually sat on the bed; your entire wardrobe; gone. 

He pulled out his phone and tapped your name in his contacts. It rang twice, then went to voicemail. After that happened three more times he stopped trying.

Panic flooded his mind, his brain unable to make his body move.

He couldn’t lose you. Not now. Not when he had finally realized when you meant to him.

“Sam! Sammy!” He yelled, his legs finally finding the strength to move him into the hall. 

”What?!” Sam asked, alarmed as he came around the corner. His face fell when looked behind Dean and into your room. 

“Where the fuck did she go?” Dean asked, not sure if the question was rhetorical or actually aimed at his brother.

Sam sighed. “I thought she was doing better. I had no idea she’d…”

”She’d what, Sam?” Dean felt anger rising at his brother for not sharing whatever had been going on with you lately. “Leave? Tell me what this has all been about! Tell me why she needed ‘space’ for the last week, and why she only needed it from me?”

Sam sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “What it’s about isn’t mine to tell. You’ll have to talk to her.”

Dean was seething. “Well, I can’t exactly do that right now, can I, Sam?” He said through gritted teeth.

“Dude, get your fucking anger under control. This is not my fault.” Sam replied, his voice unwavering.

”Then whose is it?” He demanded rather than asked.

Sam glared at him, but didn’t give anything away. “It doesn’t matter. I can find her,” he said, turning suddenly and leaving Dean in your room alone. He glanced around at the empty room for another moment before stomping down the hall after his brother. 

”She and I shared our locations a few hunts ago in case we got split up,” Sam said, grabbing his phone off of the counter. He tapped around for a moment before turning the screen to face Dean. 

There, on the map that had been zoomed in, was a little blue dot with the name “Y/N” next to it. Dean used two fingers to zoom it out a little, looking at the bigger picture to see where you’d gone. 

“Let’s go,” he said, once again not asking. Sam nodded, not needing to be convinced. 

Dean still felt confused and in the dark about why you’d left, but it didn’t matter. He was going to find you and tell you how he felt, and nothing would stop him.

You

”Hiya! Want me to make you some pancakes?” 

The question pulled you from the daze you were in, making you blink hard to return moisture to your now-dry eyes. 

Your mouth pulled up into a half-smile, your appreciation for Donna making its way through your depression.

“I’m not hungry, Donna, but thanks,” you replied. You were sitting pretzel-style in the middle of the bed in her guest room, where you’d been staying for the last two days. 

After a week of the silent treatment from Dean, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You had to leave the bunker. You had to get away from the heartbreak you were feeling and the face of the man who had become indifferent toward you.

Once you realized Dean didn’t need you anymore—in any capacity—you couldn’t stop the pain of not being with him from invading. And while you’d convinced Sam that things were better, it was all a lie. 

So you’d packed up your room in the night and drove your car to Stillwater, where Donna welcomed you with open arms. She didn’t fully know the reason you’d had to leave the bunker, but she knew it was something to do with the Winchesters, and she didn’t question it further than that. 

“Gosh, I know food’s probably not the answer. Heck, it wasn’t when I got divorced, either.” Donna said, walking into the room and perching herself on the edge of the bed. “I just can’t help but offer when someone looks as sad as you do, though, kiddo.” 

“Thanks again for letting me stay, Donna. I’ll figure out what I’m doing next and be out of your hair soon, I promise,” you replied, dodging a response to her comment.

”Don’t you worry about that. You just do whatever you need to do and take whatever time you need. I’ve got plenty of room!” She opened her arms and leaned over, enveloping you in a hug. It reminded you of your mother’s hugs, a lifetime ago. It gave you the smallest bit of comfort.

You missed the boys terribly, though. Sam was your best friend, and not being able to see him was like torture, especially when you were trying to work through your sadness. And even through all your feelings for Dean, you couldn’t help but miss watching Dr. Sexy, MD with him and even the way he would tease you just to get a reaction.

None of that mattered, though. Being in the same home as Dean knowing that he didn’t feel the way you did was just too hard.

So when you heard the all-too-familiar sound of Baby’s engine rumbling outside Donna’s house, you were half-convinced you were imagining it or that it was wishful thinking. 

“Oh boy,” you heard Donna say from down the hall. “You better get out here, Y/N.”

Your eyes widened at the realization that she heard it, too. You jumped up from the bed, jogging down the hall to the front door. Donna was looking out the little window next to it, her eyes wide as well. 

“Want me to tell them to leave?” She asked, her eyes searching yours. 

“No, Donna. I can’t say I’m surprised they found me. I’m just surprised they would bother,” you said, your brain trying to understand why it wasn’t just Sam climbing out of the beloved car. 

“Of course they would, sweetie,” Donna replied, placing a hand on your shoulder. “No matter what happens, you mean the world to those boys. Anyone can see that.”

You smiled sadly, unsure if you believed her. “Mind if I talk to them alone for a moment?”

Donna smiled, giving your shoulder a squeeze before dropping her hand. “You betcha,” she said, heading back down the hall toward her room.

You breathed in deeply, pulling open the door. 

Dean 

Dean could barely breathe, he was so nervous. The steps he took to Donna’s front door felt like they took an eternity, and the fear of the unknown nearly froze him to the spot before he could reach up to knock.

It didn’t matter, though. The door slowly opened to reveal you on the other side, your face unreadable. 

Dean’s breath caught in his throat when he saw you. He’d always known you were beautiful, but his recent revelations only made you look that much more gorgeous to him. Looking at you, he felt something click into place that had been missing for the last week. The time spent apart from you had been slowly tearing him in two, and even just the mere proximity of you started repairing the rift. It was all he could do to not run to you, to scoop you up in his arms and kiss you.

You didn’t even know how he felt about you, though. And for all he knew, you didn’t feel the same way about him at all. 

So he waited, his eyes darting between yours as he searched for some sign that you were even willing to talk to him.

You didn’t say anything, just slowly pulled the door open further, stepping to the side to grant the brothers access. They walked past you and into Donna’s living room, taking seats on the couch across from the armchair you’d claimed. 

Dean cleared his throat, swallowing hard. He wasn’t even sure how to start with everything he wanted to say to you. 

“Listen, Y/N…I need—I need to talk to you, a-about…feelings.” he stammered. He knew he sounded like an idiot but wasn’t sure there was anything he could do to fix that. 

Your face changed instantly, your eyebrows pulling together in anger. Dean watched, confused, as your gaze shifted to Sam.

”You told him?!” you yelled. Sam’s eyes became alarmed and he looked like he was going to say something, but you continued furiously.

”How could you do that, Sam? After everything we’ve been through—all the secrets I’ve kept for you? You went and told your stupid brother that I’m in love with him?!” 

Dean felt his eyes go wide. 

Sam closed his eyes, pursing his lips. “No, Y/N, I did not tell him. But you just did.” He said, giving you a pointed look. Dean watched as the color drained from your face.

”You—you love me?” Dean was able to get out. He was in disbelief.

You squeezed your eyes shut against the tears that had begun to well up. A few dropped down your cheeks, and if Dean hadn’t been so shocked, he knew he would have run to you so he could wipe them away. 

“Yes, you idiot,” you said after a few moments. “And I’m sorry to freak you out. You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t see me that way, and that was why I left. I didn’t want to pretend anymore. I couldn’t pretend anymore. It’s better this way,” you said, suddenly standing and shaking your head as you paced. “I’ll be gone, and there won’t be some lovesick puppy dog at your heels all the time, breaking into your room at night just because you had a scary dream,” you finished, turning to face him. The tears flowed freely down your cheeks now, and Dean finally broke through his shock to stand up and go to you.

You looked taken aback at his sudden movement, and Dean noticed through his hunter senses alone that Sam had gotten up and sneaked out of the room. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was thankful for the privacy.

”Y/N,” he said, taking your face in his hands. “You’re not freaking me out, and yes, I am an idiot,” he began, his eyes darting between yours. He finally used his thumbs to wipe your tears. “I should have known. I should have seen it a long time ago.”

You still looked heartbroken, and Dean realized that you truly didn’t know how he felt about you. You’d been just as blind as he was.

”I don’t just mean I should have seen how you felt about me. I mean I should have seen it all. I should have seen that the best part of my day was messing around with you in the bunker. I should have seen that my best mornings were the ones when I woke up with you next to me. I should have seen that I wasn’t just annoyed or worried about you the night you brought that douche home from the bar, I was jealous as fuck. I should have seen it long before my brother told me to lock my door at night. Before I spent a miserable week avoiding you. Before I opened the door to your room and felt my heart shatter when I saw it was empty.”

Your face changed, suddenly confused. You had the little wrinkle between your eyebrows that you got when you were thinking hard that Dean always loved so much. 

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry it took me so long. And I cannot believe the sheer luck my dumb ass has that you love me, too.”

A smile finally graced your lips, and Dean couldn’t keep himself from staring at them. He didn’t think he could wait a second longer to feel them against his own. He leaned in, slowly at first, to give you time to reject him if you wanted to. Judging by the way you grabbed the back of his neck and slammed your lips to his, though, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Forevers:

@malfoysqueen14 @divadinag @lynne1993 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce  @onethirstyunicorn @sammykb1994 @lilulo-12 @mellorine-paprika @tranquility-or-chaos @collette04 @hoboal87 @chevyharvelle @miraclesoflove @defenderrosetyler @babypink224221 @calaofnoldor @beatifuldisaster018 @satans-0-spawn @coffeebooksandfandom @supernatural3002 @lainxcas @mylovelydame21 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @lovely-lynns-likes @ppeachygemss @screechingartisancashbailiff @metalfangirl @vicmc624 

Deanies/Jensen:

@tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @akshi8278 @weepingwillowphoenix @playingdeep17 @justanotherwinchester @flamencodiva @caligraphee @jxackles @kalesrebellion @heavensangel45135 @screechingartisancashbailiff @miufel @squirrelnotsam @lovely-lynns-likes @smokinserious @notan-applepielife @screechingartisancashbailiff

[anxious-witch]

So, once I actually had a moment to think and the sheer excitment of yesterday died down, I gotta say I love that Bojan seems to have decided to give the rest of the band more appreciation during this tour.

The rest is under the cut bc this will be long.

Like, we saw that Jure had a solo and all the lights focused on him(which was so fucking cool I really think Jure needs more appreciation), we got Kris singing part of NGVOT, and the way Bojan included Jan and to an extent Nace more(I suspect Nace will either get more inclusion soon too or he specifically request Bojan not to focus on him).

I think it's probably a combination of him wanting his friends to be more appreciated, and partially to kind off, take the spotlight off hinself for a bit? Which is very sweet and I love that.

And yes, of course I am happy Jere joined them on tour, but I love that both him and Bojan said "yes, we know our friendship is a big part what made us to popular, but we also work and care about other people. Respect that" and honestly, I do. I respect that so much

Anyway, if you got this far, thank you for coming to my ted talk, I think the emotions are hitting me hard rn

[hearts-hunger]

four weddings and a funeral — part four

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist

⮡ part one | part two | part three

Series Summary: You and Danny haven’t spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: Sun, sand, booze, and music. It seems like fate's dealing you a pretty good hand, but you know in your heart it's too good to be true.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, angst | Word Count: 3.7k | Chapter Warnings: drinking, sexual innuendo, another creepy guy for Danny to scare off

A/N: More Danny and Sunshine for you, my loves! I really like how this chapter turned out, and I hope you like it too. PS - I highly recommend listening to this ocean ambiance while you read this chapter. ♡

The ceremony dragged. You were a little surprised, considering you’d always thought your cousin would be the type to be more interested in the partying side of the wedding than the actual getting married part, but you were glad to see her and her soon-to-be-husband doing what they wanted to for their wedding. Even if it was taking them seven years to get through their vows.

“Hey, sunny,” Danny whispered, drawing your attention from the front.

You leaned closer to him. “Hm?”

“If you had a beach wedding, how much do you think it would cost to rent some sharks to ride away on after you said ‘I do’?”

You snorted, hiding your face against Danny’s shoulder to keep quiet as a few guests shot you puzzled looks. You could feel Danny shaking with contained laughter, and it didn’t help you with your effort to get back some self-control.

“Shut up,” you whispered, still laughing, thankful you were in the very back row of chairs. “We’re gonna ruin the whole ceremony.”

“They already ruined it by not having sharks,” he muttered. “Anybody with half a brain would know that’s an extremely cool thing to do at a wedding.”

“Do it for your wedding,” you said. You made the mistake of looking up at him then, meeting his eyes that were almost a dark golden color in the fading sunlight.

“Maybe I will,” he said, his smile twinkling with amusement. “Can I count on you to be there, sunny?”

You blushed. “Sure. I’ll be at your shark-themed wedding, Dan.” You didn’t allow yourself to think too much about the joke, worried you’d start thinking about something even more ridiculous than sharks at a wedding.

When the couple finally said “I do” and Danny lamented once more that they hadn’t ridden off into the sunset on the back of a great white, he took your hand and led you to the wide pavilion that had been set up for the reception. Dozens of strings of fairy lights hung overhead, casting a warm light on the dance floor and the long tables set up for dinner; on a small stage, a band played swanky oldies that mixed with the sound of the ocean.

“I’ll have a margarita,” Danny told the bartender. “And a mojito for you, right, sunny?”

“Yes, please,” you agreed. You leaned against the bar and watched the band.

“They’re not too bad, huh?” you asked Danny when he handed you your drink. You watched his face with an almost embarrassed hesitance, waiting to see if he’d pretend to like them not to hurt your feelings when really he didn’t care for their music. You’d learned to spot that a mile away in men by now, though usually they didn’t care to conceal their derision when you said you liked something they considered beneath them.

“No, I think they’re really good,” he said, and his expression and tone were so honest and genuine that you relaxed immediately. Not just because he’d affirmed you in your music taste — you couldn’t deny that it mattered to you that Danny liked the music you did — but because you knew he’d have been straightforward and kind about it even if he hadn’t liked it.

“What’s that little tiny cymbal on the drum kit?” you asked, gesturing with your drink in the general direction of the band.

Danny smiled. “The splash? It’s kinda like a baby crash cymbal. It has a brighter sound, but it doesn’t last as long as the crash.”

“Which one’s the crash?”

“The medium one,” he said. “The bigger ones are the ride cymbals.”

“And the big ass drum with their logo on it?” you asked.

He laughed. “Bass drum. Maybe I should draw you a diagram.”

You took a napkin from the holder on the bar and slid it over to him, asking the bartender if he had a pen you could borrow. You gave it to Danny when you got it.

“I would love a diagram,” you said with a grin.

His smile was amused as he drew you a rough sketch of a drum kit, surprisingly neat for being drawn on a napkin. You watched him with fascination and undeniable attraction, enjoying this glimpse into his talent and skill set.

“Here’s your cymbals, the ones I was telling you about,” he said, pointing out each one. “Crash, ride, crash ride, splash. You also have your hi-hat, which is this little guy right here.”

He labeled each one in small block letters. “These are your toms and your snare drum. And then the big one, the bass drum.”

“You have all these in your kit?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I have other things too, like chimes and a side snare, but this is your basic setup.”

He lifted his hand and showed you one of the bracelets on his wrist, a thin string of silver bearing balls.

“You can put these on your cymbals too,” he said, running two fingers over the length of it. You completely missed what he said next, too distracted and flustered by that simple movement to even think straight.

“I’m sorry?” you said, feeling your face heat as you tore your gaze away from the bracelets on his wrist and the veins in his hand and the sheer length of his fingers.

He honest to god smirked, and you blushed hotter.

“They’re called cymbal sizzlers,” he said, deliberately popping the last syllable. You could only nod, dazed and somewhat dreamy.

“Sizzlers,” you said weakly. “Right. Sounds... sizzling.”

His cool composure broke then, unable to keep from laughing at your incisive commentary. As much as you’d liked his smugness, you loved the way laughter softened his features and gave his eyes a little sparkle.

“I’ll say,” he agreed, turning back to the drawing. He tapped the front of the bass drum. “I think we need a big ass logo for our band.”

“Ooh, I got it,” you said. He handed you the pen and smiled when he saw what you were drawing.

“Great work, sunny,” he said, admiring your stick figure couple. “I think Greta Van Fleet should change our logo to that.”

“No way,” you protested. “That’s only for our band.”

He grinned. “Our band, huh? What are we called?”

“The Cymbal Sizzlers,” you said, matter-of-fact.

He laughed. “Well, as a wise lady once said, that sounds sizzling.” He finished his drink. “Okay. Cymbal Sizzlers it is. I like it.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m a genius.”

He ordered another round of drinks for the two of you, and you carefully folded and tucked his drawing into your bag as you went to find your seats for dinner. Luckily, you were at the end of one of the long tables, and Danny moved his chair catty-corner to yours so you could leave the people next to you to their conversation.

Dinner was an assortment of seafood, and you and Danny enjoyed crab legs and oysters and everything in between with an air of decadence.

“I bet this is every day for you,” you teased.

He laughed. “Oh, sure. We always have a raw bar in the dressing room after a show.”

“Complete with gold-plated caviar,” you added.

He hummed in agreement. “Finish that up with a dessert of cocaine and Jack Daniels, and you’ve got a pretty good picture of my daily life.”

You took another drink of your mojito. You’d lost count of what number you were on and noticed you were starting to feel the heady flush of alcohol.

“Don’t forget the blowjobs,” you reminded him.

He shook his head. “That’s actually where I draw the line,” he said sagely. “Too much fun isn’t good for a man’s health.”

“Oh?” you asked innocently. “No silly slurpee while you’re having shrimp cocktail, huh?”

He almost spit out his drink. “No what?” He laughed so hard you thought you’d broken him, and you adored the way his face scrunched with joy and amusement.

“Danny,” you laughed. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“I know!” he said. He hid behind his hands and smothered another round of bubbly laughter, and you felt the sound of it tug at your heart.

“Oh, god,” he managed eventually, gasping and wiping tears from his eyes as he tried to stop laughing. “You really almost killed me, sunny.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, reaching to put your hand over his. “I’ll keep my lame sex jokes to myself next time, I promise.”

He smiled. “Don’t you dare. I want to hear all of them.” 

You finished your drink and stood, and you liked that Danny kept a hold of your hand as you did.

“You going to get another drink?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You gestured to his almost empty glass. “You want another?”

“Nah, I’m done,” he said with a laugh. “I’m plenty sauced. I’ll go get yours for if you want, though.”

“That’s okay,” you said. “I’m going to powder my nose.”

“Oh, fancy.” He finished off his drink. “'Kay. I’ll be here.”

You wove through the wedding guests milling about in various states of intoxication, humming along as the band played, feeling in some state of intoxication yourself. You had a pleasant buzz, and you were looking forward to dancing the night away with Danny.

You found the bathroom, and though there was thankfully no line, there was a skeevy-looking guy leaned against the wall by the door. His eyes locked onto you as you came nearer, and you hesitated. You wished there were some other girls around so you wouldn’t have to go past him alone, but for the moment it was just him and you.

You decided to trust your gut. You turned right back around and went for Danny.

He raised a brow when he saw you coming back to the table.

“All good?” he asked.

“Yeah, I...” All of a sudden, you felt weirdly embarrassed to ask. “There’s this guy that’s kind of hanging around over there, and... I don’t know...” You met his eyes. “Could you walk with me? And kind of... stand outside the door?”

“Of course,” he said easily. “Come on.”

His expression was relaxed as he walked with you, but you could tell by his posture alone that he was attentive and watchful. You stopped at the same place you’d stopped before, a few feet from the guy, and felt Danny’s reassuring touch to the small of your back.

“I’m not gonna let him bother you, sunny,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

He ushered you forward, putting himself between you and the guy and receiving an annoyed look for his trouble. Danny didn’t pay him any mind, leaning one broad shoulder on the wall between the guy and the door.

“I’ll wait right here for you,” he promised, his tone light.

You went inside with a feeling of relief, glad you’d gone back to ask for his help. When you were done, you looked yourself over in the mirror and tried to fix a few wayward strands of hair; you actually thought you looked kind of pretty, all sun-warmed and beachy and tipsy.

You came back out to see that the guy was gone, and Danny was still leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. You wondered if he’d managed to scare the guy off just by doing that, since his arms looked huge under his flimsy button down.

He looked over when you came out and gave you a cheerful smile. “Hi.”

You smiled back. “Hi. Thank you for staying.”

“No sweat,” he said. “I’m happy to tell creepy guys to fuck off any time you need me to.”

He pushed off the wall and walked over to the bar with you, and you noticed that people — men, especially — were more likely to give you a respectful distance in a way they probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t had Danny right behind you. You decided you kind of liked having a big strong guy you could trust watching your back.

The bartender gave you a wry smile when you came up. “Mojito, right?”

“Oh, lord, you already know what I’m gonna get?” you laughed. “Maybe I ought to slow down.”

You gratefully accepted the drink he made you regardless, and you chewed on your straw and swayed a little to the music as you and Danny watched the band for a minute.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said when they started to play an upbeat, bluesy tune. He put his hand out in front of you. “Let’s dance to this one.”

“Okay,” you said happily, leaving your drink and taking his hand as he led you to the dance floor. He pulled you snug against him when you got a spot right by the band, and you didn’t have very long to be bashful about it before he had you laughing with his swanky dance moves.

“You didn’t know I was secretly a dancer, did you, sunny?”

You giggled and draped one arm around his neck. “I had no idea you were so multi-talented, Daniel. What other secrets are you hiding?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased. He took your hand and spun you like a princess before he tucked you back against him.

“Do you know this song?” he asked.

You shook your head. You were a little dazed with the feeling of him so close, his hand splayed over the small of your back.

“What’s it called?” you asked.

“‘Keep On Growing,’” he said. “Eric Clapton wrote it when he was in Derek and the Dominos.”

He let his hands wander a little, never too far, but you felt your breath catch when they came to rest high on your waist. His hands were so big; you knew he could manhandle you easily if he had a mind to, and you had never felt less concerned about it in your life.

“Someday baby, who knows where or when,” he sang. “Just you wait and see — we’ll be walking together hand in hand along forever, woman, just you and me.”

You gave him a heartsick smile. “Is that so?”

He shrugged and grinned down at you. “Have you ever known Eric Clapton to lie?”

You laughed at the ridiculous question, closing your eyes for a moment as you let Danny sway you to the music.

“Sing some more,” you said.

“Okay,” he agreed. “Just gotta wait for the guitar solo to end, honey.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the endearment, and he smiled as he tugged you closer.

“Time’s gonna change us, Lord, and I know it’s true,” he sang, just for you. “Our love’s gonna keep on glowing, and growing is all we’re gonna do.”

You danced for a long while after that song ended, but the thrill of being close to him only grew the longer he held you and danced you around with goofy, innocent enthusiasm.

When the band finally started to play a slower song, Danny pulled you close with a hand on your back, his free hand taking one of yours. You were glad you were taking a moment to catch your breath; the night air was warm, and now that you were resting against Danny’s chest, you felt a lot more drunk than you had a second ago.

“It’s hot,” you said, looking up at him.

His smile was a little crooked. “You are so drunk, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you agreed. “It’s still hot.”

He chuckled. “I know. You want to go for a walk by the water? Cool off a little?”

You hummed in agreement. “Take me away, Danny.”

He took your hand as he led you through the crowd on the dance floor. He stopped at the bar, but before you could tell him you definitely didn’t need any more alcohol, he got two glasses of ice water and handed one to you.

“Drink up, buttercup.”

You clinked your glass against his, happy that it made him smile. When you’d slaked your thirst, you pressed the side of the glass to your cheek and welcomed the icy sting of it.

“Hey,” you said, seeing the dessert bar. “Strawberry kiss.”

Danny gave you a confused smile. “What?”

“Yeah, you know,” you said. You set your glass down on the bar and put your hand on his arm. “You gave me a strawberry kiss this morning.”

“I remember,” he said, and you liked how he angled his body towards you. “I’d give you another one, but I don’t carry strawberries around in my pockets all day.”

You giggled. “You should.” You gestured to the dessert bar piled high with treats and cakes and a rainbow of fruit. “But you don’t have to.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, let’s go get you a strawberry kiss, sunny.”

When you had a plastic cup overflowing with strawberries and Danny had caught the one that had tumbled off the top, you walked down to the beach together and shared your dessert. Danny held out his hand to take each leafy top from you when you were finished and tossed them and the empty cup afterwards.

“You’re good at, like, holding things,” you said as you walked down the beach, feeling that a bit of your intelligence had maybe gone out the window with all those drinks.

Danny laughed. “Thank you, I think.”

You took his hand and held it, palm up, in yours. “It’s because your hands are ginormous. They can fit a lot of things.”

You ran your fingers over his palm, and he let out a surprised giggle and flinched away a little.

“Quit that,” he said, but he was smiling. His fingers closed over yours. “Maybe your hands are just tiny, sunny. D’you ever think of that?”

You grinned and brought his hand up to cover your face. “Nope. Because your hand is still big even when it’s not compared to my hand.”

He moved his hand to cup your jaw, his fingers tracing over your brow and your cheek as he did. You rested against his hand and looked up at him.

“You sure do look pretty tonight, sunny,” he said.

For the first time, you didn’t feel shy at his compliment. Maybe it was the rum, but you liked being able to just bask in the pleasure of his praise.

“Thank you,” you said. “I feel pretty tonight.”

You kept hold of his hand and leaned back, letting him hold your weight.

“Well, hold on a second,” he said. He took your other hand so you wouldn’t be lopsided. “There you go.”

You tipped your face up towards the moonlit sky and closed your eyes, feeling the salty ocean breeze brush over your face and Danny’s warm, strong hands holding yours.

“Danny?”

“Hm?”

“I think we should lay down in the sand and connect with the earth.”

He chuckled. “Okay, sunny. Should I just drop you, or...?”

You opened your eyes. “No!”

He grinned. “Fine.” He gently eased you back upright and steadied you as you tried to manage the sand and your dress and your tipsiness with a modicum of grace. You breathed a long sigh when you laid back in the sand, feeling the soft, cool grit of it on your skin.

“How’s this?” Danny asked, propping himself up on his arm next to you. “Do you feel connected with the earth?”

You took a handful of sand and let it trickle through your fingers. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Sure.” He brushed back the lock of hair the breeze had drawn across your face, hooking it behind your ear. “I guess I feel connected to the ocean, too. Pushing, pulling. Always coming back to the shore.”

You turned your head to meet his eyes, and he gave you a gentle smile.

“What?” he asked.

“Just thinking,” you said quietly. You touched your fingers to the pendant on his necklace. “Do you think I can be the sun and the beach, and you can be the moon and the ocean?”

He held your hand and ran his thumb over your palm. “I think that sounds perfect.”

You closed your fingers around his hand, feeling his warmth and steadiness. “I don’t want to be apart from you for a long time, Danny.”

“What do you mean, honey?”

You turned your face back towards the starry sky, feeling close to crying for some reason.

“I missed you after I moved,” you said, and your voice was tight. “I felt like I lost my best friend. And I know we were only kids, but I always thought of you after I left. I always hoped we’d see each other again, somehow.”

Though the past few days had rekindled your old friendship, you knew it was wishful thinking to believe you could maintain a strong relationship after this week, let alone explore the idea of romantic love with each other. You wanted both, foolishly, but Danny wasn’t just Danny any more; he’d be no more likely to want to fit you into his life than you would be able to fit him into yours. It just wasn’t meant to be, and it was painfully obvious despite the gentleness between you.

A tear trickled down your cheek, and Danny moved your joined hands to brush it away.

“I missed you too, sunshine,” he said softly. “I don’t want to be apart from you either. I think fate brought us back together for a reason, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you said, and your voice was so quiet even you could barely hear it over the sound of the ocean. “To break my heart, I think.”

Danny didn’t seem to hear you, or if he did, he didn’t respond. He touched a finger to your jaw.

“Look at me, sunny.”

You did. Another tear rolled over the bridge of your nose, and he leaned close and kissed it away.

“No crying at a wedding,” he chided gently.

You gave a watery laugh. “That’s all that people do at weddings, Danny. Cry and drink.”

“And dance,” he said with a smile. “Don’t forget dancing.”

He stood, gently bringing you to your feet with him. He held you close and swayed you to the rhythm of the waves.

“We should just stay like this forever,” you said.

His soft laugh rumbled in his chest where you leaned against him. “Sounds good to me, sunshine.”

Read part five!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep @gretavanbri

fic taglist: @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama @honeyandsweettae @mydarlingdanny

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf  @jakeydoesit  @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones  @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

[hellfirenacht]

Corroded Coffin Friendship Bracelets Trend HCs

Modern Day AU with Corroded Coffin as a small band touring, reacting to the friendship bracelets trend

-With the boom in friendship bracelets and kandi resurfacing as a trend it wasn’t long until it reached the small indie band of Corroded Coffin as they did their tour.

-None of the band members noticed it until the second or third show, where their small but dedicated fan base started showing up with beaded bracelets all over their arms, some even carrying them on carabiners for easy access to trade.

-Gareth was the first to be gifted one, the letters spelling out “Corroded Coffin TV” in black and red beads. Jeff was the one to realize that TV meant ‘Taylor’s Version”. Gareth didn’t find it funny, but Jeff found it hilarious.

-Eddie didn’t understand the trend at first, but when he also started receiving bracelets he couldn’t turn them down. He loved the jokes and memes that would go into them. He quickly decided that wearing the ones from his fans was now a mandatory part of the concert.

-Jeff is the most likely to coordinate his bracelets with the set list or his outfit. Gareth just throws them on, but only a few. He’s accidentally snapped some before from being too rough. Eddie’s are scattered all over the tour bus and he grabs them at random and hopes for the best.

-One night they were all forced by their manager to have an arts and crafts night where they all made their own bracelets to trade. Gareth’s are slapped together without much thought, with random letters that the fans start randomly assigning meaning to. Jeff’s are far more coordinated, leaning into the jokes that the fans make, and Eddie was high as hell that night, making ones that only he would find funny (that the fans went feral for)

-Eddie would hold your hand if you were giving him one so that you could put it on him yourself. He’d try to do small meet and greets before and after shows to trade. As annoying as working with the beads were, he finds a lot of joy in the community and how his fans act.

-Shooting your shot with Eddie by putting your number on a friendship bracelet like Travis Kelsie did at the Era’s Tour. (and the horror, elation, and shock when he actually calls)

-Corroded Coffin doing one (1) Taylor Swift cover in their own style. Probably from Reputation (I’m partial to Look What You Made Me Do imho)

-Eddie sends some to Wayne, Dustin, Mike, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Chrissy and even Reefer Rick

-They start hanging the bracelets up like string lights on the tour bus when they start getting enough.