#each time he’s stuck somewhere stupid and needs help

[upsidedownmvnson]

tell me you love me | steve harrington

warnings: fluff (warning lol) friends to lovers, idiots to lovers,

a/n: i actually really loved this <3 i hope you do too

tell me you love me vol 2

Steve Harrington had already tried twice in his life to confess his love for you.

The first time, you two were in the tenth grade and you had just accepted stupid Jack Warren's invitation to prom, so Steve didn't bother. That was back when he was settling into popularity anyway, so he got over it pretty quickly. He was dating Cathy Bartlett the next week.

The second time, Robin had made him pinky promise not to date you. She had held him down, sat on his back and twisted his arm until he pinky swore that he wouldn't do anything to destroy the delicate ecosystem of the friend group. There was already one awkward ex-situation in there.

But Robin was right, you were not like the girls he normally dated. If things went wrong he wouldn't be able to just sweep it under the rug, it could have painful ramifications for all his friends. Although... he didn't actually think it would go that bad. Steve would find his mind wandering on the idea often. He pictured the two of you in the kitchen, side by side cooking dinner and talking about your day. When he thought of you, it felt like home. It felt like somewhere he could build a house and live forever.

If he could only get the words out, he'd realize how quickly you'd accept him. He'd realize he wasn't the only one of you that was stupid in love.

You had been in love with Steve since you could remember. But never once thought he'd shared your interest, not with all the girls around him all the time. The way he shines in their attention and basks in their praise, it's enough to make you sure he's happy with how it is. Or he probably wouldn't have told you all about his date with Debbie Dabbenthorn, right?

Tonight, you, Nancy and Robin were at a party. Something Steve desperately tried to make not happen. But he was working, so there was no one to stop you girls from coaxing each other into drink after drink, which you always did. The three of you always drank too much, and Steve always got stuck trying to coral you and Robin into his car.

At the party, Nancy was handing you another red cup filled to the brim, sloshing over the side and coating your fingers. You hadn't noticed.

"I love when we ditch the boys," Nancy said, smiling as she sipped out of her own solo cup. "It's so fun!"

"Same," Robin said, slinging her arm around Nancy's shoulers, making the two of them sway and laugh. They caught their balance and cheered drinks. "Hey, help me find the bathroom!"

It wasn't hard to find, but it was hard for all three of you to get there without knocking into each other, but it didn't matter. The three of you giggled the whole way, laughing too hard over barely anything. Enjoying the simple joy of being with your friends on a party.

The line for the bathroom was short, only a few people deep. Nancy was grilling Robin on her love life while Robin evaded every question with a vague answer, soon, she turned it onto you, focusing Nancy on the other singler girl in the group.

"Do you not think anyone is cute at least?" Nancy said, not quite believing you when you say you didn't have a crush on anyone at the moment. You shrugged, trying to avoid admitting that it was her ex boyfriend that really turned your head. Robin chuckled, and slid into the bathroom.

You started sipping your drink when Nancy asked, "Not even Steve?" and you nearly choked, but you coughed once and composed yourself. You stared at her, confused as to why she would bring him up.

"You don't have to say anything," she said, and you looked into your cup, noting that you'd need a replacement after this trip. "But it would be okay with me."

Robin opened the bathroom door again, reassembling the trio be throwing her arms around both of your shoulders. "New drinks!" she cheered, steering you all in the direction of the kitchen.

"Drink up," Nancy giggled, "and then let's dance!"

So that's what you did, you guys drank and danced and had a great time. Until Jonathan came to pick up Nancy. That's when you saw that it was after nine, so Steve should've been on the way to come collect you and Robin from your drunken outing. You told Robin again how nice it was for Steve to come get you.

"But c'mon, you love him right?" Robin asked, laughing at your shock.

"I do not love him," you argued, but you did. Robin shrugged, but didn't look convinced. "He just is beautiful, that's all."

"Nah," she said, brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand. "You just love him."

"Do not," you mumbled. But Robin already leaned the other way when Vicki walked up to talk to her. You leaned further into the couch, the ugly thing was very comfortable. Steve should be there any minute.

"Hey," Robin whispered, "Vicki invited me to go with her friends to the lake... Are you gunna be okay here? You're not too drunk are you? Because if you think you can't stay awake, I'll stay of course..."

"Robin, go! I'll be fine for like two minutes..." you slurred, you were pretty drunk but Steve really was going to be there any second.

"Okay!" she didn't have to be told twice before she was scrambling after Vicki in her love-drunk haze. Or maybe just regular drunk, but Robin was feeling giddy anyway.

Steve was running behind because he lost the address that Robin had given him. She'd just ripped off a corner of a piece of paper, and Steve had lost it at some point in his shift. When he finally found the place he was thirty minutes behind.

When he got inside you were curled up on the couch alone, snoozing while some couple made out next to you in the spot Robin had vacated. He smiled when he saw you, and took a knee next to you, trying to wake you up nicely. He stroked your cheek, and tucked some hair behind ear, making you stir softly in your slumber.

"Time to get up," Steve said, "Where's Robin?"

"Went with Vicki," you whispered, rubbing your eyes, smudging whatever makeup wasn't already ruined from the dancing.

"Well, how mean of her to leave you here all alone," he said, running his thumb along your cheek again. "Can't trust you guys alone now though, she did leave you to fall asleep at a house party. That's like really bad, I'm mad at her."

You made a soft noise in response, his stern voice was, not so stern. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. Leaning close to you, rubbing your cheek, hair falling perfectly on his forehead and you just wanted to reach up and brush it away like he did. But your hands were wedged under your head, and you were afraid that if you stirred even an inch, he would leave, and this moment would be over.

"Guess you'll just have to make sure you come with us next time," you whispered, eyes bloodshot and glossy from all the alcohol. He thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The party was still raging around him, and he easily could've found a place within the girls, but he was content in this moment with you. Your eyes started feeling heavy, and you couldn't stop them from constantly fluttering shut.

“C'mon let me help you up babe,” Steve said, aiding your drunk figure. The nickname made your stomach flip. You were dead weight, giggling as he took care of you and grabbed your things and still found the patience to be kind to you, musing like he was interested in all your drunk babble.

“You're just so pretty, Stevie, it's stupid,” you cooed, finding a place beside him with his arms around you for balance as he lead you, slowly, to his car.

"D-Don't say that stuff," Steve said, voice cracking at the beginning. You were drunk, and it was dark, but you still noticed the blush on Steve's cheeks, and you smiled.

He opened the door for you, and you commented, "so romantic," while holding your hand over your heart, and Steve's heart raced. He went around the trunk of his car to get another second of fresh air, if you saw him in the light you were sure to see the heat he felt in his neck and cheeks. You were flirting with him, and he couldn't contain his excitement every time you complimented him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

The entire trip was like that. From the moment he was in the car you were just a loose cannon of compliments and praises. This combination of him sober and you drunk has never happened while alone before. Were you this flirty with him when he was drunk too?

The answer was yes. The real reason Nancy knew you really wanted Steve was because whenever you two are drunk and together you look like you're in love... because you are. Holding hands, head on shoulder, legs across laps, big bright smiles that made everyone think you were truly, madly, deeply in love. Everything that's just a little too friendly, but never crossing that silly little line that kept you both under the umbrella of just friends.

You were a delight in his passenger seat. He only wished you spoke like this when you were sober, because then maybe he'd know for sure you love him too.

"Hey Steve?" you asked, voice coming out as almost a purr in your sleepy state. Steve's heart melted. "Can I hold your hand?"

"Yeah," he answered, clearing his throat and moving his hand over to your lap, intertwining your fingers. Your hands were cold to the touch, but all you felt was the comforting warmth of him. You were both smiling, goofy grins to match the butterflies in your stomach. "You can hold my hand whenever you like."

You made another happy hum, but said nothing else. The ride was short. No words exchanged, just the quiet songs on the radio, turned low to let you drift off in the passenger seat.

When you got to his house, he parked the car, looking at you. He didn't want to wake you. And he didn't want to let go of your hand. Maybe he should just stay in the car all night.

Of course he didn't do that. Steve weaseled his way out of your grip, not bothering to hide how pleased he was that you whined at the loss of his touch. he helped you out of the car, encouraging you to climb on his back for "an express ride to the VIP bathroom," and he delivered, carrying you, all dead weight and giggling, to the bathroom where he left you to clean up. You put on the clothes he delivered, Plaid pajama pants and a big grey shirt. Well, you put the shirt on, the pajama pants were thrown into the tub, because you couldn't be forced to wear pants.

"Steeeeeve," you slurred, leaving the bathroom, giggling and bumping into the doorframe.

Steve was standing in the doorway to his room, wearing only blue plaid pj pants. His torso on glorious display, while he stood frozen at the sight of you. You stretched your arms over your head, and the shirt rose, exposing your panties to him. He nearly choked looking at you.

"Can I sleep in your room?" you asked, smiling at the effect you had on him. "Look how cute I am," you said, turning around and lifting the shirt while bending over slightly, giving him a perfect view of your ass, with the panties laying deliciously over your cheeks.

"Jesus," he muttered, unable to look away but trying to force himself to. He shouldn't be sneaking a peak while you were this drunk, but in his defence you were the one showing him. "Come to bed, just put your shirt down."

"It's your shirt," you teased, obeying him anyway. You danced behind him into the room, and crawled into bed. It smelled so good, it smelled like him. You could've stayed by Steve's side under these blankets forever.

You lay facing Steve, in his overly big, overly comfortable bed, too tired and drunk to keep your eyes open, but you still try. Steve smiles at your determination to stay awake, he watches your eyes blink quickly, trying to shake the sleep away.

You want to reach over and intertwine your hands, you don’t. He wants to reach out and brush the hair off your forehead and behind your ear, he doesn’t.

“Are we in love, Steve?”

The sharpness of your question cuts him, wounding him in a way he didn’t know was possible. He wanted to speak, but there were no words. No charismatic come back, and no way to avoid the lingering question in the air. Steve holds his tears back. He really did love you.

When your eyes peak open, he’s nodding. His eyes filled with tears that he refuses to let you see, but you see. "Yeah, I think so."

“Why is it so sad?”

“Because we're best friends," he said, "and I can't lose you."

"Tell me you love me," you whispered, silly mood replaced with a tight feeling in your throat, like you were going to cry. But you held it back.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too."

He wanted to cry. He wanted to kiss you. But instead, he just sighed, and found your hand under the sheets, and held it tightly. He was frozen. This was his dream come true, so why did it feel like a nightmare? Like you were right there, but he couldn't have you. Like he was doomed to stay in love with you, and never actually get to be with you.

“I will still love you in the morning whether I say it or not, Stevie.” Your eyes finally started winning the battle, and they stayed closed more than they stayed open, too heavy too fight.

"I know babe," he said, watching as you breathing changed and your eyes didn't open again. "I will too."

[mochiepie]

Tits TyPa Man you ask? - sukuna

He is the epitome of "tits are the greatest invention, creation, whateva 'tion' just, tits are life" there's not a single day he is leaving without.. touching your tits, flicking your nipples or pinching them, squeezing them, biting them, or digging his long nails into your nipples and the flesh of your tits.

🍈 " you keep talking and giggling, and those milk monsters go boom boom on me brat!" yeah, that's the king of curses right there talking, like a toddler. Like wtf is boom boom?

🍈 when you weren't sukuna's gf or even wife, like the very first time you met him, girl. He wasn't even looking at your face. His eyes, were stuck on your.. titties. His face told that, he was wondering how your breasts looked like under your tshirt

🍈 he thought himself to be into ass, as with the amount of concubines he had slept with in the past. And that's when he totally went wrong when you walked towards him.. well not exactly towards him you walked past him when he saw you for the first time ever. His eyes got stuck on those magnificent 'boom boom' of yours. For the first time he doubted himself.. " i was.. into ass right? ....right? "

🍈 it's so normal now, his hands resting on your chest, not even in a sexual way.. just, laying on em, yeah it's his property, you just lucky enough to have tits attached to your body but it's .. his. He is the owner. You wanna take a bath? Sure, he'll be the one to wash, massage your breasts. He'll be the one to put the lotion on your titties, help you wear a bra and any dress. Why? Cuz you (your boobs) belong to him you stupid.

🍈 when you guys had sex for the first time, when he saw your glory, for the first time, your tits for the first time.. his 4 eyes snapped. He paused.. like *sukuna.exe stopped working* his four giant palms immediately kneading your tits simultaneously, like his movements were soo sloppy, inexperienced despite sleeping around with so many concubines, that is because no woman has ever tempted him the way you did. And yes, you changed him, you changed the king of curses completely. You made the ass guy turn into tits guy. "Fuck, these tits are gonna make my silk black sheets turn into white" and then, automatically he got the breeding kink, the thought of you getting pregnant?

🍈 sukuna threw your birth control and began to fuck you like a bitch in heat. Why? Cuz your tits would have milk. Simple. That's all what you lacked. What's the purpose.. of these gorgeous tits when it can't produce milk.. right? So he is being generous enough and planting his seeds in each round, making sure you womb is swollen. Your milk ain't belonging to his future child.. nah, it's his. His alone. Mf is jealous of his own child.

🍈 his favourite position? Missionary or you riding him. Why? TITS. he'll need your tits to stay motivated and keep fucking you. The bounce? The jiggle? The sounds? The perky nipples? Those areolas? The squishiness? Oh YEA

🍈 sukuna would always roll his tongue around your areolas, while his second mouth would be biting, digging those sharp canines in your other breast, he once bit your nipple so harsh, that made u bleed.

🍈 despite sukuna never caring for anyone, he cares immensely for you. He instantly began to give up, trying his best to remove this addiction to your tits. He loves you so why is he acting like some perv only blinded by your tits? Well, his will didn't even lashed 2 days and here again he is sucking your tits on the kitchen counter, your apron and tshirt thrown somewhere.

🍈 "you're the only woman who is... Making me get on my knees" sukuna isn't a man to show vulnerability.. but if showing his vulnerable nature makes you stay with him. Oh yes, he is ready to become a sub. He is too into you, drowned basically, and now he can't resist anymore.

🍈 while he sleeps, he'll unconsciously end up getting between your arms.. his face squished and pressed on your tits.. ocassionally licking and sucking your nipples and tits. Oh yes, you sleep naked. That's your relationship rule.. you can't sleep wearing something. You must sleep naked. He'll wake up, between your arms, pressed against your tits, and again begin his session of sucking titties. Yeah, that's his ritual. You can't stop him.

🍈 he is in some meeting? His subjects are busy talking? Yeah let em talk! He has your sitting on his lap while he is sitting on his lap. His 1 hands resting on your tits. Yeah, and if any of his subjects looks at you? Instantly "cleave" attack. Also, he likes to demonstrate his powers and show you how... You belong to him and if.. anyone even looks at you the way he does.. he gets pissed, super pissed. Like not even any enemy or opponent can piss him off more then if he catches any men or even women being tooo into you or your beauty. Just, not possible. You're only his. His alone. You can't even count on how many lives he has taken for you. Both men and women, he had killed just because they stared at u for longer then necessary, or tried to approach you. Also, you don't even know that he had killed anyone for you cuz.. how can he let his precious wifey know about his wrong doing.. right? He only shows his upper layer or a coating of his powers.. just to keep you under him. He can't think of traumatising you by showing his real doings. You're too precious.. also your tits.

[freedomfireflies]

A-Mazing*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you and Harry find yourselves lost in a corn maze together.

Word Count: 7.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, size kink, Daddy kink, enemies dynamic, Harry being a little bitch 🫶

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Harry smirks as he turns to you, hands sliding into his hoodie pocket. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, I’m serious, I’m not getting stuck with you,” you argue, glancing toward the rest of the group that’s already heading inside the corn maze. “Seriously, please. Anybody else. I will take literally anybody else.”

“Well, you don’t get anybody else,” Harry snorts, much too smug for your liking. “You were late.”

“Yeah, and I was late because I was fixing your mistake,” you remind him. “It took me three hours to recode that sequence. And I’m still not finished—"

“Right, because it wasn’t a fucking mistake, Princess. The way I designed it was going to help it run three times more efficiently than the way Prescott suggested. And you just fucking undid it—"

“You weren’t asked to make it more efficient. You were told to do it the way the client wanted—”

“Well, the way the client wanted it was slow and stupid—”

“And you would be the authority on slow and stupid.”

Harry’s eyes narrow while his lips press into a thin line, looking quite incensed. “Very mature. Are we going in or what?”

“Fine,” you agree through a heavy exhale, shoving past him to head toward the entrance.

You have no idea why you even agreed to come in the first place. Sure, the idea of getting a few coworkers together for some fall fun was sweet, but truth be told, you don’t really care about any of these people outside of the office. You don’t care to see them, or get to know them, or hang out with them.

And the one person you do know happens to also be the one person you can’t stand.

Corn mazes are fun. Even pairing up to do them together is kind of exciting.

But with him? You’d rather get lost.

“All right, here’s your map,” the kind, older woman at the table says, handing you a piece of paper. “Answer the questions at each fork and follow the path according to your answer.”

You nod your understanding and offer a quick thank you before slipping past the tent and toward the beginning of the maze. The setting sun casts shadows across the field as you both make your way through the stocks.

You feel a sense of adventure as you make your way to the first checkpoint. Taking in the lingering scent of kettle corn somewhere off in the distance, and the excited chatter of the other people inside the maze. It’s exhilarating, and you feel a sense of purpose as you stride forward. Spurred on by a need to win – to do better than him.

And you hear Harry subtly huff from somewhere behind you, clearly annoyed with the way you’ve left him behind. “Real fucking mature,” he scoffs, and you can practically hear his eyes roll. “We’re supposed to be a team, Tinkerbell. You know, work together.”

“Well, I don’t want to be on a team with you,” you retort. “And we’ve never worked well together. As is evident by your complete lack of common sense and understanding of the system we’re trying to design.”

“Oh, this shit again—"

“Yes, this shit again. You’re costing us time and money by trying to prove you’re so much better than everyone else—”

“Well, I can’t exactly help it if I am, now, can I?”

You feel your expression fall as you spin on your heel to face him. “You’re fucking annoying, is what you are. It’s not my job to clean up after you. Okay, I’m not your mother, I’m not your babysitter. I am your equal. And it’s about fucking time you start treating me like it.”

Even in the dark, murky space, you can see a certain glimmer in his eye. One that challenges the frown on his face.

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for a response. “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

With that, he shoves past you and forges ahead into the maze. Leaving you to stare at his back with a glower.

You’re both silent as you approach the first fork, offering nothing more than looks of indignation and huffs of apathy as you raise your map and scan the question. 

“What does WWW stand for in a website browser?” you read aloud before snorting. “World Wide Web. C.”

An easy question. You both know the answer, and there's no way he can argue with you.

So, instead, he says nothing. Merely glancing over the paper almost skeptically before heading toward the third row.

Pocketing the trivia questions, you chase after him. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? The silent treatment?”

Harry’s back stays to you as he slips between the stocks. “I’m not giving you the fucking silent treatment; I’m not twelve.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?”

“Because you’re a fucking brat.”

The vicious way he sneers the word sends a certain reaction down your spine, but you brush it away just as quickly as it appeared. “I thought I was your teammate.”

“You said it yourself, we’re not a team,” he retorts. “You’re not my babysitter, and you’re not my mother. Unless what you were really trying to say is that you want me to call you Mommy.”

You feel yourself hesitate, confused, and slightly startled by the suggestion. “Ew. Why would I want that?”

You see his shoulder lift and fall in a shrug. “I don’t know. You’ve always been a kinky little thing. Maybe it gets you off.”

“Oh, fuck you, I don’t have a mommy kink. Especially not with you.”

“Fine, a daddy kink then. Don’t think I forgot how eager you were to say it last time—”

“That was for you,” you hiss, once again glaring at his hooded back. “Okay, I was trying to see if you liked it, and you did—”

“Of course I did. It’s hot.”

“Sure, yeah. But I’m the kinky one?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I’m just saying, if you want me to call you mommy…all you have to do is ask.”

You come to the second fork, forcing the conversation to a halt as you feel your heart hammer in your chest. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine.”

You unfold the map and search for the next question. “What is cynophobia?”

“Easy. Fear of cats.”

“That’s ailurophobia, you dipshit. Cynophobia is a fear of dogs.”

“Dipshit. Classy. No, that’s real nice, Tink. Very romantic.”

“Well, it’s true. Look it up.”

“Can’t,” he says calmly. Confidently. “There’s no service in here.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know?”

“Cause I’ve done this before. Many times.”

Your eyes narrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“…why?”

There’s a brief pause before he says, “She used to love it here.”

Your heart instantly drops into your toes, grimace untwisting as you glance toward the ground. “Oh.”

Another shrug. “Point is, I can’t look it up. So…pick whichever. I don’t care.”

Swallowing thickly, you gesture toward the second exit. “B. The answer is dogs. My brother used to have it when he was younger.”

And for the first time all evening, it’s Harry’s turn to look surprised as he nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you learn that from my file?” you tease, and you notice his lips twitch up into a smirk.

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, well…I don’t really talk about him. He doesn’t live here, he lives back home. After my dad left, he stuck around to take care of our mom.”

You see a flash of sympathy streak across his expression, but you’re brushing him off before he can comment.

“Anyway, it’s B,” you repeat, walking toward the middle row. “If you don’t believe me, then go your own way.”

For a moment, Harry hesitates, almost as though considering it. Then, he sighs, and begrudgingly follows your lead.

This time around, you’re both quiet. Listening to the sounds of everyone else further on in the maze laughing, or talking, or squealing with excitement.

A few scattered lamps help guide you through the dark labyrinth. You can see the wind move through the corn stocks. The way they rustle as they sway with the breeze, adding an element of eeriness to the already spooky scene.

Furthermore, the night air is beginning to grow cold. The fall chill nipping at your skin and reminding you once more that it’s no longer summer as you shiver and pull your jacket further around your body. 

“Should have brought a real coat,” Harry comments, almost haughtily, and it makes your eyes roll. “It’s October, Princess. Can’t wear booty shorts and flip flops anymore.”

Despite the fact that you’re wearing neither of those, you still feel the need to scoff, “Well, of course it’s not cold to you. You’re already dead inside.”

“Ooo, ouch. You got me. Sick burn, Tink. Real sick.”

His flippant response makes your skin crawl. “You are so fucking annoying, do you know that?”

“And you’re a fucking brat, do you know that?”

“I’m not a brat, I’m just right.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Yeah, it is whatever I say, actually. I’m the one with the fucking map.”

To prove your point, you wave the paper in the air before stopping beside the next checkpoint.

“What are the names of the four women on the show, The Golden Girls?” you read, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Uh…I know Rose is one of them.”

“And Betty White,” Harry adds.

“No, her character. Not her,” you huff. “And I’m pretty sure Betty played Rose, so that’s only one.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” he scoffs before glancing over the multiple-choice answers. “Then it’s probably A or C. Those are the only ones with Rose in them.”

“Well, we have to pick one. Okay, we can’t do both—”

“Yes, I fucking know that, Tinkerbell. I’m just narrowing it down—”

“Well, maybe be less condescending about it.”

“Fine,” he nearly snaps, angrily stabbing at the map with his finger. “A. Dorothy, Rose, Blanch, and Samantha.”

“No, that doesn’t sound right. I don’t think they had a Samantha. It was…it was something else. Either Sophia or Sarah.”

“Well, you have to pick one. You can’t have both,” he repeats mockingly, and you begin to glare. “Besides, statistically, it’s more likely they switch up the letters with each guess. We’ve already done B and C. Next should be A.”

“Really? That’s your reasoning?”

“That’s my reasoning. Take it or leave it.”

And you don’t like it. You don’t feel convinced by it. But you decide – just this once – to put your faith in his incessant need to be right. To trust him and his judgment.

You nod once. A curt gesture of good will as he sighs gratefully and takes off toward the first row. 

An eerie feeling follows you as you trail behind. Perhaps an ominous warning to turn around. That something is about to go wrong.

At first, you shake it away. Equating it with your distaste for the man before you.

But soon…you see the real reason why.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you groan when you’re both forced to a stop by a dead end. “See? What did I tell you?”

“Fuck off, you didn’t tell me shit, Princess. It’s a dead end, not death,” he huffs. “We’ll turn around and try again.”

“Can we? We passed like two other rows and now I can’t remember which way we came.”

“Well, that’s not my fault.”

“Oh, bite me, Harold.”

“Just tell me where.”

You feel your heart race beneath your chest. Spurred on by adrenaline, slight fear, and the brisk cold air. “Can you please stop being so infuriating?”

“Can you please stop being such a bitch?” he replies cooly before his eyes flick down toward your shivering frame. “You’re shaking.”

“Yes, I know,” you grit through clenched, chattering teeth. “It’s cold. And don’t you dare make another joke about flip flops. I don’t have the energy to slap you.”

That arrogant smirk returns. “Cute. Told you, you should have brought a coat.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you hiss. “So can we please just get the fuck out of here before I freeze to death?”

Harry’s eyes roll, but you notice his grin grow as he sighs and lifts a hand toward the collar of his hoodie.

In one fluid motion, he’s slipping the sweatshirt up his torso and over his head to hand to you. Dangling the dark fabric between your bodies as you stare at it incredulously.

“Take it,” he grumbles, waving the material in your direction. “And don’t fucking say I’m never nice to you.”

Stunned, you blink quickly. “What…are you doing?”

“Just put it on,” he huffs, gesturing toward you again. “Cause, if you die out here, I’m not dragging your body back.”

Your eyelids narrow into small slits while you cautiously reach for the hoodie. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Once you’ve taken it, he uses his knuckle to shove his glasses back into position. “Like you said, I can’t get cold. I’m dead inside.”

You smile at this before pulling the cozy jacket over your head. It smells…good. It smells like him. Radiating heat and the faint scent of his cologne. 

Truth be told, it feels like a warm hug. Something you can’t imagine Harry ever giving you on his own. And a part of you feels…relieved. Relaxed and almost…enamored. Perhaps even grateful.

“Thanks,” you murmur, snuggling against the fabric before slipping your hands into the pocket. “You didn’t…have to. I know being nice isn’t your thing.”

He snorts, turning now toward the tall lookout platform just beside the dead end. “Whatever. Maybe we should go up and see if we can see the exit.”

“Okay.”

With that, he turns toward the stairs and begins the trek up. You rush after him, trying hard to see the steps without much light, and thankfully making it to the top in one piece as you begin to look around. 

It’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning, the design lit up by the soft glow of the moon. An almost romantic touch, although you shake the thought away. You can see a few groups spread out throughout the rest of the maze, but most of them are already making their way out. Having figured out the riddles much quicker than the two have seemed to.

You pout. “Nuts.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in a low grumble. “Okay, we’ll…we’ll turn around. Maybe you were right. Maybe it was C. We can try that next.”

It’s strange to hear him admit you could have been correct, and you can’t help but smirk as you nod. “Okay.”

You follow Harry down the other side, focusing your attention on your footing as you take each step one at a time.

But once you’re toward the bottom, your tennis shoe suddenly catches on a rogue nail, and you begin to stumble. Body falling forward before you can even reach for the railing.

Instantly, Harry – who’s already made it back to the ground – reaches out for your arms, slipping his hands beneath your elbows to help steady you and catch you just in the nick of time. Sparing you from a rather embarrassing fall.

You gasp as you’re flung forward, allowing yourself to settle in his embrace for support while you work on your balance and place your feet back where they need to be.

And once you’re sure you’re sturdy, you take a deep breath, and straighten up.

“Shit,” you whisper, lashes fluttering from the rush of adrenaline, and the feel of his touch. “I hate these shoes.”

You expect a snarky quip, but instead, you see his expression twist from behind his glasses as he glances over your face. Hands still glued to your arms. “Are you all right?”

A bit stunned by the soft and rather gentle tone of voice, you nod once. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m…sorry. I should have been looking.”

He seems confused by your apology but chooses to ignore it, instead watching you closely as if monitoring your reaction. “If you wanted me to hold you, Tinkerbell, you could have just said so.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, cheeks growing warm as you push yourself out of his arms. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off? Or fuck me?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“Maybe I’m not being funny,” he argues. “Maybe I mean it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

You snort. “Harry, come on. This would be the last place to fuck.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why. What’s wrong with it? It’s dark. Secluded. There’s the element of getting caught, which I know you like.”

“Harry,” you repeat, almost doubtfully. “We…there’s no place to even do it. It’s way too exposed, and cold, and dangerous. We’d be better off just fucking in my car.”

“If we can even find our way back to your car,” he retorts teasingly. “Besides, I thought you liked danger.”

You gaze at him with suspicion, feeling that odd racing return to your chest. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t at first, but…it’s not a bad idea.”

“Please. You can’t be that horny that you have to fuck me every time we see each other.”

“Okay, well, I’m not and I don’t,” he scoffs. “It’s just…different.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

Another shrug, but this time, he’s stepping closer. Those soft, green eyes dancing down your body as if drinking you in. Indulging in the sight of you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, a bit quieter. Thicker. “There’s just…something about you, in my clothes. It’s…it’s good. You look good.”

The look in his eye is primal. Breeding a new sense of desire deep within the pit of your stomach. You shift under his lustful gaze, fingers curling into your fist from inside the pocket.

“Thanks, I guess,” you manage to say, noticing the way he continues to move closer. “It is comfy.”

“Good,” he mumbles, still studying your stance before dragging his attention back up to your face. “And you’re warm?”

“Getting there.”

A short nod. “You know…there are other ways of heating you up.”

The sneaky remarks are back, and even though you can feel your legs squeezing together from the suggestive tone of voice, you grin. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He finally reaches you, fingers outstretching for the front of his hoodie. Moving up your chest almost innocently before slipping around the back of your neck. “Want me to keep you warm, Tink?”

And you want to tease him a little longer, make him wait. Suffer.

But he’s too good. He’s always been too good at catching you off guard and luring you into submission. The way he speaks, the way he looks at you, the way he pulls you closer with the palm of his hand. You can practically taste him. Can smell him everywhere. Feel him in places he’s not even touching you.

And you need it. You need him, you want him. Right now, more than anything.

“Yes,” you exhale, almost shakily. “Yes, please—”

He surges forward, lips connecting with yours almost violently. Stealing the rest of your plea before you can make it.

You can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but whimper as he sucks on your tongue and presses his fingers harder against your head. Trapping you against his mouth until you feel dizzy. 

And he’s so warm. A stark contrast to the brisk, autumn air. And he’s soft in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Inviting. As though he’s been waiting his whole life to lay his mouth to yours.

“Har—” you gasp when he pulls back to nip at your bottom lip. “Har, please—”

You sound deranged. Wounded, almost, and so goddamn pitiful. You’re tugging on his shirt, trying to yank him impossibly closer. Tilting to the left for a deeper angle and raising up onto your toes in order to taste him fully.

“Easy,” he whispers, and it’s so very strained. Like he’s using what little strength he still has to speak to you. “Easy, Princess. S’okay, I’ve got you.”

It’s possessive the way he talks to you. Commanding you to listen. Insisting that your pleasure is his. That your wellbeing is in his hands.

He’s not a caring man by nature. At least not to you. But in moments like this, his dominance takes control. Turning him into a desperate man eager to care for you. To protect you and keep you safe.

Perhaps it’s a more caveman mindset. The idea that he needs to look after you. That you’re his to keep and care for.

But right now…you adore it. Feel safe in the idea of submitting to him.

“Please,” you try again, breathless and desperate as you cling to his strong frame and beg him for something only he can give you. “Harry, please…hurts.”

There’s a teasing glimmer in his eye, brightened by the reflection of his glasses. “Yeah? Is it achy, Tink?”

You nod quickly, grabbing onto his other hand to slide it down your stomach. Right toward where you need him most.

And he lets himself be moved, watching with intrigue at the way his fingers are dragged toward your thighs. Smirking rather sadistically while pressing his palm against your pussy with fervor.

You whine at the subtle friction, already attempting to grind down against the heel of his hand as he meets your pace with soft strokes of his own. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, watching your hips before returning his attention to your face. “Feels good, baby, yeah? Like to use me, don’t you?”

Another quick nod, and you sigh contently when he presses his lips to your cheek. Placing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Har,” you try again, nuzzling closer. “Har, they’re…they’re gonna see. Can’t…can’t do it here—”

“Yes we can,” he replies calmly. And the soft, secure tone of voice instantly turns your insides to jelly. “Promise I won’t let them see, okay? Gonna keep you to myself.”

He removes his hand from your pussy to place it on your hip. Guiding you back until you feel your body connect with something hard. You glance around just long enough to find that it’s the wooden frame of the lookout. And he keeps you trapped there as he hides you both beneath the structure, tucking you away from any prying eyes that might pass.

“There,” he says, grinning to himself at the eager look on your face. “Now Daddy can see just how wet you really are, hm?”

You can tell he’s using the nickname sparingly. Tentative of your reaction as he waits to see how you might feel about it.

And truthfully, you hadn’t anticipated liking it as much as you do. Especially in this moment, when he’s giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s like music to your ears, orgasmic just to listen to.

You swallow thickly and nudge your nose against his cheek. “Yes, Daddy.”

He tenses beneath your touch, cursing against the shell of your ear before he whispers, “Show me.”

He returns his hand to yours, allowing your fingers to interlock as you shakily guide him toward your jeans. 

After a bit of maneuvering, you get the zipper down, and help slip his hand inside your underwear. Straight down to your cunt as his fingers glide through your folds until he can find what he’s looking for. 

“Oh, Tink,” he coos almost sympathetically. Stroking your pussy as you move to grip his wrist excitedly. “S’all wet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, leaning your head back against the wooden board for stability. “Hurts.”

“I bet,” he tsks, sliding his middle finger toward your hole. Circling it once before glancing over your expression. “Need something to fill you up, hm? Get you warm again?”

You hum your agreement, tugging his touch further into you as he chuckles and steps closer. “Please…”

“What, baby? What do you need?”

You whimper again and roll your hips against his fingers. Needing the friction of his thumb against your clit which he refuses to give you.

“What do you want, hm?” he mumbles, dipping down to ghost his lips across yours. “Just ask…and Daddy will give you anything you want.”

And in this moment, you know he means it.

“Want you…to fuck me,” you exhale, reaching now for the curls lying against the back of his neck. “Please, Har. Need you to fuck me. Make it better. Make it go away.”

“Is that right?” He slips a finger inside, and you feel your insides twist as you gasp and squirm against the pleasurable touch. “Need something bigger, yeah?”

“Yes…yeah. Please. Please, Daddy.”

He smiles again before slipping his hand from inside your jeans to help tug them down your legs. Yanking almost furiously until they’re settled near your ankles. Allowing him just enough room to slip between.

And once your cunt is on display for him, he stares at it with a certain mesmerized admiration. Allowing himself to enjoy you before he reaches for his own belt and tugs it free.

Once he’s managed to pull his cock out, he reaches again for your hips. Squeezing them once before turning you around.

His arm slips around your middle to keep you secure and you grin lazily as you rest yourself against his chest.

“Gonna hold you, just like this,” he whispers against your cheek, and you feel the tip of his cock trailing against the curve of your ass. “Keep you warm.”

The hand against your ribcage is gentle. Keeping you steady as he attempts to hold you close.

“Deep breath, Tink, okay?” he instructs next, nudging the crown against your dripping hole. Warning you of his next step. “Know it’s a lot, but you always take me so well, don’t you? Gonna take me again?”

You grab onto his arm, nails scraping down his skin as you whine, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you. Just need it, Har, please—"

“Okay, all right,” he shushes, nudging his cheek against your temple. “Need you to relax, okay? Are you relaxed, baby?”

And you think you are. Mentally, anyway. You’ve never felt so comfortable in someone’s arms. Under their influence and control. Even despite the cold air nipping at your thighs and the outside threat of getting caught, you feel at ease. Adrenaline coursing through your veins as the sounds of people somewhere else in the maze float toward you. Reminding you of where you are. What could happen.

“Tink,” he warns, sliding his cock through your folds in wait. “I need you to relax for me, okay? I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“No?” you manage to retort, and you catch his smile out of your peripheral. “Thought you liked to hurt me.”

 “I do,” he agrees, lips following the shell of your ear. “But not like this. Don’t wanna split you in half.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you breathe, reaching back for his neck. “Maybe I need it, Daddy.”

He chuckles almost darkly before pressing his mouth against your heated skin. “I’ll remember that.”

With that, he drops his hand down to your cunt, circling his fingers around your clit until he feels your body unwind. Allowing him just enough room to begin pushing his cock in.

“There you go,” he sighs, both of you groaning when you feel how easily he slips in. “So fucking good. Take me so well, don’t you? Always do, I know. Relax, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The burn is almost overwhelming. Demanding your focus and attention as you feel him stretch you open, forcing your walls to accommodate his size.

“Hey,” you hear him murmur, his palm coming up to cup your jaw. Thumb sweeping across your parted lips. “Are you breathing? Gotta breathe, Tink, come on. You know better—”

“I know,” you gasp, sucking in a greedy gasp for air before you suck in his finger. “I know, Daddy, m’sorry.”

He hums his approval before allowing himself to sit inside your warm mouth. “It’s okay, know it feels good, hm?”

“Mhm,” you agree around the large digit, allowing your tongue to settle him on your tastebuds. “More.”

“More?” he repeats, using his other hand to squeeze your hip. “Want more, greedy girl?”

“Please…”

“Please," he echoes thoughtfully. "Greedy Girl has manners, how precious.”

There’s a slight air of condescension and teasing to his response, and you feel yourself flutter around his length.

His grin grows. “You like that, baby?”

You manage one more weak nod as you press yourself against his body, squirming in his hold while his cock pushes in to the hilt.

“There,” he exhales, groaning some before falling still. Allowing your body to adjust to his size. “You okay?”

“Yes…yes, m’okay. Please move, please…please, Daddy—”

“Okay, all right,” he agrees coarsely, readjusting his stance before returning his arm to your stomach. Just beneath your chest. “Need you to be good, okay? Just listen to Daddy’s voice and do what I say.”

“I will. I will, I promise.”

“Good.” He begins to pull back. Dragging his cock through your quivering hole as you moan his name.

But such a loud noise isn’t quite what he had in mind, his other palm reaching up to smack across your mouth to silence you.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts, pausing the rhythm of his hips until he’s sure you’ll obey. “None of that. M’keeping you for myself, remember? Can’t let them know.”

You make an incoherent noise against his hand before writhing back against his cock. Needing more friction and movement that he refuses to give you.

“Unless that’s what you want, Greedy Girl,” he whispers into your neck. “Want them to see what I do to you. The way I make you fall apart…the way you beg for my cock. Even when you hate me.”

The idea sends a shiver down your spine as you groan his name and claw at his wrist.

“Is that what you want?” he murmurs between sharp thrusts. “S’it why you keep this pretty pussy so nice and tight for me? Cause you want them to know that it’s only me? That everything…everything…you do is because of me?”

Your eyes roll back, either from annoyance or pleasure. But it’s blissful, this feeling. This hard fuck, this angry connection. 

And yet, this infuriating man is oddly tender with you. Holding you close and helping you find your release, despite the way he goads you.

“Do you, Tink?” he asks again. “Do you want Lucas to see? Want them all to fucking see what you do to me?”

His nails are scraping down your ribcage, pulling you taut against his chest as he drives his cock as deep as it’ll go. Hips meeting your ass as he releases your mouth to hold onto you again, keeping you still.

“Tell me,” he says between deep breaths. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you only cum for me—”

“Har—”

“My greedy little whore. My dirty fucking princess.” His tone is angry. Dissolving into something feral as he begins to pound into you with a harder force. Nearly knocking the wind from your lungs. “Not his. Mine. Always mine—”

“Yours,” you repeat between soft whines. “Yours, Harry, you know that—”

“Yeah?” He holds you tighter, allowing you no room to squirm as he nears his release. His pace becomes faster and sloppier the closer he gets. Allowing your warmth to soak him, draw him in. Using you as nothing more than a toy. A means to his end. “Then prove it.”

Even without much extra stimulation, you can feel yourself getting closer to the brink. Harry has always had this innate ability to get you there without much more than a few pumps of his cock. Perhaps it’s his size or his technique. The way he knows exactly where to thrust in order to hit the right spot and make you see stars. 

And maybe there’s a part of you – albeit small – that enjoys the idea of being good for him. Of coming on his cock (or his tongue or his fingers) just so he can watch. So he can feel what he does to you.

Maybe…you just want to be good for him. At least in moments like this. To know that you’ve earned his approval, his praise. That such a brilliant man has devoted his time and attention and body just to you. 

That you’re worthy of his time.

Worthy of him.

It’s almost degrading to think about and yet…it makes you clench. Pussy clamping down on his beautifully thick cock until he groans and nuzzles his nose against your neck.  

“Shit,” he hisses, rhythm stuttering as a shot of pleasure rolls through him. “Tink, if you’re gonna do that, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good,” you answer instantaneously. “Want you to. Need you to, Daddy, please—”

“No,” he huffs, and he stills for only a moment as if attempting to refrain from falling apart. “No, need you to cum first. Daddy needs to feel you cum first, okay? Come on, baby, gotta give it to me—”

You mewl helplessly, drowning out the rest of his instruction. You’re close, and you know it won’t be much longer until it overwhelms you.

And there’s some part of you that feels…disappointed. Saddened by the idea of things going back to how they normally are. That he’ll take himself from you – take his cock from you – and return to the maddening man you can hardly tolerate.

Maybe subconsciously, you try to hold off. Keep your orgasm at bay so you can keep him just a little longer. So you can appreciate the caring man behind you and the way he’s so desperate to put you first.

He’s quite wonderful when he’s not being an ass.

“Tink,” he grunts, hand moving up toward your jaw. You feel his palm press to your throat, and you swallow thickly against his skin. “Baby, I want you to cum. Wanna feel you. What do you need? Hm? Wanna play with your pretty button for me?”

You nod pitifully and allow your own fingers to move down toward your cunt. It’s wet and achy and swollen so much it almost hurts to touch. But you release a strained breath, nevertheless, appreciating the sting of overstimulation as you writhe in his hold.

You can feel your body beginning to overheat the closer you get. Helping warm you up from the October chill still biting at your skin. And the sounds of your friends aren’t far behind. Perhaps looking for you, waiting for you both to exit the maze and continue on with your evening.

But you don’t give a damn about anybody else right now. Just him.

Something you never thought you’d say.

“Getting closer, yeah?” he hums against your ear, fingers tightening around your neck. “I know. Fucking shaking, baby, you’re okay. I got you. Just let it happen, let go.”

There’s something about his voice. About the feel of his glasses against your temple. About the way he makes you feel safe and secure. The way he effortlessly brings you to the edge and promises to catch you when you fall.

You know he hates you. And yet you also know that despite this loathing you share, you’re still his priority. That he’ll put your pleasure first, no matter what. That he wants to be good.

“Har,” you whimper through a high-pitched whine. “Shit, please—”

“You close? Gonna give it to me? Make Daddy happy?”

The reminder of the nickname makes you moan, a bit softer than before, but still rather lewd. And Harry tsks from behind you, once again sliding his palm up to your mouth.

“Dirty fucking princess,” he grits before he’s suddenly slamming himself into you. “Can’t ever do what she’s told, hm? Just loves to disobey me. Wants to get caught. Wants to be my greedy little girl—”

My greedy little girl.

That’s what does it for you. His possession, his mark, his claim. Reducing you to nothing more than this thing he uses for his pleasure. An object to be had.

In any other moment, you’d chastise him for it.

Right now, it’s everything you need to hear.

You cum on his cock without much choice. Pleasure unfurling like the petals of a flower in spring. For a moment, the overpowering sensation is all you can comprehend. Just ecstasy, a weightless euphoria. Lifting you up and dropping you back down.

He curses when he feels it, offering you quick murmurs of praise before he’s grabbing onto your hips with both hands and yanking you back. Using this leverage to drive his cock in in sharp thrusts before he’s following. Releasing himself into you with a groan as you gasp and grab onto one of the beams for support.

Thirty seconds pass of heavy breathing and lingering whimpers before you both fall quiet, chests heaving and legs still shaking.

He doesn’t pull out for at least a moment or two, merely holding onto your waist as he works to gather himself together.

“Shit,” he finally whispers, and you feel the subtle stroking of his thumb against your tender skin. Right over the bruises you’re sure to find tomorrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly, nodding once. “Really good, actually.”

“Yeah? Good. You needed it.”

You feel your lips pull back into a smile. “Oh, did I?”

“You really did.”

“Right. Even though you’re the one that fucks me every time you see me.”

You hear him scoff as he finally – and slowly – pulls out. Allowing your muscles to unwind as you release a deep breath. “I’m doing you a favor,” is his reply. And it’s laced with a condescension and haughtiness that you know all too well.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

“Yes.” He tucks himself back into his briefs before crouching down to reach for your jeans. Pulling them back up your legs with a strange amount of care, despite his snarky attitude. “I do a lot of favors for you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You turn around while he steps back and readjusts his glasses. “Was getting us lost one of those favors?”

A strange, almost sadistic kind of grin begins to stretch across his face. “Maybe.”

You hesitate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs once before backing out of the lookout as you rezip your jeans. “It means…maybe I knew this was the wrong way.”

“…I’m sorry?”

His hands shove into his pockets while his sly smile seems to mirror his satisfaction. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to do some…exploring.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you nearly gasp, striding after him so you can swat your hand across his chest. “Are you fucking serious? You got us lost on purpose?”

“We were never lost, Tinkerbell. I knew exactly where we were."

"Yeah? And where are we?"

"Taking a detour."

“I cannot believe you,” you murmur, staring at him rather incredulously. “God, you are so fucking horny, it’s insane.”

“Oh, relax,” he snorts. “I didn’t take you back here to fuck you. I just thought you’d wanna see the top of the maze.”

“And you couldn’t have just asked?”

“Would you have agreed?”

You consider this. “…all right, maybe not. But you’re still a fucking ass.”

“Yeah,” he agrees coyly. “I know.”

You keep your stern glare, but your grin is playful. “Whatever. Does this mean you know the way out?”

“I do,” he says. “There’s a shortcut. Cassie and I used to cheat and use it all the time.”

The revelation of her name makes your breath catch. You hadn’t expected him to reveal something so personal, and there’s a part of you that isn’t quite sure what to do with it.

You can tell he hasn’t realized his slip, because he’s still smiling at you like he’s waiting for you to get the joke. To laugh with him.

But there’s something else in his eye – something beautiful and reminiscent. Excited. Like the mere mention of her name has calmed him. Reminded him of a better time. A happier place. 

Reminded him of someone who isn’t you.

“I see,” you manage, choking the words out as you glance toward the dirt beneath your sneakers. Avoiding his eye. “Well…great. Get me the hell out of here, please.”

He studies you for a moment. You can feel his eyes boring into your profile, as though attempting to work out just what changed in your demeanor.

Then, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and says, “Yeah. This way.”

With that, he maneuvers back through the large stocks of corn and leads you through the intricate labyrinth. Weaving his way along the path and bypassing each checkpoint with ease, almost as if he’s done this a hundred times.

You imagine he has.

You reach the exit in only a few minutes, and relief washes over you as you catch sight of your car in the distance. Your means of escape and your excuse to leave him behind. 

“Thank God,” you mumble as you both slip out from the corn and back into the light. “That was…excruciating.”

“Oh, was it?” he teases. “Really? All of it?”

“Yes, all of it,” you snort, but you feel rather amused as you glance over his expression. “Let’s never get stuck in a corn maze together again, agreed?”

“Agreed,” he replies, but there’s a certain playful glimmer in his eye. “We can just fuck the old-fashioned way. In your car.”

“Gee, great.”

You both fall silent as your quippy remarks die down. Looking at each other like you’re waiting for someone to break the spell. To return you both to your anger and your rivalry. To poke fun at the few moments of intimacy and understanding you shared and release you from this strange yearning.

You decide to be the first, clearing your throat as quietly as you can while reaching for the collar of the hoodie to slip it off. “Uh, well…thanks again. For letting me borrow this.”

He blinks, momentarily puzzled – or perhaps…disappointed? – as he watches you pull it from your body. “Yeah. No problem. Just bring a fucking coat next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, remember?” you retort, tossing it over. 

He catches it with one hand, and smiles. “Right. And thank God for that.”

“Exactly.”

Another lull, the two of you continuing to stand in the dimly lit parking lot as you wait for him to say goodbye.

And suddenly, you realize…you don’t want to go. You don’t want to say goodbye. That you feel…safer when he’s around. More relaxed and at ease. Even when you’re griping with him or resisting the urge to put his head through a wall, he’s still…comforting. A forceful and reassuring presence that you otherwise feel lost without. 

Because you remember who he was before…Cassie. You remember his kindness and his ability to make you laugh.

And you know that he’s still that person. He’s still trying to take care of the people he feels closest to, even when he doesn’t mean to. Even when he doesn’t realize.

You know why he pushed you away. You know why he’s created such a vast, unyielding distance. And you can’t exactly blame him.

But the version of him that automatically thinks to care for you…that’s the version you’re drawn to. That’s the version you don’t want to say goodbye to.

“What?” he asks, grinning again as his head cocks. Seeming to notice the shift in your expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You hesitate, lashes fluttering as you work out a response. Wondering just how much you can share…and how much of it is real. “Nothing, I…this was just…”

He waits, brow raised. 

Your lips clamp. “Nothing. I’m just thinking about all the fucking work I have to do when I go in tomorrow, thanks to you.”

And you can see he’s unconvinced, eyes flicking between yours as if looking for the real answer. But he waits a beat before his smile fades and he asks, “Why did you really come tonight?”

A bit caught off-guard by the question, you blink. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you could have partnered with anyone else. If you really wanted,” he explains, slowly stepping closer. Forcing a hitch in your throat. “Could have left me behind. Gone ahead. But you didn’t. Why?”

And there it is. That hint – that almost undetectable trace – of vulnerability behind the usual arrogance. He’s giving you the chance, offering you an opportunity for truth.

And maybe you want to take it. Maybe you want to confess and unburden yourself of this weight that’s settled on your shoulders. 

The truth teases the tip of your tongue, laden with consequences.

But just before you can offer him the real answer, there’s a distant laugh from one of the groups back in the maze. Interrupting the moment and stealing what little courage you had left.

Your lashes flutter quickly as if shaking yourself from a daze, and you step back. Forcing distance between your bodies in an attempt to find clarity. 

Harry watches you go, expression hard and etched with frustration, while you swallow thickly and spin on your heel. 

He doesn’t call after you as you race to your car. Doesn’t insist on an answer or try to make you stay.

He merely stands there beneath the warm hue of the streetlamp, allowing you to run away, and disappear into your car before fleeing the scene.

Leaving him behind. 

Previous Part:

~ Always*

~ 404 Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @princessprongs @nuggetdean @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

[babybluebex]

i’ve had this scenario banging around in my head since the movie came out but imagine a fic where the reader has a massive crush on angus but they see him kissing elise at the christmas party 😭 like i loooveee angst and i would write this fic myself but i lost my last neuron when i fell off an electric scooter and got a concussion 😔

oh no concussion!! :( i'm so sorry about that honey, hopefully this'll make up for that!//word count: 2.1k, tw for grief/loss

You couldn't help but notice the way Angus grinned when Ms. Crane said her niece's name. It was a real smile, not the firm, thin thing that he had given you at lunch— you supposed that he hated being stuck at Barton as much as you did, maybe even hating you in the process. Being the only girl at Barton was hard, but especially at the holidays, when you really felt like your choices were the school or a fucking grave. It hurt, sure, but that smile on Angus's face hurt worse.

Elise pulled both you and Angus into the basement, where children sat, doing crafts with paste and glitter and pom-poms, and you smiled at one of the little girls, playing a popsicle stick as a little doll. You heard Angus and Elise talking to each other as they crossed the room, and you lifted your eyes to him just in time to watch him raise his arms in a silly pose and pull a goofy face. You almost started to laugh at him, as per usual when Angus was doing his antics, but Elise laughed first. Her laugh was gentle, her eyes bright, and your heart sank. She really was beautiful, and she was creative and knew whatever painting Angus was talking about. She was something that you weren't, and you sighed gently. And, based on the way that Angus reacted to her, he wanted what she had.

You took to playing with the little girls, keeping an eye out for Angus and Elise across the room. He didn't look at you one single time, keeping his gaze on her the whole time, spreading paint around the page with his long, thin fingers. You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked, and you looked at the pair just in time to watch Elise lean over the table and press her lips to Angus's mouth.

Your heart stopped and your mouth went dry. Of course. After everything, all the time you spent with him, the tells of friendship and maybe more that was building throughout the vacation, he still chose her over you. Would anyone ever choose you? Even at your old school, you were cast aside, forgotten. You thought that there was something with Angus, little flirtations and lingering glances, you could have sworn there was something there, but apparently not. You rubbed your lips together and lowered your eyes, feeling hot tears prick to the surface, and you quickly got up from the short table and made your way upstairs. You needed the bathroom, or the kitchen, or somewhere where there wasn't other people.

Unluckily for you, as you pushed into the kitchen, you heard a shuddering sob, and you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Mary Lamb bent over the counter, crying. Danny, the janitor, who you had interacted with a handful of times, stood in the corner, obviously wanting to help her but not wanting to aggravate her.

"Mary?" you mumbled. "Everything okay?" Even in your upset state, you hated to see the strong and smart Mary in a bad moment. If she was crying, something was wrong.

She said nothing, drawing in a breath and weeping, and your heart clenched. You turned back out of the kitchen, going in search of Mr. Hunham, but before you could even think about his whereabouts, you collided straight into Angus's chest. "Oh, hey," he said with a crooked smile. "You disappeared really suddenly; you okay?"

Seeing his stupid smile made your tears return, and you struggled to breathe. You could worry about yourself and your complicated feelings towards Angus later; you needed to worry about Mary. "M-Mary—" you started, pointing towards the kitchen. "She's— Where's Hunham?"

"What about Mary?" Angus asked, looking past you to the swinging door of the kitchen.

"Where is Hunham?" you repeated firmly, and Angus's smile fell.

"I'll go find him," he mumbled, and you turned back to the kitchen without a word. Mary's head was hanging now, her tears dripping on the counter, and you carefully approached her. "Mary?" you started softly. "Do you want some water or something?"

Mary sniffled and shook her head, and you frowned. She obviously didn't want anything, and you took a step back as Angus and Mr. Hunham noisily bustled into the kitchen. One look at her had Hunham closing the door, and Angus stood in the corner, arms crossed, as he watched Hunham lay a hand on Mary's back.

You felt sick as you listened to her sob about her Curtis, the boy you never met but would always admire, and the group of you was quick to grab your jackets and decide to go home. You were glad; if you ever saw Elise again, you might have dropped dead. But, of course, Angus was whinging the whole walk to the car about leaving Elise behind. "I was having a good time!" he complained. "You can take Mary home and pick me up later!"

"Yeah, having a good time sucking Elise's tongue," you scoffed before you could stop yourself, and Hunham's head snapped to you with intensity.

"I can't believe you two," Hunham grunted. "This poor woman is bereft with grief—" Mary interjected that she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her, but Hunham paid her little mind— "And all you can think about is that silly girl!"

"What did I do?" you gaped. "All I said was—"

"I heard you, miss," Hunham said. "Mary and I are going to get the car, and by the time we get back, you two had better fix whatever this is."

Your face heated up with shame and embarrassment as Mary and Hunham scuttled away, and you couldn't even bare to look at Angus. But you did, and you saw, on his pale and sharp chin, the smallest red mark, a cut, a nick from shaving. "You have a cut on your chin," you mumbled.

"I know!" Angus spat. "What's your fucking problem suddenly?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," you said quickly. "Look, I'm sorry that you're being pulled away from the love of your life or whatever, but you've got to start giving a shit about other people!"

"Like who?" Angus asked. "Like you?"

"Like Mary!" you said, even though your heart was screaming, begging for Angus to see you. For him to really see you, see through your timidness and shyness and see how badly you liked him. "Oh my God, this is her first Christmas without her son; Jesus Christ, at least act like you've got a heart inside your chest!"

"Why do you care so bad about her?" Angus asked. "And, for a matter of fact, why do you care about Elise?"

"Trust me, I couldn't give less of a shit about Elise," you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest in the cold. "But Mary, I... Fuck... My dad died in January. S'why I didn't wanna go home for the break... It would just be me and my mom, alone in our place, not being able to avoid the empty space on the couch where my dad should be. I don't know what Mary's going through, I'll never know how that feels, but... I get it. It hurts like fucking shit, and, like, you'll never understand how that feels because your parents are alive—"

"My dad's dead."

The way Angus venomously spit out his words made you feel rotted inside. "But..." you started. "I thought your dad...? Saint Kitts...?"

"That's just some rich prick my mom married," Angus said.

"So you should get it," you sighed. "The first holiday without family is hard, every day is hard, but Mary... I can't imagine how she feels, and I'm trying to be as sympathetic as possible, try to make it easier for her or something, y'know?"

Angus was quiet for a long moment, pressing the toe of his shoe into a snowy patch on the sidewalk. "I guess I like Elise because she likes me," he said softly. "S'not everyday I find someone who likes me."

"God..." you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. "Is that what that was?"

"Shut up," Angus sneered.

"Hey, easy," you said gently. "Angus, I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You had no idea how to start the conversation, let alone get to where you wanted to be quick enough— Hunham only parked around the corner, he and Mary should be coming back at any second— and you said, "Was that your first kiss? Just then, with her?"

"All-boys schools don't make it easy to find a girl to kiss," Angus mumbled.

You sighed heavily. Your eyes drifted down to a snowbank at the edge of the street, watching it glitter under the streetlamp for a moment, and, before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him and pressed your mouth to his, grabbing his upper arms to keep you upright with your shaking legs. He started for a moment, shocked and surprised, and his hands hovered above your hips, wholly unsure of how to proceed, and you broke the kiss quickly. His owlish eyes stared you down, his mouth open, but he didn't look upset.

"Say something," you whispered, and he let out a breath, the warmth of the air hitting your lips. "Fuck, please, just say something—"

He kissed you again. His hands grabbed your hips and tugged you against him, and you easily looped your arms around his neck and rose up on your tip-toes to reach his height. His lips were warm, if a little dry, and his nose bumped yours as he went to deepen the kiss, his fingers itching in the skirt of your dress. You smiled, unable to control yourself, and Angus did too, pulling away from your mouth.

"Oh," you whispered, and you smoothed your thumb across his top lip, wiping off a little bit of the rosy lipstick that you had worn to the party. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Whatever," Angus said breathlessly, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "You taste good."

You chuckled lightly, lowering your eyes to his shoes. That shyness returned as your skin flamed, and you worried your bottom lip between your front teeth. "S-So I guess you see why I wasn't too jazzed about Elise," you said, trying to attempt a lightness in your voice.

"I'll say," Angus said. "How long have you liked me?"

"Since I met you?" you squeaked. "Since, um, I got sat in front of you in Hunham's class...? I don't know, it's dumb."

"Nuh-uh, that's not dumb," Angus said. "I've liked you for... I don't know, I guess since that first day too. We had, um, heard that a girl was coming to Barton, and I didn't really care too much, but I heard how much the other guys cared, and it... I don't know, it became a contest on how little I cared. But then I saw you... Heard you laugh... Watched you sneak a cigarette behind the bleachers during a football game..." You laughed, as did Angus, and his big hand came to cup your face, angling you to look at him. "But I think I really, really fell for you when I kissed her."

"Huh?" you asked, wrinkling your nose.

Angus rolled his eyes, obviously a little abashed by his admission. "Listen, I'm a teenage boy, it's in my nature to daydream about you," he started. "I had dreamed about what it would be like to be your boyfriend, to kiss you, to have my first kiss with you... Then, Elise kissed me, and, when I opened my eyes, I was sorta disappointed to see her and not you."

"Oh," you said softly.

"You went upstairs, and I went after you to try to talk to you about that," Angus said. "And then Mary, and... But yeah. I've just been too chickenshit to tell you before now."

"Well..." you whispered, listening to the quiet rumble of Hunham's car come from around the street corner. "Thank God for Elise."

"Don't you ever say her name again," Angus told you, and he leaned down to kiss you again. You were acutely aware of how Hunham and Mary could certainly see you two necking in the middle of the sidewalk, but you didn't care. Hunham said to work it out, and so you had.

The blaring of the old Buick's horn made Angus pull away from you, and you heard the window squeak down before Hunham shouted "Will you two quit and get inside the goddamn car?"

"Take it easy on 'em," Mary said as you slid into the backseat, followed by Angus.

"Yeah," Angus said. "Take it easy on us."

"I don't need your sass, Mr. Tully," Hunham said, glaring at you two in the rearview mirror. "Now I have to find a way to separate you two at night, no more sleeping in the same room, no more..."

You didn't care to hear Hunham's ramblings; you leaned your head on Angus's shoulder, you took his hand in yours, and you closed your eyes. Maybe the rest of break would be okay.

[adaelines]

Could you write smth about Ghost x reader where he goes into a rut and manhandles reader after he sees other people flirting with them 🧎

Hope everything is going okay for you!! Love your work

thank u so much!! i am. so weak for alpha si i wanna fuck him so bad!!! afab reader but genderneutral, jealous simon whos been away from you for too long, he calls you a whore but affectionately, needy and desperate jus how i like it

Working with so many men is never easy. Working with this many alphas, every one of them confident, bold, every masculine quality amplified tenfold by their secondary gender, is even harder as an omega. The army was full of alphas trying to prove themselves, prove how strong and powerful they truly were, that they could provide for and care for any omega they wanted to.

It led to many unwanted situations. Fights over nothing, simple actions being misconstrued as meaning more, rut and heat season was hell on earth. 

Being mated to Simon 'Ghost' Riley made it easier, bearable, you never had to worry about unwanted advances or a person's hand placed somewhere that made you a bit too uncomfortable, not when Simon would quickly be there, teeth bared under his mask at whatever fool was brave enough to mess with you. 

He knew he could trust you, knew that other alphas testing the waters around you was never your fault, not when you so proudly presented yourself as entirely his, the bite on your neck something you were happy to show, always scented by him. Even when he'd been away on missions, separated from you, he never left without making sure your nest was full of him, his clothes, anything that would make the void in your chest a little smaller. The same way he kept something of yours on him at all times. You both knew it could never replace each other, but it helped in his absence. Time away was never easy, not when you both had a biological need to be close, to stick together through anything.

Simon had just returned from one of his prolonged absences, nerves short and hands twitching with the need to hold you, mark you as his after this much time apart, so when he witnessed a younger alpha attempting to charm you, someone he hadn't seen around you before, he was far from happy. 

He'd normally ward anyone off with a harsh glare, a hand on your shoulder and his large presence enough to warn anyone that you were his, that they'd be stupid to even think of trying anything, teeth bared under his mask. 

But it was different this time, he hadn't had you to himself in so long, stuck humping his fist like a dog in heat instead of burying himself inside your warmth like he wanted. He had missed you. Missed being in your company, kissing along your skin and making you beg. 

Seeing someone so close to you, no regard for who you belonged to or the fact that you were already mated, had Simon seeing red. His grip on your wrist was harsh, and when you turned around to push away whoever grabbed you, shout at them until they let you go, you immediately went weak, slack and pliant in his hold. The younger man immediately yelped at the intensity of Simon's glare, scampering away like a dog with his tail between his legs. He'd been caught toying with something that wasn't his, and Simon was more than happy to make him pay

Later. Simon couldn't bare to be apart from you, right now, wanted nothing more than to shove you against the nearest wall and make you scream for him, he wanted to abuse your cervix, wanted to leave proof of his existence all over you, wherever he could, needed to fuck you as hard and as fast and as rough as he could.

With you pliant against him, simply happy to be back in his arms, it wasn't hard for Simon to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you back to your nest. He had to have you, as soon as he could, he wanted to be inside you and remind you who you belong to, who you were mated to. 

It wasn't hard for Simon to get you back to your nest quickly, to pin you on your shared bed below him, push his balaclava up enough to capture your lips in a scorching kiss, pressing his body down against yours, effectively pinning you below him.

It was so overwhelming. You could feel him everywhere, smell him everywhere, and when he pulled back to instead nose at your pulse point, the whine that left you was downright debauched, filthy. Filthy like you, you could imagine Simon saying, if he wasn't too busy biting into your neck, grinding his hips down to keep you in place.

Your nails digging into the back of his uniform only spurred him on further, only motivated him for more. When one of your hands moved up, gently playing with the ends of his balaclava, asking for his permission to remove the rest, he let out a low noise that you took as permission. Seeing his entire face was always a pleasure, always left your mind hazy and warm. Having such a privilege to yourself felt good, knowing just how much he trusted you to allow you to see him, all of him.

Simon pulled back, his large hands on your hips practically pulling you back to slot against where he knelt, panting on top of you. Finally having you beneath him, where you belonged, lit a fire inside of him. Perhaps it was his rut starting, or perhaps it was just how badly he needed you, but his insides felt like they were on fire, cock so hard it hurt. 

"Pretty fuckin thing below me," Simon growled, moving his hands from your hips to below your knees, manhandling them to press into your chest, practically folding you in two. "Missed you so much. Wanted you so bad, spent so many nights fuckin' my fist thinking of this…" 

Whining his name loudly, you arched into him, attempting to rub yourself against him, against anything. With the position you were in, you could feel his belt against your clit, even that was almost too much, almost painful with how much you needed more of him. 

"Desperate, huh?" Simon grinned, rolling his hips against you, leaning down so it was his chest holding your legs down against your own, "Sweet thing, don't worry… I'll fuck you so hard you'll have to stay in our nest for a while. Such a pretty thing, so desperate, needy fuckin' whore, huh?"

You could tell he meant it, tell that he would happily keep you here for as long as he could, as long as you would allow him. The idea of you entirely depending on him was almost enough to make him whine in need, he was always so desperate for you, always wanted to be by your side.

"Get ready, pup," He practically growled, the grin on his face almost a snarl. "Gonna fuck you so full…"

[cottonlemonade]

That Time I Made My Brother Hide In The Bathroom To Talk To A Girl

word count: 876 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers

a/n: this is a continuation of How You Met but can be read as a standalone

Atsumu was pouting.

Not only had he played one of the best games of his life when he spotted that cute chubby girl from the bus stop in the ranks but during a timeout he had snuck over to your stand and called over the cheering crowd if you‘d wanna grab dinner with him. And you got all bushy again and told him you‘d love to! (Actually, you had only nodded and mouthed “Okay“ but that was a technicality.)

And now this! During the fifth set Bokuto had stumbled when he landed after a spike and crashed into him. Long story short, Atsumu‘s arm was now in a sling and he was stuck in a stupid hospital on this stupid Saturday when he was supposed to wow you with his infinite charm tonight.

Wallowing in self-pity, he threw his head back on the pillow and groaned loudly.

A nurse opened the door, professional concern in her tone.

“Are you in pain, sir?“

“Physically or mentally?“, he asked, eyes still closed.

“Uhm… I see. Well, call if you need anything.“

And she left again.

He wanted to grab his phone to reread your (rather short) chat for the 6th time that day but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Well, ya look like crap.“

“Samu! What‘re ya doin‘ here?“

“I saw yer incredibly subtle Instagram story. How yer feelin‘?“

“Fine.“, Atsumu mumbled but pointed at his right arm, “Just sucks, ya know.“

Then he sniffed the air and his face brightened a little.

“Did ya bring me food?“

Osamu grinned and took off his backpack to produce mountains of Atsumu‘s favorites.

“Yer the best, thanks.“

But just as Osamu was setting up the little food tray next to his bed, Atsumu perked up.

Through the window of the door he spotted a cute chubby figure currently talking with the head nurse at the reception desk, a bundle in her hands that looked suspiciously like food.

“Ya gotta hide.“

Osamu frowned.

“What?“

“Quick, quick! Come on, hide!“

“Why, what‘s goin’ on?“

“Come on, I‘ll explain later. Hide in the bathroom or somethin’.“, Atsumu urged.

Osamu was way too used to his twin‘s antics to question it much further and so headed towards the ensuite but Atsumu hissed, “Take the food with ya, quickly!“

“Ya gotta be kiddin‘…“

But he picked up the tray and as instructed made his way to the bathroom. Not a second too soon.

Atsumu had just put on his best “beaten hero“ face, filled with sorrow and pain, when the door opened a third time and you stepped in. In the reflection of the window he saw how flushed your cheeks were and how awkwardly you held the bundle. You were just too cute. But he closed his eyes and took a deep theatrical breath before turning to face you.

“Oh, y/n. What are ya doing here?“

“I thought you must be disappointed that you couldn‘t finish the game yesterday and… yeah. Plus, we were supposed to see each other today. I‘m sorry if this is too forward, but I brought some food to help you recover.“

Beaten heroes didn‘t squeak. They didn‘t giggle, nor kick their feet.

Atsumu took a deep breath to compose himself. “No no, yer cute. - I mean, this is very sweet of ya, thanks. Have a seat.“

He nodded to the side of his bed.

“Do you have a tray somewhere?“, you asked, looking around.

“Uhm, no, I think the nurses took it after breakfast. A-and“, he added quickly because it looked like you were about to get up to ask for a new one, “I‘m sure I‘ll be fine without one.“

“Alright then.“, you opened the bundle to produce a large square lunch box. When you opened it, steam rose from the fluffy rice, packed neatly next to the eggroll with sausage, grilled meats, pickled vegetables and fruit.

“Looks delicious.“, he said excitedly and tried to pick up the chopsticks with his left hand. When that didn‘t quite work out he swapped to the spoon but even that he could tell must have looked very awkward.

“Could… ya help me out?“, he asked with a small smile and you nodded, taking the spoon from him and scooping up some rice, then adding some meat on top.

When you lifted it to his lips, your hand was shaking so much that it was difficult for him to catch, so he brought up his left and closed it around yours, to keep it steady. Making eye contact for absolutely no reason but his own personal entertainment of seeing you blush, he held your gaze as he closed his mouth around the bite.

“Oh wow.“, he said while chewing, cheeks puffed and eyes widened in surprise, “This is really good!“

You smiled brightly and relaxed, loading up the next spoon.

____________

Meanwhile

Osamu sat on the bathroom floor, working his way through the lavish meal he had prepared for his brother, trying not to gag when he heard Atsumu flirting up a storm in the next room.

At some point he got so bored that he swapped the contents of his brother‘s shampoo and shower gel, making a mental list of all the ways Atsumu owed him for this.

✨ @coffeesncats ✨

[sleepy-steve]

why are you never real?

@steddieangstyaugust 02/08 // ghosts

wc: 6.1k // rating: E // cw: suicidal ideation, sexual content // tags: angst with an ambiguous ending, ghost eddie munson, dream haunting, dream sex, mild suicidal ideation, nightmares, post-s4 but vecna died, inspired by sleep token’s the apparition

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

well, i believe // somewhere in the past

something was between // you and i, my dear

“You’re gonna wake up soon.”

Steve sighs, the motion feeling exaggerated, as most things did here. “Already?”

Eddie cocks his head and smiles sadly at him. “You know how it is, time works—”

“Time works differently here, yeah.” Steve cuts him off gently, having heard the words many times before. “Still… I wish I could stay here.” The with you is unspoken, but in his dreams, Eddie always seemed to be able to read his mind.

“Don’t say things like that, Steve.” Eddie’s tone is soft, but concerned. “It’s too easy to get stuck here, and they—the kids, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan—they need you.”

Steve scoffs, looking back out over the trailer park. It’s night this time. It wasn’t always. But at least they were in the Rightside Up. Sometimes they were in the Upside Down. Eddie said it depended on Steve, his moods, how his day had gone, how much pain he was in from his residual injuries, physical or otherwise. “They don’t need me. Maybe for someone to get his ass handed to him to buy time for more important things.”

Eddie grips his shoulder, a strange sensation still, no matter how many times Steve’s felt it. “Don’t undersell yourself that way. You’re way more important than that. They need someone who’s gonna look out for the reckless ones. How many times would Henderson or Mayfield have thrown themselves into danger if you hadn’t’ve stopped them? How many of them have you saved by looking out, making sure they didn’t do anything stupid?”

Steve looks back at him with a pained expression, head tilted slightly. “I didn’t save you.” His voice is soft.

“That’s not fair, Steve,” Eddie’s sympathetic gaze goes right to Steve’s soul. “You couldn’t have known… I needed to—Henderson… I couldn’t let him get hurt.”

“I know,” Steve sighs, the many times they’d had this argument echoing in his head. “I just… You deserved to make it out. As much as any of us did.”

Eddie’s hand moves from his shoulder to his hand, grasping tightly. If Steve thought about it for too long, the feeling would change, would start to become unnatural. “C’mon, big boy, time’s almost up,” Eddie teases, the humour falling a little flat.

Steve looks from where Eddie’s hand is placed over his, back up to his soft gaze. And as most of these meetings ended, they look at each other like they want to say more. Each of them with unspoken words barely held back, communicating something with near imperceptible shifts in expressions, eyebrows slightly raising and pulling together, tiny shy smiles. “I’ll see you soon?” Steve asks, the same way he always does.

“Of course, as long as you want me to be here, I will be,” Eddie answers, the same way he always does.

Everything shifts, warps, fades. Then Steve is awake, and Eddie is gone.

Steve knew. He knew he was getting too attached. Was starting to just wait for the days to end so he could enter his dreams and see Eddie again. Starting to pull away from his real life and crave the night, crave the warm feeling he got there. Like there was nothing else to look forward to aside from sleeping and dreaming. He knew the others were starting to catch on, to notice Steve’s detachment. He could only blame his ongoing migraines so many times before they’d start to get concerned and demand he see a doctor. But he couldn’t help it. It was like an addiction.

The first few times Eddie appeared in his dreams, those few months ago, Steve wasn’t even aware of what—or who, rather—he was seeing. It was more like a feeling. A level of awareness deep in his subconscious mind that let him know something—someone—was there. Seeing him. With him. It wasn’t until weeks later when he was hit with an exceptionally vivid dream, something he only experienced with night terrors after his experiences with the Upside Down, that he realised who it was.

To have a vivid dream that was calm was its own exceptional experience. Weirdly, he found himself in the trailer park. He was walking around alone at night, the area quiet aside from wind rustling and insects chirping. Steve walked aimlessly for what felt like close to an hour, until he heard a very quiet humming that made him stop and look around. He eventually looked up and saw a figure sitting atop a familiar trailer, swinging their legs and looking up at the stars. The humming got louder as Steve approached. The figure turned their head, and Steve saw a big smile he knew, crinkling the corners of eyes that he last saw as glassy and lifeless.

“Eddie?”

Steve woke up with a gasp, the sight of his own bedroom jarring after waking so abruptly. He rubbed his eyes with trembling hands and shook his head. Despite the fogginess of his mind, he remembered flashes of the recent dreams he’d had, all those weird-feeling ones, and it hit him. Steve didn’t know how exactly, but he was sure that all those weird-feeling dreams he’d had were also about Eddie. They all felt the same, somehow. The same… energy, or something.

Steve dreamed of Eddie again the next night. In that one, Steve was standing below the Munson trailer, already looking up at Eddie, who was still on the roof. Steve called for him, less shocked than the previous night. Eddie smiled down at him, the same as before. Though he only got to say, “Hey, Harrington,” softly, kindly, gently, before Steve startled awake again.

It took two more nights of the same—each wake up just as jarring, hands shaking for long minutes afterward—before something changed. The first difference was that it was daytime, the sun shining down over the trailer park. The second was that, instead of the roof, Eddie was sitting on the small porch of the trailer. Once Steve appeared, Eddie patted the step beside him, inviting Steve to sit.

“Good day today?” Eddie asks, lighting a cigarette.

Steve thinks for a moment, struggling to connect his dream mind to his conscious memory. He did have a good day. Both he and Robin had the day off work, so they took the kids to the movies. “Uh, yeah? How’d you know?”

Eddie waves vaguely at the sky. “Sun’s up,” he says around a puff of smoke. “I’m here instead of up there.” He points to the porch, then the roof of the trailer. “You didn’t wake up the second I opened my mouth.”

Holding out the cigarette, Eddie lets the smoke exhale from his nose like a dragon. Steve accepts it, taking a drag. “Yeah, wonder why that keeps happening…”

“It’s your dream, man,” Eddie shrugs.

Steve only hums, taking several moments to think about it. “I guess there’s no use asking why you’re here then?”

“You wound me, Harrington!” Eddie slaps a hand over his heart. “Am I such an unwelcome presence in your dreams?”

Steve laughs and looks to the ground, tapping the ash off the cigarette. “Of course not, man. I… I’m happy to see you. Even if you’re not, y’know, real… Are you?” He looks back with unease.

“Ah…” Eddie smiles in an odd way. “I guess that depends on your definition of real.” He throws up finger-quotes.

Handing the cigarette back, Steve gives him a quizzical look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eddie takes the cigarette, inhales the smoke, and lets it out slowly. “You believe in ghosts, Harrington?”

The world shifts as Steve takes in the question, vision warping, colours blending together, physicality feeling both weightless but somehow very heavy.

“Woah, man, hey, stay with me, Harrington.” Eddie places a hand on his shoulder, but it feels wrong. Both too tight and too distant, like it’s not his arm at all but also like it’s inside his arm. Steve meets Eddie’s worried stare and tries to focus. The world settles around them. Eddie’s hand feels less foreign on him.

“You’re a ghost?” Steve finally asks.

“Ta-da…” Eddie does a weak imitation of jazz hands, cigarette between his teeth.

“And you’re, what? Haunting my dreams?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, don’t make it sound like that,” Eddie laughs. “But yeah, I guess something like that. It was more just to, y’know. See. What would happen.”

Steve thinks back on all the weird-feeling dreams. “It’s been, uh, couple of weeks? Right?”

Eddie is defensive, but there’s humour behind it. “Hey. I only popped in a couple of times, but then you started calling for me. And who am I to ignore the call of King Steve?”

Steve frowns and plucks the cigarette from Eddie’s fingers, pointedly ignoring the nickname. “Calling for you?”

“Yeah, I guess once you realised it was me and tried to see me again. It’s kinda like, I dunno. A sense? Or something. I can just feel it when it happens. And I know to come here.” Eddie gestures vaguely, hands moving with his words.

Steve exhales, smoke shooting low out of his mouth. “Sorry, man. Didn’t know I was doing that.” It sounds silly now that he’s said it, but he didn’t really know what else to say. What do you say to the ghost of your kinda-friend who is being called to your dream world?

“Nah, it’s cool,” Eddie brushes it off, taking the cigarette back again. “It’s not like I don’t have a choice. Like you summon me and I get dragged from wherever I am into your dream, nothing so dramatic. But, y’know, not much else to do. Ghost life isn’t exactly the most exciting existence.”

Steve looks at Eddie, who’s looking ahead, seemingly seeing something other than the trailer park. “Where are you when you’re not here?”

Eddie drops the cigarette butt into the grass below them and squashes it with his boot. “Other places.”

He doesn’t elaborate and Steve doesn’t ask. The silence stretches between them for several long moments before Eddie breaks it. “You’re taking this surprisingly well.”

Steve hums thoughtfully. “We’ve seen weirder shit. Besides, I’m not even sure I’m convinced this isn’t something my whacked out brain cooked up for me.”

Eddie looks like he wants to say something, but laughs softly instead. “I guess I’ll have to find a way to prove it to you.”

Steve mulls over what he’s learned, and remembers what Eddie said when he arrived in this dream. “Are you around when I’m awake?”

Eddie grins at him. “Sometimes.”

Another vague answer, but Steve can’t stop the matching grin that grows on his face.

“Alright,” Eddie says suddenly, looking out to the middle distance, then up at the sky. “Time’s almost up, you’re waking up soon.”

“Wait, what? Really?” Steve was sure it had barely been an hour.

“Time works differently here,” Eddie says. “Sometimes it’ll feel like five minutes, other times, five hours. Just depends.”

Steve feels his brows pull together. “On what?”

Eddie gives him a half smile. “On you, mostly.”

“Are you gonna always give me super vague non-answers?” Steve asks. There’s no heat behind it.

Eddie grins again. “Maybe.”

Steve scoffs and then shoves him softly with his shoulder. Another question creeps to the front of his mind. Overhead, the sky grows grey. “Are you… am I gonna see you again?”

Eddie gives him a curious look and then shrugs. “Sure. As long as you want me to be here, I will be.”

“Okay, okay, cool,” Steve sighs, the surprising bloom of panic settling back down. “I guess, uh. I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure thing, Harrington,” Eddie says with a light laugh. It’s the last thing Steve hears before he wakes up.

Steve jolts awake, but doesn’t sit up immediately. The memory of his dream fresh, not fading quickly the way they usually would, and with it, a lot of confusion. Was that real? How would he ever know if it was and not just some delusion? His hands shake for twenty minutes before settling down. The questions and confusion plague him all day until the next dream.

When Steve arrives, it’s night again. But he’s on top of the trailer, standing a few steps behind Eddie, who is back to sitting over the edge. Greeting him with his usual grin, Eddie pats the spot beside him, same as the night before. Steve sits and joins him, looking up at the stars.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d want me back,” Eddie jokes.

Steve huffs a laugh. “Well, I have some questions.”

“Oh?” Eddie turns fully to face him, crossing his legs. “Do share.”

Steve turns too, pulling one knee up to lean his elbow on, other leg still dangling. “Have you worked out how to prove that you’re actually a ghost?”

Eddie hums, looking off to the side, out at the trailer park. “Sadly, I’m stuck on that one. I could tell you stuff I saw around you today, but that doesn’t really prove anything.”

Steve nods. “So I just… have to believe you? Take you at your word?”

“I mean. You don’t have to believe it, you could tell yourself it’s all in your head and banish me from ever returning to your dream world. If you wanted to.” Eddie shrugs, but continues pointedly looking away from him.

“I wouldn’t—I don’t want to do that,” Steve sighs. “I guess I just don’t want to have my hopes up. That you’re still around in some way.”

Still facing away, Eddie side-eyes him with a small smile. “Can’t imagine anyone being happy about getting haunted.” There’s something beneath the joke. Something soft.

“I guess… it’s nice? To think that you’re there. Here.” Steve coughs a little, struggling with the sincerity that seems to be pouring out of him. No filter in his dreams, apparently. “And in my dreams,” Steve continues. “Because I’m… inviting you?”

“I only answer the call as I hear it,” Eddie says, closing his eyes and holding a hand out to the side, palm up. Steve snorts, and they both laugh. There’s a brightness in Eddie’s eyes. 

The dream doesn’t last long. They spend some time looking at the stars before Eddie notes that Steve will be waking up soon.

“How do you know that?”

Eddie shrugs. “Dunno, just do. Same as you calling me. Just a feeling.”

Steve has no choice but to accept that answer. “So… I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure thing, as long as you want me to be here, I will be.”

Eddie’s smile fades and warps before disappearing completely. Steve is awake and alone again, unsure of what to make of his most recent dream. It was nice to think that Eddie’s ghost was around, that he wasn’t completely gone, but how much could he rely on that? Sure, they had seen plenty of weird stuff, but Steve never believed in ghosts before this. If he wasn’t real, was Steve going crazy, having vivid conversations with the image of a—what? Friend? Steve wasn’t even sure what to call their relationship. This distinction held him up for longer than thinking about whether or not he even believed in Ghost-Eddie’s existence. Both thoughts hung over his head all day like his own personal dark clouds. He found himself wondering if Eddie was around during his shift at work, his car rides, picking up Robin or the kids. It was ever-present, and that thought alone started to make him believe that maybe Eddie really was there. Like his presence was forcing Steve to think about him.

Eddie visits his dreams every night. Days and nights at the trailer park, sitting on the roof or the porch, sharing cigarettes, talking about their lives, their pasts. Eddie claims to see a lot of what the group gets up to, and is always keen to share with Steve his thoughts on conversations, fights, misadventures he sees. (“It’s so good being able to tell someone what I thought!” Eddie says, grasping both of Steve’s shoulders. He feels heat growing in his cheeks at the sight of Eddie’s delighted eyes, but assures himself that it’s nothing.) Steve still finds himself questioning the reality of it all, but he starts looking forward to his dreams more and more each evening.

Then he has a nightmare.

The night terrors weren’t anything new, not since eighty-three. Though it had been a while. The knowledge that Vecna was defeated certainly helped, but there was something else. Steve tried to convince himself it was not the comfort of knowing Eddie was waiting for him. Of knowing that he was never truly alone in his dreams. No, it was definitely not that.

When he arrives at the dream-trailer park, Steve almost jumps back, almost trips over a familiar vine. The sky is a haunting blue-grey, red lightning striking in the distance. The trailer is covered in vines, exactly the same as it was that night. Fog covers the ground all around him.

“Woah, Steve, what happened?” Eddie’s voice comes from his right, causing him to flinch instinctively. “You okay?”

Steve swallows, heart pounding. “Yeah… Yeah, I just…” He took a breath. “Migraine.”

Eddie nods in understanding, looking around them. Steve had told Eddie about the migraines that struck him regularly since his run-in with Billy Hargrove, then doubled after his beatings below the Starcourt Mall. He’d suffered through one today, falling asleep with it pounding behind his eyes and feeling like his skull was splitting in two, cold cloth over his forehead doing little to ease his pain.

Eddie looks back to Steve, concern in his eyes. “You feeling okay now?”

Steve turns his shaking hand in a so-so motion. Thankfully, he wasn’t feeling the physical pain here, but it was clearly showing itself in other ways. Between the visuals of a place he hoped to never see again, the way his heart pounds in his chest, the way he couldn’t seem to take a full breath, he knew he was in a night terror—or at least, something like one. He didn’t know how that changed with Eddie being there. “Been better. You?”

“Fine, aside from seeing the place, y’know…” Eddie waves in the general vicinity, grimace settling over his face. “Like this.”

“Yeah…” Steve exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Eddie gives him a look, one that Steve was starting to become all too familiar with, huge brown eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s not your fault, Steve. You don’t—”

A low growl stops Eddie’s words, both of them turning sharply towards the sound. The sound of a creature creeping in the grass alongside the growl awakens something in Steve’s memory. “Shit.”

“What?” Eddie’s expression is slowly turning to panic. “What is it?”

“Quick.” Steve turns to the trailer. “On the roof. Go—now!”

He grabs Eddie by the elbow as he rushes to the railing. Steve sets his knee up for support, pulling Eddie forward to go up first. Eddie pulls himself up with surprising dexterity, quickly turning to offer his hand down to Steve. The growling gets louder. Steve grips Eddie’s forearm, using his foot to push off the railing and pulls himself up to the roof. They only get to look at each other in relief for a brief moment before the sound of something heavy hitting metal startles both of them into looking down.

“What the hell is that?!” The panic comes clear in Eddie’s voice.

“You remember when I told you about the demo-dogs in the junkyard?” Steve says, voice unsteady. “Nineteen eighty-four?”

The dog below them opens its face, hissing horribly, drool dripping from its many teeth.

“Jesus, yeah, okay.” Eddie rubs a hand down his face, seemingly unable to look away from it.

Another two demo-dogs join the first, all hissing and jumping at the side of the trailer, sending tremors through the structure. The rattling and sounds of flesh hitting metal send a chill down Steve’s spine. “You think they can hurt us?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck. “I mean. This is a dream, and I’m, y’know, already dead, so technically no.” He peers over the side of the trailer, legs wide to keep him steady. “But uh, it’ll hurt until you wake up, I’m sure.”

Steve joins Eddie in looking over the side, mirroring his stance. From the fog, another group of demo-dogs joins the others, seemingly larger than the first ones. One of the big ones looks up at them—and how was it looking at them with no eyes?—opens its many-flapped face, and screeches.

Before he can register it, or stop it, Steve grabs Eddie’s hand, instinctively pulling them closer together. He’s unsure if he’s trying to protect Eddie or himself, he just knows he wants him near. Taking a small step, Steve ensures Eddie is behind him, further away from the creatures.

“They can’t get us. Up here.” Eddie’s reassuring tone changes quickly. “Right? They can’t like, fly, or something?”

“Shouldn’t be able to,” Steve says, more steady than he feels. His heart is still slamming in his chest, his breathing is still short, and his hand is still in Eddie’s. Somehow the last fact is the one sticking to the front of his mind.

One of the creatures rears up before taking a leap. Steve grips Eddie’s hand tighter. It reaches high, but not high enough, missing any possibility of getting to the roof by half a foot. He feels Eddie tug on his hand, pulling him slightly back. Finally dragging his eyes away from the creatures, Steve turns to see Eddie pulling him down to sit.

“Maybe if they can’t see us, they’ll piss off,” Eddie says, leaving their hands joined.

Steve follows him, sitting close. “Yeah…” Steve lets out a shaky breath. “Maybe.”

Loosening his fingers slightly, Steve tries not to watch, tries not to see if Eddie immediately takes his hand back after being released from Steve’s tight grip. He doesn’t. He just squeezes gently, reassuring. They sit cross-legged across from each other, while Steve tries to control his breathing.

“You saved the kids from those things?” Eddie asks, fear still lingering in his eyes.

Steve laughs shakily. “Yeah… yeah, like, five of them? Seven, maybe? Had Dustin, Lucas, and Max in the bus. Just whacked the dogs with the bat.”

“Ah, the fabled nail-bat,” Eddie says with grandeur. “Devastated I never got to see it. Pretty metal, Harrington.”

Steve can tell Eddie’s trying to make him feel better, distract him from his own mind, and Steve is willingly lulled into it, a small smile creeping onto his face. Their hands are still clasped together, Eddie now tracing little circles with his thumb on Steve’s skin. It’s all so comforting. So comforting but so temporary. So unreachable. The thought makes his smile drop slightly.

“Hey, you okay?” Ever-observant, Eddie notices the shift.

Steve tries to bring the smile back up, but he’s sure his eyes betray him. “I just… worry, y’know? That you’re not real. That it’s all in my screwed up head. I…” Steve sighs, looking down at their hands, voice growing small. “I want you to be real.”

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is thick. His other hand reaches out, hesitates, then his fingers are softly around Steve’s jaw, gently guiding his gaze back up. “I know I can’t prove it, but I’m real. As real as a dead guy can be.” They both laugh softly. “I promise. I see you.”

Heart pounding rapidly, Steve tries to blink away the tears pooling in his eyes. “What if I go to sleep one day and you’re not here?” The question comes out quickly, out of Steve’s control. Like he can’t hold anything back.

Eddie pulls his hand out of Steve’s, who mourns the loss for only a moment, before Eddie brings it to the other side of his face, the cool metal of his rings softly pressing into Steve’s skin. “I promise,” Eddie says, voice serious. “I will always be here if you want me to be. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve whispers, nodding between Eddie’s hands, before they trail back down to Steve’s.

The dream doesn’t last much longer, and Eddie prompts him to go quickly—“It’s a lot easier to get stuck in a nightmare.”—despite Steve’s quiet protests. Eddie brings his knuckles up to Steve’s face again, softly grazing his cheek with another promise to be there the next night, before he fades away and Steve wakes up.

Steve doesn’t have another nightmare for a long time after that. Weeks blend together in a mess of dream memories, Steve finding himself eager to get to sleep each night. He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s experiencing. It’s not that he doesn’t think anyone will believe him, but he doesn’t know how he’d explain why Eddie comes to him every single night. What possible reason could he give for that?

It’s a few weeks later, when they’re laying side by side on the roof of the trailer, Eddie’s hand softly tracing little shapes on Steve’s arm, when Steve finally asks a question he’d been thinking about for far too long.

“That day, back when you were hot-wiring the RV…” Steve starts slowly. Eddie hums for him to continue. “Were you… flirting? With me?”

Eddie doesn’t pull his hand away, but does keep his eyes firmly on the sky. “I—well, yeah. I was.” It’s hard to tell in the low light, but Steve swears Eddie’s cheeks are a little pink. “I just thought—y’know, we’d already seen so much shit. Thought it might, I dunno, make you laugh? But yeah. I was.” The silence stretches for a long moment. “Did you—is that—um, were you…?”

Eddie lets the question trail off into nothing. Steve takes his hand firmly in his, watches as Eddie looks at him and looks away just as quickly. Steve joins him in looking up at the stars. “It took me by surprise, for sure. But I, uh. It was—I hoped. That you were.” His cheeks feel hot, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, analysing him. Steve doesn’t look back, scared to have said too much.

Neither of them say anything, but Eddie squeezes his hand. They stay that way until Steve wakes up, as always with a promise that Eddie will return the next night.

It’s another week, when they’re sitting side by side on the trailer’s roof, before Eddie struggles to ask a question that has seemingly been on his mind for days, hands more jittery than usual as he lets his fingers trail over Steve’s skin.

“Do you think… if I hadn’t—if we’d been able… that maybe,” Eddie clears his throat. “Maybe we could have…?”

Steve doesn’t need to hear the words to know what he means. “I think… yeah. There was something. Between us. I could, I dunno. I could feel it.”

He can’t explain it, the thing that Steve felt. Some electricity, some pull that dragged him into Eddie’s orbit starting the second Steve’s back was shoved into the wall of the boathouse and a shard of glass was pressed up against his neck. He found himself constantly in Eddie’s space, and was sure that Eddie felt it too. The lack of needing to distance themselves from each other. It was present, and the more Steve thought about it, inevitable. If they’d had more time, been able to explore it… 

“Okay,” Eddie exhales heavily. “Yeah. Me too.”

They lock eyes, and Steve sees barely concealed grief, longing, in Eddie’s. The almost imperceptible widening, irises shining, the slight pull of his mouth, all says more than anything either of them could put into words. Eddie breaks the moment, letting his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, hand clasped tightly around his.

It’s one of the longest nights Steve’s had in his trailer park dreams.

It gets much worse after that. Steve constantly pulls away from his real life, like it’s just time to fill until he can get back to his dreams. He often says how much he wishes he could stay. He doesn’t say why, but Eddie knows. Despite how gentle his tone is, Eddie reminds him to think of his real life, to not let himself get stuck in his dreams. But Steve sees the resolve slipping, the way Eddie doesn’t even seem to be able to convince himself when he tells Steve how important it is to stay present, with the people that love him.

Steve opens his eyes to his dream to see night, as it often is, though the sky is clouded. No sign of the stars he and Eddie usually spent the nights looking at. He knows why the clouds are there, his earlier argument with Robin echoing in his mind. Eddie is where he usually is, sitting with his legs dangling off the roof of the trailer.

“Hey,” Eddie calls softly. “You okay?”

Steve shrugs before moving to the railing to pull himself up to join him. The silence settles between them, Eddie waiting patiently for him to start talking. Steve doesn’t say anything, instead looks at his own shoes beside Eddie’s.

“C’mon…” Eddie brings his face close to Steve’s, leaning down with a small smile. “Tell me what happened.”

Sighing softly, Steve doesn’t bother to ask how Eddie knows something happened. He always knew. “Just had a fight with Robin. It was stupid. I’ll apologise to her tomorrow.”

“Why was it stupid?”

“She just…” Steve runs his hand through his hair. “She knows I’m hiding something from her. Said I’ve been distant. And I got mad about her asking. The whole thing is my fault.”

Eddie is quiet for several moments, studying him. “That doesn’t sound stupid to me.”

Steve sags a little at the words. “Yeah… but if I had just told her… maybe not all of it, but enough. I dunno. We probably wouldn’t have fought.”

“Steve…” Eddie’s voice is so soft, Steve knows he doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say next. “You can’t… you can’t keep doing this. I’ve told you before, it’s too easy to get stuck here—”

“Well maybe that’s what I want!” Steve snaps, cutting him off and immediately regretting it.

Eddie pushes himself a few inches back, away from Steve, expression unreadable. He pulls his knees up to his chest. “If I think…” His words are slow and measured, “that you are at risk of getting stuck here… I’ll—” Eddie pauses, seems unsure for a moment. “I will have to stop coming back.”

Ice floods Steve’s veins. “What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you getting stuck here. You need to live your real life, you can’t just keep waiting to come back here. It’s not healthy.” Eddie hugs his knees. “I don’t want to stop coming. But I will if I have to.”

“Eddie… no…” Steve reaches out but stops when Eddie shakes his head.

“You can’t keep doing this. It’s not your fault that I didn’t make it,” Eddie says, referring to their conversation from the previous night.

Steve feels a wave of guilt wash through him. “We could’ve saved you. I could have saved you.”

“I made my choice that night, you can’t keep blaming yourself for it.�� Eddie pulls his legs tighter. “But it’s not just that… is it?”

Steve curls in on himself. “I… I can’t help it. Knowing that we could have had… It’s like this—thing that won’t leave me. It’s all I think about. You are all I think about.”

Over his knees, Eddie gives him a devastated stare, eyes swimming with it. He looks at Steve like he has so many things to say, but doesn’t say any of them. Holding it all back. Holding himself back.

Steve feels the lump growing in his throat. “Please… please don’t leave me, Eddie.”

Whatever resolve Eddie had crumbles, and he shifts close to Steve, taking his hands. “I won’t, Steve. I’ll always be there. But this… it isn’t good for you. If I need to hide from you, for a little while…” 

“Please don’t…” Steve whispers, looking up at him with wet eyes. Their noses are almost touching. “Please…”

“Steve…” Eddie sighs, pained. His brows pull together.

Steve pulls his hands from Eddie’s, placing them on either side of Eddie’s face. He watches the conflicted look fly across Eddie’s eyes before he leans forward slightly. Their lips brush so softly, Steve shudders a breath at the feeling and Eddie groans, eyes closing as his frown intensifies. Steve freezes for only a moment, before surging forward. Eddie is grabbing him tightly, one hand pressing at his back, the other pulling on his shirt. All of their fear and longing felt through the movement of their lips. It’s fierce and heavy and desperate. Eddie’s tongue is in his mouth and he tastes like cigarettes and the salt from Steve’s tears. Letting his hands soften, one cups Eddie’s jaw, the stubble rough against his skin. The other trails down his neck, then to grip at his hair, fingers tangling in the curls.

Steve’s heart races, and everything starts to warp. Eddie is not close enough and he’s so close they’re almost one. Their lips are too soft and too firm against each other. It feels intense and it feels like he’s chasing it. It’s all consuming and it doesn’t feel like enough. He tries not to think about it. Tries to just sink into the feeling.

Unsure how or when it happened, Steve is on his back with Eddie above him. Their hands are everywhere, mapping each other, clinging desperately to one another. Steve pulls Eddie closer so their bodies are flush, feeling the weight of the man he knows in his heart is dead but feels so real and alive on him now. Feels the expansion of breath in Eddie’s chest, the thrum of his pulse in his neck, the pull of his teeth on Steve’s lip. He hears the soft moans from Eddie’s throat, the rustling of their clothes as they move against each other.

Their movements become frantic as hands move to waistbands and zippers come undone. Everything blurs. Their hands are together, wrapped around each other, running up and down their lengths as one. Steve’s lips trail down Eddie’s throat, breath catching as he feels the pulse there again. Every sensation arguing, screaming, that he’s real and alive. Eddie ducks, bringing his lips back to Steve’s, face angled to deepen the kiss until they're both panting into each other's mouths.

Steve tries to look but only sees snatches of detail. Eddie’s eyes, hooded and glazed as their hands move quicker. The redness creeping up his neck. The creases between his brows deepening as his moans grow louder against Steve’s lips. He can’t tell whose groans belong to who as their breath combines between their lips, their hands moving together. Pleasure coils low in his abdomen, his breath hitching as he holds tight to Eddie with his free hand. He moans and cries, lips dragging against each other as he comes, Eddie close behind him. Their hands slow and their breathing softens. Eddie’s weight is on him almost entirely. Everything else feels fuzzy.

They lay there, arms wrapped tight around each other, for what could be hours. Time has never been clear to Steve here. They hold each other as though fearful that one might be snatched away from the other at any minute. Between gentle kisses, Steve looks to see tear tracks running down Eddie’s cheeks—no doubt mirroring his own. His focus starts to return, the warped feeling fading, returning to the clarity of his familiar dream world. Steve remembers what they had been talking about before.

“I won’t,” Eddie says, eyes locked on his. “I won’t leave. I promise.”

Steve has no choice but to believe him, nodding before kissing him again. It might have been one of the longest dreams Steve’s had, but it’s entirely too soon before Eddie warns him that he’ll wake up soon. Steve pulls him tighter, his desire to stay stronger than ever. Eddie is the one who finally pulls away, sitting up beside him.

“Promise me you’ll fix things with Robin?” Eddie tries to ask it casually, but it’s clear he’s avoiding what he really wants to say.

“Yeah,” Steve sits up with a half smile. “I promise.”

Eddie reaches out, letting his hand trail down Steve’s cheek, stopping at his jaw. He leans in for a slow, soft kiss. Everything he wants to say is in his gaze—gentle, longing, pleading.

“I’ll see you soon?” Steve asks, the way he always does, and yet not at all like that. There’s so much more behind it. His voice wavers, afraid that the answer will be different.

“Of course,” Eddie answers, voice breaking. As the dream starts to warp and fade, Eddie’s wide wet eyes blurring before him, Steve hears the promise more earnestly than ever. “As long as you want me to be here, I will be.”

[b0r3dtod3ath]

hi could i please make a request? i did poorly on my last exam and need some cheering up from oscar :(

Hi anon, thank you for the request but more importantly: I'm sorry about your test. Feel free to dm me if you want to talk. Also, just a reminder for everyone: if you want to be added to my anon list just send me a message in inbox containing your nickname or an emoji and your pronouns. (Also omg this photo of Oscar- girl, I'm speachless)

My F1 masterlist

Warnings: Reader being stressed due to school, hint of basing your self-worth on grades, mention of food and eating.

Word count: 514

You exited the building as fast as possible wanting nothing but to finally meet your boyfriend. You two were to go out after your classes - have a little lunch and then maybe go to one of your places and watch a movie. As soon as he spotted you he knew something was off. He couldn't pinpoint specific details - maybe it was your posture that appeared a bit smaller, maybe it was the anxious look in your eyes or the way your face frowned a bit. He just instantly knew something was not right. "Hi honey" he slowly whispered in your hair as you greeted each other with a tight hug. You felt so fragile and stupid but his arms wrapped around you gave you a hint of comfort. "You want to scratch the lunch and just take takeout to my place?" he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear. You just nodded and gave him a small smile.

"So you remember the test that I sat last week?" of course he remembered. He was away but anytime he would Facetime you, your mind went somewhere else. At first, he was a bit bothered about it but quickly understood your mind was occupied with your studies. He never really pursued academics but tried to help you as much as he could - he asked you to simply explain certain terminology (so you would understand things better) or every time you had study sessions he would text you at the top of the hour to remind you to take a break. "So, yeah… I just didn't do well. I don't know what happened… I mean, it just happened" you said as you gazed at your shoes. He noticed your sudden shyness and grabbed your hand "Oh love, I'm sorry you're stressed lately. Let me take care of you. When we come home you take a nice shower and I will organise everything else". As your eyes finally met he planted a kiss on your hand. You did like he said. The hot shower provided a comforting feeling of a cleanse even on the mental side. Oscar's house always gave you a whole lot of comfort. Cotton bedsheets, soft towels, warm lighting and your boyfriend's presence made you ten times calmer. You stepped into the kitchen wearing your PJs - you always had a set at Oscar's. He stood in the kitchen, unpacking the food that had just been delivered. His soft curls lightly bounced as he was moving. He hummed a song that had been stuck in his mind - it was a Lana Del Rey song but he never admits he listens to her songs. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head on his back which caused him to smile.

The rest of the evening was filled with cuddles and low-volume sit-coms. You two were on the couch, two soft blankets covering your bodies, your head rested on his chest as the sound of his heartbeat and his hand stroking your back caused you to fall asleep.

29.09.23

[vinestaffery]

hello! May I request a Valk x reader fluff scenario? probs just either of them having a rough day and having a cuddle session with the other :D

Hello!!! The first start of the scene is inspired off of Mayans MC Grocery Store Scene, from Season 4! I felt like it's a great way I feel about umm people that are overall just really mean and such or just rude. Hope this is good enough!! I gotta sleep RIGHT after this one too, so I'm happy to be able to pump this out!!! Enjoy!!! ALSO I JUST REALIZED I MISREAD YOUR REQUEST AND GAVE YOU A ONESHOT. I AM SO SORRY.

VALK X READER FLUFF

Today was not the day for you. Working 9 hours per day, being yelled at by customers endlessly for just trying to scan their food in. It was getting tiring than ever. “Next,” you said in a deaf-tone. Another demon, specifically one that looks overall pissed.

“Make this quick! I need to get somewhere.” You had more of enough proof with your facial expression you did not give much of a fuck. With how they were speaking, how they were blabbing to whoever on the phone. You just wanted out of here.

Scanning endlessly of the foods, you listened quietly to the sound of the radio playing. The supermarket was not the greatest place to get money or to find peace, but it surely made you become more religious than ever, praying to the SFoTH that you make it out alive in the next few hours.

People started lining up, growing more anxious by the second as they waited slowly for the lady you were serving to quit blabbing. It was until she interrupted you mid-packing her food. “Don’t forget to put a double-bag, paper bags have always been useless.” I mean, you could understand her at that point. 

Paper bags were useless, especially with how easily breakable they were. It was the first thing you let slide in your head. Placing more food together, adding up as you waited patiently and sorted each carefully. “Don’t put chemicals in food! Are you insane?” That pulled a nerve.

Re-sorting and plucking everything out of the bag, you didn’t show any sign of hesitation or resistence. You just carried on, customers always know best. Their highest priority is this stupid supermarket food-chain. As you resorted, you placed more food down below.

“Is this your first day? Are you kidding me? Everyone knows you don’t put the weak food at the bottom of the bag. I mean, c’mon!” The demon let out a snort, snickering.

Your fingers wrapped around the food, pulling one out and putting the heaviest sense of shopping load into the bag. You didn’t make any sound, your eyes focused on each food taken in hand. “Sorry, this stupid clerk just won’t do the shopping right. I know, they seriously need to learn…”

— 🌕  AT NIGHT .

You walked in through the door of the shared department, shaky breaths as you followed the small light-source coming from the hallway. You could hear him, how your body yearned for him once more. 

The sound of his singing, it made you feel every tight nerve in your body collapse. Your hesitant footsteps as the bits of food stuck your hair together. You couldn’t help but sniffle, a tear dropping down your cheek from the overwhelming stress in your head. It was ripping at your scalp.

“My sunshine? Is that you?” That familiar voice.

“Here…” You let out a cracked voice as you saw that yellow-horned demon once more. Valk. The love of your life ever since that first day meeting one another accidentally on the street. It was hilarious when you found out he was the all-time star on the radio. 

“Oh, my sunshine! I might cookies, if you’d like–” His head turned to face you, only to stop in his place as his voice slowly pitched down – “to have some together…” You could hear that concern in his voice. 

“...” Silence is all that could be heard. 

“I had a bad day, today,” You could only pipe up about it, as you fell to tears. It was like all chains of your body that dug deep into your soft skin had finally let you go. It was an agonising walk home, and it was even harder to get up the apartment stairs. 

Valk knew what to do, as he walked closer as he held you. You immediately collapsed in his arms. “Sunshine, sunshine. I’m here, oh my poor light,” his words were like angels from the heavens, speaking their godly verses.

“I got fired from my job,” You laughed into his shoulder, egg remnants slowly pouring onto his t-shirt. He let out a sigh. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.” Keeping you close, you both trudged to the bathroom, to where he helped you get clean. It wasn’t too long until you both were cuddling on the couch.

“So you got fired? For what?” Valk piped up, a blanket draped across you as his arm extended out behind your neck. The television flickered on movie scenes that never seemed to catch your interest. “I accidentally destroyed a person’s shopping, but they deserved it. They wouldn’t shut up.” 

Valk couldn’t tell if he should be disappointed, but he didn’t want to continue the worst case-scenario forever. “Well, then that’s okay. Maybe they did deserve it. Just hope you can get another job again.” Valk was always the one to look to the bright sides, while you struggle with both pros and cons on existing life. “I hope so,” you meekly shuddered.

His warmth was inviting, it was nights and days like these where you wish to rest in his lap all the time. He didn’t mean, you being there with him made him even happier. As your eyes struggled to keep open, now clean and close to him, he couldn’t help but laugh. 

Caressing your cheek, he kissed your forehead. “Sleep well, sunshine.”

[wing-ed-thing]

Tobi x Reader x Deidara Three-Man Squad Headcanons

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Tobi is Scary

𓆃 Haha... it's stupid.

𓆃 It's a three-man squad dynamic where Deidara has somehow taken over as the brains of the operation. Assuming you've stuck around to be a part of the Deidara and Sasori dynamic, it's quite the 180 to see Deidara transition from someone who hardly had to think to someone mapping out strategies.

𓆃 Because with Sasori, Deidara was primarily occupied with showing off. He got his jobs done just fine, but never put too much effort in planning.

𓆃 But when Tobi came along, it was almost as if Deidara stepped up out of spite.

𓆃 You supposed that perhaps it was the same with Sasori all along— that Deidara played up being more carefree to get on ever-organized and calculating Sasori's nerves.

𓆃 He seemed to be happier when he was more carefree, and now Tobi has made him into a monster, which makes for a hot and cold dynamic.

𓆃 Because Tobi is almost always high-energy and cracking jokes (which used to be Deidara's thing), and the energy level of Tobi is inversely proportional to Deidara's snippiness on any given day.

𓆃 Deidara, with a temper shorter than a teaspoon, is prone to violent outbursts on any given day. Whether it's sudden detonations or just yelling, he and Tobi keep each other busy.

𓆃 Deidara doesn't even seem to enjoy making his art at the rate he used to. Instead, most of it has been angry and spiteful, shoving random clay birds and bugs in Tobi's face in an attempt to get Tobi to appreciate his art.

𓆃 And of course, it's on Deidara when he places such an expectation on Tobi knowing he won't understand.

𓆃 You can most definitely count on being stuck in the middle of the disputes, because Tobi is hiding behind you to get away from Deidara and Deidara is strongly petitioning you to just fucking agree with him!

𓆃 Most of your dynamic will hinge on who you side with. Whether you gang up on Tobi together or take pitty on the pathetically seemingly incompetent third member.

𓆃 Ganging up on him will more likely lead to establishing a hierarchy within the squad, and you'll find that Tobi is more than willing to take commands and orders with the right direction.

𓆃 Despite having to quite literally train Tobi like a dog, you can create some pretty powerful team moves together. Tobi is a surprisingly competent support on the battlefield.

𓆃 Taking pitty on Tobi won't be too much different in the short-term, but has the potential to be helpful in the longterm... not that you know that.

𓆃 He'll continue to hide behind you. You'll incur Deidara's wrath before he cools down. Rinse, repeat.

𓆃 And perhaps you'll enjoy his little jokes every now and then, especially on grueling missions where you need entertainment.

𓆃 Tobi is willing to serve even more than he would under Deidara's pressure, and will bring you little useless gifts from time to time.

𓆃 He's so pleasant and goofy you'd hardly notice the off comments he says from time to time.

𓆃 Because he mumbles. He mumbles and mutters to himself, but when you ask him about it, he insists that he has no idea what you're talking about.

𓆃 Sometimes, you hear him in the middle of the night talking to himself about revenge and a girl you've never met. His voice is lower than you had ever heard it...

"Tobi?" you say somewhere off into the darkness.

He's close by, just in front of you, where you can make out the vague outline of his cloak. His back faces you as he rocks, muttering to himself in the same deep voice that had been waking you up for a few nights now.

It wasn't every night, but every so often, you'd shoot out of sleep, the mutterings of an unfamiliar man shaking you to your core.

You groped at the ground in front of you, dirt sinking into your fingernails as you pawed across the leaf litter on the forest floor. The pads of your fingers brushed against the ends of Tobi's cloak, and you swiftly grasped it.

"Tobi?" you repeated in a whisper, barely awake. You blinked with a yawn, the dimness only serving to further discombobulate your tired mind. You tugged on his cloak with another soft hiss of his name.

He grabbed your wrist, yanking you forward before you could even process. And in an instant, you were face to face with Tobi's orange, swirling mask. The single hole for his eye was as pitch black as the night.

He just stared at you and you stared into the abyss.

You tried to recoil, but the hold on your wrist didn't loosen. Your eyes flickered back to the dark circle.

You could feel his breathing. Slow, low, and steady as the muscles in his hand flexed around yours.

He said nothing, just muttering about the gift. The very whispers made your voice hitch in your throat as your heartbeat quickened.

The muttering grew angrier, and the words less coherent. Your other hand shot to Tobi's punishing grip on you as you tried to jerk yourself away. He only held onto you harder as you began to kick and thrash, somehow maneuvering your leg to break yourself free before you tumbled across the dirt ground.

You scrambled to your feet, your chest crushed with panic as you grasped to collect yourself in the moonlight. A cloud passed overhead, allowing the dim moon to coat the forest clearing in a silvery sheen.

Tobi sat by himself in the middle, legs folded under him as he stared up at the sky. Deidara slept soundly at the edge, undisturbed by the commotion.

Tobi turned to you slowly.

The feeble beams of the night left mild shadows across his mask, leaving his frame looking almost transparent.

"What are you doing awake, silly goose?" Tobi giggled. He rose to his full height, and only then did you realize how truly tall he was. He raised a fist in the air. "Tobi has night watch all covered! Isn't Tobi a good boy?"

He stepped toward you, and you instinctively stepped back. Tobi stopped in his tracks, mask tilted downward to stare from your offending foot to slowly back up at your face. The mask cocked to the side, seeming angered. You couldn't prevent the chill that jerked your shoulders.

"Isn't Tobi a good boy?" he asked again. You didn't trust the softness in his tone. You gulped, nodding.

"Yeah," you resigned, frozen where you stood. "Tobi's a real good boy."

"Yes, Tobi is! Now go back to sleep."

You didn't know what to do. Too afraid to do anything else, you curled up at Deidara's foot and remained wide awake for the entirety of the night.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I like how the panel cuts off in such a way that it looks like one of them (Tobi) took a bite out of the post.

[strayrockette]

His Eyes on Me: Part Two

Summary: In which Benny's stare chases her away

Masterlist/ Part One-Part Three

Standing in front of him, my thoughts were a tangled mess, each one jostling for attention as I tried to find the right words. Benny’s presence was overwhelming in the quietest way—his piercing blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that seemed to pierce right through any shield I’d put up. The unwavering focus of his gaze sent a rush of heat to my cheeks, startling me. He didn’t look away, not even for a second, like he had all the time in the world to just watch me, soaking up every little detail.

I felt small and exposed, and the vulnerability of it all made my heart flutter nervously in my chest. My cheeks burned under the weight of his stare, and I quickly bowed my head, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping across my face. It was unnerving, how calmly he held me in his sights, not a flicker of doubt or hesitation. No guy had ever looked at me like that—like I was worth noticing, worth standing still for.

I rubbed my cheek, feeling the warmth spreading beneath my fingertips, and fidgeted with my fingers, picking at the skin around my nails as if it would distract me from the nervous energy buzzing through me. I stole quick glances at him, my eyes darting away whenever they threatened to linger too long. I wanted to ask him why he was here, why he kept staring, but the words felt heavy and clumsy in my mouth, stuck somewhere between curiosity and fear of hearing the answer. Finally, I managed to look up at him, my gaze wavering under the intensity of his, and I bit my lip nervously, feeling the awkwardness of the moment sink in.

“So, um...” I started, my voice barely above a whisper, shy and unsure. “My friends think you’ve been staring at me, and...” I trailed off, feeling stupid for even bringing it up, but the thought wouldn’t leave my mind. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure they’re wrong, but...” I took a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes even though every instinct told me to look away. “Are you?”

There was a brief pause, a flicker of something in Benny’s eyes that I couldn’t quite read. His expression didn’t change much; his lips quirked just slightly, not quite a smile but enough to let me know he was amused. He didn’t seem caught off guard by the question or embarrassed by being called out. If anything, he seemed perfectly at ease, like he’d been waiting for me to ask.

“Yes,” he said simply, his voice steady and sure, leaving no room for doubt. Benny didn’t elaborate, didn’t feel the need to explain himself or justify his actions. It was just a straightforward answer, delivered with a calm confidence that made my breath hitch.

His honesty was jarring, cutting through the fog of my nerves like a bright light in a dark room. I wasn’t used to it—this kind of raw, unfiltered truth that Benny seemed to deliver so effortlessly. For a moment, my brain stuttered, struggling to catch up with the weight of his words. He wasn’t dodging or deflecting; he wasn’t trying to charm his way out of the awkwardness. He was just... honest. Plain and simple.

When the reality of his answer finally sank in, a surge of warmth spread across my cheeks, and I realized with a start that I was smiling—a soft, unguarded smile that I couldn’t hold back, no matter how hard I tried. It felt foreign, like I was allowing myself to be seen in a way I hadn’t before, stripped of all the usual defenses I hid behind. I bit my lip, feeling the full force of his gaze settle on me, and the nervous energy bubbling up inside me finally spilled over in the form of a giggle. It was light and breathless, the kind that escaped without warning, catching me off guard as much as him.

I ducked my head, the blush on my cheeks deepening as I tried to hide the giddy smile that wouldn’t leave my lips. The giggle felt silly and out of place, but I couldn’t help it; there was something so disarmingly simple about the way Benny just admitted it, like it was the easiest thing in the world to tell a girl you’d been staring at her. I glanced up through my lashes, stealing a peek at his reaction, half expecting him to laugh at my flustered response. But Benny just watched me, his eyes softening at the sight of my smile, like it was the very reaction he’d been hoping for.

My giggles were relentless, each one bubbling up as Benny's steady, weighted stare and calm honesty chipped away at the shell where I usually hid the nervous, shy part of myself. My hands flew to my cheeks, trying desperately to contain the growing blush and the uncontrollable laughter escaping my lips. I was unraveling, coming undone in the most unexpected way, and all Benny did was stand there, unwavering, his eyes never once trailing away from me. It was like he saw through every barrier I tried to put up, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.

“Okay,” I nodded to myself, as if I was trying to convince my own fluttering heart to settle down. “Have fun.” The words were rushed, almost like I was dismissing him, but really, I was dismissing myself before I completely lost it. I turned on my heel, my head bent low, and without another word, I bolted back to the diner, the sound of my boots tapping against the pavement barely audible over the pounding of my heart.

I practically dove back into the booth, my cheeks burning as Natalie and Lacey burst into a fit of giggles. Lacey nudged me with a knowing smirk, “You lasted a lot longer than we thought.”

Natalie leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I thought you’d bolt the moment you walked up to him,” she snickered, stirring her straw in her empty milkshake.

“And I thought you’d bolt the moment you stepped out of the diner,” Lacey added, shaking her head in mock disbelief. I buried my face in my arms on the table, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.

I mumbled into my sleeves, wishing the world would swallow me whole. I couldn’t believe I had just laughed like an idiot and practically ran away from him.

Benny’s unflinching gaze had shaken something loose in me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Oh, he’s gettin’ on his bike,” Lacey teased, shoving my shoulder to get me to look. “Think he’s waitin’ for yah to look at him.”

Against my better judgment, I peeked up over the booth and glanced out the window. Benny was perched on his bike, his jacket snug around his broad shoulders, looking every bit as cool and composed as ever. The rumble of the bike vibrated through the glass, and when his eyes found mine, he didn’t break the connection. He just sat there, staring, with a look that was both challenging and inviting. My heart skipped a beat as he finally smiled, a slow, confident curve of his lips, and nodded at me like he was saying he’d see me around.

I flushed, my embarrassment hitting a new peak, and instead of sinking back into my seat like my instincts screamed at me to do, I raised my hand in a small, shy wave—an action that I regretted the instant I did it. Benny’s smirk grew, and he revved his bike, the engine’s growl sending a jolt through me. I watched as he pulled away, his figure disappearing into the night, leaving me breathless and hoping, irrationally, that I’d never see him again.

The next day

“You just… said okay and have fun??” Lacey’s voice was scandalized, her eyes wide with disbelief as we sat curled up on the couch in my living room. “THAT’S IT??? AND YOU RAN AWAY!”

Natalie was sprawled out at the other end of the couch, shaking her head with a laugh threatening to spill from her lips. “We taught you better than that, sweet pea,” she teased, her voice laced with playful disappointment as she tucked her legs underneath her, settling into the cushions.

I groaned, sinking deeper into the couch cushions as if I could somehow disappear from the mortifying memory of what just happened. I grabbed the fluffy throw blanket draped over the back of the couch and threw it over my head, desperately trying to hide from their relentless teasing. “I PANICKED, OKAY? I COULDN’T HELP IT!” I grumbled, my voice muffled under the soft fabric but still dripping with exasperation.

Natalie couldn’t hold back her snicker, nudging Lacey as they exchanged knowing looks over my blanketed form. “You really ran away from the hot biker staring at you like you were the last thing he’d ever see?” Lacey added, her tone half dramatic, half amused.

I peeked out from under the blanket, my cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. “It was intense, alright? I’ve never had anyone just… look at me like that,” I mumbled, hugging the blanket tighter as if it could somehow shield me from the mess I’d made. “I mean, what was I supposed to say? ‘Thanks for staring, wanna grab a milkshake?’”

Lacey burst into laughter, flopping beside me and playfully tugging the blanket down. “Honestly? Yeah, that would’ve been better than ‘okay, have fun.’ You basically told him to buzz off.”

Natalie giggled, shaking her head. “Sweet pea, you’ve got this gorgeous guy wrapped around your finger, and you’re over here running like he’s the plague.”

I pouted, the embarrassment still gnawing at me. “He’s just… different, okay? I wasn’t ready for it. I’ve never had someone just be so honest like that,” I confessed, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as I tried to process the whirlwind of emotions Benny had stirred up.

Lacey smirked, nudging me with her elbow. “And you like it. Don’t even try to deny it.”

I grumbled and just as I was about to sink further into the couch and wallow in my embarrassment, I heard a soft clink of dishes and the faint sound of footsteps. My head snapped up, and there was my mother, peeking around the kitchen door frame with a sly grin plastered on her face. She had clearly been eavesdropping, and the mischievous glint in her eyes told me she had heard every word.

“Mija, are you telling me you ran away from a boy?” she teased, her voice sing-songy and full of amusement as she leaned against the door frame, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “And not just any boy, but a handsome one? I thought I raised you better!”

I groaned, slumping back into the couch as Lacey and Natalie erupted into a fresh round of giggles. “Oh no,” I muttered, hiding my face in my hands. “Not you too, Ma.”

“Oh yes, me too!” she said, stepping fully into the living room with her towel draped over her shoulder. “I didn’t raise you to run away from something good, especially when it’s staring you right in the face.” She waggled her eyebrows at me, clearly enjoying this far too much. “You should’ve seen the way you were smiling when you came home last night.”

Natalie leaned forward, eyes wide with delight. “See, even your mom knows what’s up! You should’ve gone for it, sweet pea.”

“Exactly,” my mother chimed in, pointing at Natalie as if they were in cahoots. “You need to be bold, mija. Life doesn’t wait, and neither will that boy if you keep running off like that.” She paused, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “Is he really that cute, though?”

I peeked up at her, my cheeks burning brighter as I recalled Benny’s piercing blue eyes and that confident smile. “Yes, Ma,” I admitted reluctantly, knowing there was no hiding from her. “He’s…" My face scrunched as I grinned and blushed, "really really cute, so cute.”

My mother clapped her hands together, the sound sharp and full of excitement. “Ay, Dios mío! I want to meet him! You should bring him to dinner—no, better yet, bring him by when your father’s not here. I need to see for myself this boy who’s got you all flustered.”

“Ma!” I squeaked, utterly mortified as I pulled the blanket back over my head.

“Come on, bring him around,” she coaxed, ignoring my protests. “I’ve got some advice for him on how to handle a Rodriguez woman.”

Natalie and Lacey were practically rolling off the couch at this point, their laughter filling the room. “Sweet pea, you’re never living this down,” Natalie wheezed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Your mom’s already planning the wedding.”

“Of course I am,” my mother said, grinning wide. “And you, mija, better be ready to bring that boy over soon. I need to see if he’s worthy of my little girl.”

I peeked out from under the blanket, caught between embarrassment and laughter. My mom had a way of turning even the most nerve-wracking moments into something light and funny, and as much as I hated being the center of attention, I couldn’t help but feel a little warmth spread through me.

I mumbled half-heartedly, “I really don’t want to see him again.”

Lacey snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’ve been blushing non-stop since you ran away like your life depended on it.”

Natalie giggled, “I’m starting to think her face might actually be stuck that way.”

My mother, never one to miss a chance to join in, chimed in with a playful smirk, “Oh, just wait until she finally grows the guts to have a real conversation with him. If she’s not red now, she will be.”

Their laughter filled the room, light, and teasing, like a gentle balm for my lingering embarrassment. As much as I wanted to hide, the warmth of their voices made everything feel a little less daunting.

Taglist: @prettybubblesintheair, @storiesfromafan, @aleemendoza2425-blog

[bitterkarmaa]

ye

This has been rotating in my head non-stop

‼️TW SEIZURE‼️

-

Sun had emphasized how important it was for everyone to be present during family movie night. Eclipse understood that, honestly. How would it be family movie night without the whole family?

He supposed that they’d just have to find that out tonight.

If he had to watch Air Bud one more goddamn time, he might just kill everyone in the room. And, contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t exactly want to do that.

So, he’s resolved himself to hide on the platform that overlooks the theater, peering in between the bars of the banister. His rays are retracted, the vibrant colors of his clothes hidden by a blanket that he has pulled over his shoulders. Plus, added bonus, it keeps him warm. Today isn’t a great day physically for him, so the extra comfort is appreciated.

When the soft chatters of everyone else begins to filter up to him from below, signaling his family’s arrival, he backs away from the banister and scuttles towards the door hidden amongst the various boxes and crates of equipment. With one last glance over his shoulder, he hears Rays quietly ask where he is, with Blood Moon’s more firm voice not far behind.

He lingers, one hand on the doorknob.

“What if he’s gotten himself hurt again? What if he’s stuck somewhere? What if-“

“Blood, he’s fine. He’s probably just skipping out on movie night because we aren’t watching one of his cheesy horror films.” Moon’s sharp voice cuts in, a sigh leaving his mouth as Blood Moon continues to grumble behind him.

“Hurt?” Rays’ soft, yet mortified tone paints a picture of his expression in Eclipse’s head: eyes wide, blanket pulled tightly over his shoulders, shaking fingers curled into the fabric. It’s almost enough to make Eclipse reveal himself and come down. Almost.

“Yeah, he’s kinda a danger magnet.” Moon admits, moving towards the staircase that leads up to the platform Eclipse is hidden on.

“I doubt he’s in danger, though. He usually gets paranoid when he’s doing stupid shit, but he’s been pretty chill lately. Have you tried calling him?”

Blood Moon pauses. “No.”

“Try that, then get back to me.”

Moon takes the stairs two at a time. Eclipse knows he likes to show off, since he only does it in front of others.

Tsk. I could do that, too.

Eclipse opens the door, slipping into the hallway behind. In a slight panic, he tugs on the handle, pulling it shut behind him as quickly as possible. Not long after, he hears Moon’s footsteps outside.

With a sigh of relief, he turns away from the door, facing the rest of the corridor.

He lets out half of a yelp before slapping his hands over his mouth, glaring daggers at the tall figure before him as Moon’s movements pause outside.

Familiar red eyes stare down at Eclipse, albeit dimmer than he remembers. He slowly uncovers his mouth as Moon continues on with his task, presumably getting the movie started.

“What are you doing here?” Eclipse hisses under his breath.

Kill Code blinks. Slowly, carefully, as if uncertain what the action’s purpose is. Acting on autopilot. Eclipse is further disturbed.

“…hello?”

Kill Code shakes its head slightly, letting out a huff. “My hall. You know this.”

Eclipse leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, reassured by Kill Code’s more familiar behavior. “You can’t own a hallway. I needed somewhere to hide. Can you help, or not?”

Kill Code narrows his eyes, his claws twitching at his sides. It sways precariously on unsteady paws.

Eclipse fights the urge to move forwards and steady him.

“Follow.” It grunts, turning around and beginning to saunter back down the hall. Eclipse hesitates a few moments before trailing behind, keeping his footsteps light in comparison to Kill Code’s heavy stomping.

It’s small things that catch his attention. The stumbles, the pauses. The way each step seems to take all of Kill Code’s energy. So much effort for a single movement.

Then, Eclipse jumps again, startled by the ringing of a call coming in. Kill Code flinches, too, tail lashing through the air as it turns to growl at Eclipse.

Eclipse stumbles back, Blood Moon’s contact flashing across his sight. He declines the call in an annoyed(and maybe frightened) frenzy, trying to move away, a snarky quip ready on his tongue to dismiss himself back to his sons. But a hand with long, sharp claws closes around his wrist, pulling him closer instead.

“S-Stop, stop! Dad-“ Eclipse grits out, trying to pry himself free from Kill Code’s grasp. For a moment, Kill Code remains still, gaze hauntingly hollow. Before long, however, it releases Eclipse, robotically leaning away once more.

“What is wrong with you right now? You’ve been off since I got back here!” Eclipse snaps, holding his wrist close to his chest, as if afraid Kill Code will try to grab him again.

“Ringing. It’s irritating.” Kill Code says lowly. His eyes still seem…off.

“It was Blood Moon, probably wondering where I am! You were there when they had their big breakdown about me being gone and hurt, so you should know how they can be!”

Ridiculous as it is…

Eclipse lets out a heavy breath, trying to expel his paranoia. Kill Code stares down at him blankly. Unmoving.

“I apologize. I overreacted.” Kill Code says flatly. Eclipse relaxes slightly, though he remains vigilant.

“It’s…okay. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fine.”

With that, it turns back around and continues on towards the door to its room. Eclipse follows, less hesitant this time, hovering behind it nervously.

When it makes it to the door, it moves its hand up to grab the knob, but its hand misses and instead scrapes vainly against the rusted metal surface of the door itself. Eclipse watches quietly.

By the time it completes the process again with the same result, Eclipse has grown impatient. He reaches out and opens the door himself.

Kill Code grumbles to himself, but makes no comment, instead forcing himself inside with his son on his heels.

The door closes on its own behind them. Eclipse glances back at it, but doesn’t dwell long. “You…you’re sure?”

Kill Code pauses for but a moment. A slight hitch in its gait. It mutters something over its shoulder. Eclipse doesn’t catch the words.

“KC?” Eclipse steps closer. Kill Code’s arm spasms, and it growls, using its other arm to restrain it against its side.

“Stop prying, boy!” It snarls, still struggling against the twitching and writhing mess of its own arm.

“But-“

“But nothing!” It shouts, scaring the concern right out of Eclipse as the scarred animatronic doubles back on himself, eyes widening in fear. Kill Code turns to face him, tail whipping back and forth, back and forth, back and forth - advancing on Eclipse like a prowling tiger sizing up its next meal.

“Okay, okay, I-I’ll stop-!” Eclipse stumbles backwards, raising a hand to shield himself as his father looms over him, draping him in its morbid shadow.

“You never learn to shut up, do you?” Its gleaming red eyes pierce him like bullets, digging into him ruthlessly. “You always pay, pay all these prices and- consider, possibly, that you’ve earned some-“ It turns away again, bringing a hand up to the damaged half of its face, the remaining visible eye now wild with conflicting emotions.

“What? What are you talking about?” Eclipse asks incredulously, feeling that familiar warmth spread out from his chest, pure power running through his systems. His bad eye flickers to life, a dim light cast as an iris.

“They’re your children! They should be worried! You act as if their concern is a nuisance to you, such a disgraceful outlook-“ Kill Code continues to rant, the deranged expression on its face only worsening with each word.

“I never said that!” Eclipse retorts, his arm coming back down, aligned with his chest instead of his head. An offensive position, rather than defensive.

“Shut your mouth!” In the blink of an eye, Kill Code is bearing down on him again, claws reaching, shadow looming, face set in a vicious snarl. Eclipse’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click.

His confidence leaves much quicker than it came.

“I taught you how to care, I taught you how to be appreciative, but you act as if Blood Moon’s worry bores you - burdens you. You act as if being in the presence of the others is a damn chore, when all they’ve done is care for you. You’d be dead without them!” Then, it stops, speaking in a softer, more subdued tone than before. “You’d be dead without me, but you left years ago.”

Eclipse listens in silence up until the last few words, his anger and pride flaring before his self-preservation can rein them in.

“You sentenced me to death before you saved me from it.”

Kill Code’s entire demeanor changes. His hands retract, his body recoils, tense and shocked as if physically struck by Eclipse’s words.

“I…I never meant to…” It’s words are distant, almost confused, or lost. Its expression twists into borderline despair, snarl falling into a pained grimace.

Pricks of oil gather in Kill Code’s eyes, complete and utter shock hitting Eclipse with the force of twelve fighter jets.

Okay, so…that’s still a sore spot. Noted.

“KC….I….” Eclipse starts, fidgeting nervously with his claws. It is then that he notices Kill Code sway, staggering backwards. “KC?”

Eclipse gets closer, quickly grabbing his father’s arm, slowly lowering him to sit on the cold cement floor below. He feels the mechanisms in the older animatronic’s arm stiffening uncontrollably beneath his sleeve and plating, gears grinding, turning against themselves.

“I-I don’t know what to do, tell me what to do, how to save you-“

Memories hit him harder than he thought they would. It’s his turn to overreact, it seems, because surely his father isn’t dying - come on, he’s fine! He said it himself!

Kill Code’s eyes remain vacant, unfocused and dim. The only thing keeping him upright is Eclipse’s hold on his arm.

Oil. Oil everywhere. Covering his hands, coating his chest, leaking between his fingers as he struggles to connect the tubes back to the pump- god, please, PLEASE no, he couldn’t- couldn’t do this-

“Dad?” Eclipse can’t keep the tremble from his voice. It stays. His hands, they stay, shaking. Clutching at Kill Code’s arm, panic setting in faster than he ever thought possible.

There’s this ticking noise from behind Kill Code’s remaining faceplate, the visible wires on the other half sparking wildly. His eyes flicker a few times, then go dark.

He can barely see through the tears. It’s hard to put everything back together with hands that shake this badly. But he has to try. He has to. What would he do on his own? How would he survive? It’s just been the two of them for so long. He can’t do this on his own.

Right?

“DAD!” Eclipse shouts as his father goes limp for only a moment, spasms and convulsions seizing him in the next. He is forced to release him and back off, his trembling hands still hovering in mid-air in front of him as if poised to touch or hold or - or something other than just watch.

Tears gather in his eyes, a nauseating amount of panic crawling up his throat. Getting any closer would get them both hurt. But…but what…what is going on??

Is he dying again?

The thought forces a choked sob out of his mouth, trembling hands moving back to wrap around himself. His rays shrink in, hiding behind his faceplate, just as he wishes to run and hide somewhere else, as well.

He should’ve just watched the damn movie. Should’ve sat down with his family and rolled his eye at all the lame jokes, only actually uttering a laugh when Blood Moon made fun of the ironic moments.

But no. No, he had to cause problems.

He had to do it alone now. He was gone. His father’s tubes were too torn, his intake bent beyond repair. His pump had choked up on all the oil, so much of it covering Eclipse that he knows it would never be enough to keep Kill Code running, even if he had managed to keep him awake somehow.

So much oil. So much.

Eclipse tries to wrack his processor for any clue as to what is going on. System error? No, those never get this bad. Electric current disruption? No, that would just force a restart. Seizure? No, those are for-

Everything stops. His shaking, his crying, his panic. Seizure. This is a seizure.

Finally, he manages to pull himself out of his daze. He moves forwards, slipping one hand under his father’s back, shifting him onto his side. He pays no mind to his flailing limbs, even as a claw tears his collar and nicks his neck beneath. It’s not Kill Code’s fault.

Eclipse keeps one hand on his father’s shoulder once he is safely on his side, oil dribbling out of his mouth and onto the floor beneath. Even as he continues to seize, Eclipse remains in place, making sure he stays put and as safe as possible.

Logic still tries to press back against his conclusion. Robots can’t have seizures. It makes no sense. The very structure of a seizure relies on the brain and the electrical impulses that reside within. Sure, animatronics have a processor, which is the equivalent of a brain - but the cables have full control over the electrical current that is transferred to each system. That pre-set amount can’t be changed, and this has never happened before, so how-

It’s because he’s dying. Again. Stop trying to deny it, you know what’s happening.

Those damned tears sting at his eyes again, but he tries to hold them back.

Just like last time, you can’t do anything. You can’t save him, you can’t save yourself, you can’t save anyone. You can only cause harm.

It’s no use. The tears drip down his face no matter how hard he tries, a silent sob leaving his mouth. His hands start shaking again.

Then, Kill Code’s seizing begins to slow. It eases into only the occasional spasm or jerk - much more manageable, as far as Eclipse is concerned. Less panic-inducing.

Much to his relief, he feels the heavy rise and fall of his father’s chest as he vents to compensate for the heat he gathered during his…whatever that was.

All self-control leaves him in an instant. He curls up against Kill Code, sobbing brokenly into his shoulder for the first time in decades. His claws curl into his tattered shirt, slowly falling into screams of despair.

The tears blur everything together. Past, present, life, death. He’s trembling and screaming and sobbing so much that he can’t tell up from down. Can’t tell if Kill Code is still breathing beneath him. Can’t feel anything other than grief.

But he’s not dead. You know he’s dead. He’s not. He’s breathing. Is he? Yes. You’re imagining it. No. He’s alive. He’s dead. He’s alive. He’s dead. He’s alive.He’s dead. He’s alive. He’s dead.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

He’s-

“Eclipse?”

His eye sharpens immediately, focusing on Kill Code’s bleary expression. The tears stop like flipping a switch. He tries to focus on making sure his father’s alright.

“Yeah? You - um - you okay?” Eclipse stammers, trying his hardest to get and keep his shit together.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

Kill Code shifts, trying to push himself into a sitting position. Eclipse’s hands, still trembling, jolt forwards to gently urge him to lay back down.

“No. You need more time.” He insists, earning a shaky sigh from his father.

“I’m alright, Eclipse. I’m sorry you had to witness that.” Kill Code rasps in response, and it takes everything within Eclipse to push down the childish urge to curl into his father’s chest and hug him tight.

“No, no. It’s - it’s okay. Not your fault.” He knows his tone is distant. He’s not really here. Is he?

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

He’s dead.

“Eclipse, look at me.”

“I am.”

“My eyes, you twit.”

Eclipse slowly lifts his gaze until it is locked with Kill Code’s, allowing his father to carefully sit up this time around without making an effort to push him back down.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” It reaches out one hand to gently cup his son’s face, a frown crossing his own as he witnesses tears gather in the corners of his eyes.

“N-N…um…” Eclipse stammers, voice shaking. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

He’s dead.

I’m looking at him.

What remains of him, you fool.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion in Kill Code’s eyes, maybe it’s the frightening way his mind fights with itself like a snake eating its own tail, but he can’t hold it in anymore. A sob wrenches itself from his chest, and he launches himself into his father’s arms.

He shuts his eyes tightly and buries himself into Kill Code’s chest, letting the tears and torment out into his father’s clothes.

And, no matter how exhausted and dizzy Kill Code is, he sits and he holds his son while he breaks in his arms. He waits and he soothes, allowing the desperate claws to curl into the back of his shirt, clutching at him as if he’s already gone.

Because, in Eclipse’s mind…he quite possibly is.

[dilfmobius]

i need to put this somewhere because it is just rotting in my google docs lmfao

anyway i was literally inspired by @natendo-art every time i see their mobius art and he has nipple piercings fgdkgfskgfks big fan 10/10 no notes

this is just a snippet of a fic that was supposed to be strictly pwp but oops i needed loki to have a feelings crisis and it's kinda getting away from me and i haven't even gotten go the smut yet fjhfjfhkgdskd :)

Loki first notices when he and Mobius get back from a field op. They’re both soaking, caught in a torrential downpour, and it’s inevitable; their sopping wet clothes clinging to their skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Of course Loki was going to notice. Mobius wastes no time ushering himself and Loki through a time door into his apartment. “Why doesn’t the stupid tempad track weather patterns?” Loki shakes his head, wet hair flying, water going everywhere. “I mean, really, how—“ His words stop on the tip of his tongue as he finally sees Mobius, who has already shed his suit jacket. His dress shirt is stuck to his skin and Loki can’t tear his eyes away from the agent’s chest. Staring right back at him are Mobius’ nipples; more importantly, two identical piercings. Little ball bearings poking through the fabric, on either side of each of Mobius’ nipples. Loki’s mouth goes dry. “Hey, can you not shake like a wet dog, please?” Mobius says. “I’m gonna go grab us a couple towels, and toss this in the tub.” He waves his jacket as he walks down the hall towards the bathroom. Loki is left standing there in the foyer to Mobius’ home, the image of Mobius, soaking wet, with nipple piercings. And it completely ruins him. —- Loki doesn’t stop thinking about it, he can’t stop thinking about it. They’re sat across from each other at their usual table in the archives; Loki can’t stop staring at Mobius’ chest. They have their meals together, again, sitting across from one another, Mobius’ legs tangled in between Loki’s long ones under the table. Loki fixates on where Mobius’ jacket hangs over his pecs, fantasizing. During a briefing, surrounded by Hunters and Minutemen, as Mobius and B-15 go over the mission, Loki practically leers in Mobius’ direction. He sees how the fabric of Mobius’ shirt shifts and now Loki notices how it catches on the small metal beads, hyper aware of what the agent is hiding. Luckily, it seems as though he’s just staring off into space. It consumed Loki’s every waking thought.   “Hey, you okay?” Mobius asks after the briefing. His voice is quiet and gentle, only for Loki to hear. Loki clears his throat and tears his eyes away from the agent’s chest, opting to look him in the face instead. “W-what?” Loki asks. Nice. Mobius looks at him, a bit quizzically. “Where have you been lately? I know my briefings aren’t the most exciting, but you seemed to be far off somewhere.” Loki shakes his head. “I’m fine, just.. got a lot on my mind.” Mobius’ face twists in confusion, but he catches himself, and asks, “Anything I can help with?” Oh, yes, please, Loki thinks. “It’s nothing really, don’t worry about it,” he says, instead. Mobius looks like he’s about to reply but B-15 cuts him off, calling for everyone to ready up and move out. “Duty calls,” Mobius says.

i'm working on this little by little with a couple other lokius fics so finger crossed i can finish it dghksgkdgfs.

<3

[sootical]

Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration. 

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t. 

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent. 

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired. 

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I? 

My phone rings again, this time I do answer. 

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired. 

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon. 

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think. 

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks. 

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent. 

[sweetandgentlecreature]

Sweet Tooth

Author’s Note: Hope you’re hungry for a third helping of Somethin’ Sweet! This one’s my favorite so far, so let me know what you think. Don’t worry, the next one’s gonna bring the heat, so stay tuned. Enjoy! ❤️

Summary: Summertime in Texas isn’t for the faint of heart, but neither is Merrin. AKA: Sy needs a cold shower.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female OC 

Warnings: Adult language and suggestive situations. Two idiots in love.  I am an adult, and due to the nature of this content, all works created by me will be rated for those 18 years and older. Minors, DNI.

Merrin was melting. Sure, maybe some of it was more figurative than physical, but as a transplant from Coroado fighting to make it through her first Texan summer, she was almost positively dying. She learned quickly that, around here, air conditioning wasn’t a luxury; it was a necessity. The humidity rivaled even the most expensive conditioner in her arsenal, so leaving her hair down was out of the question. Her thighs stuck to every pickup truck bench seat, every plastic lawn chair, and every diner booth they came into contact with. She’d gotten pretty good at the ole peel-and-shimmy to wiggle her way out again, but there’s just no graceful way to do that on date night. Underboob sweat. Ass sweat. Eyebrow sweat? She didn’t even know that was a thing, until now. At work, she hid in the walk-in freezer as often as she could, and cussed every time the front door chimed with each new patron that walked in. 

Right on cue, when those stupid little bells rang again, Merrin sighed. She imagined ripping them down from their place above the door and pitching them clear out into the middle of the street, but only for a moment. “Gotta pay the bills,” she reminded herself, and closed the heavy door behind her again. Daydreaming in the ice vault would have to wait. 

Afternoons in the bakery were always slow. Stealing a quick glance at her reflection in the glass on the front of the oven, she dusted off the front of her apron and pushed through the swinging doors to get behind the counter. “Hello! How can I– Well, shit.”  

His laugh came from somewhere deep in his gut as he leaned against the bar beside the bakecase. 

“Well hello to you too, darlin’. Expectin’ somebody else? Must’a been waitin’ on yer other boyfriend, huh.” 

Sy crossed one ankle over the other and smiled. It was rare for him to get a day off, so today was a nice change of pace. The only problem was that he just couldn’t sit still. The yard needed mowing, the old fence at the edge of the property line needed mending, and the tree that had fallen on it needed split. By lunch time, he couldn’t bear to stay away any longer. After a quick shower and a shave (just a trim. Gotta keep his woman’s seat warm, ya know), he made his way to her. That cocky son of a bitch knew exactly what power he held over her, coming in here looking like that, and he played it to his advantage every single time. Damn him.

Merrin rolled her eyes at him and laughed. Clayton’s always been nothing but trouble, yet he seemed especially mischievous this afternoon. The poor bastard never did have a very good poker face. 

“You’re not my boyfriend, Sy. You haven’t even been a boy in a very long time.” 

If the saying goes “not to toot his own horn,” Clayton Syverson had a train whistle. Back in the day, his reputation with the ladies preceded him. Sy was just as perplexed as he was fascinated by Merrin. He’d never met a woman quite like her. She had a good head on her shoulders, and the kindest heart he’d ever seen. Nobody was a stranger for long, at least in her eyes. So fuckin’ smart, smarter than he’d ever be, with both book smarts and common sense to boot. Effortlessly funny in a way that almost made him jealous. Soft in all the right places, both physically and emotionally. Feminine, yet not too delicate. And that body. Jesus Christ. The things he’d do to her, if ever given the chance…

But that’s the thing about Merrin. She knew it just as well as he did. From the moment they met, she’d been keeping him at arm’s length. Sure, the attraction was there, as was the chemistry. Sy’s a fuckin’ dreamboat, and she’d have to be blind not to see that. Merrin’s not afraid of much, but the uncertainty of where he’ll be in just two month’s time…She wasn’t sure if she could cope with that. So instead of opening herself up to him, instead of giving in and just enjoying what time they did have together, Merrin had decided that they could just be friends. Just friends. That was reasonable enough to ask, wasn’t it?  Men and women could be just friends, and only friends…couldn’t they? According to Sy, it seemed that just wasn’t the case. Maybe it was unfounded optimism, or just plain stupidity. Maybe it was just that he wouldn’t hear it. Either way, Sy wasn’t ready to give up on her yet. What she hadn’t anticipated, though, was just how ridiculously stubborn Sy could be. Stubborn as a fuckin’ mule, and Merrin was the one stuck shoveling shit. 

“Boyfriend? Did I say boyfriend? I’m sorry, sugar. What I meant to say was boy-friend. Ya know…a friend that’s a boy.” Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he gave her a playful wink. “A man-friend, if ya’d like.”

“You’re full of it today, aren’t ya, Big Guy?”

She saw it as clear as day, the way her words got the wheels turning behind that darkening gaze of his. No, but you could be. How dare he, the sinful fuck. The thought of being full of something made Merrin’s face burn a bright shade of embarrassed pink, and she turned quickly to distract herself by pretending to fold takeout boxes instead. “What do you want, Sy?”

“Well, see’s as yer not too busy, I was hopin’ ta steal ya away fer a bit. Got somethin’ ta show ya.” Sy looked down at his nailbeds as he spoke and picked at his cuticles. When he met her eyes again, he grinned. “That’s the thing ‘bout bein’ yer own boss, right? Get ta’ make yer own hours.” 

It was a tempting thought, closing up shop and disappearing for a little while. She hadn’t seen a customer in the last two hours, so…what’s the hurt in closing a little early? He had her wrapped around his finger, and she knew it. Defeated, she sighed and shelved the rest of the boxes. 

“Alright. Let me go close up in the back, and I’ll meet you ‘round front.” 

Sy felt victorious, as he watched her loosen the tie from around her waist and hung the apron on a hook by the door. Excited fingers drummed on the countertop in a quick victory dance. He smiled and fished the keys from the pocket of his jeans. “You got it, doll. Take yer time.” 

__

They rode together in the pickup with the windows rolled down, letting the radio compete with the roar of the wind as paved highway turned into an old gravel road. Merrin hadn’t made it out quite this far before, so she had no clue as to where he was taking her. Could’ve been to some of his old stomping grounds. Could’ve been out to the woods to hide her body, never to be found again. There was no way to tell the difference. Gravel let way for a dirt path a little further down the road, and soon enough, Sy was pulling off down a hill and into a grass lot filled with cars. He parked in an empty spot between two other trucks and turned off the ignition. Live music echoed down through the open field, as did the sounds of laughter and jovial excitement.

“I didn’t know the fair was in town!” 

Merrin felt lighter than air. She hadn’t been to a carnival since she was a kid. The smells of deep-fried-everything wafted in through her window and made her stomach growl. If there was one thing that Texas was good at, it was food. Sy cracked a smile and grabbed his wallet from the dash, stuffing it away into the back pocket of his faded Wranglers for safe keeping. 

“Tonight’s on me, babydoll. Whatever ya want, alright?” 

He hopped out of the truck and came around to the other side to help her down again. Merrin landed on her feet with a soft little grunt. She wasn’t quite built to climb in and out of that beast with grace. Dusting away a spattering of flour from her tight jeans, she almost wished she’d had the chance to go home and change. She did her best with what she had, all hulled up in the bathroom in the back of the shop, huddled over a hand mirror with a hairbrush and some mascara from the bottom of her purse. The thought made her shake her head. Jesus, Mer. It’s not a date. Right?

__

Sy led her through the maze of vehicles and off to the ticket booth.  Merrin wasn’t much for roller coasters or anything too steep, so they settled for the bumper cars and some carnival games instead. When he got tired of her kicking his ass, which was really just him letting her win, it was time to eat. Everything looked so good, and there was plenty to choose from, so they each got a little bit of it all to share. Sitting across from one another at an empty picnic table, Merrin groaned as she took a bite from a barbecued rib. When she looked up from her plate, Sy had stopped altogether. His mouth hung open just a bit and his eyes were wide. It made her giggle and blush, and she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she chewed. “What? Is there something on my face?” 

Sy grinned as he sat back to watch her. He felt a little silly, bein’ so jealous of a piece of meat. He’d do anything to make her eyes roll to the back of her head like that. Down, boy, he scolded himself. Don’t wanna spook her. Merrin read him like a book, shook her head and scoffed in distaste. She punctuated it with a kick to the shin from beneath the table. “Perv.”

He gasped, feigning surprise, and sat up a little straighter. The napkin that was tucked so carefully into the collar of his t-shirt fell into his lap. “What was that for?!” Sy wiped his hands down the front of his pants and sucked his teeth at her. “Ain’t no way ta’ be treatin’ the man who bought you those ribs.” 

“Is that so?” Merrin arched a perfect brow and accepted his jest as a challenge. If he wanted to be a pain in the ass about it, then so be it. Two could play at that game. She let her eyes flutter closed and let another soft little moan of pleasure escape from deep within. Licking her parted lips, Merrin groaned as she took another bite. She laid it on thick, writhing around in her seat as she polished off the rest of the meat from the bone, then licked her fingers clean, one by one. By the time she was finished putting on a show, she looked up at him again and chuckled. His face was beet red, from the tops of his ears and clear down his neck. A vein stuck out at his temple. He was fighting for his life, and she grinned as she watched him squirm. “Thank you, baby. They were great.”

Sy groaned lowly. He let out a deep breath as he decompressed, ragged and strained. If that’s how she acted over some smoked meat, he couldn’t wait to watch her unravel over some homemade brisket, some cheap wine, and a good, hard dicking. Until then, he’s a dead man walking.

“Lord have mercy.”

__

The horizon was painted in shades of pink and orange as the last few rays of light shone against the clouds. A cool breeze blew through the lowlands of the fairgrounds and sent the heat of the day dissipating along with the sun. Merrin and Sy sat on the tailgate of the tuck and watched as the fireflies dipped and danced through the treeline. Merrin let her feet swing freely from where they hung off of the end of the bed, humming softly to the band as they played. Sy was stretched out behind her, belly full and eyes getting heavy as he reclined back to rest against his elbows. Though she couldn’t see him, Merrin could feel the way his gaze lingered on her. Nice and slow, as if to memorize every curve and curl, every thread in her work shirt and every seam in her jeans. Goosebumps spread down her arms and a chill ran down her spine. Every nerve in her body was ablaze for him, until she just couldn’t take it anymore. There was no turning back now. She was too far gone.

“Damnit, Clay.”

In an instant, she was on him, grabbing a fistful of that faded Metallica shirt and tugging him into her. Sy let out a grunt of surprise, but quickly fell into line. He tasted sweet, like the banana split they’d shared just moments before, like the sticky chocolate syrup and whipped cream, but with a hint of something deeper. Something strong and addictive. Something that had her coming back for more. She wanted to savor this moment, to bottle it up, save it for a rainy day, but she just couldn’t make herself stop. She kissed him, and he kissed her, and she kissed him again until the burn for breath broke their embrace. 

Her hands trembled when she finally let him go, chest heaving and achy as she fought for each breath of fresh air. That’s when she saw it. That beautiful little speckle of brown hidden amongst the ocean of blue in his eye. Merrin couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed it before. Visions of little curly headed babies running around in the yard raced through her mind. They’d have her nose, her lips and sweet little smile, but it was their eyes that had her attention. They were as deep and as vast as the eastern Texas sky, each with their own constellations of honey brown mixed in. They were perfect in every way. They were his. 

Merrin cleared her throat before she spoke again. “White flag. I surrender.” She could feel the rumble of laughter in his chest beneath her, as he reached up to sweep away a loose strand of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. 

“Oh, darlin,” Sy smirked. “You never stood a chance.”

__

Taglist: please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@geralts-yenn @peyton-warren @kingliam2019 @uunotheangel @deandoesthingstome @drewharrisonwriter @foxyjwls007 @melissareadsstuff @totalwool @summersong69 @caramariehurst @niallhorwen @warriormirkwood @summersong69 @mairablue @omgkatinka @evansabove1981

[stop-talking]

So I guess I should do an intro post / fanfic masterlist

Hi.

• I'm 20 yrs old, she/her, and obsessed with Josh Hutcherson. (Mike & Futturman especially have my heart)

• I'm new to writing, but I read like crazy and spend 90% of my time daydreaming up little stories about my favorite characters. Just using Tumblr as an outlet to get those little stories to the world.

• Feel free to request any fanfic related to a jhutch character. I'm most comfortable writing for Mike, Futturman, and Derek, but I'm willing to try to write for other characters. (Minus Peeta. Thinking about the Hunger Games makes me unreasonably sad & I'm not sure I know his character well enough to do him justice.)

My Works

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✩ Mike Schmidt:

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (18+)

Exactly what it sounds like. His babysitter goes missing, but he can't leave Abby home alone. Unfortunately, he's broke as fuck, and can't afford to pay someone to watch her. So... he calls you. He'll endure your bitchy attitude and relentless teasing if it means his sister will be safe. Somewhere along the way, endure turns to enjoy.

Fem reader; 10k words (total)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

No Abby, we're not getting ice cream.

Silly little one-off about the average shopping trip for Mike and Abby. He's just trying to get things for dinner, but Abby has other plans. Just Mike being the single mother that he is.

Mike's POV; 1.2k words

Read here

Open wide (18+)

Mike hasn't been to the dentist since he was a kid, but with his new job, and health insurance... he really has no excuse not to. One problem, though. He doesn't remember the experience being so... erotic? Is he insane, or is the attractive, young, dental assistant... hitting on him?

Gender-neutral reader; 2.8k words

Read here

Sleepless Nights

Abby is sure something's up with her brother. He's always been tired, sure, but ever since the events at Freddy's... well, he's gotten a lot worse. The stubborn man won't let her help, so she convinces him she's the one in need of comfort.

Abby's POV; 500 words

Read here

Gender-neutral reader; 2.8k words

✩ Derek Danforth:

So I'm stuck on this shithole island, and I can't even have a smoke? (18+)

You're hired by his mother as a last resort to try and get him sober. Alone with just him for three weeks, your job is to rehabilitate him.

Unfortunately, Derek sees you as his personal chef, maid, and whore. You flat-out refuse at first, but well, after so many days of only interacting with each other... The lines are a little blurred. something-to-lovers. It's complicated.

Fem reader; 22.9k words total (so far)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (Part 8 coming soon)

Derek sending you nudes while you're at work (blurb) (18+)

Read here

Older; not Wiser (18+)

Derek isn't the type to entertain 20-year-olds. Really, he's not. That is, until one falls right into his lap. Literally.

You're just so sweet and fun, how could he ever dream of saying no when you ask him to show you a good time?

Part 1 (Part 2 coming soon)

fem reader; 2.5k words

✩ Josh Futturman:

Win for me ♡ (18+)

You're tired of your boyfriend paying more attention to his stupid game than you. So, late one night, you take matters into your own hands. Literally. Hopefully his little gaming buddies don't mind hearing him moan into the mic...

Gender-neutral reader; 2.3k words

Read here

✩ Clapton Davis

Saturday School

(Request) "Imagine listening to music with Clapton while in detention... like sharing earbuds with him while y'all sit in silence. Then a cringe song comes on at the wrong time LMAO"

Gender-neutral reader; 2k words

Read here

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