#but also. why WAS it so crowded on a tuesday night

[celepeace]

I wanted to go to a bar/restaurant with lovely outdoor seating last week on a tuesday only to find it completely fucking packed when I got there and I got so irrationally angry about it. I was like "don't you people have LIVES??? WHY ARE YOU ALL HERE ON A TUESDAY??" as if I was not also there on a tuesday

[svtiddiess]

Revved Up

Synopsis: Yoon Jeonghan, the undisputed king of the tracks, with an ego that goes at par with his unshakeable record, finally meets his match when a rookie appears, determined to snatch victories right out from under his nose.

Pairing: underground racer!Jeonghan x underground racer!afab!reader

Genre: rivals to ??, underground racer au, smut, oneshot

Rating: mature

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Jeonghan's kind of an asshole, some misogynistic remarks, hate sex, semi-public sex (but nobody's around), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), marking, Jeonghan smokes, lemme know if I've missed anything!

Note: This was inspired by this edit. Thank you so much to @tusswrites @nothoughtsjustfic and @soo0hee for helping me with the fic, this fic wouldn't have left the vault without your help!

Thank you so much to @shadowkoo for the amazing banner!

Also, I'd like to thank @tomodachiii for making me make them fuck on top of the car.

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On top of the world.

That's how Jeonghan feels at the moment as he passes the finish line, winning first place once again. He leans back in his seat, chest heaving from the adrenaline and a smirk painted on his face. 

A crowd gathers around his car, cheering and congratulating him on yet another victory—his tenth consecutive win. He steps out, removing his helmet and running a hand through his slightly damp blonde hair. Catching sight of a group of girls nearby, he flashes them a flirty wink and a smug grin, sending them into a fit of squeals and giggles. While the adrenaline rush fuels his passion for underground racing, this moment is undoubtedly his favourite: the unmatched fame, glory, and attention that come with it.

He walks over to where his friends are waiting. They greet him with a smile and several pats on the back, each congratulating him on his victory.

"That's your tenth win. It looks like your winning streak is still going strong," grins Seungcheol, his childhood best friend. It was Seungcheol who first introduced Jeonghan to the underground racing scene, and after just one race, Jeonghan was hooked on the thrill of the lifestyle.

"Of course it is," Jeonghan scoffs. "I'm Yoon Jeonghan, after all."

"Your ego seems to grow with every race you win," grumbles Woozi, another friend and the group's reluctant mechanic. They met on a random Tuesday night when Jeonghan crashed his car right into Woozi's workshop. Angry didn’t even begin to cover how Woozi felt, but that incident sparked an unexpected friendship. After being introduced to Seungcheol, Woozi was roped into the role of the group's mechanic, though not exactly by choice.

"You'd think he'd have reached his peak by now, but nope. I’m always amazed at how much his ego grows with every race," Mingyu snickers. He's a racer too, though he prefers bikes over cars. His tall, muscular build gives off the impression of a tough guy; he’s anything but—Mingyu is a complete softie. It’s a mystery how someone like him ended up in a world as cutthroat as underground racing.

"You better watch that ego of yours. Your hubris will be your downfall," warns Minghao, a close friend of Jeonghan's who somehow managed to stumble into the underground racing scene. He seems to also have found a talent for racing, but he prefers to watch the races rather than participate in them.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes at the familiar jab. His friends never miss an opportunity to comment on his so-called massive ego. He doesn’t see it that way—he’s just got skill, luck, and the confidence to show it off. Why shouldn’t he?

Handsome, talented, charming, and lucky, Yoon Jeonghan truly is God's favourite after all.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jeonghan brushes off the remarks, already distracted by thoughts of the after-party. This is his tenth win, after all, so it needs to be memorable: top-shelf whiskey, a VIP booth, and a few girls to top it off.

Grinning to himself, he slings an arm over Seungcheol’s shoulder as the group heads toward the exit. But then, a figure catches his eye, halting him in his tracks.

"Hey, who’s the chick?" Jeonghan asks, nodding toward a girl wearing a racing jacket, tinkering with what looks like her car.

"Oh, that's Y/N. I heard she’s new. Just signed up today," Mingyu informs them.

"A girl racing?" Jeonghan scoffs. "Good luck with that."

"Jerk," Seungcheol mutters, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Hey!" Jeonghan protests, raising his hands in mock defence. "I’m just saying! Girls aren’t exactly known for being good drivers."

"And she’s a newbie," he adds with a smirk. "I bet she’ll be running home crying after her first race."

A sharp voice cuts through their conversation.

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

Jeonghan turns to see the same girl standing in front of him, arms crossed, her glare sharp enough to cut steel.

"I’m just saying," Jeonghan shrugs, his lazy grin unfazed. "Newbies don’t usually last long here—especially cute ones like you." He winks at her.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"And who are you to assume something like that?" she snaps.

"I’m Yoon Jeonghan, baby," he replies smoothly. "Longest winning streak in the game. Just got my tenth win, actually." He winks again, clearly enjoying himself.

"Never heard of you," she mutters.

Jeonghan’s smile falters for a split second, but he quickly recovers, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he steps closer.

"You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot," he says smoothly. "We’re heading out to celebrate my win at a party—why don’t you join us?" His grin widens as he adds, "Who knows, you might even get lucky and end up in bed with me." He throws in a wink for good measure.

"Fucking asshole," she mutters, brushing past him and deliberately bumping his shoulder, which only makes Jeonghan chuckle.

"You’ve really got to work on your attitude," Woozi sighs, shaking his head.

"I don’t see the problem," Jeonghan says with a shameless grin. "Hey, it’s her loss for passing up on this."

Woozi rolls his eyes and heads for the exit, the rest of the group following behind. Jeonghan lingers for a moment, glancing back at her one last time before turning to join them.

After downing his seventh shot, Jeonghan leans back into the booth, savouring the lingering burn in his throat. He feels a girl press against him—a chick he picked up earlier. What was her name again? Patty? Petunia? No, Patricia. Right, Patricia.

Glancing down at her, he smirks. She had mentioned coming here with a friend. Maybe tonight’s a two-for-one kind of night, he thinks with a sly grin.

He leans down and asks Patricia where her friend is. She points towards the dance floor, where a girl is surrounded by a crowd. Jeonghan squints, trying to get a better look. For a moment, it almost seems like that hot-headed chick he pissed off earlier—Y/N.

No way she’d show up here after the scene she made earlier. Guess she’s just like every other girl, after all, he thinks with a chuckle.

Smirking, Jeonghan makes his way onto the dance floor. He grabs the girl’s shoulder and spins her around, only to stop in his tracks. It’s not Y/N.

"Shit, sorry. Thought you were someone else," he mutters before retreating back to his seat.

Dropping into the booth, he groans, rubbing his face. The alcohol is definitely kicking in now. Why the hell is he even thinking about Y/N? He's got plenty of other girls grovelling at his feet for his attention.

Whatever.

Jeonghan grumbles and downs another shot, trying to shake her out of his mind. Sliding an arm around Patricia again, he leans in, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, earning soft giggles and a blush in return.

Girls are so easy, he muses with a smirk.

"You really need to check that ego of yours," a familiar voice cuts through his thoughts. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, turning toward the source—Minghao.

"Having an ego is fine," Minghao says, shrugging, "but your level of ego? That’s going to be your downfall. Just saying."

Jeonghan sighs, grabbing his whiskey. "How many times have you said this already?"

"I’m pretty sure this is his fifth time," Mingyu mumbles.

"It’s actually the seventh," Woozi interjects, sipping his water; he prefers not to drink and only goes to clubs if the others quite literally drag him there. "You weren’t around for the other two."

"Really?" Mingyu's eyes widen in surprise.

"I’m just saying," Minghao continues, undeterred. "I’ve seen people crash hard because of their egos. As your friend, I’d hate to see that happen to you."

Jeonghan chuckles, waving him off. "You worry too much, Hao. I’m Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve got nothing to worry about. Life’s great and only getting better." He leans back, taking another sip of his drink. Minghao shakes his head, sighing, as he takes a sip of his martini.

Just then, Seungcheol, who had been off picking up girls, returns with a girl under each arm.

"Hey, turns out Leah here is Patricia’s friend," Seungcheol smirks, gesturing to the girl on his right.

Jeonghan’s grin widens. "This is why you’re my best friend, Cheol," he laughs.

Seungcheol chuckles, helping Leah settle into the seat beside Jeonghan. Now surrounded by two girls, Jeonghan’s smile grows even bigger.

"Tonight’s going to be a great night," he says, laughing softly before leaning in to tease Leah with kisses while his hand moves to caress Patricia’s thigh.

Booze, friends, and girls—what better way to celebrate a race win?

The next race day rolls around, and Jeonghan is casually chatting with a group of girls while the other racers prep their cars. Checking on his own car? That’s Woozi’s job, after all. Jeonghan has more important things to do—like charming his fangirls.

As he scans the lineup of racers, his eyes land on Y/N. To his surprise, she’s here, busy with some last-minute prep near her car. A smirk spreads across his face as he saunters over to her.

"Well, well. Didn’t think you’d actually show up, babygirl," Jeonghan taunts, breaking her focus.

Y/N looks up, her expression already annoyed. "Don’t you have better things to do than bother me before the race?" she snaps.

"Nope, can’t think of anything better, baby," Jeonghan replies, his signature smirk firmly in place.

With a frustrated huff, Y/N rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to her car, clearly done with him. As she bends down to grab something, Jeonghan lets out a low wolf whistle, his grin widening.

"Damn, you might have the finest ass I've ever seen; almost make me wanna bite into it," Jeonghan whistles with a low chuckle.

Y/N snaps her head around, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You better fuck off before I do something I regret," she snarls, her tone sharp enough to cut.

Jeonghan grins, completely unfazed. "Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do, little rookie?"

Her glare intensifies. "I’m gonna smack you so hard, you’ll forget which way the track goes," she growls through gritted teeth.

Jeonghan laughs, stepping closer until their faces are inches apart. He tilts her chin up with his hand, his cocky smirk growing.

"I’d love to see you try, little rookie," he whispers, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Fucking asshole!" Y/N spits, smacking his hand away and storming off, her footsteps heavy with frustration.

Jeonghan watches her retreat, amused. His smirk lingers as he turns back to his car, throwing a final wink at his fangirls before sliding into the driver’s seat and strapping on his helmet.

"Can't wait to see you cry, little rookie," he mutters to himself, revving the engine.

Jeonghan drives to the starting line, aligning his car with the others. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and feels his heartbeat thumping in his ears as the adrenaline surges through his veins. Letting out a slow breath, he opens his eyes and smirks. Today will be the day he claims his eleventh win, he tells himself.

The starter steps forward, raising the green flag. Jeonghan grips the steering wheel tighter, revving the engine in anticipation. The flag drops, and the cars launch forward. As always, Jeonghan takes the lead.

He smirks, watching the growing gap between himself and the other racers.

"This’ll be a breeze," he chuckles to himself.

But his smirk falters when he notices Y/N's car tailing him, closing the gap fast.

"Hmm, not bad," he thinks, pushing the pedal harder to create more distance. But Y/N stays right on his tail, getting closer with each turn. Jeonghan's eyes widen as he realises the speed at which she's gaining on him. He quickly regains composure and focuses on maintaining his momentum.

As Y/N’s car continues to close the distance, Jeonghan’s frustration builds. He curses under his breath and slams the pedal to the floor, opting for raw speed over caution.

A sharp corner approaches and Jeonghan takes the inner road, determined to block Y/N from passing. But to his surprise, she takes the outer road and overtakes him. As she pulls ahead, their eyes meet, and Jeonghan swears he catches a smirk beneath her helmet.

Y/N speeds away and is now in the lead. Scowling, Jeonghan attempts to overtake her, but she doesn’t give him an inch. With each failed attempt, his frustration grows. The finish line is nearing, and if he doesn’t pass her, he’ll lose—and Yoon Jeonghan never loses.

Jeonghan slams the pedal again and attempts a sharp turn to pass Y/N, but she expertly dodges his move, blocking him out.

"Fuck!" Jeonghan curses, his frustration boiling over.

The finish line looms ahead, and despite his efforts, Y/N crosses it first, claiming victory. Jeonghan finishes in second place, seething with disbelief.

Jeonghan sits in the car for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He… lost. Yoon Jeonghan, the guy with an undefeated streak, just lost to some rookie. Unbelievable. He scoffs, slamming his hand on the steering wheel before getting out of the car. In a rush, he yanks off his helmet and tosses it aside, storming towards Y/N.

He takes a second to compose himself, then flashes a smirk as he leans against her car.

"Not bad… for a rookie," he says, his tone dripping with mock approval.

Y/N looks up at him from the driver’s seat, smirking in return.

"This rookie just beat your ass," she retorts, her voice full of playful challenge. "What happened to your winning streak? Must suck to get beaten by a girl rookie."

Jeonghan's smirk falters for a moment, the sting of defeat hitting him harder than he expected.

"I don’t know how you managed to get ten wins with that lousy driving," she continues, a teasing laugh escaping her lips. "The other drivers must’ve been really bad."

Jeonghan chuckles, trying to mask his frustration.

"You just got lucky, little rookie. Beginner's luck," he shrugs, leaning in closer to her. "You'll be eating my dust next race; I’ll make sure of it, baby."

"We’ll see about that, Jeonghan," she smirks, the challenge still in her eyes.

Jeonghan grins wide, full of cocky confidence.

"It’s official, you’re now Yoon Jeonghan’s rival," he says.

Y/N scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Wow, what an honour," she replies sarcastically, her tone dripping with irony.

Before Jeonghan can respond, she speeds off, leaving him stumbling behind, caught off guard.

"Fucking bitch," he mutters under his breath, shaking off his frustration as he regains his balance.

"Just you wait. I'll make you regret your actions, little rookie," he growls before walking to where his friends await him.

The next few races, much to Jeonghan's disappointment and frustration, followed the same infuriating pattern—he’d dominate the track, taking the lead and building good momentum, only for Y/N to overtake him at the last corner, snatching victory right out of his grasp.

And with every win, Y/N’s taunts grew bolder and more irritating. She had the winning streak now—not him. Jeonghan was stuck with second place, which, in his mind, was just first place for losers.

Still, Jeonghan kept up his confident facade. He’d smirk, laugh it off, and dismiss her wins with a nonchalant wave. "Beginner’s luck," he’d say every single time. And Y/N would roll her eyes and scoff at his excuse. Every single time.

Another race, another loss—his fifth in a row. Jeonghan stormed out of his car, tossing his helmet somewhere without care, running a hand through his damp hair in frustration. He strode over to Y/N’s car, only to see her climbing out with an obnoxiously big grin plastered across her face.

"Five losses, Yoon. Looks like you’re on a losing streak," she says, laughing in his face.

Jeonghan scoffed, narrowing his eyes. "I’m just letting you have a taste of what victory feels like. Don’t get too comfortable, little one," he shot back, his tone dripping with condescension.

"Sure you are," she replied with a mocking smirk. "Maybe it’s time you retire, old man. Looks like you’re not fit for the track anymore."

"Old man?" Jeonghan repeated, incredulous, stepping closer until their noses almost touched. His voice dropped dangerously low. "I’ll make you regret saying that, little rookie."

"Go ahead," she challenges, leaning in slightly, her gaze unwavering as it locked onto his.

"Han," a familiar voice cut through the tension. Jeonghan turns his head to see Seungcheol standing with the rest of his group, watching him expectantly.

It was then that Jeonghan noticed the sudden hush around them—everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch the standoff unfold.

He turns back to Y/N, his smirk returning. "Consider this a warning, little rookie," he said coolly before stepping away and heading off with his friends.

Y/N just rolled her eyes and turned back to her car, ignoring the stares of the crowd still lingering around her.

Sighing, Jeonghan steps onto the track. It’s the night before a race, and restless energy had dragged him out of bed. Somehow, his legs had brought him here, to the place that always seemed to quiet the chaos in his mind. Maybe it was the strange connection he had with racing, but the track always had a way of grounding him.

He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling it into the cool night air. Closing his eyes, he feels the warmth of the nicotine spread through his body, contrasting with the crisp chill around him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" a sharp voice cuts through the silence.

Jeonghan spins around, and there she is—Y/N, arms crossed, her glare piercing through the dark.

"I should be asking you that," he retorts, narrowing his eyes and throwing away the cigarette bud.

"I’m here to scope out the track before the race," she says defensively, her lips curving into a smirk. "But you? I bet you’re here to sabotage it. Face it, that’s probably the only way you’ll win at this point."

His jaw tightens, and in two quick strides, he’s in front of her. His hand shoots out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him.

"You really think I’d stoop so low as to cheat?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain.

"I think you’d do anything to win," she counters, her smirk unyielding as she leans closer. "Cheating included."

"I’m not you," he growls, their faces so close their breaths mingle in the cool air.

Her expression darkens. "Are you accusing me of cheating?"

"How else would someone like you manage to win?" he sneers, his voice laced with mockery.

"Talent and dedication," she snaps back. "Two things you lack. Clearly."

"All you have is luck, little rookie. And we both know it’s going to run out," he fires back, smirking.

Her eyes glint with challenge. "Well, it looks like your luck’s been gone for a while, Yoon," she says smugly.

Scowling, Jeonghan doesn’t bother with another word. Instead, he closes the distance between them, crashing his lips against hers in a heated, impulsive kiss. She lets out a startled squeak, her hands instinctively clutching at his shirt as he pulls her closer, pouring all his frustration and fire into the kiss.

"Jump," he murmurs against her lips. Without hesitation, she wraps her legs around his waist, locking herself against him.

Still lost in the kiss, he strides toward his parked car nearby, effortlessly hoisting her up before laying her down on the hood.

He breaks the kiss briefly, just long enough to strip away both their shirts, before crashing his lips back onto hers. His hands explore her bare skin, sending a shiver through her as his touch lingers. With practiced ease, he slides a hand behind her and unhooks her bra in one swift motion, letting it fall away and exposing her.

Pulling back slightly, his gaze sweeps over her, and a smirk tugs at his lips. "Not bad," he remarks teasingly.

She rolls her eyes and tugs him back into the kiss, her lips silencing further remarks. His hand sneaks up and toys with her nipple, eliciting a whimper from her. Their tongues fight for dominance as he continues to abuse her nipples.

"Are you gonna fuck me or what?" she growls against his lips.

"So impatient," he chuckles, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "Didn’t know you were such a slut," he taunts, earning a sharp scowl from her.

Without missing a beat, he makes quick work of the buttons on her pants, and she lifts her hips to help slide them off along with her panties. Now completely bare, she lies sprawled across the hood of her car, her defiant gaze locked on his.

Running a finger through her slit, he chuckles. "Hm, so wet already. Knew you couldn't resist me, little rookie."

"Fuck you," she spits.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," he teases before inserting a finger into her tight hole.

She throws her head back with a curse as Jeonghan's finger moves inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts. Leaning down, he trails his lips along her neck and collarbones, leaving a series of love bites—each placed carefully to ensure they’ll be visible, even beneath a shirt.

Sliding in another finger, he curls them until he finds that sensitive, spongey spot deep inside her. A loud moan spills from her lips as he presses against it, his smirk widening with satisfaction. He focuses on that spot, relentlessly drawing out her moans and whimpers.

"Shit, I’m so close! Fuck!" she cries out, her brows furrowing as she chases her release.

But just as she’s about to tip over the edge, he cruelly withdraws his fingers, leaving her trembling and frustrated.

She lets out a loud, furious wail, her eyes blazing as they lock on him. "What the fuck?!"

Jeonghan tilts his head, his smirk lazy and infuriating. "What, you thought I’d let you finish that easily, little rookie?" he taunts, his tone dripping with playful malice.

"You fucking assh—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Jeonghan quickly slips out his dick and thrusts into her without any warning.

"Shit!" she cries, her hands clutching Jeonghan's shoulders for stability.

He thrusts into her with an unrelenting, almost primal rhythm, the car beneath them shaking with each movement. The night air fills with a symphony of grunts, moans, and the metallic creak of the car's hood. Their heated bodies contrast sharply against the cool breeze, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations.

"I hate you—fuck—I hate you," she moans, her voice shaky with every thrust.

"Yeah? I hate you too, little rookie," he growls in response, his words laced with defiance and desire.

"I'm close," she whimpers out, nails digging into his shoulders. Sneaking a hand between their bodies, Jeonghan starts circling her clit.

With a loud cry, her body trembles beneath him as she climaxes, gripping him tightly. Jeonghan lets out a low groan, continuing to thrust into her, drawing out every wave of her release as her juices coat him.

After a few more thrusts, he pulls out and jerks himself off before cumming onto the track with a groan.

They take a moment to catch their breath before slipping back into their clothes. Jeonghan lights another cigarette and leans against the hood of the car, settling down beside Y/N; both of them staring at the track ahead.

Jeonghan extends the hand holding his cigarette toward her, a silent offer.

"I don’t smoke," she scoffs.

"Wow, how thrillingly boring," he chuckles, taking another drag.

"Sorry for wanting to keep my lungs functional," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

Jeonghan laughs softly and exhales a puff of smoke. Y/N pulls her knees to her chest, shivering slightly as the cold night air wraps around them. Silence falls between them, broken only by the occasional crackle of Jeonghan’s cigarette.

"Why do you do it?" she suddenly asks, her voice quiet.

Jeonghan glances at her, puzzled. "Do what?"

"Racing," she says, turning her head to meet his gaze. "Why do you do it?"

He takes a long drag, tilts his head back, and exhales slowly into the crisp night air. Stubbing out the cigarette, he shifts his focus back to her.

"I didn’t have… the best parents," he starts, his voice low. "Honestly, I wouldn’t even call them parents."

She listens intently as his brows furrow. "They hated me from the second I was born. Treated me like I was invisible—like I didn’t even exist."

His fingers fidget with a loose thread on his shirt. "Growing up, I was always the kid in the shadows. The loner. The weird kid no one wanted to talk to."

Jeonghan chuckles dryly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I didn’t make my first real friend until my last year of high school. Pure accident. But somehow, me and Cheol hit it off."

"Cheol’s the one who dragged me into underground racing. I didn’t think much of it at first but after just one race…I was hooked. The adrenaline, the thrill…it was addictive."

He pauses, his gaze softening as a faint smile tugs at his lips. "Then came my first win. When I stepped out of that car, everyone swarmed me, congratulating me. For the first time in my life, I felt…seen."

His eyes drift to the stars above. "I wasn’t a shadow anymore. People knew my name. They cheered for me. They loved me."

His voice softens as he turns to her. "That’s why I race—to be seen. To matter. To finally step out of the shadows and into the light."

For a moment, their eyes lock in a shared silence, his words lingering in the air between them.

Then she looks away, a chuckle escaping her lips. "Wow. You’re a special kind of asshole," she mutters.

Jeonghan blinks, startled. "What?"

"Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Yoon," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he replies, feigning innocence.

"Spare me," she snaps. "You’re trying to manipulate me with your little sob story, so I’ll throw tomorrow’s race. But it’s not gonna work, Yoon. I see right through you."

Jeonghan stares at her, caught off guard. He opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. She laughs in his face.

"God, you’re pathetic," she says, shaking her head as she hops off the hood. "Get ready to lose again tomorrow."

With a smirk, she saunters off to her car, leaving Jeonghan speechless. He watches as her silhouette fades into the night, a mixture of shock and frustration etched on his face.

The next day arrives, Jeonghan scans the area, searching for Y/N. Maybe he can explain himself, convince her he wasn’t trying to manipulate her into throwing the race—that he was being genuine. Even though that’s exactly what he had been trying to do.

Spotting her by her car, checking it over one last time, he strides toward her purposefully.

"Y/N, I—let me explain, please," he begins, his tone uncharacteristically earnest.

Her only response is to put on her helmet, flip him off without a word, and climb into her car. She drives off toward the starting line, leaving Jeonghan stunned and frustrated.

Muttering under his breath, he storms back to his car, slamming the door as he gets in. He pulls on his helmet, his jaw tight as he rolls up to the start line beside her. For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and even through her helmet, he can tell she’s smirking.

Scowling, he looks away, trying to focus on the race ahead.

But it ends just like the last five—Y/N taking first place, and Jeonghan trailing behind in second.

Scoffing in disbelief, Jeonghan climbs out of his car, tearing off his helmet as he runs a frustrated hand through his damp hair. His gaze drifts to Y/N, surrounded by a cheering crowd congratulating her on another victory. She looks radiant, basking in their admiration, which only deepens the scowl on Jeonghan’s face.

Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and Jeonghan can see the triumphant glint in hers.

He smirks, despite himself. "Enjoy it while it lasts, little rookie," he mutters, his voice low but filled with determination. "Because I’ll make sure this is only temporary."

His eyes darken, a wave of anger and frustration crashing over him as he watches her revel in what should have been his victory—a victory she snatched right out of his grasp. His fists tighten at his sides, resolve surging through his veins like fire. He will beat her. He’s Yoon Jeonghan, after all—the one on top of the world.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy @4shypotato @lxnnrobin

[milky-aeons]

— 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

requested by the lovely [ @cocodrilofeliz! ]

[slushycoookie]

Between Two Worlds ~ Miguel O'Hara x Stripper! Reader (Pt.6)

★ Word Count: 5.9k

★ Content: You meet Miguel's family and friends! Black Cat shows up again (yeah, she's getting a warning now). Miguel meets your mom. A LOT of comparisons to Dana. You two have a fun road trip.

★ A/N: Heyyyy, I'm breaking my hiatus to post this! I'm not officially back back yet though. I'm kinda enjoying not being on tumblr as much. Obviously, I'm still writing though, so I hope you guys enjoy! I also made some changes, some retcons because it was bothering me. Nothing major though, so it shouldn't affect the story.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩Prev | Next ✩°｡⋆˚⁺ Masterlist | Commissions

The roaring noises of The Weave become second nature to Miguel.

The strobing lights and smoke that clings to the ceiling. Dancers grabbing their customers and leading them to a sit to get a show. Bits of confetti mixed with dollar bills on the floor.

If this was his first time in the club, he'd easily become overstimulated. Now, he's easily leading the rest of the group to the bar.

Xina covers her ears while following him as Gabriel and Kasey simultaneously let out a shriek.

“I can see why this club is popular!” Gabriel clasps Miguel’s shoulder. “Everyone is getting turned up!”

“At eight pm on a Tuesday…” Xina mutters.

“There’s usually a good turn out on Tuesdays.”

Miguel knows. Your dance draws in a crowd every time. You tell him that Tuesdays are the days where you make the most amount of money.

“Good thing I called out tomorrow.” Kasey hooks her arm around Xina, taking the lead. The men follow, Gabriel hooping at the upbeat music while Miguel's eyes scan the area.

He doesn't see you yet. You were nervous during the build up of meeting his friends and family, wondering which one of your glittery outfits is presentable for them. You didn’t want to go too far out, not wanting to scar Xina, but didn't want to lean towards too modest as you had your headliner dance.

Miguel tried to convince you not to worry about it, that anything you wear would be okay.

“Science Guy!” Ben greets, glancing at the fresh faces, “Who has new friends. I always knew you were a social butterfly.”

He shakes his head, “Ben, this is my brother, Gabriel, his girlfriend, Kasey, and my best friend, Xina.”

“Oh shit, I didn't know it was ‘Family Night’ at The Weave.”

“Since when have we ever had family night?” Pixie joins in, nursing a water. Her top catching anyone's eye as it symbolizes fairy wings. If she's here, that means you're nearby.

“We had family night last year where Mj bought in Peter.”

“That was couples night, babe.”

“Oh.”

“It's nice to meet you!” Xina greets loudly, causing everyone at the bar to turn towards her.

“Xi, the music is not that loud.” Kasey reassures with a squeeze on her arm.

Pixie snorts, her eyes tracing Xina up and down, “It was cute though.”

She darts away from Pixie's gaze, face turning red. Miguel steps over to her, his eyes silently asking where are you. Pixie's reassuring look tries to help but it doesn't.

“This is Pixie. She's one of the dancers.”

“Ooh like the pixie haircut?” Gabriel motions around his head.

“That and I like mythical creatures. Like pixies. ” She explains. Miguel tries not to look surprised at your friend willingly telling information to people she just met.

“Pixies are cool.” Xina adds in, fiddling with her white blouse. Pixie only gives her a smile.

“Alright, who wants drinks?” Ben starts taking drink orders.

Miguel’s considering getting one himself since he doesn't see you yet. He wonders if you decided to back out of the meet and greet and not tell him. Did he rush into this? Were you not ready to meet the people he's close to?

He just settles on a water, continuing to scan the area.

“So, you two are dating, right?” Ben asks Gabriel and Kasey.

“Yeah! Going for four years, right?”

Kasey nods after a long sip of her margarita, “That’s right.”

“And uh, you're cool with your boyfriend getting a lap dance?” Ben motions in front of him.

“I'm planning to get one.” She shrugs, “So it's okay if he does too.”

“Nice, nice.”

Gabriel and Kasey’s relationship held it’s ground ever since they first met in college. Being the older brother that Miguel is, he did get worried when they moved in together after eight months of dating. Their relationship lasting five years later was reasonable proof that they were going to last.

“What about you?” Ben asks Xina, who’s been nursing a shirley temple. “Looking to stuff some money in someone’s bra?”

“Oh, no thank you.” She frowns while shaking her head.

“Why not?” Pixie asks, beating Ben to the punch.

“I’d feel…awkward.”

“We don’t bite, babe.”

“Except for Black Cat. I’d steer clear from her.”

Miguel lights up seeing you walk up the bar. The tool from your two piece outfit glimmering under the club lights. A burgundy color that’s still easy on the eyes despite being surrounded by rhinestones. The curls from your high ponytail cascading down your shoulders. You’re beautiful. Miguel swallows the word from the tip of his tongue.

“Finally, you stopped fretting over your hair.” Pixie traces her fingers through your strands to also make sure it’s on point.

“I have guests.”

Kasey squeals, getting up from her seat to hug you. Her slightly chiseled arms enclosing around your frame perfectly.

“I can’t believe I finally get to meet you! Miguel can finally stop hiding you from us.”

“I wasn’t hiding her…” He mutters.

“I’m glad I get to meet you all too. It was time.”

Miguel notices Gabriel’s hands itching to hug her, but the former warned him of not suddenly grabbing the dancers unless he wanted to get kicked out. Kaine is working today and Miguel knows he can be very rough. You open your arms wide for him though and Gabriel giddily hugs you. The action being very brief.

With Xina, you stuck out your hand, knowing a hug was probably too personal for her. She gladly took it, trying not to make the exchange more awkward then it had to be.

“Why are we all chilling at the bar?” You look around, “Thought you guys came in here to have fun.”

“Oh I did.” Kasey says, “I want my first dance to be from an expert.” She wraps her arms around your own.

“Anything for my regular's friends.” You wink at Miguel who smiles against his glass.

You call up Emma, a dancer who comes in occasionally. Her white one piece made her easy to spot anywhere in the club. She does a finger wave along the crowd.

“I have a couple here so I thought it’d be best to do a duo.”

Emma’s blue eyes light up, “I’m down.”

You motion Gabriel and Kasey over, smiling at their excitement.

“Behave yourself.” Xina drones while swirling her drink with a straw.

Miguel leans against the bar, “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there?”

“I’m sure.”

He glances at you and you shrug, leading his brother and girlfriend to a better spot. Miguel wasn’t surprised at his best friend’s behavior. Xina’s prone to sticking to a corner of the wall at a party, red cup in hand while she watches everyone else enjoy themselves. He does it occasionally, but hoped that his friend would try tonight.

“You know, I’m going to force you.”

“Then don’t.” Xina slurps her drink, “I’m fine right here.”

“How old are you again?”

“Don’t you start with me.”

“I’m just wondering…”

“She doesn’t have to see a dancer if she doesn’t want to.” Pixie cuts in, now on the other end, stretching her limbs. Her outfit is easier to see now, with the short, matching green skirt and heels catching the club lights. “Although, that does defeat the purpose of going to a strip club.”

Xina scoffs, “Your friend invited me here.”

“I know.” The trail Pixie’s eyes drags along Xina’s frame is addicting. Slow and deliberate. “Like I said, you don’t have to. But…I thought you liked pixies.”

The blush on Xina’s face is apparent when she sighs. She places a ten dollar bill on the bar before taking Pixie’s hand. Miguel gives a thumbs up when his friend looks back. When they disappear into one of the rooms, he relaxes his shoulders. He wants everyone to have a good time and have a better reception to you.

Ben happily grabs another drink for Miguel, placing the soda down. “You know, I’ve never seen a regular drag his family and friends to meet a stripper.”

“I have nothing to hide.” Miguel admits. “A strip club is like any other establishment.”

Plus, you and him were still trying to keep your relationship secret. Even with Jess now knowing, you were adamant on not telling the entire club your business.

“Yeah filled with half naked dancers and alcohol. I think the deli across the street does something similar on the weekends.”

They share a laugh. The tenseness in Miguel’s body slowly fading away.

“Seriously though, it’s a cool mindset to have. I wish everyone had what you think, Science Guy.”

He blinks, remembering your surprise at his openness. “I just…think that way.”

“Smart, cute, and open minded. Who could ask for a better man?”

A strong, spicy fragrance hits his nostrils. That signature white hair makes its appearance when Black Cat appears beside him at the bar. Her bare arm touching his own. Everything about her appearance is striking, the black bikini while still wearing platform heels to make her tall. The white hair covers her shoulders and back. Miguel ignores the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere.

Ben shakes his head at her appearance, “You need anything?”

“A shot of vodka.”

As he prepares the shot, Miguel tries to focus on his drink. Your words in his head warning him not to talk to the popular cat. Or else you’d lose him too. Since you revealed that she steals your regulars.

That wasn’t going to happen.

Black Cat faces him and quickly downs the shot. Any traces of liquor, she wipes it away with a flicker of her fingertips. While her piercing, silver eyes stare into his soul. Miguel wants to look for you, have you come to his rescue again.

“Why are you all alone?”

“J-Just waiting for some friends.”

She tsks before pouting. “No Silk this time?”

“She’s doing a dance for someone else.”

“Ah…” Her hand rests on the bar. Black, polished nails match her attire. “You look so lonely sitting here.”

“Oh no, no I’m okay.”

“You sure? Being in a club like this all alone can spell all kinds of trouble.” As she speaks, her fingertips slowly inch towards his hand. The scrap of her nail causes him to jolt, placing his hand on his lap.

Of course she notices.

“You’re so adorable. It’s like you’re scared of me.”

“I’m not…”

“You should be.” Ben peeks back in, “You should see that time she scratched the fuck out of that guy last year. I heard he was so close to losing his eye because to her.”

“Ben.” Black Cat glares and he puts his hands up.

“What? It’s true-”

“Don’t you have bartending to do?”

“I’m doing it, kitty cat.”

She rolls her eyes when he flashes her a smile before focusing her attention back on Miguel. He hopes that Ben stayed nearby longer, but he was called away once more.

Black Cat didn’t stop with her advances, scooting closer to him. Her scent is giving him a headache.

“You wanna know why everyone favors me the most?”

“Sure…”

She leans forward, lips grazing his ear. Miguel’s entire body stiffens at the contact. “Because I have the best pussy in the entire club.”

When she parts, her eyes are lowered, locked on him like a predator. Ready to eat. Miguel needs you here.

“I-I see.”

“If you want to see for yourself, all you have to do is ask…” She runs a hand along his back, finally walking away. Miguel turns around in his chair, eyes searching the club for you. Among the sea of lap dances, money flying across the room, you’re walking back with an ecstatic Gabriel and Kasey in tow.

They practically bum rush him at the bar, shouting with excitement.

“I can see why you picked her.” Kasey nudges his ribs.

“I think I threw almost two hundred on the floor.” Gabriel starts counting his fingers.

“Oh I blew four I’m sure.”

You snicker, “I’ll let you know when I count it.”

Miguel's relieved to see you when he abruptly stands. It catches you by surprise, causing you to stumble.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

You wave at the two and lead him into your usual private room. The door is hardly closed when Miguel is on you, strong arms pulling you close to his chest.

“Wait, Miguel! My makeup!”

He quickly parts, doing a quick inspection to see if he did some real damage. Thank goodness it wasn’t bad. Just hints of your concealer and lipstick on his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You missed me that bad?”

“Yes.”

You snort at his quickness, “I missed you too, but we can’t get too crazy. I got my dance in a few.”

“Okay.”

Miguel embraced you, a quick kiss turning into a careful make out session. His hands digging into the tool of your outfit, breathing in that sweet scent he’s familiar with, blocking out Black Cat’s smell. You show him you miss him just as much when you find his shirt to tug on it. Obviously wanting to take it off but not able to.

“I'm surprised you couldn't wait until Thursday.” You say against his lips, playing with his shirt. “You know where we have forty five minutes instead of the usual thirty.”

The way you accentuate forty five makes the blood rush to his cheeks. You still couldn’t believe that he lied to Jess in order to get more time with you at the club.

“I just needed you.”

“Aww, baby.”

Miguel didn’t want to bring up his interaction with Black Cat. You'd end up distracted and upset at the words she said to him, ergo affecting your performance on stage. He'd just tell you later.

“While you're here,” Your face turns sour. “my mom wants to meet you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I told her about going to the banquet with you and she told me she wasn't comfortable with me going anywhere until she meets you. You could kill me at the hotel or something.”

You let out a short laugh while his stomach churns.

“I'm not going to kill you.”

“You sure about that?” The concern on his face got worse and amuses you more. He relaxes when your lips press against his cheek. “I'm joking. I know you wouldn't. But we need to put my mom at ease.”

“I'm okay with whatever. I want to ease your mom too.” Miguel moves to kiss your head, but hesitates. Instead, he holds your hand and kisses along your knuckles, not wanting to ruin your makeup even more.

“You're sweet.” One last kiss to his lips and you had to go back out. “I'll text you about it later.”

He follows you out and rejoins his family in the crowd. Xina is back, face fully red. Miguel wants to pry into what happened with Pixie when she wasn’t anywhere to be found. But the hype from the crowd at the start of your performance pulls him away.

Miguel locks on to your body pressed along the pole, highlighting your breasts. A ripple amongst your thighs as you spin, feet high in the air and catching the stage lights. The shimmer from your outfit fills the dark crowd. Screams and shouts covering the wide space. Kasey and Gabriel holler the entire time while Xina simply watches. There’s no hint of disinterest in her face, which Miguel can take as a good sign.

The DJ, Lyla, hypes the crowd up into throwing more money in your vicinity. A cascade of dollar bills coats the stage and you submerge yourself in it. A mirage of green replacing your skin.

Miguel’s heartbeat can be heard if the music wasn’t loud. How you soak up the crowd’s applause is admirable. He catches your smile and your eyes when you finish. Everything about you is so attractive. So sexy. He loves that he’s the only that has you. No one can take that away.

“She’s cool.” Xina says. That small bit of approval pulls her into a hug filled with gratitude.

“I told you that you’d like her.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pulls away from him, faking disgust at his affection. “Just…be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Miguel wants to be careful.

Dana causing irreputable damage to his heart wasn’t in his bingo card for the year. What he has with you right now though, he wants to enjoy it. Hoping to whatever god out there that you won’t do the same to him.

It’s why he’s so nervous about the shareholders banquet.

He’s never expressed that to you in his words. The excessive planning and booking gave it away.

This would be the first time you two took a trip together. Heck, even spending the night with one another. Sleeping in the same bed. Your body an inch away from his. For an entire weekend.

It's why he was doing double, triple checks on everything. Making sure his gps was all set. The hotel booking being to your liking. He wonders if he should change up rooms. Maybe you’d want a private room to yourself. You do value your privacy.

When he brought that up to you though, he’s awarded with a frown that made him feel small. Right in the middle of the produce aisle at the grocery store a few days later.

“Now, why would we get separate rooms?”

“I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“I will be. With you.”

“What if he’s not comfortable? Did you ever think about that?” Your mom questions, putting a bag of onions in the cart.

Miguel shyly pushes up his frames when you suck your teeth, “Are you uncomfortable? I don’t have to go if you’re not-”

“I want you to go.” He doesn’t miss the small smirk your mother makes at his lack of hesitation. “I’m not uncomfortable. Your comfort is my top priority.”

“And so is yours.” Your mom observes a huge watermelon in the box and Miguel is already there. She does a ritual of wrapping her knuckles against it, before taking a small whiff. With her approval, he picks up the fruit, settling it gently in the cart.

“Thank you, baby.”

You shoot a thumbs up towards him when your mom turns her back. Who knew a way of impressing your mother is by tagging along grocery shopping? Your text about it happening didn't shock him. He meant what he said about putting your mother at ease.

With the planning of the trip, grocery shopping can relax Miguel’s running mind. But his feelings are too important not to share.

“I just…” He stops when your mom is checking out bread, “I’m…nervous.”

Your brows raise, “Why? What about?”

A million things. Presenting at the banquet. Seeing Dana and Tyler. Traveling alone with you. Being alone with you. In a hotel known to value intimacy and privacy. Where his mind lingers on making love to you.

“…a lot of stuff.”

You shake your head, “Pick one of the stuff.”

The two of you move when your mom walks further down the bread aisle. It gives him time to come up with an adequate answer for you. Obviously, he wasn’t going to bring up that he wants to fuck you in front of your mother.

“It’s the first banquet without…her.”

“Who’s her?” Your mom pops in, placing three loaves of bread in the top of the cart.

“His ex-fiancé.” You pick your mother up to speed. “The one who cheated on him with his boss.”

“Oh her! Fuck her.”

“Mom-”

“What? Anyone who does that to me is not worth my time or thoughts. Plus,” She observes Miguel with an up and down glance, “who would want to cheat on this man?”

It’s nice to know he has your mother’s approval now.

“I don’t want it to be awkward...” He admits.

“Oh, it’s always gonna be awkward. But just don’t let it get to you. Or you.” Your mother points to you.

You accusatorily gasp, “Why are you saying that to me?”

“Because you tend to feel some type of way when it comes to stuff you don’t like.”

“Alright…” You turn your head away.

Your mother’s words hung on Miguel’s ear. She's right, it's always gonna be awkward. It matters on how he deals with it. He wasn't going to let Dana's appearance ruin his weekend with you.

“I’m so glad you’re taking my baby away for the weekend.” Your mom says while pointing to a few spices at the top shelf. While Miguel grabs them and hands them over, she continues. “All she ever does is go to work, come home, watch tv, and sleep. Sometimes she might be with her friends, but that’s rare. And I’m not talking just about Tempest. Your other girlfriends.”

Miguel glances over to you in question. You mouth ‘Pixie’ and he understands.

“That’s not all I do.”

“You know it’s not good to lie to your mommy.”

You huff and disappear over to the frozen aisle, leaving Miguel alone with your mom. The silence is brief besides the slight hum from freezers. While he helps your mother grab frozen vegetables, she strikes up another conversation.

“So, does your family know about your trip?”

“Yes, they’re aware.”

“Even your mother?”

Miguel pauses, trying to figure out what to say. His mother knows about his trip, but not that he’s taking you. It’s a conversation he wasn’t mentally prepare for. He didn’t want to hear the usual of you being a rebound or that you’re using him for his money. And a sprinkle of the relationship being so soon from his break up from Dana.

He’d rather hold that off until he’s ready.

“Yes.”

Your mother nods and you come back with a few bags of pizza rolls. Before she can say anything, you cut her off.

“I’m paying for these.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“I can pay for them.” Miguel offers, “I know how much you like them.”

“No, thanks. I got it.”

He pouts, large brown eyes peering over his thick frames and to your eyes. You poke the inside of your cheek before kissing his own. Miguel can’t help the smile that comes out and amuses your mom.

After finishing up the grocery portion, your mom needed to grab some toiletries. It reminded you to grab some yourself for the trip. Miguel was okay, his bag already packed and ready to go. Done a week in advance.

“Y’all don’t need condoms?”

“Did you really just…” You hide your face under your palm at her comment.

“Don’t act like that. I don't want you coming back pregnant.”

“I won’t!”

“Yeah, okay.” Your mom grabbed a few boxes and put them beside your pizza rolls. “I’ve seen that hotel you’re going to. If you’re trying to tell me something is not going to happen, know that I don’t believe you.”

The blood rushes to Miguel’s cheeks while you don’t even try to look at him. Instead, you grab one of the boxes and put it back while your mom’s back is turned.

“I have plenty of condoms.” Miguel whispers.

You smirk, “And you’re saying that to me because…?”

“I…I just thought you should know.” He wasn’t flirting, although he can see how his words can come across that way. Thankfully, you see his serious face and shake your head.

“Thanks.”

The rest of the trip at the store goes well. Miguel surprises your mother by paying for her groceries and yours. Both of you protest in saying that he didn’t have to do that, but he wanted to. He was planning to slyly pay for yours, but he thought why not your mother’s?

She grabs his face and gives him the biggest kiss on his cheek as gratitude. Paired with a ‘You smell good’ comment.

Miguel wanted to help place the bags inside your home, but you stopped him, saying that you didn’t want him to deal with the rest of your family yet. He negotiated and you allowed him to place the rest of the bags on the porch.

You kiss him goodbye, lingering a little under the embrace. Miguel holds back in saying he wanted to bring you back to his apartment, to spend more time with you.

But he’ll have the entire weekend with just you and him.

Miguel went over his checklist.

Bags are in the trunk, air on low, gps set to the hotel, and you're right beside him. You match his attire of the ride, your huge zip-up jacket and matching black sweatpants radiates comfort. Dana always complained about his casual appearance, his baggy pants and loose shirt didn't pair well with her short, sparkly dress and high heels.

She wasn't the one driving for two hours.

He loves how you manage to maintain your cute yet comfortable clothing. Miguel also tries not to focus on how you're putting on lip gloss. Your lips forming a shine that makes him want to ruin it.

“You ready?” He asks when you put your lip gloss away.

“Yes I am.” Miguel chuckles at you putting on your seatbelt. He waves at your family waving goodbye to you before pulling off.

Sweat forms against the steering wheel. The big, bolded numbers of the timeframe of your destination. He isn't sure how he's gonna entertain you for more than 2 hours. Dana usually falls asleep thirty minutes in.

“Oh, you're taking I-95, right?”

“Yes.” He thumbs against the steering wheel, “Is something wrong?”

“No. I wanted to see if we can stop at that big gas station that's about halfway into the trip.” You pull out your phone, quickly showing it to him at a red light. “They got these sandwiches and milkshakes. I haven't been there in months.”

That sounds fun. He's always wondered what that place was like, but Dana pushed about getting food nearby the hotel.

He realizes he hasn't said anything and you pause.

“Oh, sorry, I should’ve asked before while you were planning…”

“No, no we can go there.” The excitement in your eyes kickstarts his heart. “I've never been. You mentioned milkshakes?”

You hum, “I got your sweet tooth, didn't I?”

Miguel avoids eye contact, which makes you laugh.

You go down the list of the potential choices. He settles on cookies and cream while you go for strawberry cheesecake. The music from your ‘road trip’ playlist in the background. Neither of you had a chance to move on to sandwiches when one of your favorite songs started to play.

He blinks and your phone is away while you're rolling your hips in your seat. Miguel is able to get a glance at your body moving to the beat. All sensual and fluid while you're singing at the top of your lungs.

His starts singing along too, albeit not knowing as much of the words as you do. But he's able to ad lib.

The car then turns into a sing-along.

The songs from your playlist are a lot of the ones he recognizes, helping him stay engage during the journey. While Dana was asleep, Miguel tuned into podcasts, various tracks to keep him entertained. He'd admit that it got boring after a while.

Now, in another life, he had a chance of becoming a rapper with the way he kept up with the songs.

At the halfway point, you point to the gas station you mentioned.

It was huge. Multiple lanes for said patrons to pump gas and be on their way. As well as a parking area in front.

Miguel didn’t need gas, he fills up right before reaching the hotel. So when he parks you almost fall out of the car with enthusiasm. His brief look of concern fades when you pull him inside.

Aisles of snacks and drinks on each side of the building. There was a decent amount of people coming and going. You headed straight for one of the touchscreens, right in front of the workers who were making other orders.

There were so many options to chose from. Yes, you mentioned there were sandwiches but there are so many. Hot and cold. Club sandwiches or hoagies. What did he have a taste for? They were going to be on the road for at least another hour. He didn’t want to get something to upset his stomach.

“Maybe I should go for something light.” He mentions, “I’m already getting a shake.”

“And you’re driving. Good idea.”

You point out to a few selections of wraps and that’s good enough for him. Meanwhile, you go for your drink of choice and a meatball sub. While waiting for your order, Miguel grabs some waters and you make a beeline for the candy. You pick his favorite which was sour peach rings. You also grab a bag of trail mix that contained more chocolate than nuts.

After Miguel pays for the snacks, your food is ready. There you two walk out with bags in hand, sucking on your milkshakes.

“Okay, you need to taste this.” You say after getting settled in the car.

Miguel leans over when you hold out your cup to sip, humming at the taste of cheesecake. “That’s good.”

“Isn’t it? I miss going to this place.”

“You said you haven’t been there in months right?”

You nod, unwrapping your sandwich. The scent of the marinara sauce from your sub makes his mouth water. “It’s just because we haven’t gone anywhere past New York. We’ve mainly stuck in the city.”

“Ah.” Miguel cradles the turkey wrap in his hand, taking a small bite.

“Didn’t you and Dana take this highway whenever the banquet comes around?”

“We did.”

“I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. This place has a little bit of everything.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. Unsure what to say without painting Dana in a bad light.

“Dana…has finer tastes.”

“She’s bougie.”

“N-No…well…” Miguel stammers, “S-She just prefers going to higher quality places. This gas station isn’t on her criteria for finer items.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Once again, saying she’s bougie.”

He stays silent about that. You wasn’t wrong, but he never saw her that way. Ever since his promotion, Miguel strived to get her better things. Fancier accessories and finest places to show off his upper class status.

“It’s my fault.” Miguel doesn’t miss your eyes softening, “I made her that way. Why she’s into high quality things.”

You tsk, “It’s not. There’s a difference between spoiling someone and someone taking advantage of how they’re being spoiled. It’s a small difference, but it’s there.”

You turn towards him in your seat, careful to not make a mess. He’s looking at you now. Your face is gentle.

“You don’t deserve to be taken advantage of.”

Miguel’s heart twists, every beat of your words hanging in his head. “I know…”

“Good.” You quickly wipe your lips on a napkin to give him a big kiss on his lips. He takes in your lips, hint of marinara on them.

Not too long after you finish up your food, clean up and head back on the road.

The second half of the trip was relaxing.

Your music was still on, but remained turned down. The two of you ended up talking. Nothing as serious as the conversation back at the gas station. Just about various topics. The tv shows you were watching, trying to get Miguel to watch some of them. You were able to convince him of this show about a serial killer in Florida.

He went on about his game Candy Blast. How he’s maintaining his top five streak with Margo. That he completed enough levels to keep him by for the banquet weekend. Margo will let him know when he’s slipping since she’s always on that game. You intently listened, nodding your head and humming.

Soon, you two were almost at the hotel.

Miguel drove into a backroad, surrounded by trees. He always imagines arriving at the hotel as if he was in a movie. The way the trees fold away, revealing a grand hotel. A cobblestone driveway, a tall, black metal fence surrounding it. Grass being so green that he’d think was artificial. He smiles at your gasp when he pulls up to the front where a man runs out to greet you.

“Hello! Welcome to the Sunset Grove Hotel!”

He opens the door for you and helps you out. Miguel pops the trunk and grabs the bag filled with your snacks and water. He’s by your side as another person comes out to assist with the bags.

Walking inside the hotel will always be a dream. It’s as if the sun kissed the inside with the white walls and gold colored trims. Cream colored seating and pristine clear floors that almost looked like glass. Hotel guests lounging in the seating area, sipping on drinks from the complementary bar.

“Welcome back, Mr. O’Hara.” The front desk worker greets, “It’s an honor to host you again this year.”

“The honor is mine. I enjoy your services every time.”

You quickly tap his shoulder, “I gotta go.”

“Oh, I can come with-”

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” You squeeze his hand, “I’ll be back.”

With the help of another front desk clerk, they show you to the restroom. Miguel turns his attention back to the other clerk.

“Your room is almost ready for you. They’re putting in the finishing touches.” The clerk handed him a beeper. “It’ll vibrate once your room is prepared and I can give you the keys.”

“Thank you.”

Miguel parted from the desk, seeing the banner about the Alchemex 17th Annual Banquet. Sporting the blue and white colors of the company logo. For a moment, his heart skipped a beat in pondering what he was in for this weekend. His presentation is ready, he had his cue cards ready to go.

He’s going to see his ex-fiancé and biological father together and if he went alone, he’d be a nervous wreck.

Even now, without you by his side, his hands are shaking, palms getting sweaty. Your mother’s words hover in his mind again. It’s going to be awkward. How he deals with it is what matters.

“Miguel?”

He turns around. The woman that troubles his mind stands in front of him, clutching her pink purse and wearing a matching, short dress. All while staring at him with her crystal blue eyes.

“Hi Dana.”

Tags: @miguelzslvtz @kitcatcrunch

@nina-from-317 @slut4oscarissac23 @anythigbutmiguel

@moonlight00sthings @bajbr @freehentai

@chubbybyunnie @ilikeowlsidkwhy @questionable-behaviour

@imamexican @tatatida @aphinthestars

@bluesidez @saintdiior @prettygirleli

@twinkdrakez @vicravluv @brown-eyed-thang

@peachipeachy @sonicbutbutter @mermaidian02

@celi-xxmoon @roserfz27 @hellokittyloverrxox

@sweeetas @avengersinitiative2012

[dilf-docs]

Drunk In Love

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: you don't exactly hate your job as bartender. well, sometimes, like when customers who can't take a no show up. your boyfriend decides to take matters into his hands, or better said, tentacles...

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (ofc), a bit of angst, smut, rough sex??, exhibition kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering, jealous!eddie puts on a show, venom's tongue slurping ur clit like a caprisun, reader gets harrased (is this like a norm for my eddie fics??? lmao)

word count: 3,884 words

side note: this lil' baby is based on this request. that being said, my reqs are still open! keep the suggestions up i say 🗣🔥🔥especially those with classic tropes, cause i'm a deep sucker for them jealousy fics fr most when they get possesive lolz this is me placing my input here *smoothly slides card to the front of the table* ENJOY

If you were to ask your 9 year old self what she wanted to be, she'd tell you an actress. Never a bartender, and most certainly, never the girlfriend of an alien symbiote.

Turns out, life has more on storage of what you expected, certainly. Things haven't gone in the way your kid brain had planned, and going back to the bartender thing, it's one of those things that hasn't been the way you wanted it.

And it isn't the job, really. Over the years, you've grown fond of the drinks you know like the palm of your hand and the scene that occurs behind the bar. Besides, it pays the bills, and there's something comforting in witnessing night engulf the sky, just for the sun to rise again as you're back on your apartment. You're an owl, which really is just how Eddie, your boyfriend, likes to call you with affection.

What hasn't changed and still bothers you after all this years is the people.

It's not like you're an introvert, but crowds aren't really your thing, which is quite the contradiction given the job. The problem lies not on your frequent customers or those who come looking for a good time, but on those who don't know how to take "no" as an answer: most recently, this guy, who won't leave no matter how many times you've told and showed him already.

And it's the wost kind: they don't bother for the drinks, rather the person serving them; and he's been at it for hours, not taking the hint from the one-sided conversation he's been having all this time.

"Hey" the customer speaks again, your back facing him. "So, I want something" he makes a little pause, "but it's not on the menu"

You use a little more force than necessary while cleaning the glass you're holding, "tell me what you want and I'll see what I can do"

He chuckles, and when you finally face him, he seems pleased.

"I want you"

"Too bad" you turn around again, "can't help you then".

"Playing hard to get, I see" you'd think after at least two hours being ignored, he would stop, but he only seems to still not get the cue. "It's fine, I like it this way"

You decide not to add anything, focusing on this drinks for table #2, but he keeps adding comments that drip in annoying drops until your glass of patience overflows.

"C'mon, sugar" he nudges playfully, "spare me a glance, would ya'?"

You scoff, resting your arms on the bar. "If I give you a free drink, would you let me do my job?"

Clearly a mistake, as his hands travel to touch your skin, making it prickle like it burns.

"Still don't get it? The only thing I want is you"

Eddie wanted to surprise you. After some time dating you, he thinks he deserves some credit on to how much he truly knows you; you'd argue he knows you even more than you know yourself.

He knows your small quirks, like the small frown in your lips when you feel sad. He also knows by heart your breathy shrugs, the intricacy of your blinking, the flinch you often do because you get easily scared, and also, how much you hate tuesdays, which is why he's here. Whenever he's free, he drops by, trying to make your night shift a little less difficult. You'd never voiced it out, but he sees it in the way your eyes sparkle when you catch him in the crowd, coming your way, or in the efforts he makes to keep you entertained, your lips curving up in a beautiful smile.

"We are going to see y/n!" chirps Venom in his head, and Eddie can't help but feel a little off at his amount of excitement. "Oh, don't be jealous, Eddie. She sees me as a pet! Still, I like her" he says as Eddie gets inside.

The immediate smell of the alcohol stench place hits him, making him nauseous.

"I hate this place!" Venom agrees, "we should all escape!"

"And get y/n in trouble?" He scoffs, speaking over the music. People don't hear him as he walks by, which helps, since it looks like he's speaking to himself. "Sorry, but I won't be the reason she's gonna loose this job"

"Pussy! You're no fun"

Eddie ignores him as he walks towards you. It isn't until he's almost there, that he notices you're not alone.

"Who's that?" Venom asks.

"I have no idea, buddy" he then notices the proximity, his skin immediately on fire. Not like he's a jealous guy, but never say never.

"He's close to her!" Venom shouts. No shit, thinks Eddie. "We should eat him!"

"He isn't touching her" he butts. Yet, pops the grimy thought up. "Besides, is eating people all you ever think about?" he whisper shouts.

"Yes!" Venom doesn't seem not even a bit embarrassed, "especially bad guys. Like that one"

Eddie is reasonable, he thinks. Feelings like jealousy or possesiveness aren't on his book, yet, seeing the man that doesn't leave you alone, something ugly inside of him burns.

"You judge me, but I know you want the same" he's inciting Eddie, who is angrier than ever. But he doesn't cave in, counts to ten, and breathes in and out, even if he has sped up his walking.

I'm rational. I'm rational. I'm rational.

"Liar" Venom whispers. "You want to kill him"

"Not yet" he can't let his feelings get the best of him, "I can't put y/n in danger so you get some brains. If we do a mess like the ones in Mrs. Chen's store, she'll be fired"

He's being the bigger person here. Eddie just wants you to feel proud of who he is (the lethal protector), and not like you're dating a man child. It happened once (Anne being dissapointed in him, which is worse), and he's not willing to let it happen again. So he'll be polite and politely shove him out of your sight.

At least that's what he thinks until the guy touches you.

"The fuck-"

"Now we're talking!" Venom senses the anger radiating from Eddie, and decides to fire him up, "let's get his brains!"

You're so deep in your shit you don't notice when Eddie walks towards you, his perfume invading your nostrils. In a way, it brings a bit of comfort to your situation.

"Excuse me" his gravely voice goes. Fuck, how you love the sound; you can even feel the nerves going down. It's not like you're a helpless damsel in distress, but sometimes, even if you hate it, a man is needed. Eddie is very much needed now.

"Yes?" the man turns around, and he swears he's screaming when he notices the man is still touching you.

"I'd appreciate if you did me a favor, you see, it's very simple" his tone dripping in venom (hehe), "get your hands off her. Now"

It's stupid, really, how your panties twist at the demading tone, waves of possesivenss radiating off him, considering the situation you're in.

"Why? Are you her guard or something?" he challenges.

"Boyfriend" he spats out.

That would've been enough: at least for a normal person. But some have proven to have worms for brains, like him. Because, even when you've expressed your clear discomfort and Eddie is there, the man doesn't seem the slightlest intimidated, not backing off, by not even a centimeter. All this is very stupid really, and it's testing your patience like it never has in almost three decades alive.

"Yeah?" he stoods up to Eddie, and he's even slightly taller. But Eddie and his strong arms don't back off.

"Yeah" he challenges. God, how you hate men.

"Please, don't make a mess" you beg to no one in particular, because Eddie may be a rational man, but today, all in his eyes are a fury you'd never seen before.

"For your own good, I'm giving you a chance to back off" he threats.

"And what are you gonna do?" he bumps against Eddie's smaller yet built frame, "can't do much, can you?"

The music is on, but it's like it's stopped. All the people have started to stare, and you just want earth to swallow you. The initial wave of arousal is starting to wash away, making you wonder if it's all Eddie's macho ways, Venom or both.

"Eddie, don't" you warn, but it's over: the distraction of your voice makes Eddie turn, and the guy's fist slams across his face, all the regret leaving Eddie's face.

"It's on" he says in a distorted voice.

And it's off for you.

Venom takes over Eddie, the black engulfing his body. People around gasp, and a few do recognize the so-called lethal protector of San Francisco.

"I said" now he towers over him, by various centimeters "...back off"

Punches get thrown, and if you thought he'd cower in fear, the guys tries to fight him off. Some people leave amidst the chaos, and others stay to watch it. How can you take control? Not only is he causing a show, but so is Venom, all rational thoughts flying out of the window.

"Eddie!" you plead, "stop it!"

Your voice falls deaf on his ear. Why doesn't he stop? Eddie thinks he should be scared by now, but he's still fighting. Isn't he scary enough? Isn't he strong enough? Why is he still fighting? He can't loose this fight. No, Venom can't loose this fight.

"You'll pay, scum" he growls, "nobody messes with my girl"

Oh, alright. He got you there; that was kinda hot.

When you get back to your senses, the guy is on the floor, his nose bleeding.

"Eddie, that's enough!" but he ignores you, "Venom!" you try again. Nothing, just alien and guy fighting.

"Have you still learned nothing?"

"Wait!" he shouts, terrified. Nothing like the guy from before, who couldn't take a no, "I'll stop!"

"Good" Venom growls threatening. "I hope you've learned your lesson, asshole" now on Eddie's voice.

The guy scurries away, cowering in fear.

"Alright" you clap your hands, "showtime is over"

You've had enough for today. Really, your hate for tuesdays is justified: an asshole who wouldn't leave you alone, and your boyfriend and his alien pet (derogatory; hey, you're mad!) ruining your day by trying to save it.

"Hey" Eddie's soft voice sounds from behind, "are you okay?"

You laugh, bitterly. "Oh, I don't know. Let's see: a guy harrased me and my boyfriend just fucked up my only income"

His face falls, and you feel a bit bad, yet you can't help it: your nerves are on edge, and your boss not only happens to know you but Eddie too, given all his visits. That means, he sees the cameras and goodbye to your ass, no matter how much you tried to stop it.

This job helps you pay college and your bills. You're fucked: these men's mess will drag you along. Your boss is strict, and the bar reputation will go first: it's a bar, not a brawl. You already hear their stern voice, scolding you (worse) for shit you didn't do.

You start walking away, back to your spot behind the bar. You sigh, deeply: maybe it's the last time you'll ever be there.

"Wait, y/n!" Eddie calls back. The music is going strong and the crowd has long gone, but you know there are still eyes on you. All you want is to curl in bed and cry: you're sad, mad, tired and horny. The week's just getting started: it's not fair.

"What?"

He's taken back by your dry tone; you've never been like this with him. He remembers Anne and their break up, his stomach churning in fear. "Have we fucked up?" asks Venom, but Eddie is too afraid to ask.

"I was trying to help" his voice comes out small, helpless. Funny considering who he is: alien-human symbiote and fearless reporter.

"What does help mean to you? Playing superhero?" you spit. "You'll get me in trouble, Eddie. This job is all I have, yet you seemed to care more about putting a show than me"

"It's not like that!" he argues back, "I was trying to protect you!"

"I know!" you shout, some heads turning around. "I know" you repeat, this time lower, "it's just hard to tell when it's about me, and when it was about you" you confess. Eddie feels bad when he sees your teary eyes, "I don't want you to think I'm angry that you helped me: that guy was scary, and I needed help. I'm just... it's a lot, you know? I thank you for saving me, but I can't thank you for letting your ego take the best of you" you let out a shaky breath. "I want you to know that there are consequences, Eddie, and what started as a noble act ended up hurting me too. Almost like you forgot why you did it in the first place. It was about helping me: for me- Not to, I don't know, prove something..."

He understands, knowing his emotions got the best of him.

"I'm sorry" he rests against the bar, "I know I lost control; you're right. I wanted to help you, talking my way out, like I always do. But then he touched you, and I-, I froze. I hated seeing him touching you, and some jealousy got me there too..." he's ashamed to confess but does anyway, "I don't know... I kinda did also feel a bit... bruised" you're confused, an eyebrow quirking. "Alright, fine. You want me to say it? I will! I felt dumb, you know? That a douchebag like that didn't feel intimidated by me: not first, not second. I didn't know if it was me, that I lost my... well, abilities? My charm? I don't know how to explain it, but that guy was getting on my nerves. It's like-"

"Like he's stupid, Eddie. He's a hard headed idiot who kept fighting an alien symbiote for no reason: despite the disadvantage, despite people watching him loose" you reason, "you can't find logic on something without it. I've already made my peace with it"

"Maybe he was drunk" he ponder, "or high..."

"Or just dumb" you breathe. "You know? Let's stop. I want to enjoy my last day here, definitely not talking about the guy who was harrasing me minutes ago, and also, is the reason I'll loose this job"

"Alright, I'll shut up" Eddie gives up, then "I'm sorry, by the way"

You give up too, "it's okay"

"She won't leave us for this?" Venom asks. Eddie tells you and you laugh. "No, but it's your first strike"

There's some silence, the quiet sipping and chatting of the people sitting close to you, the music now a background white noise for the chaos of your mind and feelings.

"I'm still mad, you know" you drop. He looks up at you, his brown eyes colored in a dark shadow of something dangerous.

"I can make it up to you"

You know that voice. Is he thinking...?

"No" you say hastily.

"The worst already happened..." he starts, voice dropping low.

"We live in a world where superheroes and powers exist. There is always, something worst" you reason.

"Not today, baby" he gets close to your ear, his hot breathe tickling your lobe. "What do you say?"

"Eddie" you warn, but the urge to give in is so bad. It's been a while since the last time you and Eddie were intimate: lack of time, exhaustion and other factors playing a part in cock blocking you both.

"Eddie what?" he mocks, "tell me you don't want it, and I'll stop"

What if you leave the bar unattended? What if you succumb? What if one of the stalls has two people inside, even if forbidden?

"I knew you wanted it" he gasps against your skin. His soft lips kiss along your jaw, his hair brushing your face. His smell always makes you intoxicated, and in the reduced space, the dizziness is excruciating. His hand tightens around your waist, and he looks you deep into your eyes when he says:

"I know I fucked up, baby. So let me help: you won't do anything, just me"

He slams your body against the wall of the stall, which is unhygienic and against the bar norms, but really, why do you care?

"Just wanna taste you, baby" he kisses you again, full of your flavor on his lips. Your gloss coats them in a pink sticky layer, "missed you so much"

It’s shameful for him to admit how easy he seems to fall at your feet: how much he is willing to beg for forgiveness. But he can give and not receive, not having a problem with it; it's the least he can do for you, and you deserve it.

Yet you return his kisses with full hunger, your hands digging in his cheeks, pressing on the skin while diving to his neck, nipping on his sensitive spots. His hold becomes stronger, looking at you with a need so primal it dampens your folds.

"I need you to do something with this" he motions the bottom of your uniform, "be a good girl, yeah? And take this off"

Once your tights are bare and the pants are over his shoulders, he gets to see your sticky panties on their full glory.

"Fuck..." he mutters hazily.

He tears the panties down, while his knee gets his way in the middle of your tights, parting them.

You tug at his jacket, pulling him closer to you, making his knee crash against the wall of the stall.

"If you wanna taste so bad" God, you sound so demanding and it's driving him nuts, "don't keep me waiting, pretty boy"

He hovers over you, kissing you hungrily.

"I'm sorry, won't happen again" he kneels down, breathe hot and close to your puffy folds.

"If you want to fix it, then fucking do so" your hands went to his hair as you felt his teeth lightly press into your thights, sucking and tugging when needed.

"Eddie" you whine, feeling his tongue trail, taunting you, his hands circling around your thighs, the mocking flick of his tongue putting you on edge. Your folds drip, reacting to him.

"Let me help this pretty cunt, yeah?" and there's a sudden swipe at your clit by his long tongue.

You claw your nails into his scalp; the tight grip has his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let himself get lost in the taste of your pussy.

Long forgotten is the teasing, as Eddie lets his mouth fall open, pressing his starving mouth against your wet heat. His tongue kisses between your folds, finding your hot needy clit.

"Right there..." you let out a shaky breath, hips slowly bucking into his face.

His teeth graze softly the plushy skin of your pussy, knowing how sensitive you get.

"Eddie" you plead, "more"

He lets out something that sounds like a huh, pleasant vibrations against your core.

"Deeper" you mewl, "now"

"Let me try, Eddie" Venom's voice sounds inside his head, "I want to apologize too" he's about to argue but he adds, "Besides, you promised I was going to eat. I'm hungry"

Even in the dark of the bathroom, you can see black cover the front of Eddie's face, nesting in between your legs. You let out a yelp when his now longer muscle gets again inside your bud, a failed suppressed moan escaping your lips.

Brock sucks your clit into his mouth, lips wrapped around tight walls while his tongue swiped against the tip. He began a repetition of that, and when you let out a weak cry, he knows he's found your weak spot, sucking your labia into his mouth, making you press your back hard onto the wall, pushing until it starts to hurt.

"Eddie" you softly moan his name, fingers tugging at his hair roughly.

He doesn't pull his mouth from the feast, instead, his ministrations grow rougher. He lets go of the support he has on your thigh and wanders to your pussy, his fingers touching your labia. The trail is dangerously close to your entrance, his fingers get coated with the taste of you. Without thinking, he takes them to his mouth, pupils blown wide.

"So sweet" he praises, longue slicky tongue tasting your leak. Your body was filled by pleasure, coming to its peak when Brock presses his long middle finger into your needy cunt.

"That's it" he kisses your now trembling muscles (how long have you been standing?), sending butterflies to your chest. He's really earning that pardon, isn't he? Eddie is really making it hard to keep mad at him, and Venom isn't helping. "Cum for me, darling"

You whine as he pushes a second finger in. "Are you sounding louder in purpose, babe? Do you want them to find us and see what I'm doing to you? How just my mouth and fingers fuck you up? What a whore you are, fucking in a public restroom?"

You let out another loud whimper that barely gets muffled by the music coming from outside, defiant.

"I'm already fired" you pant, "I don't fucking care"

He feels it; he knows you too much: moving upwardward past your pubic bone, easily finding that soft sensitive spot of yours. Your folds clench around his fingers, Eddie knowing you're close. So now he's back to just being him (he's still warm on his chest for all those jealous feelings from before; no more sharing), his plushy lips around your clit while he thrusts into the wet sweet spot.

Your legs tense, and before you know it, you slam against the wall, arching your back as you shake with release, "Fuck!"

Your juices coat all his fingers, and without thinking he tastes again, licking the release in a rather whore-ish way. "Mm, Venom was right: sweet"

You try to catch your breath and come to understand what had just happened: you just fucked in the bathroom of your soon to be ex-job. Jesus.

Eddie gets closer to kiss you again, cupping your face, but his fingers are still wet. Without thinking, you take them into your mouth and lick your own release off him, mirroring his sensual lick movements from before, all while mantaining eye contact.

"You're gonna be the death of me" he confesses without thinking, his eyes swimming between something dark and soft.

You suck on them with your cheeks hollowed in. His breath hitches, "does this mean I'm forgiven?"

You laugh, throwing your name tag on the trash bin next to you.

"Yes" his mouth falls open, and before he says anything, you're cutting him with a kiss, still as hungry as in the beginning, to Eddie's surprise. Of course: your age says it all. "And you're next"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif (unknown pinterest source)

[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[theconstantsidekick]

Avengers: Age Of Ultron ft. Static (2) | s.r

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings)

Genre: Fluff with hidden angst.

Summary: So apparently everyone and their mother knows that Steve doesn't want to move in with Y/n. She now very desperately needs him to tell her why?

(These scenes incorporate y/n, yet to be codenamed—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Drinking, lot of cursing, mentions of death of parents, past traumas, feelings.

a/n: am I back? maybe. who knows? don't look a gift horse in the mouth, okay? enjoy it while it lasts.

Avengers : Age of Ultron ft. Static (1) | Avengers: Age of Ultron ft. Static (3) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (ft. Static) | Captain America: The Winter Soldier (ft. Static) | Static Verse Masterlist

“Hey Y/n!” Bruce waves at her over the small scattered crowd. He seems so excited to see her as if they haven’t seen each other in ages. Like they didn’t just come back from a mission they worked on, together. As if they don’t meet every other Tuesday to drink overpriced whiskey and bitch about Tony. Like they don’t have each other on speed dial.

She smiles watching him make his way over to her through the crowd, “Hiya Bruce.”

“Ah shit,” he curses under his breath as his drink sloshes, dripping a little onto his fingers. God Banner, she thinks. Hope the green guy’s not this clumsy. Licking his fingers clean, he looks up at her with a kind smile. “How—how’s it going?”

She thinks for a second or so, “Going as well as things can go once you discover the organization you were working for was secretly infiltrated by Nazis,” she takes a sip of her drink.

“Messy?”

She smiles over the rim of her glass of whiskey before agreeing, “Messy.”

Bruce nods, shifting like he’s trying to settle something in his head. “Yeah, yeah. That makes sense.” He looks around, eyes darting—nervous. Why would he be nervous? “What about—how’s the weather been lately?”

Y/n squints. “In Manhattan? You mean two blocks from where you live?”

The look on the man’s face is proof enough that he realizes he’s been caught.

“I’ve seen you butt naked like 17 times now—”

"That’s on Tony!" Bruce defends immediately. "He kept pretending the stretchable shorts were taking too long!"

She waves him off. "My point is, the time for small talk is far behind us, I can’t even see it in the rear view mirror. Can you just spit it out?”

That seems to shut Bruce up. He clams up. Scratches the back of his head.

She waits.

Until she can’t anymore. “Spit it out, Banner. Ideally before you give yourself a hernia.”

Bruce hesitates for a second before taking a step closer. He looks around in short quick motions, before he leans in and speaks just above a whisper, “I—I heard about the Steve situation…” He shrugs, she stiffens. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

She knew it was coming.It’s been coming at her all fucking night. First Tony and Nat, then Rhodey, Hill and Sam, then Thor, of all people—and now Bruce too? She’s beyond pissed off. "What Steve situation?" she asks, voice deceptively light.

His brows knit together as he straightens, gathering courage “The one whe—where he doesn’t wanna move in with you.” The statement comes out more as a question than an answer.

And just like that, Y/n is going to kill someone. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” She damn near shouts.

Bruce instantly takes a step back. “No one.”

“Banner,” she takes a step forward. “Who the fuck told you that?”

Another step back. “No one.”

A step forward. “Banner.”

The way Bruce physically shrinks, you’d forget he moonlights as the big green raging beast.

“Will you kill the person who told me?” He asks. She knows him well enough by now to know that Bruce is weighing the danger to himself versus whoever the other person is. He’s trying to find the most peaceful way out of the situation.

“Depends on the person,” she answers diplomatically.

Bruce sighs, resigned. “Then you’ll definitely kill him.”

She takes another step forward. Her movements are too quick for Bruce to react to them, outside of his eyes widening at the realization that she’s grabbing the collar of his shirt.

“Spill it. Banner.”

Giving the answer is the only way out of this now. So it falls easily from his lips.

“Steve.”

Alright then. 

Y/n is going to kill Steve Rogers.

She drops Bruce’s collar, fixes his shirt in efficient motions—because she’s not a fucking heathen.

“Thanks, Bruce.” She pecks his cheek before marching straight for the damn Golden Boy.

Steve’s not hard to spot. Not really. Not ever.

Steve Rogers is always the easiest for her to find. While her brother is prone to be found in hidden, forbidden corners, her boyfriend is the exact opposite. Where Tony demands your attention, Steve somehow just attracts it. His presence is strong and constant, and you can feel it even when you don’t see it. Sometimes Y/n thinks she can feel it from across the room on her fingertips. It always feels tangible.

It must have something to do with being the most impressive person in most rooms, especially during the war, she presumes. Back then when super people were few and far between. There was just him. The only successful super soldier. He must have walked into rooms, and respect, attention and curiosity must have followed. She is aware of the fact that Steve, the real one, the one before Captain America, wasn’t used to all the attention. Wasn’t even used to people looking his way. He’d told her on one of their countless shared sleepless nights that he’d never gotten used to the feeling of people making the way for him. He’d never gotten used to leading the way for people either but that somewhat came easier to him than the understanding that his voice carried weight. His opinions held value. His words being heard was so new to the boy from Brooklyn, he’d told her he believed he was never going to get used to it. 

But Y/n didn’t believe him. Not that she thought he was lying. 

No, not lying. She thinks he just hasn’t taken account of how much he’s changed since then. 

Or maybe, she just views him differently because well… You know how things are when you’re in lov—attracted to someone. 

You scan the room for their face the moment you walk in. No matter who you’re talking to, your focus snaps back like a cosmic magnet. When you crack a joke, your first thought is—did they laugh? Because, fuck the rest of the universe, that’s all that matters. Even when they’re across the room, lost in their own chatter, your body just knows where they are, like an invisible tether. And when they’re not even glancing your way—damn, especially then—you’re watching. Because you’re hopelessly, ridiculously, utterly hooked.

Basically what she means is that, Y/n is always watching Steve. 

He seems like he’s gotten more than comfortable making his presence known.

She can see it now as she walks over to Steve as he’s talking to Hill and Rhodey. He’s smiling, the smile he smiles when he’s trying to charm the people around him. It’s different from the one she gets, that one’s shy and reserved. This one—it’s all bright and shiny, just like the Golden boy himself.

“Hey, handsome,” she calls out, sweeter than honey.

Steve’s smile switches instantly at the sound of her voice. He looks at her and she can see his eyes soften. “Hey there, doll.”

“Why the fuck are you going around telling people you don’t wanna fucking move in with me?” 

His smile drops instantly. 

Rhodey and Hill follow suit.

“Let’s move this somewhere private—It seems like my girl’s going to kill me,” Steve offers as an explanation before he gently grabs her hand and begins moving towards the balcony. She follows without any effort from his part. “I’d prefer it if it weren’t all that public. Wouldn’t want our lawyer going to jail,” He calls out over his shoulder as he holds the door open for her to step out.

She does.

Walking over to the railing, she exhales audibly trying to let go of the anger she’s built up over the course of the evening. 

“You alright there, doll?” He asks, his tone too damn sweet.

FUCK!

Focus, Y/n!

“No. No, Steve. Quite the fucking opposite. I’m dead set on the idea of murdering you, I’m sure I can lawyer my way out of jail.” She’s… exhausted.

He finally walks up to her then. Leaning on the rails, he looks at her. “What am I being charged with, Miss Stark?”

“Defamation.”

He smiles then. Fucking charmer. “And how did I defame my girl?”

“You’re going around telling people you don’t want to live with me—which is absolutely fine, by the way. I just want to know why you won’t tell me that to my face?” She’s so curious, some might deem it as desperation. 

His stance changes. He can clearly hear the vulnerability in her voice. “I didn’t say that to your face because it’s not true. I told you. I want to live in Brooklyn, and you want to live in New York. I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re at my place five nights a week, Steve. You think two more will be an imposition?”

He shakes his head, “Doll—”

She’s not in the mood for bullshit. “Steve, I will never ask you to do something that you don’t want to do. If you think moving in together would be a step we’re taking too soon, I understand that. To me life isn’t all that short as people make it out to be.” She can hear a laugh in some corner of her mind. It sounds suspiciously like Tony. “I would never mind taking things slow.”

“It’s not that, Y/n.” His head falls.

“What is it then?” 

“Doll…”

The thing about their relationship is that despite all the affections the two hold for each other, it’s clear—beyond clear that both of them hold secrets they aren’t willing to throw out in the open.

She shakes her head, “Look, Steve… I—I… I understand that this is new for you. I get that. It’s new for me too. I get that it must be scary, but you have to understand that it’s terrifying for me too.”

“Oh come on, Y/n! You flirt like it’s part of your job description and you do it well enough that you should be billing me for it. What do you have to be terrified of?” Steve throws back. He says it casually, or at least tries to. But the way his eyes skirt away from hers, she knows he’s trying to hide what he really feels. However, she doesn’t like the insinuation all the same. 

“What do I—Steve, do you even want this?” 

He straightens at the accusation, all tall, blond and buff. “What makes you think I don’t?”

She tilts her head, takes in the sight of him. The broad shoulders, the cocked brow, the challenge in his eyes, she relishes all of it. It’s hard not to—when it’s him. When it’s Steve. “The same thing that makes you scared,” she answers him with the same resolution. She watches his brow scrunch together slightly, either at being caught or in confusion, she’s not sure. “I know… I know that we don’t talk about it, that there’s this big fat elephant in every single room we share, and we never address it. We should—we really should talk about it, but we don’t…” She clenches her jaw, gathering courage, “I’ve got a bag full of secrets and you want a peak… I can’t particularly blame you for your curiosity, but I’d rather we could just—”

“Just?”

“I just wish we could move past it,” she admits softly.

Steve inhales audibly and slowly. “It’s not that simple, Y/n.”

“It’s not that complicated either, Steve,” she tells him. “I know you don’t trust me—”

“I trust you.”

The way he says it, it compels her to look at him. And when she does, she’s struck hard by the determination in them.

“I trust you,” he reiterates, “with my life.”

“Just not with your heart.” It’s a painful admission, and just as painful an accusation. She can see the hurt in her chest reflected back in his eyes.

“That’s not fair, Y/n,” he says, voice more broken than it has any reason to be. She’s the one who should be hurt, goddamn it.

“Maybe not,” she acquiesces, “but it is true… isn’t it?”

His head falls, he crumbles. He’s ashamed, because she isn’t wrong. She hit the nail on the head, and it seems the head might have been his. She might have been aware of that while striking the hammer, but guilt blooms inside her all the same.

“Look, Y/n—it’s—” His hands run through his hair in frustration, he turns away for a second before he turns back to her. He’s trying to buy time to come up with the right words.

“Not that simple?” She guesses, laughing a hollow laugh. “Then let me simplify this for you—you don’t see a future with me.”

His face morphs instantly to annoyance, “Who told you that? I know for a fact that I never said it, so who did? Huh? Who told you that I don’t?”

“I can see it in your eyes, Rogers,” she admits, words broken, eyes wet. 

“Then look again.” He’s a strong man, that Rogers. His words always carry weight, especially when he wants them too, sometimes even when he doesn’t.

“I’m looking, handsome, and all’s I see is doubt.”

His jaw clenches, his stance changes.

There’s a fight afoot.

Time for talking it out is behind them.

“Just say it, Steve.” She’s not going to like what comes next.

“I don’t know you.”

Yeah, she doesn’t just not like it, she fucking loathes this.

Steve continues, perhaps a little unaware of the damage his words must be inflicting. “I don’t know you. I—I try to look past it, I try to find some comfort in the fact that I know that you hate coffee and bubblegum, that you smoke when you’re worried, that you cry like a baby when watching movies, not because they are sad, but because they are grand. I know that you are sharing as much of yourself as you possibly can, but—” He meets her head on, like he’s going into battle. And who knows? Maybe he is.“But I also know that you wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, scared and terrified. And all I want is to pull into my arms and protect you from whatever you’re afraid of—except I have no fucking clue what that is.” He takes a step towards her, “I—I want to build a life with you, Y/n. I want a future with you.” Motherfucker. “But how the hell am I supposed to do that when I know nothing about your past.”

For anyone paying attention, her heart is breaking into a million pieces right about now.

“You don’t need to know everything about me to know me, Steve. My past—it’s fucking irrelevant.” It’s not the answer he wants, but it’s the only one she has to offer.

“I’m not asking you to tell me every sordid detail about your entire life—I’m just asking for something, anything… Throw me a fucking line, doll. I’m drowning here,” Steve pleads. He actually, well and truly pleads. He’s bordering on begging at this point. “I want this to be more—so much more, but it feels like maybe you don’t. From where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot more like you’re the one who doesn’t want this, instead of the other way round.”

Fucking hell.

Motherfucking, cocksucking hell.

Goddamnit.

She throws him the line.

“I was born in Madripoor.”

“What?” Steve asks, looking absolutely lost.

She gulps down her heart that’s beating at the speed of light and repeats herself, though this time, her voice wavers ever so slightly. “I was born in Madripoor. That’s where I’m from… or was from, before Howard Stark took me in.”

And he takes it in. He takes in this little tiny piece of information like he’s been handed the Holy Chalice. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling too exposed.

“Why do you call him Howard and not—you know—Dad?”

Her arms cross over her chest before she even realizes she’s doing it, as if her body is trying to hold itself together. She shrugs, trying for nonchalance, but it’s a little too rehearsed. “‘Cause I had a dad. And he was nothing like Howard. He was soft spoken and generous when he shouldn’t have been. He had kind eyes, calluses on his palms and he always smelled like tar.” She can’t meet his eyes when she speaks. “I’m not saying he was the exact opposite of Howard… But yeah, I guess that is what I’m saying.” She looks out over the balcony, at the seemingly endless New York skyline. She exhales sharply, her breath shaky, and grips the balcony railing. The cool metal helps ground her. “My dad was my dad. And Howie was Howie. I don’t know if that makes sense to you, and I don’t think I could explain it even if I tried to… Howard was the man who saved me, but that doesn’t mean he gets to replace my dad.”

“What…” 

She can tell what he wants to ask, and she can tell he’s scared to—because he doesn’t want to push. He’s gotten a sliver and he’s afraid he’ll lose it if he asks for more.

She’s already thrown him the rope, why not give it some slack, huh? 

“What happened to him?” She finishes for him, her voice sharper than before. Her eyes are avoiding looking at him like the plague, and yet, she catches him nodding in her peripheral vision.

Y/n’s grip tightens around the railing. Her shoulders lock up, and for a second, she considers not answering.

But it’s Steve—her Steve, so the words tumble out anyway. “He died—or I think he did… Madripoor is a violent place, a pirate island for all the bad guys from your rogues gallery to go and hide out in… A fight broke out between two rival factions and we got caught in the middle of it. He got me to safety, but then went back to see if he could help any other stragglers… I never saw him again.” Her throat feels tight, but she keeps her voice even. Controlled. “I was six years old.”

“And your mom?” His voice is quiet when he speaks again.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Dad used to talk about her like she was an angel. He told me I was two when we lost her,” she answers just as quietly.

“Does that mean…?”

“I don’t know what it means, Steve.” She kicks the ground a little frustrated, at him, but mostly at herself for being able to give out only broken bits of herself to the man she…  “Maybe she died, maybe she was taken… Or maybe it means that she left us, and he just didn't know how to tell that to a little kid asking about her mom.” Her voice is sharper now, meaner, because if she doesn’t lash out, she might actually have to sit with this awful, disgusting feeling crawling under her skin. Her body feels too tight, like she’s trapped in a room with no exits. “It could mean anything.”

“Did you ever look for them?” He asks, taking a step closer to her.

Her grip on the railing tightens. “Have you ever been to Madripoor?”

“Can’t say that I have.”

“But you have heard of it?”

“Yes.”

“Anything good?”

“Not really, no,” he answers, a little defeated.

She snorts. “On average, 23 people go missing from Lowertown alone…” She waits for the fact to register with him. And then she finally turns to him and adds, “Every week.” Steve’s brows fly up in shock. Then she can’t stop herself from smirking at his surprise. “Looking for them—” she shakes her head with a broken smile. “It would be easier to find a singular bullet in a warzone.”

Something shifts between them. Something shifts in him.

“You’re gonna punch me in the face if I ask you anything else, aren’t you?” He asks, but it’s not a question, it’s a statement. She can hear his smile in his words.

Her jaw clenches, and she decides to reply anyway. “There is a distinct possibility of that happening, yes.”

She hears him chuckle softly to her right. “This is really hard for you.”

“It would be easier if I were a little less sober, but… yes. It is.” Finally, letting go of the railing, she pockets her hands. She stands taller. “However, losing you over this—losing you cause I couldn’t do one hard thing, that would be… harder.” She turns to him then, ready and strong. “I don’t think I’d survive it.”

For a second Steve doesn’t move. He doesn’t let the moment dissolve, either. “You’re not losing me, doll. You can’t.” Then, before she can react—before she can think too hard about it—he just hugs her.

She freezes. Body going stiff like she’s just been handed a live grenade.

Part of her is scared of it, part of her hasn’t readjusted to the change in the tone of the conversation. Part of her is screaming at her to put some distance between herself and the man who holds her whole heart in the palm of his hand. Because what if he decides this isn’t enough? She’s… she’s scared. So, she should pull away.

Instead, her hands fist into the back of his shirt and she holds on.

Steve Rogers is built like a damn fortress, all solid muscle and unwavering steadiness. He’s warm, too warm, like he’s been storing up all this body heat just to throw her off. 

Unfair.

They stay like that, longer than she should probably allow.

Then, she hears him exhale against her hair. 

“When I came out of the ocean, I didn’t think this world had anything for me.” His voice is low, warm—dangerous, in the way it makes her chest feel like it’s coming apart at the seams. “I felt out of place, out of time,” he continues, like this is just casual conversation and not the kind of thing that makes her heart kick wildly against her ribs. “I didn’t feel like I belonged here—or anywhere.” She should say something. Deflect, make a joke, give him an easy out. But all she does is breathe. “But you changed that.”

Her throat closes up.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away—if anything, his arms tighten around her. “Doll, you keep me grounded.” His breath is warm against her temple, too close, too much, just enough. “You make me feel like I belong here.”

She hates this. She hates how much she doesn’t hate this.

Steve doesn’t let her slip away into her own head. Instead, he pulls back just enough to look at her—just enough to make sure she’s listening. “You think it’s a coincidence that you’re always in my line of sight in every room I walk into?” he murmurs, like he’s letting her in on a secret he’s been keeping forever.

She blinks up at him, half-annoyed, half-trapped in his gravity. “I mean, yeah? Maybe?”

He just laughs, low and disbelieving, shaking his head. “Doll, you seriously think I just happen to catch your eye from across the bar?” His fingers are still cupping her face, thumbs skimming over her cheek like she’s something fragile. Her pulse trips over itself. “You think I don’t engineer every situation to always be within your earshot?” he goes on, the absolute menace. “To listen to you laugh? To listen to you cuss with that sailor’s mouth?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, “So you’re saying you stalk me?”

Steve grins. “I prefer ‘strategically position myself in your general vicinity.’” Smooth talker. Then, softly—almost reverently—he leans in. “You’re like a hurricane, doll,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper. “You’re the eye of the storm. I’m caught in your field, and I have no clue how to get out.”

Her fingers tighten around his forearm, her whole body thrumming with the tension between them. “Do you want to?” she asks, her voice quieter now, just for him. “Get out?”

“No, doll. No.” His nose ghosts over hers, his lips just barely grazing hers as he whispers, “I think I’d suffocate if I tried.”

She barely has time to take a breath before his lips finally, finally press against hers. And—god help her—he kisses like he means it. Like he’s been holding back for longer than he can stand. Like she’s the first breath of air after being underwater too long.

She sucks in a sharp breath, gripping the front of his shirt to keep herself grounded. But it’s useless—because everything, everything, is spinning. Or maybe she is. Maybe it’s him. Because Steve Rogers kisses like devotion—like he’s trying to tell her something with every tilt of his mouth, every slow, intentional slide of his lips against hers.

And she gets it.

She gets it in the way his hands cradle her like she’s something precious, something unshakable and breakable all at once. She gets it in the way he sighs into her, relieved, like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life. Her fingers tangle into his hair, yanking him closer, and—god help him—he groans.

That sound. 

That fucking sound.

It’s low and rough and wrecked, like he’s just barely keeping it together. And that? That’s her favorite thing now. So she does it again—tugs a little harder, just to hear it.

Steve grins against her mouth. “You’re a menace,” he mutters, voice warm and wrecked, kissing her deeper like it’s a challenge.

“And you’re—” she inhales sharply as his fingers slip beneath the hem of her backless dress, dragging slow and teasing along her waist.

“What was that, doll?” he asks, his lips brushing hers as he speaks. Smug bastard.

She glares at him, though it loses some weight considering she’s half-dizzy from the way he’s touching her. “I was gonna say, you’re making it real hard to think right now.”

Steve hums, lazy and pleased, his hands still mapping out every inch of skin they can reach. 

She is so incredibly screwed.

“You wanna stop?” he murmurs, lips skimming down her jaw, pressing the softest kiss right below her ear.

And—oh, she fucking hates him.

Because he knows what he’s doing. Knows exactly how her breath stutters, how she grips his shirt tighter, how she’s not pushing him away. Y/n exhales shakily, tilting her head just a little to the side, just enough to let him keep going. “Did I say that?” she breathes.

His answering chuckle is low and rough, and it vibrates against her skin like a goddamn earthquake. “No, doll,” he murmurs, lips brushing right over her pulse. “No, you didn’t.”

Her fingers curl into his hair, holding him there, keeping him close.

This is dangerous.

This is everything.

And fuck if that matters.

She just wants him.

So she tugs him back up to her, kisses him hard, kisses him until he stops teasing, until he stops holding back and just— 

Lets go.

And when he does?

It wrecks her.

Because Steve isn’t careful now. He isn’t measured or hesitant—he’s all in. He kisses her like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met her, and maybe he has.

“God, handsome—” she breathes against his lips, knowing full well what that nickname does to him.

It absolutely undoes him.

Steve groans again, deeper this time, and then—suddenly—her back is against the railing.

She huffs a laugh, breathless, wrecked, fingers dragging down his chest. “Oh, so now you’re impatient?”

Steve just grins, pressing another kiss to her smirking mouth. “Doll, I’m always impatient when it comes to you.”

God bless her, she is half a second away from yanking Steve right back down to her when—

A slow, sarcastic clap rings out behind them.

“Wow,” a familiar voice drawls. “This is adorable. Really. Hallmark should be taking notes. You two got the tension, the longing gazes, the obvious ‘we were just about to make questionable decisions’ body language…” He sighs dramatically. “Chef’s kiss.” He does the fucking action too, the freak.

She doesn’t even jerk away.

No, she closes her eyes. Exhales through her nose. Prays for strength. Then, slowly, very slowly, she pulls back and turns toward the absolute menace standing in the doorway.

And there he is.

Tony Stark. Billionaire. Genius. Her own personal tormentor.

He’s leaning against the doorway, drink in hand, smirking like he just walked in on the biggest scandal of the century.

“Tony.” Her voice is sweet, lethal. “We practically raised each other which means this can’t be a fault in your nurturing, so it has to be a personal failing.”

Tony places a dramatic hand over his heart. “Wow. What a way to greet your only living relative.”

Y/n tilts her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. You want a warm welcome? Here you go.” She flips him off.

Steve makes a choking sound next to her, trying—failing—not to laugh.

“Wow. Harsh.” Tony scrunches his nose in mild disappointment. “Here I am, simply looking for my beloved sister, only to find her engaging in a very public display of affection with none other than Captain America himself.” His head tilts, eyebrows waggling. “Safe to guess, you two kissed and made up?”

Y/n doesn’t miss a beat. “If I were you I’d be a lot less concerned about our relationship and a lot more worried about that balding situation you got going on.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, sorry, I mean the graying situation. My bad.”

Steve clears his throat, valiantly trying to fight back a grin.

Tony scoffs. “Okay, first of all, my hair is immaculate. Secondly, that was a cheap shot.”

Y/n shrugs, all innocence. “You were asking for it.”

“Asking for it—?” Tony gestures wildly. “I came out here to bring you two back into the fold, and instead, I’m being attacked.” He turns to Steve, pointing at him accusingly. “You see this? She didn’t give me nearly this much lip before you two became a thing.”

Steve, to his credit, stays neutral. “You did interrupt us, Tony.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Tony puts a hand to his ear. “Did you just say I interrupted something important? Well, that’s just tragic.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Did you need something, or did you just come out here to be an Olympic-level pain in my ass?”

Tony gasps. “Language.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Tony points at him. “You don’t get to say anything, Mr. ‘Don’t-Cuss-in-Front-of-Me.’”

She tilts her head to hide her smile. “Seriously, what do you want?”

Tony takes a casual sip of his drink. “Oh, just thought I’d check in. Seeing as, you know, you made a very public proclamation of murdering the Golden Boy here,” he points to Steve with glass in hand. “People inside are wondering if our fearless leader bit the bullet at the hands of our lawyer.” He pauses there and smiles at her. “But I see you lacked the follow through.”

Y/n snorts. “Maybe I changed my mind.”

Tony clicks his tongue, provoking, “You are getting soft.”

She accepts the challenge happily. “Or maybe I’m saving my bloodthirst for the dickhead who’s cockblocking me right now?”

Tony squints. “See, that I believe.”

Steve, ever the mediator, clears his throat. “You said people were wondering where we were?”

“Oh, right.” Tony waves a vague hand. “The party’s still going, people are still drinking, and Clint is still coping with the emotional fallout of being the only guy who didn’t know about the two of you being a thing—blind idiot.” Tony rolls his eyes. “But more importantly—” He straightens, flashing his most obnoxiously confident smirk yet. “I came out here because there is, at this very moment, an ongoing bet about a very important question—” he pauses for dramatic effect, “—who is Y/n Stark’s favorite Avenger?”

Y/n blinks. “You people need day jobs.”

Tony ignores her. “Now, obviously, the answer is me.” He takes a sip of his drink, completely self-assured. “But, for some reason, some people think that might not be the case.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “People bet on that?”

“Oh, yes.” Tony nods. “The stakes are high, Cap. Sam, Hill, Barton and Thor put down fifty on me, because, obviously, I’m the correct answer. Apart from Rhodey, the rest of them think it’s Capsicle. Which—” He throws a hand in the air, visibly disgusted. “Come on! That’s fucking delusional.”

Steve smirks. “Wow, Tony. That almost hurt.”

Tony waves him off. “Oh, don’t get sensitive on me, Spangles. You’re in second place at best. I mean, let’s be real—she’s not picking you over me.”

Humming, thinking for a long, deliberate second, she responds with, “Huh.”

Tony’s smirk widens. “Huh? Huh? That sounds like an agreement.”

She shrugs at that, noncommittal. “Sounds like a word, Tony.”

Tony narrows his eyes. “No, no, no. I don’t like that answer. I need definitive confirmation that I’m number one.”

Y/n tilts her head, smiling just enough to be dangerous. “Hate to break it to you, Stark, but if you needed confirmation… doesn’t that mean you’re not sure?”

Tony stares at her. Then blinks. Then—

“Oh, that’s dirty.”

It makes her grin, wide and proud.

Steve, who has been watching this like it’s the best show of his life, finally steps in, looking at her with a smug little smile. “You could just tell him, you know.”

She turns to him, giving him an exaggerated look. “And stroke his already overinflated ego? No chance.”

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “You love messing with him.”

She smirks. “He makes it so easy.”

Tony throws up his hands. “Oh fuck off! It’s bullying like this that made Dad like you more.”

She makes a face. “Howard liked me more only ‘cause I was committing tax fraud for him.”

Steve chokes. “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/n waves a hand. “It’s fine. I fixed it… Mostly.” She shakes her head, “That’s not the point. Point is, don’t use your Dad as a way to get back at me. You know I hate that.”

“Only if you come back in and state for once and for all that I am indeed and in fact your favorite Avenger,” Tony throws back.

She’s caught absolutely fucking off-gard when Steve’s lips brush against her here, voice velvet smooth and painfully sensual, “No chance of it being me, doll?”

Y/n shivers before she can stop herself. Her fingers tighten in his shirt, eyes flicking up to meet his, and—damn him—he looks so unbelievably smug right now. “Wow,” she mutters, half breathless, half impressed. “Using your raw sex appeal to win a bet? That’s shameless, Rogers.”

Steve grins. “Nobody could tell it from all the bickering, but you two are inseparable—I needed an edge.” He places a soft kiss on her temple.

Tony gags loudly. “Oh my god, save it for literally anywhere else. The tension in here is gonna set off the sprinklers and ruin this killer outfit,” he says motioning to his magnificent three piece wine red suit—which she picked, B T dubs.

Fucking narsissit, she thinks to herself. “You love making everything about you.”

Tony smirks. “Well, yeah. I am your favorite.”

Y/n tilts her head. “You think you are.”

Tony narrows his eyes again. “I hate this game.”

“Yet, here you are,” she grins.

Tony exhales dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine. Fine! You win, okay?” He sighs, rubbing his temple like this is physically painful. “I love you, to the moon and back, obviously.”

She smiles.

He groans at her expression, pointing at her. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Laughing she throws back, “Like what?”

“Like I just handed you the emotional equivalent of my bank account.” He shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” 

She is still smiling when Tony rolls his shoulders, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His voice softens just a fraction. “Now can you please come back inside and grab a drink with me?” He clears his throat, glancing away like this isn’t a big deal. “I have barely seen you outside of missions, and—maybe I miss you, alright?”

And with that, he turns and walks back inside.

Steve watches him go, then sighs. “We should probably head back. I feel like a jerk stealing you away from him.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Steve, we got drunk and worked on his suit two nights ago. He just likes being dramatic.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. 

“What?” She asks, confused.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

She smiles at him, considering. “As much as I’d like to answer that question with the dirtiest, cheesiest one liners I can think of, we really should go inside—He doesn’t actually say he misses me all that often,” she reasons with him. But before she follows Tony in, she leans in close to Steve, voice soft but teasing. “This isn’t over.”

Steve grins, brushing his knuckles against hers. “Not even close.”

She smiles against his shoulder for half a second, then pulls him toward the party.

Read the next part here. Find other static verse works here.  Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

i'll tag people later. i'm real tired, it's been a long day. i just wanna get this out and be showered in comments and reblog.

i'm looking at you. yeah you! reblog this with funny tags. do it!

[steveseddie]

light of all lights

rating: t | cw: minor character death | wc: 2,2k | tags: grief/mourning, eddie is sad about chrissy, steve is a sweetheart, hurt/comfort

written for day two of @steddielovemonth for the quote “There are darknesses in life and there are lights, you are one of the lights, the light of all lights,” and my @steddiebingo main card prompt “grief”

read on ao3

As soon as Eddie wakes up, he knows he’s hungover. He also doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t remember going out yesterday yet there’s an unmistakable pounding in his head and his mouth tastes like something died in it, so he must have partaken in the consumption of alcoholic beverages at some point last night.

If only he could remember any of it.

He rolls over and realizes he’s not in his bed back at the trailer. This is Steve’s bed. There’s probably something to be said about how long it takes him to notice it— already so used to spending at least a few nights a week in Steve’s bed, but Eddie chooses not to dwell on it right now, not while his sluggish brain is still trying to figure out what happened last night.

Eddie knows he didn’t go partying with Steve, but maybe he got too drunk at The Hideout and Steve had to come pick him up? But that doesn’t sound right either. They didn’t have a show last night or they should’ve since it was Saturday and Corroded Coffin had long since been upgraded from Tuesday nights to Saturdays once they built enough of a regular crowd. Only Eddie had canceled last night’s show knowing he’d be in a bad mood because—

Oh.

He knew he’d be in a bad mood because it was the anniversary of Chrissy’s death.

Eddie remembers everything now, going to the school for the memorial held in her honor only to turn around on his heels before he even made it to the gymnasium; running into Steve, who was on his way in and who took one look at Eddie’s tear-stained eyes and shaky hands and led him back to his car. He remembers Steve driving him to get flowers and then driving them both to the cemetery so they could put them on Chrissy’s grave. He remembers Steve sitting next to him, pressing their shoulders together until some jocks— friends of Jason Carver, probably— showed up and tried to start something with Eddie by calling him a murderer and saying he should’ve died instead of her.

Steve scared them off with his nailbat, but they decided it was better to leave the cemetery before they came back with more of their friends or someone else showed up. Then Steve drove them to his house without even asking, which Eddie was grateful for. The trailer, despite being different from the one where Chrissy died, was the last place he wanted to be. Back at Steve’s house, Eddie broke into Mr. Harrington’s liquor cabinet and Steve kept him company as he drank and cried, and drank some more.

At some point he must’ve cut Eddie off, dragged him upstairs and gotten him into bed so he could sleep it off, but Eddie doesn’t remember that part. He also doesn’t remember Steve sleeping next to him, but he knows he would’ve wanted to keep an eye on Eddie and make sure he didn’t die in his sleep.

Eddie wonders where Steve is right now— the left side of the bed isn’t warm anymore so he’s been gone for a while, but he left two painkillers and water on the bedside table for Eddie so the fact that he isn’t here doesn’t necessarily mean he hates Eddie for being such a fucking mess last night.

Still, Eddie would like to apologize because no one should have to deal with all of that so after downing the pills and the water, taking a leak and brushing his teeth with the spare toothbrush he keeps in Steve’s bathroom, he goes looking for him.

He finds him easily. All he has to do is follow the smell of coffee and bacon to the kitchen where Steve is doing The Hawkins Post’s crossword while sipping coffee, bacon simmering on the stove behind him.

Eddie feels a wave of affection so strong he goes dizzy with it. He must let out a gasp at the sight because Steve looks up, alerted of his presence.

His face softens when he sees Eddie, a sweet smile stretching over his lips. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” Eddie says, leaning against the kitchen doorway.

Steve sets the paper down, the apples of his cheeks tinted pink. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh.” Eddie flings the back of his hand to his forehead like a fainting damsel as he slides halfway down the doorway. “My head hurts from all the crying and the drinking and the crying—”

“You did a lot of that, yeah.” Steve gives him a sympathetic smile. “I left you some pills on the nightstand.”

“Yup, I saw them. They should kick in soon. Thanks, Stevie,” he says, standing up straight. Then he hangs a hand from his neck and adds, “and thanks for— you know, everything. I know I was a lot to deal with yesterday.”

“You weren’t,” Steve quickly reassures him. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, making him snort. “Fine, maybe you were but— I get it, man, this kind of anniversaries can be rough, but it’s worse if you go through them alone so I’m glad I found you when I did.”

“Yeah, I probably would’ve ended up at the hospital if those jocks found me alone or ended up in a ditch somewhere after drinking a whole bar by myself.” He feels a sudden sharp sting in his head. “It kinda feels like I already did, ouch.”

“Yeah, you went hard on the whiskey last night,” Steve says. “Come here, you need coffee and food.”

Eddie flops down on a chair at the same time Steve stands up. A minute later, there’s bacon and toast on a plate in front of him and a steaming mug of coffee next to it.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, sipping on his coffee and sighing contentedly. Steve sits next to him, also drinking coffee but not eating anything. He probably had breakfast when he woke up, which must’ve been a while ago since he’s already dressed for the day. “You have somewhere to be, Stevie?”

“What?”

He gestures at him with his fork. “You’re way overdressed to hang out at home on a Sunday morning.”

“Afternoon, technically,” Steve says with a smirk, gesturing at the clock. He’s right, it’s well past noon. “And no, I don’t have anywhere to be but I did,” he says cryptically.

“Okayyyy,” Eddie chuckles. “Are you gonna share with the class or—”

“I had to go to the bakery earlier.”

“What for?”

Steve grabs a paper bag that Eddie hadn’t noticed and slides it over the counter towards him. “To get this.”

“What’s that?” Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of bacon.

Steve reaches into the bag, retrieving a small box. Inside, there’s a cupcake.

Eddie blinks at it. “What? You were craving a cupcake overnight?”

“No, it’s for you,” Steve says, taking it out of the box and placing it in front of Eddie. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy what now?” Eddie asks, confused.

“Happy anniversary!” Steve says again, like that’s supposed to explain everything.

It doesn’t.

“Anniversary of what? Chrissy’s death anniversary was yesterday, Steve, and I’ve never heard of people buying cupcakes to celebrate that—”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm. “Dude, no!” he says, horrified. “That’s awful, no, this is a ‘happy anniversary of the day we met’ cupcake!”

Eddie narrows his eyes at him. “The day we—”

“We met, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand between Eddie and himself. “You know, when you held that broken bottle to my neck.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Eddie chuckles amusedly. “I just didn’t know that’s a thing people do.”

“It’s a thing I do,” Steve says with a shrug. “It was Robin’s idea. Ours is the day we started working at Scoops and I do it with Henderson too, though we never really figured out the actual date we met. And now you— I met you the day after Chrissy. Officially, I mean, so happy anniversary.”

A laugh tumbles from Eddie’s lips, something disbelieving. “You’re something else, Steve Harrington,” he says, “happy anniversary, I guess.”

Steve gives him a lopsided grin that makes Eddie’s heart flutter in his chest. Then he jumps out of his seat and snaps his fingers, like he just remembered something.

“Wait!” He starts rummaging around his kitchen until he comes up with a candle and a lighter. He sticks the candle into the cupcake and lights it up. “There, now you make a wish.”

“Isn’t that for birthdays, Steve?”

Steve waves his hand dismissively. “Hey, we came up with this so we can make our own rules. Ergo, you blow the candle out and make a wish.”

Eddie smirks. “Was ergo a word in your morning crossword?”

“It was, actually.” Steve rolls his eyes with fond exasperation. “Now shut up and blow!”

“Shouldn’t we both blow the candle and make a wish? Since it’s our anniversary?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, that’s not—”

“Not how it works?” Eddie asks, his lips stretching into a smirk. “I thought you said we could make our own rules.”

With a sigh, Steve nods. “I guess I did say that,” he says. “Fine, we both blow it out and make a wish.”

Eddie shoots him a smug grin.

Steve counts down from three and they both blow at the same time. Eddie’s wish is simple— he wishes that he and Steve can celebrate these anniversaries for many years. He wonders what Steve wishes for.

After scooping up some frosting with his finger, Eddie licks it off. It’s good. “Now what?”

Steve’s eyes follow the movement, his eyes darkening slightly when Eddie sucks on his finger. “Um, now you— you eat the cupcake.”

“Shouldn’t we both eat the cupcake?”

“No, Eddie, I got it for you,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes when Eddie insists on being difficult.

Eddie holds his hands up. “Geez, okay, okay!” He says, taking a bite. It’s sugary and sweet, and Eddie lets out an obscene moan that makes Steve’s eyes widen. “It’s good! Damn, I wish you’d told me about this anniversary thing before, I would’ve gotten you something too.”

Steve gives a half shrug. “You can get me something next year.”

And maybe it’s the certainty behind Steve’s words, like he knows they’ll celebrate many anniversaries, or maybe it’s everything he did for Eddie yesterday while he was grieving or what he’s been doing for Eddie for the past year. Maybe it’s the way his eyes keep darting to Eddie’s lips as he licks more frosting or maybe it’s just that Eddie loves Steve so much that he can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to his lips.

Steve makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but Eddie feels the slightest press of lips against his mouth before he’s pulling back.

“Or I can give you that,” Eddie whispers, his eyes darting over Steve’s face. He looks a little dazed, but not like he wants to smash what’s left of the cupcake against Eddie’s face. Both are good signs.

“One— one kiss?” Steve stammers out.

“One kiss, multiple, my heart, me,” Eddie mumbles, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you, Eds,” Steve says with a dopey smile, using his thumb to wipe some frosting from the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Probably since that day we met.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow in amusement while his chest flutters wildly. “When I held a broken bottle to your neck?”

“Guess a part of me thought that was hot,” Steve admits with a shrug. Then it’s his turn to scoop up some frosting and lick his finger clean. Watching Steve do it, Eddie understands why he was so distracted by it. “Hey, Eds?”

“Hm?” Eddie hums distractedly, his eyes not leaving Steve’s lips.

Steve moves his chair closer so his legs are bracketing Eddie’s. “If you are the cupcake in this scenario,” he says, lifting Eddie’s chin. His eyes twinkle playfully. “Does that mean I can make a wish if I blow you?”

The words make Eddie choke on his spit, his face turning an alarming shade of red. “Jesus H. Christ, Harrington!” Eddie sputters through a strangled laugh. “I say hell yeah. We make our own rules, right?”

“Right,” Steve agrees, smiling as he leans in for another kiss. He doesn’t pull away as quickly as Eddie did, letting their lips slide together, teasing the seam of Eddie’s lips with his tongue.

“Stevie?” Eddie whispers once their kiss slows down. He waits until Steve meets his eyes and flashes him a smile. “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Yesterday was shitty, but you made it bearable and then you made today great,” Eddie says, cupping Steve’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek. “I think I’ll always be sad about Chrissy, but now I also have something to celebrate. It’s kinda like, you have to go through bad things, yeah, but sometimes it leads you to some good ones, you know?” He scrunches his face slightly. “Cheesy as that sounds.”

Steve’s mouth twitches up. “Am I one of the good things?”

“Stevie,” Eddie chuckles softly, pulling Steve closer until their faces are only inches apart. “You’re the best thing.”

The words make Steve beam, then he throws his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. “Happy anniversary, Eddie.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 1

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie. 

Chapter Summary: You are sick of seeing Steve striking out, so you come up with a solution that could work for both of you.

5.5k words

Series Master List

Tags: Eddie Muson x reader, weirdo!reader, bestfriend!Steve

You hadn’t planned on becoming friends with Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington. In your mind, he was still that cocky freshman who happened to be good at playing Basketball during your senior year of high school. You’d never paid much attention to sports or the popular crowd back at Hawkins High, but word had quickly spread about the new kid. 

When Steve and Robin approached you to help hook them up with a job at Family Video you were skeptical at first. Robin was a no-brainer when it came to hiring. She had the experience and clearly knew her stuff when it came to movies. Steve you were more on the fence about, as he seemed less cinematically inclined but Robin had vouched for him, and you were tired of having to cover so many of Keith’s shifts. Even when he was here, Keith was basically useless, always hiding in the back. 

At this point, you were desperate for any sort of help, so you hired them both. 

You quickly took a liking to them- they were easy to hang out with and were able to quickly pick up on what needed to be done. Robin always knew what movies to show on the preview televisions, and Steve was quick to pick up on any busy work that needed to get done. 

“I’m always willing to go the extra mile to slack off.” he’d said once, which had earned your approval. As long as shit got done, they could slack off all they wanted. You hated that ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ bullshit. It’s not like the job was especially hard either. 

Eventually you and Steve started talking on the nights where the two of you would close together alone. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were good for that sort of thing, they were your slowest days. You learned that he was floundering a bit after high school, struggling to find a place in the world now that he was no longer King Steve. It was also clear by the way he talked that he was still hung up on his ex Nancy, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

That was probably the reason why he kept striking out when flirting with customers. It was actually kind of sad. 

“You know, I really should probably tell you to stop hitting on every cute girl that walks through that door.” you said, taking out some tapes from the VHS re-winder and putting in new ones. “People come here for movies, not to be hit on.”

It was a speech you’d given at least a dozen times over the past four months. You’d said it so many times that Steve was mouthing along the words as you said them, and you gave his arm a smack. Your heart wasn’t in it though, in truth you knew that at least half of the young women who came to Family Video were here to see Steve and flirt, which is why you were so baffled that he was striking out so hard. 

He was good with customers, great even. When he first started working here he would get several numbers slipped to him between returned VHS tapes. But as the Summer months shifted into Autumn, he seemed to be running out of steam. 

“I can’t help it if I’m naturally charming.” Steve said, with over-compensated confidence. “I don’t even need to think, I’m just that good at flirting.”

“Yeah, I think your charisma stat has taken a hit over these past few weeks dude.” you snorted.

“I still don’t know what that means.” Steve said. “But I have plenty of charisma!”

“You know, if you actually paid attention to what me or your children said every once in a while you’d understand us better.” You couldn’t help but laugh. Over the past few months, so many freshman had come in just to bother Steve while he was working. “How is the single mom life by the way? Am I giving you enough hours to pay the bills? Do the kids need new shoes for school?”

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter.” Steve shot back, before realizing how lame that actually was then he sighed. “I think they’re doing okay. Henderson’s the only one who actively keeps up with me.”

You didn’t miss the hint of disappointment in his voice. “It’s hard when they grow up.” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they won’t put you in a home.”

Steve snorted and brushed your hand off. “Says the one older than me.” he rolled his eyes. 

“See, I don’t have six kids to raise, so I’m going to stay young and fun forever, Harrington.” you teased. “You’ve got a full brood to look after. Oh look, I think I see a gray hair right there!” 

You reached over to touch his hair and he swatted you away again. “Like hell there is!” he said, mild panic in his voice. You didn’t let up and kept reaching for his hair and he kept pushing you off. 

“Yup, that’s a gray one, you’re about to go full Doc Brown on me before the end of the year!” You declare as he attempted to push you off. 

Despite him trying to push you off, there was a smile on his face. A lot of nights ended like this with you annoying him and teasing him for his relationship with so many kids. It was endearing really. 

The door to the front of the store rang and you two immediately jumped apart as a girl came in, looking to be about Steve’s age. She was pretty, and you slipped out from behind the desk to put away some movies. He really shouldn’t be flirting with the customers, you know this. But... well it was Tuesday night and you were bored and this was far more entertaining than reorganizing the movies in the back room. Less sticky too. 

“Action!” You heard Steve call from up front and you moved casually between the aisles and cringed. Oh, no. He was doing the bit again. How many times have you told him that it wouldn’t work? “Oh, I’m sorry you’re so beautiful I thought you were an actress.”

You had to bite your hand to stop yourself from laughing. You couldn’t handle this, this didn’t work the first dozen times, why the hell would it work now? Steve’s voice carried easily, projecting around the video store and allowing you to hear every single word that came out of his mouth.

You listened as Steve threw everything at this poor girl. Talking himself up as some sort of cinema aficionado when you knew the last movie he rented was Star Wars for the third time to watch with Dustin. And he called you the nerd. 

“So yeah, I was thinking, beautiful girl like yourself might enjoy watching this movie with some company.” Steve said, handing over the movie. The girl in question gave a polite smile and declined the movie, renting the two that she had actually came for and left. 

“That... was sad, Steve.” you said, as she disappeared into the parking lot. You walked over to the counter and picked up the movie that Steve had tried to offer her. “‘The Karate Kid?’ Really? That was your big plan?” 

Steve’s was leaning over the desk, bracing his hands against the side of the counter looking down. “I panicked ok?” he admitted. “I don’t know what’s going on with me. I used to be so good at getting any girl I wanted and now I keep blowing it.”

You felt for the guy, you really did. He’d gone from the top of the world to treading water in just a few short months. Steve had told you that he had been at Starcourt Mall the day of the fire, and you had a feeling that it affected him more than he let on. You’d seen him get rejected so many times, but he was always able to brush it off. This time it looked personal. 

Well, he was your friend now, and as your friend it was up to you to help him out. 

“I think you need to learn how to talk to women now that you’re not in high school anymore, Steve.” you said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “The tactics you used before just aren’t going to cut it now. Welcome to “life after high school” where everything you learned over the past twelve years is socially useless.” 

“Yeah? And what would you know about social skills?” Steve said. “I haven’t exactly seen you going on any dates lately either.” 

“Rude, but fair.” you admitted. He didn’t mean anything mean by it, but the two of you were very much opposites when it came to how you both approached things such as your social and dating life. 

Steve was interested in taking any pretty face he saw out on a date. You had not been on a date in months, and had barely tried. Steve had countless tales about his time dating in high school, you went to Homecoming stag with your friends once. Steve talked about a time where he was almost having too much sex. You shamelessly rented porn from the back room and made Steve ring you up as he rolled his eyes. 

He’d asked you on a date once and you almost laughed in his face. He was good looking, in a traditional sense but not your type.After thinking about it, you decided that kissing Steve sounded too much like kissing your favorite cousin. You had politely declined and he seemed relieved. 

It’s not that you didn’t have an interest in dating, you did. You had tried to explain it to Steve one night, that so many people were into being popular and caring about things that you just couldn’t. You’d tried to fit in, but your interests were just weird. You could have fun at a football game if you were with friends, but that came from the excitement of being in an excited crowd and being with people you liked. You didn’t blame anyone for it, you were glad that people could care about these things. You just wished someone could get excited about the same things that you did. 

You and Steve were both fish out of water, you’d just grown used to not being able to breathe. 

“Sorry.” said Steve, standing up straight again. “That was below the belt.”

“You’re a dick, but it’s fine.”  you shrugged. You’d been called worse for less. “You know, I may not be the pinnacle of normalcy but I do happen to be a woman.”

“I thought you said you were the Creature from the Black Lagoon.” Steve laughed under his breath. 

“Only on special occasions.” you replied. “But that’s not the point. Look, you need help getting your groove back. I’m tired of renting movies from the back. I think we could help each other.”

Steve turned to you, brows furrowed. “What did you have in mind?” 

“I’m thinking we could try wing-manning for each other.” you said. “I’ll talk you up and help you not make a jackass out of yourself, and you can help me get a date too.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something smart, but he closed it quickly with a tilt of his head. He looked to the side, thinking about the proposal. 

“You can’t do any worse with my help.” you said. “I mean, that ‘actress’ line was bad. Really bad. Like, horrible. I don’t know why you keep using it.”

“It worked with Linda Mendelli.” Steve said defensively. 

“Yeah, I have no idea who that is.” you said. 

“She got the lead in the spring musical two years ago.” 

“So your actress line worked on a high school actress once.” you laughed. “That explains everything.”

“Like you could come up with a better line!” Steve pouted. 

“I can think of a million different lines that would work better than that. And I’ll share them with you, if we have a deal.” you said. 

“So you want me to get you a date?” he clarified. “That’s what you want out of this?”

“That’s what I get out of this. Well, that and I can stop nearly puking when I have to listen to you come up with some weird line when a cute girl walks in. It would save me a lot of money on nausea medication.” You smirked. 

Steve thought about it for a moment before looking you up and down. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re already not interested in changing anything about yourself to make this easier on me.”

“Again, that’s really rude. That is correct though, you get me a date as I am. No make-over montage, no pretending I’m something I’m not. I spent all of high school trying to be something else, and I’m done with that.” you said firmly. 

Steve turned away from you, ran his fingers through his hair, and then turned back, offering his hand. “Fine, you have a deal.” 

With a smile, you spat in your hand and grabbed his in a firm shake. “Deal.”

“Ew!” he jerked his hand back as you laughed. Steve wiped his hand on his pants looking disgusted. “That’s so gross, you really are giving me a run for my money.”

“Right then,” you said with an amused grin. “Let’s start with lesson one, and stop with any stupid pick-up lines to get attention.”

Over the next few weeks, in the slow times during work where there was nothing to do but dust the shelves and rewind tapes, you coached Steve on how to talk to women. 

“It’s really not that hard.” you explained one night. “It really does come down to just two things; be sincere and be confident. You already have probably too much confidence coming out your ass, but the sincerity isn’t there. You keep throwing these random lines out and hoping something sticks. Fine, that works in high school but not anymore.”

“I’m always sincere about asking them on a date!” he protests. “I’m not just asking every girl I see out on a date!”

“That’s statistically incorrect but I’ll humor you.” you said, as you organized the candy shelf, restocking the skittles. “I believe it when you ask a girl out, but you’re so oblivious about them as people. Newsflash, not all girls are the same Harrington.”

“Yeah, some of them are you.” he said, leaning against the counter, having already given up on pretending to work for the night. “How many times have you seen that Rocky Horror movie now?”

“I see it once a month with my friends at the old Cenimaplex right outside town. Been doing that since I was eighteen.” you confirmed. “I’m hoping to get to be part of the shadow cast at some point.” 

“See? That’s weird. Most people maybe go see it once in October.” Steve points out. 

“We aren’t talking about me, Harrington. We’re talking about the type of girls you’re into. Also, don’t knock it. I plan on dragging you along this month. It’s about time you lose your virginity.” you smirked as you ripped open a box of snickers and handed him one. “Don’t tell Keith.”

He took the candy bar. “You know I’m not a virgin. I have had sex before you know.” 

You shook your head, that’d be a conversation for another day. “Let’s get back to the point. You keep asking girls out but you don’t know them.”

“I get to know them when I’m on a date.” he said. 

“That’s all well and good, but you need to be able to see what kind of person they are before you go on the date. Not everyone is like me and wears their personality on their sleeves.” you explained, taking your own candy of choice off the rack. “Okay so today for example. Remember the girl that came in with the brown hair and rented out Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure?” Steve nodded. “So, she also rented out The Breakfast Club.”

“Okay? And what does that have to do with anything?” Steve asked. 

“It means she has a kid sibling, and is probably a burnt out older sibling.” you said. “Loves her baby brother or sister but is also very introspective and trying to figure herself out. You came on too strong with her, asking her to a high school basketball game was too high energy.” 

Steve gawked at you for a moment. “I hate that you just made sense.” He rubbed his cheeks with his hands. “Shit.” 

“Dude, just pay attention to whoever you’re interested in and all the pieces will fall in place.” you said. “Pay attention to the movies, what she’s saying, and if she’s giggling at you then that’s a good sign.” 

“Pay attention. Right. I can do this.” he said. 

Two weeks after this conversation, Steve nabbed his first date in two months. It had taken a little bit of coaching and some hyping on your end but he got a girls number and had set up a date. 

Three days after that he had another date set up. 

Two days after that, another three dates. 

It was the start of October now, and you were decorating the store for the season. You were standing on a ladder putting up a strand of black garland while Steve held the ladder. 

“So I’m taking Shannon out on Tuesday to get ice cream at the new place down the street.” Steve explained. 

“We work Tuesday.” you said. 

“Tuesday morning.” Steve clarified. “Then Thursday I have two dates with Amy and Marissa since it’s my day off.” 

He’d been going on about this for an hour. Steve had been going on dates steadily again for at least three weeks now. It had only been a little over a month that the two of you had agreed to the deal. Now King Steve was back, and you were now subject to every detail of his romantic escapades again. You were happy for your friend, really, but sometimes you’d sneak into the back room and organize the porn just to give you a moment away from hearing about your friends new-found sex life. 

It didn’t need to make sense, it just needed to work. 

“Do you ever stop to sleep?” you asked, taping up the final end of garland and coming back down the ladder. 

“Sometimes I sleep before I have to sneak out a window after I’ve-”

“Nope. No more words, Harrington.” you said, holding up a hand as he laughed. “I get it, I’ll give you more hours so that you can expand your condom budget. Your poor kids must feel neglected while you find them a new mom.”

“I thought you said that I was the single mom?” Steve asked as you both moved the ladder to a new spot. He handed you a bat from the box that held the Halloween decorations. 

“Oh, you are. Your kids can have two moms, I’ll allow it.” you said, hopping up on the ladder again. “Hey look, I’m Ozzie Osbourn!” 

Jokingly you bit at the head of the bat as Steve looked up at you as if you were insane. “...What?”

You frowned and looked down at him. “Black Sabbath?” you asked. “The guy bit a bats head off on stage?” Now he was looking at you like you were a total psychopath. “Oh come on, you didn’t hear about that? The first time it was a fake bat but then he somehow managed to grab a real bat?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.” Steve said, shaking his head. “What movie is Black Sabbath again?” 

It was your turn to stare at him now. “How are we even friends?” you asked. “You and I don’t have a single thing in common. ‘What movie is Black Sabbath’ be so for real right now.” 

“You asked me last week if the Pacers was a marathon I was going to race!” Steve shot back. 

“And I stand by that, because that does NOT sound like the name of a basketball team.” You climbed higher on the ladder to hang the bat. 

“You’re thinking of the Fitness Gram Pacer Test.” 

“Sports!” you cried out, giving the bat a small bap to make it swing. “Movement like that means nothing to me!” you gave a pause. “Unless you’re actually going to compete. I’ll care for your sake if you’re playing. Otherwise I’m just gonna smile and nod. Give me another bat.”

Steve dug into the box again to pull out another bat for you. “So what’s Black Sabbath then?” he finally asked. 

“Look at you taking my lessons to heart and asking questions about a girls interest!” You reached down and pat his hair, causing him to swat you away again with a comment about not touching his hair. “It’s a metal band.” 

“I didn’t think you were into metal.” Steve said as you came back down the ladder. 

“I’m into anything I like.” you said simply. “Why limit yourself, you know? If I like something I need to learn everything about it or I feel like my brain will explode.”

“You’re kind of weird.”

“I know.”

The two of you continued to decorate the store between taking care of customers. You were going a bit overboard, if you were honest. Keith had handed you a pathetic box of a few paper decorations to use, and you had gone out with your own money to buy more. If you were expected to be here to earn a paycheck you may as well get something out of it, even if it was the feeling of being surrounded by cheesy holiday memorabilia. 

“So how are the kids, Harrington?” you asked, untangling a fake spiders web. 

Steve sighed, messing with the candy counter. “Dustin’s doing good. He’s made a friend at school.” 

“You seem tense about that.” you looked over at him. “Care to share with the class how that makes you feel?”

“I don’t feel anything about it.” Steve said, clearly defensive. “Henderson has a new cool older friend who’s into the same nerdy shit he’s into.”

Steve was so jealous, it was written all over his face. How long had he been the cool older figure in that kid's life? 

“Should have taken him up on playing D&D with him.” you said with a grin. “Now your child is going to divorce you for a new dad.”

“You really need to sort out whatever metaphor you’re going to use with me and these kids.” 

“Nah, gotta keep you on your toes.”

Steve shook his head with a laugh. “It’s funny you know? One minute I’m the coolest guy in the room to everyone. I was king of Hawkins High, had these kids that annoyed the shit out of me but looked up to me, and the best girlfriend I could have asked for. Then I graduated, the kids took over school, and now I’m single even after going on all these dates.” 

“Yeah, life’s funny like that.” you agreed. “If it makes you feel any better I don’t think you’re super lame. You’re actually kind of an alright dude.”

“Thanks.” 

“Any time.” 

“...So speaking of you going on dates.” you started slowly, unsure how to bring this up. 

“Right, yeah, so I said I was going out with Amy and Marissa on Thursday-” Steve started.

“No not that,” you interrupted. “Well, sort of but not really. So I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Harrington.” 

Steve froze for a moment before looking up at you on the ladder. “Oh, right. So about that, I have no idea what you even like in a guy.”

“Fair enough, I have not exactly been as pro-active as you have been.” The past few weeks had been so busy with the changing of seasons and weeding out old movies that you hadn’t really had time to think about dates. You’d been stuck in a perpetual loop of work and school with the occasional odd movie night with Steve and Robin when they were free. 

“So what do you like?” he asked. “If you want my help, you’re gonna have to open up about that.”

“Oh but that involves being vulnerable with King Steve of Hawkins High and that’s not exactly my style.” you sighed dramatically. 

“Last week when we got together for movie night you got drunk and cried about how you got asked out to prom as a joke. Is that not opening up or being vulnerable?” 

You winced and made a face. “I did that? Yikes. I’m never drinking again.” You did remember renting out Carrie with the others and crying because she had been a very relatable character in your early high school years. Things were a lot better now that you left high school, but you supposed that had struck a nerve. 

“Come on, just give me something to work with. I know you’re a weirdo who obsesses over the most random things. You like Rocky Horror and anything with music. But what do you like in a guy?” Steve pressed. 

You fiddled with the decoration that had been perfectly hung a moment ago, just to give you something to do with your hands. This was a very good question that you had thought about a lot. 

“I guess I want someone who’s as weird as I am.” you finally said. “I’d like to at least meet someone who understood the things I cared about, or was at least willing to learn. I know I’m different, and I’m okay with being different. I want a guy who gets being like that, and won’t make me feel less for it.”

“That’s... specifically vague.” Steve said, thinking. “I was thinking more looks wise.” 

“I like guys with long hair.” you said immediately. 

That he could probably work with. You hopped off the ladder for the last time and he helped you pack it away in the storage closet.

Steve was thinking hard about what to do about his end of the bargain when the door rang and someone walked inside. 

“Steve!” A voice called out, and your co-workers face immediately lit up and ran to the front of the store. 

“Henderson!”

You watched as the two boys ran to each other, immediately going into a secret handshake that you couldn’t help but find endearing. The kids that Steve was friends with were always fun, but you had to admit that you had a soft spot for Dustin. That was a kid who knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to be it. You admired that a lot about him. 

Deciding to give them a bit of space, you made yourself busy with the horror movie section, making sure that everything was in place. Lucky for you though, those two were still very much boys and you could hear every single part of their conversation. 

It’s not eavesdropping if they’re that loud. Probably. 

“The store looks great!” Dustin said, looking around. “You guys really went all out with the decorations, huh?” 

“Yup, we just got finished. She bought most of this stuff herself.” Steve gestured to you and you gave a wave. 

“Hey, Dustin!” you called out, and he waved back. 

“They’ve started putting up decorations at school too, but people keep stealing them.” Dustin said. “There are at least three skeletons missing from the science labs.”

“Those aren’t decorations, Henderson. I think those are supposed to be educational.” Steve replied. 

“Not when they’re wearing witches hats and cat ears.” Dustin countered. Steve shrugged in agreement. 

“So is school going alright? How’s Lucas doing on the team? What about Mike?” Steve asked and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. Steve could deny it all he wanted, but he was absolutely a single mother to these kids. You wished that you had a way to record him so that he could see the way he was fussing over them. 

“Lucas is still a bench-warmer.” Dustin said, grabbing a candy bar from the snack stand. You conveniently were too busy making sure that a copy of Sleepaway Camp was properly rewound to notice the blatant theft. “He still goes to practice every week, but he hasn’t been on the court yet. He’s been making a lot of cool and popular friends.”

There was no hiding the disdain in his voice when he said that. 

“Well Basketball is the best way to secure your ranking at Hawkins.” Steve said. “I would know.” 

“Yeah but it seems like he never has time to even come to Hellfire Club anymore. We’re lucky if he makes it to one or two sessions a month.” Dustin sighed. “He totally blew off me and Mike last week to go hang out with his cool new friends.”

“You know, you have an in with the popular crowd now Henderson. You could use this as a chance to be popular.” Steve pointed out. 

“But I don’t want to be popular, Steve! I’m happy with the friends I have and enjoying what I like.” 

“Ignore Steve, he’s stupid. Keep doing what you’re doing, kid!” you called out to them, making Dustin laugh and Steve sigh. 

“Thank you.” Dustin said before turning to Steve again. “Anyway, Eddie says that conformity is overrated. He says it’s better to be a freak with a few friends than some weird version of normalcy and be miserable.” 

“Right, because ‘the freak’ is so wise.” Steve said, rolling his eyes. 

“He is!” Dustin frowned. “You know, he’s the only person who’s been nice to me and Mike since we started school. And last session he had us-” 

That was when you started tuning the conversation out. You looked up at the clock and swore, you had some work to do in the back before your shift is over. 

“Steve, watch the front for me. I’ll be finishing up in the back.” you called out, and Steve only waived in response. 

Once you were out of earshot, Steve held up a hand to Dustin to signal him to stop talking. 

“What?” asked Dustin. “You told me that I get at least five uninterrupted minutes to talk about the campaign when we hang out.”

“Yeah, and I’ll let you have seven minutes if you help me out.” Steve said. 

“Seven? An extra two minutes? Make it ten.” Dustin crossed his arms, 

“Eight.” 

“Deal. What do you need?”

Steve stares at Dustin for a second. He doesn’t want to ask this question, as he never had any interest in knowing anything about Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson. Eddie had been a stagnant 2 years ahead of him and somehow still hadn’t graduated. Steve couldn’t comprehend being 20 and still in high school, and he almost felt bad for entertaining this thought. Then again, you had also spent an extra semester at school, so maybe that wouldn’t be a deterrent. 

“I need you to tell me more about Eddie.” Steve finally managed to get out. Dustin looked like Christmas had suddenly come early. 

“You want to know more about Eddie?” Dustin had a shit-eating grin on his face that Steve hated. “Since when do you have an interest in Dungeons and Dragons?”

“I still don’t.” Steve said firmly. “I never have and never will understand your game. And I’m not asking about him for me, I’m asking about him for her.” He motioned to the door to the back room. 

“Her?” Dustin looked at the door, as if he could see you through the flimsy wood. “Is she wanting to play?”

“I don’t know, probably? She’s made enough references to playing before. Listen, no, that’s not what this is about.” Steve sighed. “We have this deal going on. She’d help me get dates if I helped her get a date. And she followed through, and I still have no idea how to get her a date.”

“She wants to date Eddie?” Dustin had a look on his face that was a mix of surprise and confusion. “How does she know him?”

“I don’t think she knows Eddie.” Steve said. “But she wants someone weird and as much as I hate to admit it, your new friend might actually fit her criteria.” 

“Fifteen minutes.” 

“Dude, come on.” 

“Fifteen uninterrupted minutes, and you let me rent an R rated movie.” 

“Jesus, Henderson.”

“Deal or no deal?” 

Steve turned and looked at the door that you had disappeared behind. You had been a good friend to him over the past four months, a really good friend. You and Robin had been able to keep him grounded and going after the Starcourt Fire. You’d more than held up your end of the bargain. 

“Fine, deal.” Steve agreed. 

Dustin smiled and seemed content. “So what do you want to know?”

Part 2

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 7

Hello! It's Tuesday and that means more Steve and Eddie. And it's looking like the story will end in chapter 12. It might take one more than that, but it's definitely almost done.

So what will that mean? Well, I'll start working on working on another story to bring it back up to two, but will still only work on the others on WIP Wednesday because I'm trying to get down the amount of WIPs I have running. I have far too many.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Day two of the Fair. Will sees Steve and Steve reveals a little trick. And Steve has to be stern mom again.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve picked up his usual set and went to the Renaissance Fair. This time they were the first to arrive and they stood there waiting for the rest of them to show up.

He had left the spirit gum with Mrs Sinclair and she was able to do an even better job then he had yesterday putting the ears back on.

The bow and quiver had been left behind today because sadly the poor bow had been a mangled, tangled mess by the time they left the fair yesterday.

Max and Robin’s cutlasses had fared better because they never left their sides, but even slung over Lucas’s shoulder, the poor aluminum just couldn’t bare the brunt of the crowds. And today was going to be even busier.

Steve looked at his watch and then back at the growing crowd waiting in line.

He tapped his foot nervously when he saw the familiar van pull into the lot. And the merry band of fellows hopped out, wearing the outfits they had yesterday. The ones that made Steve green with envy on how well they were put together.

It was like they had just walked off the set of a Hollywood movie.

He was good with a needle and thread, but whoever made their costumes should be making money off it, they were that talented.

Jeff came around to the other side of the van where Steve could see him and his ears looked great too.

“Looking good, Lawrence,” Steve whistled. “The ears are vastly improved.”

Jeff bowed dramatically. “Why thank you, my liege! I had my sister help me pick out the right color and type I needed and then I did it myself.”

Gareth snorted. “After practicing all night.”

Brian elbowed their youngest member. “It’s just like trying to get a beat right, you have to practice. Don’t give him shit for that.”

Gareth grumbled, but muttered a half-hearted apology to Jeff. The older teen just grinned at his friend.

Which after how crazy yesterday was, Steve wasn’t looking forward to a repeat if Jeff took offense to Gareth’s comment.

Eddie had been unusually quiet during this conversation, so while they milled around waiting for the remaining third of their group, Steve came up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down and forward to get a better look at the metalhead.

Eddie pursed his lips, but he nodded.

“You know, I have been dying to ask...”

Eddie smiled softly. “Who’s my tailor?”

Steve cackled. “Yeah, that. God, I would gleefully sacrifice one of the teenagers for the material alone, let alone the thread.”

“Which one?” Eddie asked, coming a little bit more out of his shell.

Steve reared back his head. “What?”

“Which one of the teenagers you would sacrifice?” Eddie asked again.

“Dustin,” Steve said without hesitation. “I figure virgin,” he counted on his fingers, “check, most annoying, check, and the one who would be the biggest... ‘value’ as it were, double check.”

Eddie laughed outright. “You don’t have to sacrifice any of them. Brian’s sister works at a big theater, the kind that do plays, as their costumer.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a bit of the black velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “You guys are so lucky.”

Eddie laughed again. “Trust me, even Bri had to pay for the privilege.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, rocking back on his heels. “We had to pay for all the material and patterns ourselves, plus at least twenty-five percent of labor. These duds may be pretty, but lo they be also pricey.”

“Well, it was certainly worth it,” Steve murmured. “You guys look fantastic.”

Eddie’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Thanks. Um...mine is actually based on a character from a short story. Brian’s mom is Polish, but she loves sc-fi and fantasy so she gets this magazine, right?” Steve nodded. “So, anyway she’ll translate into English for Brian to read. It’s about this male witch and he has this minstrel friend named Jeskier...” he pronounced it strange, like yes-keer. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong. But he’s so cool.”

“So you’re this minstrel guy?” Steve asked, suddenly understanding.

Eddie hummed excitedly. “Brian even went as one of the male witches. Not the main one though. But it’s still fun, you know?”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah. I never would have thought about going as a specific character before. Maybe we can plan something for next year.”

Whatever cloud leftover that was lingering over Eddie vanished in the light of Steve’s bright smile.

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “What’s on the docket today, pretty boy?”

Steve blushed bright red, but before he could answer, Claudia’s station wagon pulled up next to them. The four kids piled out, happily chatting and laughing. Well all but Mike.

Mike had always been a reserved kid, but as he got older, the more withdrawn he seemed to get. Will seemed to do the opposite. The kid was really coming out of his shell and into himself. And maybe that was the reason for Mike’s shrinking back.

Steve just shook his head and turned to Will. “Still no Jonathan?” he teased.

Will rolled his eyes. “He said and I quote ‘I’ll see about maybe Saturday’.”

Steve winced. He couldn’t make Jonathan come, but he could see how much Jonathan coming would mean so much to Will and it made his heart hurt just a little.

“Can’t force someone to have fun,” he said with a shrug. “It really is his loss.”

Will nodded sagely, like the mature person he was forced to become far too soon. “But! He did give me the ten dollars I needed for the staff to make up for it.”

Steve smiled. All right, maybe Steve didn’t have to stop by and give the elder Byers boy a piece of his mind.

He turned to Eddie. “Hey, you want to traverse the fields of commerce with me and Will to go get his staff?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! I didn’t get to go yesterday.”

Will grinned back. He turned to El and Mike. “You going to come with me. right?”

Mike shook his head. “El wanted to see the weavers this morning, but no one else wanted to go with her and with Steve’s dumb rule...”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve said. “Just because the Upside Down is gone, doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can hurt you.”

“We’re fifteen,” Mike protested. “I think that’s old enough to go by ourselves.”

Steve looked around at the other kids and they were all looking everywhere but at him. “May I remind you that we are literally standing on the ground where human monsters were trying to open a gate? Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes and even if you think you’re safe, is El? Or Will?”

The kids looked down at their feet and mumbled their apologies.

“I just want everyone safe and having a good time,” Steve finished. “You guys can do whatever you want, but do you know who your parents would blame if something happened to you?”

Dustin raised his head sharply. “But there are other adults here, why would they blame you?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m the fucking babysitter.” He walked off to get in line and everyone just followed behind quietly, suddenly somber.

Robin fell in step next to Steve and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve just ducked his head.

“It’s just a tricky age. You remember what it was like at their age,” she murmured.

“I was getting drunk every weekend, smoking, and having sex,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t want that for them.”

Robin kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet. But they’re going to have to figure it out on their own.”

Steve’s shoulders rounded. “I just want to them to have fun and we keep having knock out drag out fights before we go in and I–” he left out a deep sigh.

“You can’t be held responsible for what they do,” she said.

He snorted. “Tell that to Joyce or Claudia. Just because I’m the oldest.”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re not anymore and you know Eddie would do anything for those kids, too. Plus, this is exactly why you told them to find any adult. Let all of us help shoulder the load, too.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I’ll try. I just keep butting heads with Mike. Always Mike. And I don’t know what to do, he’s just so prickly and even outright hostile.”

“So don’t do anything,” Robin suggested.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Eddie handle it,” she said. “He did a fine job yesterday. So let him do it again.”

Steve pressed his lips together and then nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again and went back to talk to Eddie. Steve paid again for the tickets. Well, not all of them. Thankfully Eddie and his friends were paying their own way.

He turned to Will. “You ready to go get your staff?” He smiled broadly to hide the hurt of Mike’s rebellion.

Will smiled back. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie came bounding up to them. “I’ll meet you at the shop, there’s something I need to do really quick about tomorrow. They’ve messed up the schedule and me and Jeff have to go see someone about it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just ask Jeff where the shop is, he should remember which one.”

Eddie smiled again. “You betcha, big boy.” He flounced back to Jeff and Steve watched him walk away.

When he turned back to Will, the young man was looking at him with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

Will furrowed his brows. “I’m trying to decide if you know about...” he pursed his lips trying to find a way to say what he meant without outing Steve in public. “What you feel about a certain someone?”

Steve looked back at where Eddie had melted into the crowd and then back at this all too perceptive boy. He put his arm around Will and started them walking toward the shop.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” Steve started slowly, “I’ve known I like both for awhile now. It was just easier to focus on the one. The one that was socially acceptable, you know?”

Will nodded. “I can see that. And then he came barreling into our lives and a good kind of upside down happened?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Yeah. He is so sweet. He’s everything I thought I wanted in Nancy.”

Will grinned. “You do have a type.”

He scuffed Will’s hair a bit. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked in silence for awhile before Steve spoke up again.

“I feel I should give you a heads up before we get to the shop,” he said with a wince.

Will looked over at him in confusion.

“I may have talked the merchant in to holding it for you by giving them a ten dollar deposit to hold it.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

Steve laughed. “No, not really. By I can be persuasive and he was willing to do me the favor.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will murmured. “You’ve done so much for us, I think we take you for granted sometimes.”

Steve half shrugged. “My parents suck and while some of you have actually decent parents and older siblings, I don’t mind being the babysitter the one you guys look up to and come to for advice.”

Will smiled. “Any tips on how to tell your best friend you have a crush on them?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Look, the one time I did that I was drugged up on truth serum and literally couldn’t lie. I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

“Too bad Robin bats for the other team,” he said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Nah, I think her telling me that is what made it easier for me to realize that having those feelings can’t make you a bad person. Not when she was so amazing.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “That’s fair.”

“Come on you,” Steve said, “let’s go get you this wizard staff.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “You said it right. You never say the DnD terms right.”

Steve raised a finger up to his lips and winked. “I do it because it drives Dustin up the wall and Eddie just loves explaining it to me, so I kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

As they wove their way through the crowd, Will smiled to himself. Steve and Eddie both liked boys, knew they liked boys, and were still unapologetically themselves. And maybe he could be too.

But first, he was going to get that wicked staff he saw yesterday because he had two brothers looking out for him. His biological one and Steve. Someone who cared so deeply that even when he should have walked away, he stayed.

And Will always could use more people that just...stayed.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

For those that don't know "The Witcher" was an original short story in a Polish sci-fi/magazine in 1985. I couldn't figure out if Jeskier was in the original tale, so shush if he isn't.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

[imnotaacat]

You (not) Belong to Me

bestfriend!Steve x fem reader / boyfriend!Eddie x fem reader.

— Summary: You were always in love with your best friend Steve, however, he never noticed it and when he did it was too late.

— Warnings: Angst, friends to enemies, insults, and some fluff with Eddie at the end. (I think that's all)

A/n: English is not my native language, sorry if something is written wrong, I hope everything can be understood. :)

Five years have passed since you moved from Hawkins to follow your dream, it was very difficult of course, but now, you are one of the most important artists in the industry. Many emotions were passing through your mind, many memories, your friends, your best friends, would finally be together again.

It was very difficult to convince your agency and manager that they would agree to have a date in Hawkins, but after some insistence, they agreed. Hawkins was a quiet, boring town, but now that you and Corroed Coffin had included it in your respective tours, the town was in chaos. Despite having called its leader and vocalist, Eddie Munson, satanic.

After two and a half hours of flight, your plane landed, there was a crowd at the airport shouting your name, holding banners, and asking for photos and autographs, you signed the ones you could, while you got to the car that would take you to your hotel, you agreed to see your friends after your concert, so you will rest better.

You were about to end the show, this would be the last song, you were so happy to see how people had fun and sang all the songs on the setlist.

“Alright Hawkins, are you ready to go back to high school with me?” The entire crowd shouted, and that song that more than one identified with began to play.

"You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset She's going off about something that you said 'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do I'm in my room, it's a typical Tuesday night I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like And she'll never know your story like I do"

Despite the lights you could see your friends in the crowd, seeing that scene where they were chanting and enjoying your songs made you even happier. You really appreciated the support of your friends, they always gave you words of encouragement, even when you thought you wouldn't make it, but now look at you, you fill entire stadiums and arenas.

"And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down You say you're fine, I know you better than that Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?"

At that moment something clicked in Steve's brain.

You were neighbors since you were children, however, being “King Steve” and you being just another “normal” student, there was never any interaction beyond casual greetings, however, that changed when you reached high school, being in the same class and also being neighbors, the friendship between you blossomed quite quickly. Without realizing it, you went and did everything together, many began to believe that you were dating, but you always denied it. However, behind all the times you denied it, there was a reality, you liked Steve.

"She wears high heels, I wear sneakers She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me"

Steve started dating a girl from high school, she was the captain of the cheerleaders, like her best friend, you gave him all the encouragement and confidence to ask about a first date, to ask for a second date, and even to formalize the relationship; although inside you were dying of jealousy and reproaching yourself for not having the courage to tell him what you felt for him.

When the relationship ended after a few months, Steve, although he didn't show it, was heartbroken, so there you were, giving him words of encouragement and your shoulder to cry on, reproaching yourself again for not telling him your feelings.

"Oh, I remember you driving to my house In the middle of the night I'm the one who makes you laugh When you know you're about to cry

I know your favorite songs And you tell me about your dreams Think I know where you belong Think I know it's with me"

After class you had told Steve that you weren't feeling very well, so you weren't going to the party with him; he insisted on staying with you and taking care of you, but you rejected him claiming that you didn't want him to miss out on the fun and the opportunity to meet a girl that night. However, the reality is that you did not want to have him close, you did not want to see him flirt with various girls at the party, while your heart would break into a thousand pieces, you did not want to be alone with him, and fight with yourself for fear of rejection.

It was around 11:30 when you heard the doorbell ring, It had already rung several times, but you didn't dare open it, because you were alone at home and Steve was also too far away to help you, if was a serial killer or something similar, you turned off the television, stood up and began to climb the stairs as far as possible. As silent as possible, your doorbell kept ringing.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay? It's Steve." Your legs weakened a little when you heard the nickname, you stood there for a few more seconds and then went down the stairs again and opened the door. “Steve? What are you doing here? It's not even twelve…”  Steve entered your house and gave you what he had in his hands, four pieces of pizza, probably from the party, some gas station chocolates, and a small bouquet of roses that were almost withered. “I know, honey, but I didn't feel good at the party knowing that you weren't well, so I decided to come here, accompany you, and help you with whatever you need.” Steve turned to look at you and raised both thumbs. “Steve, it wasn't necessary, I already feel much better, I'm serious.” However, I can't hear you anymore, I was arriving at your room.

That night they spent together, they talked about school, problems with her parents, and love dramas. Finally, he discovered that your spirits were low because of a boy, so for about an hour, he asked you the name of the boy, without knowing that he was him.

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor All this time how could you not know, baby? You belong with me You belong with me

You belong with me Have you ever thought just maybe You belong with me You belong with me"

“Thank you very much, Hawkins! A round of applause for this wonderful band that accompanies me, a round of applause for you, I hope to see you soon, thank you very much.” You said goodbye to your audience as you left the stage, leaving behind the screams of all the people who loved and supported you. Steve also quickly got up from his seat heading towards your dressing room, he ran as fast as he could to avoid encountering the entire crowd. Finally, he was able to sneak through the crowd and the small spaces under the stage to get to your dressing room, he knocked on the door insistently, until you finally opened it.

“Steve!” You quickly hugged him. “Sweetheart” He said while hugging you, “You know, I finally understood everything, I understood why my relationships never lasted with any girl” He began to say with a smile, as he separated from the hug and took your hands, you just had a face surprised and confused. “What are you talking about Steve? I'm not understanding you at all” You said laughing, his eyes went to yours. “It was always you, I was always in love with you, I finally understood all the signals you were giving me… I really was an idiot for not realizing it.” Steve said with a smile, a slight blush on his cheeks, you didn't know what to say. “Steve I—” Your words were interrupted by your other friends who shouted to get your attention and ran to hug you.

“It's good to see you all again, thank you very much for coming.” You spoke, as you looked at your friends. “My god, you guys have grown so much” You spoke addressing Dustin, Mike, Will, Eleven, and Max. Who smiled back at you. “It's incredible to be all together again… Only Eddie is missing and the whole group will be reunited again, it's a shame he's coming here until tomorrow.” Dustin spoke, you simply nodded with a mischievous smile, while the others discussed agreeing with him.

“Love, everything is done, we can go with the boys.” Said a voice speaking distractedly, also walking looking backwards, making sure everything was in its place and order. “Edward…”You spoke. Eddie turned to look at you with a smile and then saw who you were talking to, the one who was waiting to see you talking to your team quickly covered his mouth, “Shit” hoping that by magic no one would have heard what he had called you. All your friends looked at them surprised, especially Steve, “Did you listen carefully to what he said?”, “Did everyone hear the same thing?” They all asked at the same time, you and Eddie just laughed, and you raised your left hand to your mouth to cover your laughter a little, “Wait… You already have the ring!” Robin shouted, everyone stopped talking and turned to look at them again, “God, at what point?” “When were you planning to tell us?”, “Were you guys already dating when you left here?” Dustin asked, everyone had a lot of questions at that moment. “Oh no dude, three years ago she was part of the cover of one of the band's albums, we started talking more often and well, now we're going to get married” Eddie explained with a big smile on his face. While all this was going on and Eddie was answering some questions you noticed that Steve's mood and expressions had changed and rightly so. Actually, in those years that you were in love with him, you gave him all the signs you could, even the most obvious ones, like the time you kissed him pretending to be a little drunk, however, there was no response from him, so from that moment on you decided forgetting him, you moved to Los Angeles and met Eddie again, from the moment you started talking to him you realized how gentlemanly and warm he was, you never noticed it when you still lived in Hawkins, he quickly won your heart, and Now you were about to marry him, the love of your life.

“Love, is everything okay?” Eddie asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I'm sorry, I zoned out a little, I remember how we had it before, I'm very happy that we are together again” You responded with a smile, Eddie hugged you and kissed you on the forehead. “What do they say about going out to eat something?” Dustin said, “I'm hungry and you two must give us a lot of answers.” Everyone laughed. “We can go to my house, we can be calmer,” Steve spoke, with a noticeably low mood.

“Does anyone know what's wrong with Steve? Since we came back it's been weird” Robin said, looking at Steve who was in the backyard of his house. The others denied. “He probably didn't have a good day,” you said. “I spend the whole day excited about tonight, it's weird” Dustin added. “I'll go talk to him” You warned as you stood up and walked in Steve's direction.

"Everything is alright?" You asked, but there was no answer, so you just sat next to him, giving him space, “You're my best friend, I know we haven't lost communication a bit, but you can still trust me.” Again there was no response, although you had an idea of ​​what he might have, from what he had told you in your dressing room. “That's the problem” He finally spoke, turning to look at you. “I'm your best friend” You didn't respond. “Why did you never tell me?” He asked, a hint of confusion showing on your face. “Tell you what?” Asked. “That you were in love with me” Your confused expression became a little more evident. “I knew you were like this because of this” You stopped looking at him and directed your gaze towards your ring. “If you had only told me, I would have given you the ring you are wearing,” I added. A little anger began to grow in your chest. “Are you really in love with him?” Asked. “Or are you just with him out of spite?” You didn't answer anything, you could hear how drunk he was, so he was just saying it because he was drunk, not because he meant it. “What does he have that I don't have?” “Edward Munson” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “What could be so special about the freak?” “What does the freak have that King Steve doesn't, huh?” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice, you remained silent, you really didn't want to say anything and ruin your friendship, however with everything Steve was saying, he was going that way, Steve probably wouldn't remember tomorrow, but you would, and probably after that night the friendship between the two of you would no longer exist.

"I bet when you realized that I didn't feel the same way about you, you ran into his arms." You remained silent, you didn't believe everything he was telling you, he was your best friend, how could he say something like that about you? "You know... For a long time it was said that you were a slut, I never believed them but now I realize it was the truth" Steve laughed at the moment, he turned to look at you, and you were already looking at him, however, the tears were beginning to come out. your eyes. “I’m thankful I never dated you, can you imagine King Steve dating a slut?” once again he laughed. Without realizing it, Eddie was a short distance from you, he had heard everything, to say that he was angry would be flattery, he wanted to go with you and confront Steve himself, however, he restrained himself, he knew that it was a problem between you and Steve, He shouldn't get involved, you two would talk later.

The anger was already accumulated in your chest, Steve reacted until he felt the burning of your hand on his cheek, there he woke up, he realized everything he had told you, and he regretted it instantly, however, it was too late. "You're an Idiot!" You said a little louder, getting your friend's attention. “I gave you a lot of signs when I was in love with you, all our friends realized it, except you Steve, even someone who didn't know you or me would have realized it” Steve's face of regret was evident, all the others were now only a meter away from the two of you. "You know... now I'm grateful not to be with you, I always thought you were a gentleman, but now I realize that when you're drunk you transform, your true self takes over you, imagine being your best friend, you call me a slut, what wouldn't you say to me being your girlfriend or wife?” Steve felt the gaze of all his friends staring at him, especially Eddie's, without even seeing him he could tell that he was very angry. “You could have fooled us all Steve, saying that you had changed, that you were different, but now I realize that you will always be the idiotic and stupid King Steve” You said. You gave him one last look and then went inside the house to grab your things, Eddie followed you, and you noticed how angry Eddie was, you took his hand, then you remembered that your friends were still there, you turned to see them, their confused faces told you everything. “Guys… sorry about this… I didn't think it would end like this tonight, I'll make it up to you, I promise.” Everyone nodded and some said there was no problem. You and Eddie left Steve's house hand in hand and headed to the car you had rented, before getting in you could notice a flash behind you. “Shit” They both thought.

After that discussion everyone went home, Steve was alone again, the regret was much greater than him, the image of all his friends being disappointed in him after you left was present in his head, but without However, the one that was repeated the most was yours, seeing him with teary eyes listening to him call you “slut”, he wondered what had happened to him, why call the person he loved that way, the person he has always loved. It had probably been jealousy, for not acting sooner, and now you were happy for someone else, the guilt was killing him, if he found out that you and Eddie broke up because of that, he definitely wouldn't be able to live in peace, he knew you would never want to have anything. with him now, and knowing that the person you loved would leave because of him, he couldn't bear it.

The walk from Steve's house to his hotel had been silent, which meant something to you, you and Eddie always had something to talk about, even if it was stupid. Once in his hotel room, you headed to the bathroom and Eddie stayed in the small living room. You took a rather long shower, and when you came out of the shower you noticed that Eddie was not in the room, you put on your pajamas and got ready to sleep and rest, tomorrow you would talk to him and explain everything to him. For about thirty minutes you tried to fall asleep, but you just couldn't do it, you got out of bed and headed to the small living room, there you saw Eddie sitting, he had a music book in his hands, without making much noise. When you approached him and sat on the couch leaving a little space between you, he turned to look at you, the image he saw made his anger return, you looked tired and irritated, and rightly so, after a concert and everything that step, your eyes were red and swollen, making it obvious that you had cried. “I don't want to bother you, I just want to talk to you… explain what happened.” You spoke, Eddie responded a few seconds later, “You don't have to explain anything to me, I know what happened” He responded, you looked down at your ring, it was probably over between the two of you. “I'm not mad at you, Love… I'm mad at Steve, for everything he said, for what he called you…” You turned to look at him. “I always thought that you and him were dating, that's why I didn't dare to confess it to you when we were at school… But when you told me that you and he weren't together, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be with you and since that day I haven't regretted it.” Eddie smiled, opening his arms in a hug, and you snuggled into his arms. “I love you so much” You said, “I love you too” He responded, getting up and carrying your bridal style towards the bedroom.

A year later you found yourself on stage again at Hawkings, your wedding with Eddie would have been a few months after their photos appeared in the newspaper speculating about their relationship, the day of the fight at Steve's house.

“Very good Hawkins, I'm very happy to be here tonight, for the next song, someone very special will accompany me on guitar, with you, Eddie Munson!” Eddie came out on stage, the entire crowd went crazy, absolutely everyone since those speculations about the two of you, he began to comment that you would be a great couple, one of the best in the artistic medium. However, no one confirmed or denied the news. Eddie greeted the crowd, then hugged you, and you confirmed your relationship with a kiss, the audience once again applauded and screamed at this.

You brought your microphone closer to him, “Good evening Hawkins, I'm glad to be here with you, but above all to share the stage with this wonderful girl” He said looking at you “Now we will play for you “Slut!”” The crowd went crazy once again, there was a lot of speculation. and theories for who this song would be for, but now, it was more than confirmed.

"Flamingo pink, Sunrise boulevard Clink, clink, being this young is art Aquamarine, moonlit swimming pool What if all I need is you?"

Steve, who had gone to your concert, was clearly incognito because, after that night, the group had decided not to communicate with him much. I knew that fight could have perhaps inspired this song, although I wasn't proud of the way you had written a song, thinking of him.

I hope you like this short (long) one shot, it's the first time I have written something like this, so I would also like you to give advice or recommendations. I hope it's not too long or boring. I would appreciate your comments. 💗

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 7

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

I would never be able to walk into Dr. Miller’s classroom and look at anything the same way again. When Tuesday finally rolled around after a weekend of reliving the most invigorating sexual experience of my life, I couldn't help but walk sheepishly in through the door.

Before I crossed the threshold of the lecture hall I could almost hear my professor’s primal groans that had echoed off the walls of his office the week before - a result of his intense climax as I ‘returned the favor’.

I would have been more anxious and unsure if he hadn't slipped a piece of paper with his cell phone number on it between my cleavage upon our walk to our respective cars that evening. That - and the fact that we had exchanged an overabundance of racy text messages back and forth. The very thought made me blush.

Trevor was up at Dr. Miller's desk when I rounded into the room and I almost snickered from the subtle, annoyed look on his face as he humored his over-enthusiastic student. When his eyes met mine I knew my eyebrows raised and felt a new rush of red form on my cheeks.

He's wearing glasses. Fuck, I was a hot mess.

“We’ll discuss it Trevor,” I heard him say amongst the background chatter in the room, shooing him away like a fly in the most delicate of ways. 

Our eyes locked again as Trevor vacated the area at the head of the room and Dr. Miller sat back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. The smallest smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth and I smiled to myself as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

That position - his feet widened, the same brown dress shoes, hands behind his head, eyes on mine. Fuck, he was in the same exact posture as he had been in the other night in his office chair. It made my body twitch with satisfaction as I took my seat.

I wanted to focus on the subject matter. I wanted to engage in conversation. I wanted to learn more about the topic Dr. Miller had sent home in the reading the previous week. I simply couldn't concentrate.

I was thankful that he didn't call on me to answer a question. He must've known I wasn't paying attention the way I ordinarily did. My hormones were in overdrive and my typical sound mind was a ticking time bomb of lust.

“Aren't all killers.. bad?” A voice from the crowd asked.

My attention was pulled back to the discussion at hand. The girl on campus. I hadn't even thought about it since the fantasies of my own little world had manifested Thursday night.

Dr. Miller slid back to sit on the edge of his desk and moved his arms out to the sides. “I don't know. What do you think?”

“Well.. yeah.” I spotted the voice coming from a male in a blue baseball hat near the front left side of the room.

“Well,” Dr. Miller went on, “Let's define ‘killer’ first. Is it anyone who has killed another human being - a soldier, someone who has acted in self defense, a drunk driving accident, the man who put the lethal injection into Ted Bundy’s arm.”

A silence fell over the classroom and I began to ponder the question. When I raised my hand Dr. Miller's dimples highlighted a wide, genuine smile. He ran a hand across his trim, salt-and-pepper beard.

“Ms. (Y/LN),” he addressed me and folded his arms across his chest. “What do you think?”

Most of the students had turned their attention on me and so I cleared my throat. “I would say if it was part of a job, like a soldier or the person who is responsible for lethal injections, that it wouldn't make the person a killer per se, or evil in any way.”

“And why do you say that?” Dr. Miller removed his glasses and slipped the end into his mouth. It distracted me for a half-a-second though I quickly went on.

“Well.. I mean.. in some way they're protecting us. They aren't choosing to kill for pleasure, or targeting innocent people. It's not a crime of passion or revenge or pure insanity; or even because the person is a psychopath.”

“So, you would say in this sense killing is.. acceptable?”

I gave a little shrug. “I guess I would.. yeah.”

“They're getting rid of the scum,” the student with the blue hat added.

“Well, what if they got it wrong,” a blonde-haired woman with glasses shouted down from the back. “What if Ted Bundy was innocent and-”

“Ted Bundy wasn't innocent,” blue hat cut her off.

“I meant someone like him,” she shot back in a slightly annoyed tone, “Let's say in theory Ted Bundy never killed anyone. What would you say about the lethal injector now?”

Dr. Miller gave a hearty laugh from the front and nodded in approval as he hopped down off the desk and set his glasses down on top of it. “Now this.. this is what I love. Debates.. critical thinking.. digging a little deeper.”

“I think it all has to do with the reason behind the action,” another student chimed in.

“Yeah but we can't just go around killing people who did terrible things like.. The Purge or something,” the blonde added again.

“How about this?” Dr. Miller took a piece of paper he had on the corner of his desk and crumbled it into a ball. “I had a whole different assignment planned for this week but I like where this is going. I'll send this in an email to everyone more formally, but I'd like you to write up a short paper on your opinion on the questions presented. What defines a killer? Are all people that take a life.. bad?” 

“Do we need sources?” The blond shouted down.

“I'll send out a formal email with the requirements by tomorrow at noon and I'll extend the due date to Friday.” He added, “Though I would like to further this discussion so if you have it done by Thursday's class I'll give some extra credit.”

On that note, the class concluded.

“Trevor, (Y/N),” Dr. Miller called the two of us to his desk as the rest of the class began to exit the room. We both smiled for different reasons.

Maybe a repeat of the other night? I secretly hoped.

Dr. Miller rounded his desk and placed his hands flat on top of it as we both approached.

“I'm glad you attended the office hours Thursday night,” he said, glancing at Trevor first and then holding my gaze for just a second or two longer. “It made for a great discussion today and a new assignment I haven't done with my classes before.”

I took a deep breath and smiled.

“That's all,” he added with a grin, “Just.. keep up the good work.” His eyes shifted toward the door when the last person filtered out and then back to the two of us.

“Thank you, Dr. Miller.” Trevor’s nasally voice was far more tolerable.

“Thank you,” I echoed.

“Alright,” he looked to Trevor, “You can go. I know everyone has a job to get to tomorrow. Go home. Sleep on it. We’ll talk in a few days.”

Much to my surprise Trevor looked at me and smiled, “Good job.”

“Thanks Trevor.” I smiled cordially and watched as he skipped happily away without a thought of whether I was the last one in the classroom or not.

Dr. Miller reached for his glasses and placed them back on. He folded his arms across his chest again and nodded at me with a sense of approval. “You should speak up more, ya know. You could generate some damn good discussions in here.”

“I know. I should, I just-”

“Have some confidence. You've got a lot going for you.”

“Thanks.” I smiled softer now. There was always something about direct compliments that made me uncomfortable.

Yet his hand down your pants didn't make you uncomfortable..

I had to accept that this thing, whatever it was, would never completely make sense. I wasn't making sense. But I was, ultimately, okay with that.

“What're you doing now?” Dr. Miller asked. He ran a hand through his hair. It was short, though it began creeping over the tops of his ears. It suited him.

“I, uh..” my eyes shifted toward the open door and then back to him. “I don't know.”

He gave a laugh, apparently already knowing what I had in mind. “Lots of people are still hanging around the building tonight.” Dr. Miller quickly squashed my idea of an encore though reached into his pocket for his car keys, “You up to go for a ride?”

Of course I was up to go for a ride. When I smiled he scrunched his nose and chuckled. Despite the subtle grays in his hair and some crows feet by his eyes, there was something very boyish in his features. It wasn't often when someone could pull off such an intense sex appeal while being equally adorable. It was all part of Dr. Miller's charm.

“Come on.” He nodded, “I'm going to use the stairs. Go up the elevator, pull your hood up and meet me at my car.”

The sneaky nature of our borderline devious behavior added to my addiction; to my infatuation with my professor and every taboo act we committed together. I agreed without hesitation and felt, again, like I was flying so high as I entered the vacant elevator.

I couldn't wait. Even though it would only be a minute or two before I saw Dr. Miller again I couldn't wait until I was beside him in his passenger seat without a care in the world for where we would end up.

We could have driven five minutes or five hours. I wouldn't have questioned it. There was nowhere else I would rather be.

The cold nipped at my cheeks as I exited the building but it was a welcomed contrast to the heat that had made a permanent home on my face. I exhaled a puff of white air and eyed the lot, immediately spotting the Mercedes amongst the thinned out crowd of vehicles. 

Dr. Miller was waiting there already. He stood beside the car and must've hit a starter on his key ring because the car suddenly roared to life as I approached.

I was waiting for some, ‘come with me if you want to live’ line but he simply smiled and ducked into the driver’s side and so I followed his lead and joined him inside.

“Hungry?” He asked.

“Very.” I smiled. And thirsty.

“There's a good, little place up near Woodstock. Might not be a bad idea to get a little distance from this place.”

Woodstock was at least a forty minute drive. I knew those forty minutes would fly by, and it sounded like a little slice of heaven to be stuck in a car with Dr. Miller for that length of time.. and then back.

“I'm up for the drive if you are.”

He knew I would say yes. Being with Dr. Miller felt free and easy while contradictory, nerve-wracking and tense. I wasn't sure where on the scope of inappropriate our relationship fell but there was a part of me that knew it shouldn't have been happening. Acknowledging that certainly wasn't a deterrent. It was the exact opposite actually.

“So, what are your thoughts on the topic in class?” He asked. “Should everyone who has ever taken a life be branded with the same term?”

I was surprised when our talk began with what was happening within the educational setting, though it pleased me. Dr. Miller was honestly interested in what I had to say. It gave me.. hope.

“No,” I said, shaking my head as he glanced over for a brief second while he drove. “I think sometimes people are forced to act.. like in the self defense example. For others, they do it to protect the rest of us.”

“Like someone in the military.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, “Or even the people in charge of those lethal injections.”

Dr. Miller glanced over at me again, staring as long as he could manage safely before looking back out the windshield. “Why don't you elaborate on that?”

“Well.. someone has to do that job. I'm assuming those that do have some kind of thick skin and can handle it. Maybe that makes them just a bit..” I searched for the right word in my head, “..darker than your average Joe but I feel like they have to believe they're doing a good deed by eliminating some truly awful people from the world.. ya know?”

Dr. Miller was tense again. I almost thought something I said might have angered him from the way his hand tightened against the wheel. It was so much so that a squeak edged out from beneath his palm against the leather.

“I'm sorry. I mean.. maybe not.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You obviously feel differently.”

“I don't,” he stole another quick glance and let out a relieved laugh. “And even if I did you should never apologize for voicing your opinion.”

“Okay.”

“And..  I'm glad you finally put your social media on private,” he added, smirking when I whipped my head in his direction. “I almost wish I hadn't advised you of that.. for my own selfish reasons.”

I laughed lightly now. I loved knowing he thought of me in his private time. The details of how or why didn't matter to me in the least. I was on his mind - at least to some degree.

“What was the original assignment going to be?” I asked him. “The one you crumpled up.”

“Just some generic paper on the topic. This seemed a lot more interesting to me.” He added, “I'm eager to see what you come up with.”

Dr. Miller’s approval was something I craved. For only knowing the man for a short period of time it shouldn't have been like that - at least not to the extent I felt it. 

In the bouts of silence in between our conversations I snuck glances at him as he drove. I had been told over the years that I had a knack for reading people. It was mainly something I did quietly and, most of the time, without judgment. There was something there inside Dr. Miller that made my brain ache for discovery.

The man appeared as cool and calm as he did tense, at times. It didn't make sense. I knew it wasn't just some type of forbidden attraction toward me - though I would have been perfectly okay with that. He could have pulled the car over and taken me right there in the passenger seat and both of us knew I would have happily obliged. There was something else; something bigger.

I toyed with the idea of calling him out on it, not in a disrespectful way; but a part of me wanted to take him off-guard again like I had in the bar the week before. At the same time, I didn't want to say the wrong thing and shatter the night into a thousand pieces for me to pick up. For that reason, I played it safe and kept the tone light - for now.

“Ever been up to the Catskills?” Dr. Miller asked as he took an exit that led down a wooded back road.

“I went skiing a few times up this way,” I told him with a nod, and then added, “Never been to Woodstock, though.”

“Too bad it's dark,” he said, glancing over at me as his blinker led us down another dark road, “There’s a nice view of the mountains down this way.” 

“Have to come back during the day some time.”

“In the fall it's even better.”

The way the two of us conversed felt oddly normal. While my blossoming crush on him left me feeling a bit overwhelmed at times, the communication between the two of us flowed naturally. There wasn't anything that felt forced.

Finally, beyond the arboraceous route that we’d been on since exiting the highway, a quaint downtown street emerged, seemingly out of nowhere. Beyond it I could see the outline of the mountains Dr. Miller was speaking of.

The Mercedes eased into a parking spot on the side of the road where a collection of other vehicles were parked. He turned and looked at me for a second and then motioned to a little restaurant on the corner.

“You know the old saying, ‘you could at least take me to dinner first'?”

I chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Yeah.”

“Well, I'm sorry about doing this backwards.” He smiled and it made me feel content - like something more than just sex was on his mind. I hoped that was the case, because I was already set on jumping in with both feet.

The interior of the place had a warm feel to it. A fire burned in the back corner and gave off a pleasant, cozy aroma immediately as we entered. The wait staff was eager to tend to the two of us and, much to my liking, sat us at a little table not far from the fireplace.

“I can see why you wanted to make the drive up here,” I said to him, taking in the surroundings.

“I live out this way,” Dr. Miller confessed. “About fifteen minutes in the direction back toward Woodbridge.” He glanced up and thanked the waitress as she brought our menus, while offering us a moment to look them over.

“So what is it about a half-an-hour ride to work for you?” I asked, trying to sound casual though the thought of possibly going back to his house made my thoughts spin in circles for a moment.

“More or less.”

I cleared my throat and glanced at the menu, taking a deeper breath than I must have realized because Dr. Miller smirked to himself and his eyes fleetingly landed on mine.

When the waitress returned I ordered the stuffed chicken with roasted potatoes and a glass of red wine. Dr. Miller requested a surf and turf meal, along with three fingers of bourbon. And then his attention was fully on me.

“What are you looking for from this?” He asked point blank, folding his hands.

Shit. The question had caught me off-guard and now I was the one who was disarmed. I knew exactly what I wanted; but I wasn't at all prepared to lay it all on the table. I didn't know what to say.

“I, uh.. I don't know,” I said to him. “I don't even know what this is.” The second part was true. The first part - not so much.

“Well I'm an open book,” Dr. Miller went on, “Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

I opened my mouth and then shut it again before biting down on my lip as I began to think of a way to word what I was truly feeling. When I failed to respond he spoke again.

“How about if we start with a different question,” he suggested.

Yes.. please. “Okay,” I agreed with a nod, thankful for the opportunity to go in another direction.

“Would you be jealous.. or hurt.. if you thought I was fucking someone else?”

Had my chin just hit the floor? Because I couldn't control the reaction I felt forming on my face. This question wasn't any more subtle.

He's not a subtle man, I reminded myself.

“Would I be..” I began and he finished the sentence that trailed off in my mouth.

“..jealous if you saw me here with someone else.” He toned down the vulgarity in his rephrase of the same question.

“Yes,” I responded honestly. It triggered what felt like a jolt of electricity through my body.

“Were you okay with what happened the other night?”

“Yes.” That one was easier.

“Good,” Dr. Miller replied. His eyes lifted as our drinks were set down in front of us and he reached for his glass. “Now.. I just need to know what you're looking for.”

“What does that mean?” I couldn't even sip my drink though I watched as his lips connected with the short, whiskey glass.

“I think we have a connection,” he told me, keeping the drink between his hands now. Dr. Miller swirled the glass and glanced down at the liquid as he did. “And it makes me want to get to know you a whole lot better.” His eyes burned into mine now, “You have something that I want.”

I swallowed extra hard and looked at him, shaking my head. “What do you mean?” Did he mean sexually? Emotionally? Did he think I stole his family’s fortune? It was such a vague, obscure statement.

“I want you,” he said now.

In the midst of the honesty that he was bestowing upon me, however confusing, I blurted out my truth. “I want to be with you. I want to try having a relationship. Not just.. something casual.”

It was me who was hiding behind my wine glass now. There. I had said it. Is that what Dr. Miller wanted too? Could I even be with a man who I couldn't even address by his first name?

The lie detector in him was out in full force. I could tell. His eyes shifted to every part of me he could see as if he was, quite literally, reading me like a book.

“Why?” He asked me.

“Because I feel it too,” I told him. “The connection. I felt it the first time we spoke that time after class. I felt it at The Library. I feel it now.”

Dr. Miller's hand abruptly reached out and latched onto my wrist with a force that made me jump. He pulled his hand back immediately and then looked at me in a way that made me shudder. It was almost as if the man I had just been speaking with was replaced by a dark replica.

“I'm sorry,” he sighed and sipped his drink before composing himself enough to address me again. His first question had me confused.. again. “How many sick days have you accrued this year?”

“Huh?”

“Sick days.” His voice was slightly impatient now.

“I, uh.. I don't know. I took one day in the fall when I didn't feel good-”

“Whatever app or website your school system uses, take a sick day.”

“I, uh.. what?” I was fumbling on my words. I knew Dr. Miller was becoming frustrated but his delivery wasn't at all making sense. I was trying to read between the lines, or connect the dots, but I felt like I was lost in a puzzle.

The tables had turned. I noticed a shake in his hand as he lifted the bourbon glass to his lips. Only I knew it wasn't nerves. He was angry.. or so I thought. 

“I'm sorry,” I said immediately. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I want you to take a sick day tomorrow.” He added, “If you don't mind.”

“Okay.” I blindly agreed. His demand had purpose. I was sure of that. I even had a haunch as to why he had hit me with such an adamant request - one that was lined with emotion and angst from the inside out. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized now, “I'm not trying to control you.”

“Yes you are,” I shot back immediately, prompting his eyes to lift and meet mine with a hint of surprise. “And I'm okay with that.”

When Dr. Miller's hand grabbed mine this time I didn't jump. His grip was just a little too tight, his eyes a little too.. savage. Still, I felt this unmatchable attraction as he looked at me in a way that I imagined the Big Bad Wolf might look at Little Red Riding Hood. There was a part of me that felt afraid, though at that moment I knew the intensity of his feelings matched mine.

I had sought him out in our days apart. I had driven around town in search of his car. I had entered his name in every search engine I could think of. I had looked at the handwritten phone number he had so lewdly slipped in my bra the night after our on-campus rendezvous. I was just as crazy as he was.

“Call out sick,” he demanded more adamantly now. “Take out your phone and send it in to your school.”

I did as he demanded. I put in for my second sick day that year and I could only imagine the punishing prize that was in store for me for obeying such a request.

When I clicked on the ‘submit’ button my eyes lifted to meet his. “Done.” I knew why, but I wanted to hear it from his lips. “Can you tell me why you wanted me to do that so badly?”

“Because..” His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched. His hand tightened around the glass of bourbon. “We’re going back to my house tonight.” 

Dr. Miller wasn't asking for permission. He was giving me an order. The second order of what I hoped was a laundry list of more. I didn't care if it was twisted or weird or wrong. I didn't care what anyone in the world might think if they knew. All I cared about, right then, was that he wanted me in the same animalistic way that I wanted him. We were on the same page in the same book.. and I couldn't wait to get to the next chapter.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @amyispxnk @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 29: Pink Pilates Princess

y'all what happens in the discord filters out into tumblr in such weird ways @calimanc I hope you're happy

Mulder's hiding something from her. Scully is sure of it. He's taken to leaving at different times when he used to walk her out. Once she waited for him and he slipped into the garage by some other entrance and was gone by the time she made her way to his car.

So she follows him. Naturally.

Her car is so nondescript it might as well have a bumper sticker that says "I'm a Fed". She remembers being so proud when she bought it: something solid that would last. And it is, and it has, and it also looks exactly like the car a person would requisition to tail their errant partner. Which is what she's doing. She's slumped in the driver's seat outside a strip mall in Alexandria, eating a stick of beef jerky, because it's dinner time and she's hungry and instead of doing the sane, normal thing of going home and eating, she's stalking her colleague. Is he her superior? They've never really worked through all that. He's senior to her, technically, but everyone knows she's the responsible one.

Well, not when it comes to "who's responsible for this catastrophe?" The answer to that is usually a solid "Mulder".

This isn't the first time she's followed him. That's the real tragedy of it. He's usually not betraying her, but she's not interested in risking her career again, or her emotional stability. For better or worse, she and Mulder are involved to a degree that she's unable and unwilling to disentangle. Of course, that means she's hiding in her car on a Tuesday night giving herself hypertension, so who's the real loser?

He emerges at last from a store? A salon? She's really not sure. There's a brief glimpse of pink glitter and soft light. He's in a crowd of women, chatting amiably. And he's wearing pink fluffy slippers and pink short shorts and a pink tank top, and carrying something pink rolled up under his arm.

What. The fuck.

He glances over and she ducks down, but he's seen her. He knows her car anyway, even as anonymous as it is. It's like when she can pick out that one particular pigeon by the Hoover Building even though it looks the same as all the others. She turns the key enough to activate the electrical systems so she can roll down the window as Mulder approaches.

"To be fair, you've hidden things from me before," she says before he gets out a single word.

He raises an eyebrow. That's her move, dammit. "And hello to you, Scully."

"You've been avoiding me."

He sighs and tips his chin toward the passenger seat. "May I?"

She disengages the power locks with an audible click and he rounds the hood of her car and opens the passenger door, sliding in. The seat is already adjusted for his height.

"How's your stakeout going?" he asks affably. They both glance down at the Slim Jim's wrapper, a true sign that she's feeling stressed. "Guess I should have brought you an iced tea."

"You've been avoiding me," she accuses.

"Yeah." He sighs. "For some reason, I didn't want you to know I was doing Pilates at the Pink Princess Pilates studio. Imagine that."

"Why?" she asks. "Surely you didn't imagine I thought it was a threat to your masculinity."

He looks at his outfit, and then at her. His silence speaks volumes.

"Mulder, I assure you, if anything my perception of your malehood is enhanced by the very small shorts you're wearing." She thinks over what she said and then blushes. "I mean, they don't leave much to the imagination."

"Pilates was invented by a man, you know," he says.

"Yes, I know." She stares at him. "Between the two of us, I think you're the one who has a problem with the fact that you do Pilates."

"It's good for my core," he says mournfully.

Her mouth quirks. "And the fluffy slippers?"

"I wear the grippy socks," he says. "It's more convenient than shoes. And they made Midge laugh."

"Oh, as long as they made Midge laugh," she says.

"You'd like her," he tells her. "She's like the Skinner of Pilates. Stern. No-nonsense."

"I didn't tell you about Pilates because I felt silly," he says. "Not because I wanted to hide it from you."

"I think you make a beautiful pink princess," she says softly.

"Midge's daughter had breast cancer," Mulder says. "They sold these pink sets and the pink mats as a fundraiser for her treatment. She's okay now, but sometimes we have theme days."

"You've got a whole other Pilates life I never imagined," she says.

"Now you know all my secrets," he says with a crooked smile.

"All of them?" she teases. "Are you sure?"

He holds her gaze a few beats longer than necessary. What she sees in his eyes makes her heart thud. She wants to look away. She won't look away.

"All of them," he promises.

"You know," she says, "that color is actually really lovely on you."

"Is that so?"

It would look even better on my floor, she thinks about saying. "Are you hungry?"

He gestures at himself. "I don't think I'm dressed for dinner, Scully."

"Take out," she says. "Meet me at my place?"

"It's a date," he says, and the look he gives her as he slides out of her car feels like a kiss.

[raccoonfallsharder]

hello, friends! i wanted to give you a quick update. i am certainly on the mend right now. i feel better than i have in probably a week or more, and though i am still not clear of pneumonia and all its complications in my life lol, i am hoping to be almost completely back to normal by the end of this week, if all goes well.

i also wanted to thank you all for your kindness and also your threats and affectionate insults. thank you, so much, for caring. the world can be a hard place to live, and we are encouraged in so many ways to live these small atomized lives. but no matter how tenuous or fleeting our internet-interactions are, they are still real, and i appreciate you reaching out to tell me to rest, and to send me your well-wishes. it truly does mean so much, not only as a moment of connection, but also as a reminder of how well people can care for each other, even those they barely know or never met. you all inspire and uplift me, and i am grateful for it.

for those of you more curious about the details (and the absolutely absurdity of my friday night this week), you can read on. i tend to fall into irreverent medical narrative monologuing (as i do with everything else lol) but i will try to keep it brief.

content warnings for doctors, medical stuff, pain and illness, emergencies, and hospitals.

here's the basic timeline of my week lol:

on tuesday, i got really sick. i tend to not have a lot of normal symptoms for things (i have only had a fever once in my life, and it was NOT the time i had appendicitis, a ruptured intestine, or kidney stones), and figuring out when i don't feel well takes a lot of conscious effort on my part. plus i gaslight myself hard. these are all things i'm working on and have gotten a lot better at - which is probably the only reason why i went to urgent care instead of convincing myself this was "just a flu" and trying to take care of myself at home. i had been having side pain as well, which i had attributed to a pulled muscle, but something in me was afraid i had maybe done something else and caused an injury that got infected or something. i don't know, it just felt connected.

urgent care diagnosed me with probable pneumonia (they couldn't find it with the stethoscope, but they were confident it was there) and started treating that. they believed the strained muscle was not related but told me to come back on friday with an x-ray if my other symptoms didn't improve.

on friday morning, we went to get an x-ray done at 7am and hit up urgentcare on the way back. the x-ray said i was clear on pneumonia, but my cough was worse and my nausea had returned (no fever anymore though, thank goodness). my muscle pain in my back was also so much worse, presumably because of all my coughing, so they gave me some meds for my lungs and for my muscle pain.

now we get to friday evening, probably 5pm. i have a coughing fit with an unsupported back - and i scream. i think i blacked out for a second. my partner came in running. i couldn't move. i've never been in so much pain in my life, and i have a stupid-high pain tolerance. (this is another part of my issue with figuring out when i don't feel well). at this point, the pain had suddenly migrated. it felt like it was grinding down through my flank and into my groin. the location felt very similar to a kidney stone but it was unlike anything i had ever experienced before. i was sweating, trying to walk to the car and then up through the hospital doors. the guard at the front was like "get this woman a wheelchair" lollol.

it was a pretty crowded night so when we were admitted, we were stuck in the hall, which was fine by me. the doctors and nurses were all lovely (my partner believes we were the favorites on the floor because we are very easy-going and also funny lol. i think he has a slightly-inflated view of us but whatever, one of us is wrong and i'm happy if it's me). anyway, the med staff all seemed to think - like me - that perhaps all my symptoms had actually been a kidney stone, and that it was the cough that was unrelated, rather than the muscle pain. so eventually i go back a CT. The scan comes back an hour or so later and, surprise, it is still pneumonia (of course it was able to pick up what an x-ray couldn't). What it also noticed is that the pneumonia had inflamed my entire diaphragm. i do not remember learning much about the diaphragm in school but i knew from logic that it had something to do with respiration because of my choir- and stage-inclined friends. but it does a lot of other things as well (like puppeteering the bladder) and impacts a lot of systems and also, apparently, causes a lot of fucking pain when inflamed.

so. they had already given me some pretty hefty anti-inflammatories. they tell me they'd actually like to replace the seven other drugs the urgent care doctors have me on with one different one. it should totally knock out the pneumonia, especially since i will be starting with a full course of the medication after already tackling the pneumonia with the other antibiotics since tuesday. this sounds great to me, and i say sure. they give me the new drug and discharge me, more quickly than i have ever seen a discharge take place, and i was on my way - already feeling better than i had in days thanks to the antiinflammatory they'd given me before.

here's where the night gets spicy

we get in the car, i'm feeling better than i have in days, it's all good. we hit the freeway and i'm like. huh. my face feels funny.

my partner's like.... what.

i'm like, i don't know? my face feels funny? not itchy or anything, but like.... weird?

he says, should we go back?

i'm like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i genuinely cannot identify this sensation.

then something switches, and i'm like... oh yeah, okay. my mouth and face all feel like... not itchy, but fuzzy. staticky. and while i have not had this kind of reaction before (like everything else, my allergies show up weirdly), i have heard about it. so i say, yeah.... i think we should go back. my throat's a little tight, but there's no swelling on my face, no hives - because again, i am weirdly symptomatic. and because i'm aces at gaslighting myself, i say, maybe i'm overreacting?

which is when i realize that at some point, my partner has called 911. i answer some questions but it's definitely hard to keep my eyes open. and then the car is pulled over, and there are EMTs. and my partner tells them i've been passing out at thirty second intervals. i tell them i'm just being a drama queen and i'm probably overreacting. they apparently think that's some bullshit and i get my very first ambulance ride. i'm phasing in and out - pretty badly hypotensive with really low blood pressure, but still - no visible swelling. my throat is tight enough that my voice sounds like that of a ninety-year-old who's been smoking four packs a day her entire life, but there's nothing they can SEE, other than that i'm "cold and clammy" (rude, lol). still, they stick me with epinephrine and give me some O2 and take me right back to where i come from.

one of the nurses from earlier sees me being wheeled in (to a room, this time - no hallways for repeat customers, i guess) and she is like, "NO! miss dae! why are you back?!!" and i say, "because i missed you. and i wanted the room upgrade."

and then i start giggling hysterically.

and the registering nurse asks me if i consent to have my insurance billed and i say, "FUCK YEAH. fuck those guys" and giggle some more. i don't know if that was the epinephrine or just pure delirium at that point.

then i start crying because i feel so bad about coming back, again. all my self-gaslighting really coming out to the forefront. and they're like, NO, you did absolutely what you should have done, don't be silly.

they get me all settled and are shooting me up with a ton of antihistamines, and finally let me partner back, and my voice still sounds like rocks going through a meat grinder but you know what? you know what antihistimines do? THEY DECREASE INFLAMMATION. so my diaphragm is feeling better than it has in like, a week.

my doctor from earlier comes in, and he clearly felt so bad about everything. he tells me to return to my previous course of drugs, and puts this one in my file as another allergen. after about an hour of fluids and watching me, they release us. we get home at 3:30am and crawl into bed, safe as houses.

now, i can't really say "the end." the pneumonia's not gone yet, and i still have some ongoing pain from my diaphragm. additionally, a coughing fit that happened later that night does seem to have damaged an old surgery site (probably because of the diaphragm muscle, actually), so i need to get that checked out this week too. BUT. i am feeling so much better than i have all week. i am privileged to have decent insurance and while we do have to live pretty frugally, we make ends meet. we're lucky that we will be able to take care of these bills when they come.

and honestly? that shit is FUNNY. (i mean, for me. definitely not for my poor partner who probably lost twenty-seven years off his life; pray for him). i can't wait to really perfect the way i tell this story because it's HILARIOUS. like. what the fuck

anyway if you actually read all this, first of all, wow. second of all. i appreciate you. thank you for worrying about me, for wondering about me, and for caring in general. i'm so grateful, and i hope that you have everything you need, today and every day moving forward.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 5 - street racer/mechanic

pairing: street racer/mechanic!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you find out a little secret about the mechanic you've been seeing

word count: 1929

warning: mention of illegal activities (street racing), mentions of alcohol, fluffy

spence-tober masterlist

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re here, standing in the middle of the street next to your best friend, late into the evening. 

“It’s okay, just relax.” Your best friend said.

No, you think to yourself, everything was in fact not okay. But before you could voice your thoughts, she found her current boyfriend of three days and ran off to him, leaving you standing awkwardly at the curb of the street.

For a random dead end street on a Tuesday night, the street was pretty busy. Not with traffic, with people. 

Groups and cliques of people were standing around in the street with you, dressed in either tank tops and shorts or in full leather. You don’t know how the aren’t freezing their asses off compared to you who came in your nice jeans (no holes in them), a cute long sleeve turtleneck, and some heeled boots that come up to your calf, and are STILL freezing your ass off.

You cannot believe you let your friend talk you into coming here tonight and it was a severe lapse in judgement, but you were bored with no plans for the night and she easily shoved you out of the door. Especially when she picked the guilt card and told you that you hadn’t really hung out together since you’ve been seeing ‘that mechanic’ as she put it.

It was true, you suppose. It was only two weeks ago when you had your car towed into a random mechanic’s garage because two of your tires popped a flat and you only had one spare. You hadn’t expected to meet the cute mechanic wearing his work overalls covered in grease. His hair, which somehow avoided being as messy as his clothes, was brushed to the side in a way you found extremely hot. 

Not only did you get your tires changed out that day, you had also gotten Spencer’s, the cute mechanic who worked on your car, number. From then on, you had gone out a few more times. To dinner, to get a cup of coffee before going to work in the morning, a walk in the park, and so on. Just yesterday in fact, you had gotten take out and brought it to the garage he worked at to spend lunch together. 

You weren’t officially dating, no labels had been used yet, but you were really excited for any single time you could see him. 

Which was part of the reason you weren’t really into whatever your friend got the both of you involved in tonight.

You had originally wanted to go out to dinner or invite Spencer to your apartment for dinner, but he had bashfully admitted at lunch yesterday that he had plans for tonight that he was already committed to. You understood, of course, but you were a little disappointed and are currently counting all the different things you could be doing other than this right now. 

What can you say, you were an introvert at heart.

And now, not only were you dragged to this random ass street, your friend was also incredibly busy swapping saliva with her new boyfriend. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was incredibly pathetic how your friend and her new guy were already official while you and Spencer were still to have yet to put a label on your relationship.

You sigh and condemn yourself to trying to enjoy the night your friend dragged you along with, walking in small strides over to your friend and her boyfriend. He was a nice guy, at least, you thought to yourself while introducing yourself to him. He was making your friend happy, which you liked, especially since she went through a nasty breakup recently.

“So, um,” You say, having finished introductions and small talk, “What’s exactly going on tonight?”

Despite the crowd in the street nearly all having a beer or some form of alcohol in hand, you couldn’t quite hear any conversations, especially one’s pertaining to why everyone was gathered in the street. 

You looked towards the new couple, your friend under her boyfriend’s arm. 

“There’s a race tonight, baby.” He says, a goofy grin on his face, “Should be a good matchup!”

Your eyebrowss furrow in confusion, you look over to your friend, “A race?”

She nods, “A streetrace. Everyone’s been talking about this showoff for the past week.”

“You brought me to a streetrace?” You scoff at her. “This is highly illegal,” You say, stunned.

She escapes her boyfriend’s arms and takes your hands in hers, swinging them playfully, “Come on, please,” She says, “Just trust me on this? Let’s hang out and if you still don’t wanna stick around by the time the race starts, you can leave. I promise.”

She takes one of her hands and draws a small ‘x’ over her heart, sealing the promise. You sigh and close your eyes, but nod your head and accept your fate for tonight. 

“Okay, I’ll stay for a little bit,” You resign.

She squeals in delight and you try to relax your shoulders a little bit, settling into mingling with the small group your best friend and her boyfriend are communicating with. You say no to any offer of alcohol or otherwise, wishing to stay sober in case you want to leave (and in case the police, do in fact show up). 

Despite the cool air and the dimly lit streets, you are having a decently good time conversing with your friend and her new guy. Soon enough, there’s some noisy whispers through the street and your friend’s boyfriend points through the throng of people further down the street.

“There’s the racers coming in now.”

Your gaze switches to where he points. Suddenly, bright headlights illuminates the streets and the noise of engines revving up fills the alleyway street. You think to yourself that its a wonder that no police have shown up to these races yet.

The crowd of people clear to the sides of the street and allow the cars to cruise through. One of the cars is exactly what you’d think a street racing car would look like. Its a fire engine red with an ombre flame on the sides of it. A souped up engine and large front shiny silver looking grill. Its loud and you cringe at the sight of it and the bald, white tank top wearing driver in the front seat. He has the demeanor of a moose.

The other car is a purple in color, but is dark enough that it could pass as a navy or eggplant color. There’s no artwork on the sides and has the aura of a vintage car. It holds some aspects of some vintage cars as well. It’s shiny, but more in cleanliness than look. 

The headlights from both cars are way too bright for you to see the driver for the second car, but in your mind, anybody would look better than the beefed up driver of the first. 

The cars come to a stop right where you are guessing the start of the race will take place, and the headlights finally dim as the drivers turn off their cars for now. The race has not yet begun and by the looks of the people crowding around the cars, they’ll talk to the audience and their fanbases before racing.

A familiar mop of styled boyband-ish, brown hair appears in your vision. The head of the second driver popping up from him exiting the driver’s side door is easily recognizable, even if you hadn’t known the person for very long.

“Spencer?” You call out, both in confusion and shock. You’re confident in your ability to spot him, even in the not very well lit street.

The call of his name makes him turn around, the only barrier between you and him is the car he just exited. His car. His race car.

Spencer, you know it’s him now with his face in clear vision, calls out your name as well and then hurriedly makes his way around the front of his car and towards you.

You still stand with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth in surprise, “Y-you-”

He nods shyly, running a hand through his messy yet perfectly kept hair, “I race, yeah.”

“I-I had no idea,” You say, not sure what else to in your stunned state.

Spencer shook his head, “I didn’t tell you. You couldn’t have known.”

“I race sometimes at nights after working at the garage. I was going to tell you, I promise. It’s just-” He trys to explain, but trails off at the end of his sentence.

“Illegal?” You try to finish for him. Your tone isn’t accusing, more in curiosity. 

And in all your time spent with him, dinners, movies, coffee dates, and more, you would have never guessed that the shy and cute man who worked on your car and gave you his own employee discount on your two replaced tires would be spending his free time fixing up a car for street racing. 

Spencer looks down at his feet, bashful, “Yeah, that.” He responds. “But also I just didn’t want to scare you away. I really like you.” He admits. “I didn’t know how you would react and I was scared you wouldn’t want to go out anymore.”

Before you can say anything, the bald faced moose energy man calls out from being surrounded by his fans, “Hey, Crash! Ready to do this or not?”

Spencer hollers back that he just needs a few minutes and then turns his attention back to you. He still has the aura of how you met him in the garage, but there’s also some confidence in his stride and how he carries himself on this street. 

“Crash?” You question.

“My, uh, race name.” He clarifies.

You smile slightly, “Like your childhood nickname your mother gave you, right?” You ask, although you’re rather confident. “Because you would always run into things when you were a kid.”

Spencer confirms, nodding. It was one of the first fun little facts you learned about Spencer during your first date. Some would find it weird, but you found it endearing that he brought up how much his mother meant to him. You smile at the fact he uses the old childhood nickname bestowed upon him by his mother for his secret nightlife hobby.

“Listen,” Spencer says a little nervous, “I understand if you’re upset that I didn’t tell you this and if you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymor-”

“I’m your girlfriend?” You interrupt him, your cheeks taking on a pinky blush tint.

Spencer clears his throat, “I, uh, I hope so.” He says in a small tone. “Like I said, I, um, really like you-”

The other racer calls for him again, this time louder and more challenging. Spencer groans at your conversation being interrupted once again. 

“You need to go,” You speak first before Spencer. You nod your head off in the direction of the cars and the muscle tank man.

Spencer hesitates and goes to say something, but you put your hand on his arm stopping him. You feel as though you can hear his heart beating and his blood pumping in suspence with your words. Your own heart and blood aren’t far off from his.

“We can talk more about this later. Promise.” You assure him.

You press a small peck to his cheek and a small grin grows on your lips.

“Besides, you’ve got a race to win.”

a/n: would spencer actually participate in illegal activity? probably not. also ignore that reader aka you, are also participating in illegal activity because apparently spectating a street race on an empty public street is also illegal and can get you fined.

[thevexinator]

Since Asagiri won't give you Guild content, I will. Headcanons, but they're based on irl facts I found within 5 minutes of googling. [These are just my hcs you can add your own if you wanna]

Louisa May Alcott 💌

- Louisa and Nathaniel are family friends. Irl, Louisa's father was one of Hawthorne's pallbearers [pallbearer - someone helping to escort of carry a coffin]. In the setting of BSD, their families were in close relations due to operating at the same church. Even though Louisa doesn't remember, Nathaniel often looked after her since the older girls [Louisa's older sister Anna and Nathaniel's older sister Elizabeth] were often helping around with the adults.

- She really likes pulp fiction.

- She's knowledgeable about the medical field. The real Louisa was a nurse during World War 1.

- Speaking of war, Louisa is a major history nerd.

Margaret Mitchell ☂️

- While BSD Margaret dresses like what if Mary Poppins was a British aristocrat, the real Margaret Mitchell actually preferred dressing in men's clothes. Thus, whenever she's not on duty in the Guild, she's chilling in something she stole from Nathaniel.

- She's afraid of fire. Why? When Margaret was a child, her clothing ended up catching fire on accident. She's never been the same since.

- She also has driving anxiety. When she was 12, her dad hit a deer on the road. She's never been the same since.

Nathaniel Hawthorne ⚔️

- Generally avoids discourse about the Salem Witch Trials. An ancestor of his played a big part during it, two others were married to women who were accused of being witches. Thus, he added the 'w' to his last name.

- He's surprisingly good with glasswork. When the real Nathaniel and his wife moved into their home, the etched poems into the glass of the windows.

- For a large part of his life, he lived in a commune.

- Occasionally, he sees ghosts. The real Nathaniel once said he saw the ghost of his friend reading his own obituary.

Edgar Allan Poe 🦝

- He's an orphan. He doesn't tell people that.

- He likes being alone. Until he gets the feeling that someone is somewhere in the room with him.

- Insanely intelligent. He knows exactly what he's doing.

- Very weak constitution. One time, when the Guild were all drinking and whatever else they were doing, Poe blacked out after one drink of wine. Everyone genuinely thought someone tried to kill him until they found out he couldn't handle alcohol.

- Unphased. He's seen it all. Death? Child's play. Heartbeat under the floorboards? Normal Tuesday. Corpse falling off the roof? Crazy. Someone walking into the party dressed in red? Standard party etiquette.

Lucy Maud Montgomery 🪆

- Also an orphan. Doesn't tell people about it.

- Very charming. She can flirt. She just chooses not to. She knows she's too powerful.

- Cripplingly depressed. Self-explanatory.

- Has girl nights with Louisa and Margaret, basically a few hours of them doing girl activities. They tried to summon Bloody Mary at least seven times to no returns.

H. P. Lovecraft 🦑

- Lovecraft has monochromacy, a condition where someone can only see in grayscale. This is derived from irl Lovecraft's "The Color Out of Space," essentially Lovecraft's low education being the reason why he didn't know about the electromagnetic color spectrum.

- He's afraid of crowds. He hates it here so much.

- Has epilepsy. The only thing that can stop this eldrich monstrosity in a human trench coat is the average disco party.

- Loves cats. He is so normal about them. Cats run to him like crazy.

- He glows in the dark. Why shouldn't he? He's earned it. He's also deficient in vitamins science hasn't discovered yet. His ankles popping sound like rogue gunshots.

- AroAce. Intimacy is a concept he doesn't understand and doesn't want to.

John Steinbeck 🌳

- He's very much a dog person. His family keeps dogs. His favorite breed is the Australian Sheep dog.

- He was very sick as a child.

- Really into marine biology. [Steincraft fans stay winning.]

- Before the Guild, he worked as a construction worker, newspaper reporter,and caretaker.

- Ironically enough, he has a pollen allergy. It's not severe, just watering eyes and sniffles. He hates it.

Mark Twain 🔫

- So normal about the ocean. He takes Lovecraft and John with him when he goes boating.

- Into geology. He's the guy who collects rocks whenever he's outside.

- Guild game night isn't game night is Mark isn't beating everyone in every board game to ever exist.

- So normal about cats. The real Mark Twain has 19 cats, all with titles like Apollinaris, Beelzebub, Blatherskite, Buffalo Bill, Satan, Sin, Sour Mash, Tammany, Zoroaster, Soapy Sal and Pestilence to name a few. BSD Mark has one ginger cat he adopted off the streets of Yokohama he names Sal, occasionally calling her Sin whenever she's around Nathaniel.

- He almost drowned twice. One would think that would kill his passion for boating, but he baller'd his way out of it.

Francis S. K. Fitzgerald 🪙

- Dyslexic and in denial. Louisa tried to gently bring it up to him that half of his work email was spelled incorrectly, but he was in denial and chalked it up to it being 3 in the morning when he wrote that work email.

- He worked as a screenwriter before the Guild. Coincidentally, he met his wife there!

- He strikes me as a guy who owns a copy of "A Pickle For the Knowing Ones". If you don't know what that is, please look it up. I promise it's worth it.

- Makes too many dad jokes. John and Nathaniel officially want him dead.

- He forgets to sleep. He just forgets. Even though he looks like he died and got resurrected without prior notice and everyone in the Guild is asking him if he had a breakdown, he forgets to sleep.

Hermine Melville 🐋

- At some point in his life, he lived in the Pacific Islands.

- Hiking enthusiast. He likes the mountain terrain a lot.

- His office smells like smoke. No one knows why. It just does.

- Not much about him to be honest. I wish there was more screentime for him. <//3