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yanderambling · 11 months

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omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

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flowercrowngods · 2 months

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it's yearning steddie get high with the others and make out about it hours (smut-ish)

Eddie hates being reminded that making promises to himself, and only himself, is pretty much useless if the only person holding him accountable to stick to his promise is one Eddie fucking Munson. Because that guy can’t be trusted.

Especially not when it comes to Steve and his stupid perfect hair, his stupid perfect dimples, his preppy fucking everything, and — perhaps most importantly — the breathy note his voice gets when the boy replaces his beautiful piece of brain with Eddie’s finest weed.

Steve in all his sober glory is unbearable at best, sure, that’s old news. But high? When the pained frown he’s not even aware of until he complains about a headache smoothes out and the tension in his shoulders disappears? When his scars no longer pull at every movement and he can hold himself again in the way he used to before everything — broad movements with a clumsy little edge to them that have Eddie’s heartstrings play rope skipping with his sanity.

That. That’s it. That’s it for Eddie.

And it’s no surprise that it’s also what leaves him helpless in the face of Nancy hopefully suggesting they get high again tomorrow night; all of them. Offering Eddie the chance at getting to see that tension fall away again, and that pale smile be replaced with an easy, genuine, lingering one — dreamy and so fucking pretty.

Luring Eddie with the most beautiful insanity.

So he says yes, despite having promised himself that he wouldn’t. Not after what happened last time. With Steve all the way up in his space, brushing his hair behind his ear with wonderment, trailing his hand down that lock until he forgot what he was going to say. What he was going to do.

Forgetting, too, that Eddie was sober, because he wanted to watch Steve without getting caught — but Steve, all high and sweet and tactile, apparently decided to do the same. He looked. And touched. And smiled and breathed and stayed right there. Fingertips dancing around the frayed ends of Eddie’s hair.

Something shifted — first between them, then around them. And then between them again when Eddie stepped back and turned away, in desperate need of a cool drink to stave off the feeling of being caught, of being trapped, of being so fucking gone on the prettiest god-damn boy in all of Indiana. And of having said boy look at him like that.

They shouldn’t get high again. They shouldn’t.

But he knows it helps with the pain like their meds never do; he knows it helps Nance sleep better, breathe better, exist in this post-apocalyptic world that doesn’t even remember the apocalypse, whose only reminders lie in the scar tissue of some teenagers and some graves that nobody knows are empty.

He knows that if he says no, they’ll find someone else to provide; and he doesn’t like the thought of that. Not one bit.

So it’s not even the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile that gets him to agree, nodding at Nance with an easy smile, saying, “Sure, let’s do it.”

But it is the thought of Steve’s dazed little smile, his breathy voice, his tactile nature that comes out even more when he’s high out of his mind like he knows he’s floating and needs someone to anchor him, and the memory of that stolen little moment, that makes Eddie curse himself to all hells once Nancy’s blooming smile is out of sight and he’s free of judgment to kick the kitchen counter beside him with a hearty curse.

He can do it. He can. All he needs to do is not stay sober this time, take the edge off and get out of his head about all of this, because he’s actually far less likely to do anything stupid under the influence, and also not look at Steve All Eyes On Me Harrington.

Easy.

Right?

Totally.

Except, as it turns out, ignoring Steve is both easier and harder than Eddie expected. The thing is, he’s good at diving into any conversation with just about anyone, making it larger than it needs to be until everyone in the room will give him funny looks but still roll with it, because Eddie Munson is just Like That, right?

But Steve doesn’t give him funny looks. Oh, they’re far from fun. There’s something in there that reminds Eddie of a kicked puppy in those fleeting moments that he lets his eyes meet Steve’s, never letting them linger, never letting them take him in and hold him and bask in the sunlight that is stored in those… Those beautiful, beautiful eyes. And that pretty, pretty face.

A face that shouldn’t look so sad.

He wants to ask what’s wrong, ask him if it’s a bad pain day, ask him if he didn’t sleep last night either, or if something happened. But how is he supposed to ask, to let any words come out of his mouth, when Steve just won’t look away. When he’s looking at Eddie like that again, when the little something that has shifted between them suddenly becomes massive enough to steal all the air away from his lungs and make his arms tingle in a way that he knows will only get better if he gets to wrap them around Steve.

He can’t. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t look away either, and he knows he’s already lost. He knows he broke this promise he made to himself.

But it’s fine, maybe, if the slight twitch in the corners of Steve’s lips is anything to go by. Like he, too, wants to say something but can’t. Like he knows Eddie is the same. Like his heart is racing, too, and he tried not to look but they’re so stupid and looked anyway and now they can’t—

“Guys?” Robin interrupts their little moment, the bubble bursting with a loud snap of her fingers that makes Eddie physically flinch.

He looks at her, spooked to shit and gasping because he does not do well with sudden loud noises or the impromptu bursting of bubbles — not after everything that happened.

“Shit, sorry, oh my God!” Robin’s there immediately, reaching for his hand, Nancy laying hers on his shoulder, Jonathan making himself known with a gentle little, “You’re fine, man.”

Eddie regains his footing and breathes away the panic, thinking that maybe getting high today wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He hands Robin the baggie and stuffs his hands into his pockets, making himself a little smaller by muscle memory alone.

Steve’s hand comes to rest between his shoulder blades — reassuring and warm. Like a flower, Eddie rises to follow it. He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eyes and wants to rest his face against it. Wants to feel it against his skin. Wants to feel it shift into something deeper. Something real.

God, he’s so hopeless.

Good thing that Robin’s got the blunt under control, because Eddie does not trust his hands right now.

They grab the snacks and drinks and head outside to where Steve and Robin laid out pillows and blankets on the lawn, framed with dimly glowing white Christmas lights that Robin insists upon whenever they do this. Makes it feel a little less fucked up for her. Like we’re doing this because we want to, and not because we need it to sleep or to cope with the pain or whatever, you know? Put pretty lights anywhere, and it’s a choice.

Eddie has to admit that she has a point there, but the truth is he’ll smoke anywhere, fairy lights or no. Although there’s something, a capital-s Something about watching Steve framed by a thousand little lights smoothing out the worry lines on that beautiful face and making him seem all the more angelic for it.

Eddie actually called him angel once — the first time they did it like this. Made Steve smile like nothing else Eddie’s said to him since. Or anyone else for that matter. If he were any better at feeling the ground beneath his feet and the air in his lungs, he’d call him that again. Make him smile like that again.

But the ground is shifting and air is always scarce these days, with Steve’s hands on his body so fleetingly, so accidentally leaving marks on scar tissue, making Eddie wish he could feel more of Steve’s warmth there.

Making him wish he could ask. Touch me higher. Lower. Longer. Make it last. Make it count. Let me feel it, just for a second. Let me feel it where they didn’t steal chunks of my skin and my soul and, apparently, my sanity.

Argyle is the first to spread out on the blankets with a hearty groan that leaves everyone with a fond smile, gathering around him in a semi circle of amusement. He makes grabby hands at Robin, or maybe at the unlit joints she’s safekeeping — but either way, she follows suit, cuddling up to Argyle and in turn making grabby hands at Steve, who does as he’s told and laughs in that gentle, melodic way that they so seldomly hear these days.

Steve’s eyes fall on Eddie then, but a surge of worry and panic overcomes him, half expecting Steve to follow Robbie’s and Argyle’s example and reach for Eddie next. Or not reach for him. Either way, Eddie doesn’t want to find out, his heart beating in his chest at the endless possibilities stowed away in his overactive imagination. Instead of waiting for Steve’s next move, he sits down right here at the opposite end of the blanket, reaching for one of the pillows so he can hug it to his chest and have something to hold on to, just to keep his hands busy.

“Just don’t crush the goods there, birdie,” he grins, watching Nancy and Johnathan find a place to sit, too. He scoots over to make room for them, moving further from Steve in the process and feeling the distance in his chest. It’s so stupid. Fucked up, really.

“Oh, the goods are plenty safe, my dude,” Argyle says, earning himself a giggly groan from Robin that sounds a lot like, Gross!

Jonathan throws a pillow in Argyle’s face, which he deftly catches with just as salacious a grin.

Eddie tunes them out for a moment as he catches Steve’s eyes boring into him. He cocks an eyebrow and inclines his head, silently asking him what’s up in way less magical a way than he has with Robin.

He doesn’t really expect Steve to react in any way other than maybe a shrug or a brief, reassuring smile that really has no meaning other than, I’m fine, except for all the ways you know I’m not.

But Steve doesn’t smile. And he doesn’t shrug. He keeps his eyes on Eddie and fucking pouts. Looks like he’s not even aware of it, his eyes a little glazed already, seeming far away. Far away and right here and looking so fucking sad about it. About the few feet between them and Eddie being all the way over there.

It’s a bit like the moment they shared earlier, with Steve looking so sad and Eddie wanting to do something about it. He couldn’t then. But now…

Eddie’s breath hitches a little as he mirrors Steve’s position, falling backwards and leaning on his elbows., never once dropping his eyes. Stretching out his legs until he can nudge Steve’s ankle with his foot. Watching as those eyes snap down to the briefest contact in surprise, watching as Steve looks caught. And watching, too, as his lips twitch and his foot slowly, incrementally moves closer to Eddie’s like he can’t help it. Like he needs to touch him. Always, always needs to touch him.

And Eddie can feel it there, so he doesn’t move away. He wants to hold his hand, wants to run his fingers through his hair and for Steve to do the same. He wants to breathe him in, wants to live in a Steve-filled world and feel welcomed in it.

But he can’t. Because they’re not like that. And because this moment is not like that. And Steve is… Well, he is like that, he’s pretty sure. But maybe not for Eddie. Maybe not like that.

Steve’s foot is warm against his, pristine white baseball socks so stark a contrast against Eddie’s; threadbare and black, with more holes than fabric these days. He can’t really help the wave of embarrassment that washes over him, or the urge to pull back his feet and hide them in his shoes again. Sacrifice the warmth for safety.

But then Steve seems to notice just a second after Eddie does, and he smiles. Huffs a little with it, like it just bubbles out of him. Eddie wants to lean across the blanket and chase it. Chase the fondness and keep it there forever.

And that’s another thing about Steve that is so very fucked up: he doesn’t let Eddie hide. He doesn’t let him trade warmth for security, because — smile in place — Steve slowly moves his feet along the side of Eddie’s like he’s playing fucking Connect the Dots with the holes in his socks. It’s ridiculous.

It’s ridiculous, and Eddie is helpless. He’s so gone, a hundred percent. He’s so fucked up over that silly boy and the way he smiles at the most lamest of things.

It’s not his fault that he leaves his feet where they are, the warmth of Steve’s slow, teasing touch shooting electricity up his legs that leaves him with goosebumps and a sudden case of uncomfortably tight jeans.

He’s glad there’s still a pillow in his lap. And he’s glad, too, that the night is dark enough, the fairy lights not bright enough, to reveal the flush rising to his cheeks as it feels like the bravest thing he’s ever done stay like this. To have Steve looking at him like this. Eyes hooded and intense. Like he sees right through Eddie. Like he likes what he sees.

With a dull click, Robin’s Zippo pulls him back to reality in what must be the gentlest of ways, and Eddie manages a smile as he watches her gently place the doobie between Steve’s lips before she lights it, one hand on his cheek. Their faces light up, leaving the rest of the world in the dark, and Eddie is struck with how good they are together.

There’s something in the way she lights the joint for him, some kind of love language from the girl who burnt down the hell dimension below them and left it in ashes, and the boy who held her hand through it.

She holds his eyes as the flame dies and something passes between them as Steve slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Takes that first hit.

Eddie’s smile falters as he watches, the glowing cherry coming to life and lighting up Steve’s face, revealing that relaxed little smile on his lips as he holds it in for five, six, seven before exhaling around it in a slow, drawn-out way. He blows it in Robin’s face like he always does, and Robin laughs and shoves him back, like she always does.

And Eddie wants to trade her place. Like he always does. Eyes transfixed on Steve as he takes the next hit and pulls the joint from between his lips. Holding his breath again. And Eddie wants to be held like that. Wants to fill Steve’s lungs like that, wants to leave an aftertaste that is both sweeter and biting as he does to Steve what that first hit does to him. Leaving him all soft and gentle and so, so at ease, his eyes droopy and all those lines of pain and worry smoothed out by him. Eddie. On his lips. In his mouth. Fuck, anywhere, really. Everywhere.

He follows Steve on his exhale, his head getting a little dizzy with the lack of air, but still he is slow to breathe in again. It feels strangely intimate, watching him like this. Watching as that tension falls away and he hums a little around the bud — relaxed and relieved and appreciative. It feels like they’re the only people left in this town, in this state, maybe in the whole world.

Eddie wants to stay alone like this forever, chase Steve’s breath and wish it would hit his face like that, caress his cheeks until the air around them claims it and erases all traces of Steve; but not from Eddie’s skin. Never from his skin.

But they’re not alone. And Steve opens his eyes. And Eddie is caught.

Still he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away as Steve blows out the smoke, sweet and earthy in the air between them as it slowly finds its way to him across the blanket. He imagines that he can feel it as the smell grows stronger, imagines the smoke to feel warm against his cheek as he breathes it all in, holding those hazel eyes in the dark that refuse to look away from him.

It’s like that moment the other day in Steve’s kitchen when he was so close Eddie could smell all of him, frozen as he was, rooted to the spot — too scared to move and reveal himself, reveal all of himself, all the ugly truths and dreams. His wishes. His desires.

Why do you keep looking? Eddie wants to ask. What are you looking to find? Am I just an experiment to you, are you looking at yourself through my eyes? Say something. Anything.

But Steve doesn’t. He never does. Steve Harrington isn’t really the type to just say what’s on his mind, too used to Robin by his side to just read it all and react in her own way. Too used to Dustin, who’d do the talking for him. Too used to just letting his eyes, his arms, his posture convey his message.

Too used to people knowing him. Getting a good read on him. But not Eddie, because Eddie never learned how to fucking read people like Steve Harrington cast in pretty light and relaxation. Angry, he can read him no problem. When he’s pissed, when he’s annoyed, when he’s sad. Tense. Worried.

But not this. Never this. This intensity, this steady gaze resting only on him. He never looks at Robin like that, and he doesn’t fucking look at anyone else lately.

It’s driving Eddie insane.

It’s too much.

He snaps when Steve passes the joint back to Robin, and sits up to pull his feet back to himself, covering them with his hands to pretend the warmth is still there. Frowns at the holes in his socks, feeling more exposed than ever. He curls in on himself a little, pretending to be very fascinated with a little thread that’s come loose in the blanket beneath him while the others hold casual conversation around him.

This was a bad idea. He’s so fucked.

Part of him debates if he should leave, if he should just call it a day and bid them goodnight. The other part of him wants to just close the distance between him and Steve and settle in beside him so the weight of that gaze won’t fucking wear him down any more.

But knowing Steve, that wouldn’t work.

Knowing Steve, nothing works.

Feeling pathetic and small, Eddie lets himself fall to his side, hiding his face behind Nancy, whose hand comes to rest in his hair, combing through it just a little bit. Allowing him to collect himself. This isn’t new, and they don’t really question when Eddie just randomly lies down anywhere, or if he just stops talking all of a sudden.

It’s why they do this, after all. No judgment. No questions. Just the sweet, sweet release of Mary Jane.

It helps, having her hands in his hair like this, grounding him. It helps, finding no question or worry in her eyes as she looks down at him with a little smile — her way of including him in the conversation. He smiles back, just a little bit, and closes his eyes to better focus on her hand rather than the moment. She chuckles when he begins to purr, and then the smile stays a little longer.

After a while, when she offers him the joint, Eddie shifts to lie on his back and gazes up to find the clouds have cleared and revealed the night sky behind them. It’s pretty, the summer sky, and he takes a long drag trying to think of nothing else. A hot wave of smoke hits his lungs, and it tickles a bit just like it always does, but the urge to cough it back out has been gone for years. These days, his lungs allow the warm embrace of the smoke and allow him to hold his breath as long as he wants, feeling a pleasant buzz after the fifth drag. It’s the good stuff after all. Munson’s Finest.

He passes the joint back to Nancy, too comfortable to get up and pass it to anyone else, trusting her to do it without complaint. She does. She’s an angel like that. Puts her hand back in his hair and plays with his overgrown bangs a little while Eddie just stares up at the sky.

Steve’s talking, but the words don’t really translate. It doesn’t matter, though. Just hearing his voice is enough for Eddie to sort of drift into a pleasant sphere of nothingness, his chest tightening a little with it. Always, always tight when he hears that voice. Like his heart has grown three times its size and his ribcage didn’t get the memo that Eddie Munson is hopelessly, helplessly, endlessly gone for a boy who refuses to look away.

The thing is, Steve has always looked. Always. Even in the Upside Down. The first time, and the second. And then, the third. And Eddie wants it to mean something. Wants it to mean everything, or at least carry that possibility.

But there’s no way to find out. There’s only him and the stars and Nancy Wheeler’s hand in his hair after his life took several wrong turns that left him with more scar tissue than skin these days, and the horrible realisation that, after the world ended and rebuilt, he can fall in love. That he can want. That he can have these cravings that he’d always heard everyone else talk about, wondering if that was just another layer of freak to him, or if he was simply Like That.

They’re lonely realisations, he finds. Alienating, in a way. Because not only does he not know how to navigate Harrington, no, he’s a riddle even to himself right now.

All he knows is that he wants to touch. To hold. To kiss. To crawl into him, on top of him, beneath him, and pull his own name from those lips in tiny little gasps that have nothing in common with the frantic gasps of panic after their first stint with the hell dimension. He wants a do-over. He wants a chance. A real fucking chance to have all these smiles, all these looks mean something.

Arm outstretched, he reaches for the blunt again, taking it from whomever has it right now, aiming to shut off his brain a little more. Not to suppress it, but to shut it off. Even if that means he has to finish this thing. It’s fine. They have more. They always have more, because Jon and Argyle have an unreal fucking tolerance.

With a chuckle, Nancy bypasses his hand and puts the joint between his lips and ignores his indignant hum.

“Treat yourself”, she says, her voice wonderfully slow and lower in pitch. “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

“‘Kay.”

The warmth of her hand leaves his scalp, and with her body gone — getting up in way too swift a motion even for sober people — the night air seems a little colder. Eddie shivers a little, refusing to look at anyone, and just takes drag after drag, deciding he’ll finish this one. It’s his weed after all.

By the sounds of it, Robin is already lighting the next one. Good girl. Smart girl. Best fucking girl in the whole wide world.

Thick clouds of hot smoke waft through his lungs and all the way through his body up to his brain, leaving his arms and legs with a tingling feeling and his head with a pleasant buzz and tunes out most everything else around him. It’s great. It’s good. It’s wonderful.

It’s why he doesn’t realise that the air is warm again and a body shielding him from everyone else until there’s a hand in his hair again. He opens his eyes to snark at Wheeler, but—

It’s not Wheeler. It’s Steve. Knees pulled to his chest, chin resting on top as he smiles down at Eddie.

Neither of them says a word, but Eddie’s breath hitches. Stops, stutters. Just like his heart. And yet all he can do is stare up. Wonder if it’s real. Wonder if it’s real.

“Is this okay?” Steve whispers, fingers barely touching Eddie’s skin as he sort of plays with his hair.

After a beat or two, Eddie nods, careful not to move too much. Careful not to chase those fingers and all the things they could mean.

“Good.”

And then Steve pulls the joint from between Eddie’s lips, and Eddie wants to warn him because this one’s close to the end and bound to be stronger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Steve as he just sucks in the smoke like it’s the first lungful of air he gets after a long day stuck inside. Smiling around the bud as it dies between his lips, he presses it into the grass beside him, extinguishing the last of it.

He exhales, and Eddie can make out a tiny cloud of smoke against the night sky, watching as it wanders toward him. He waits for Steve to say something. There is what feels like intent in the movements of his hand, in the sudden appearance by his side, and in the way he— he fucking looks at him again. The sky is full of stars, the backyard full of fairy lights, and Steve Harrington is looking at him.

“You okay?” Eddie asks at last, breaking the silence, wondering if his voice always sounds so small, so quiet, so endlessly tiny. Wondering if Steve even heard.

But he did, because he smiles again. He did, because his hand stills. Touches Eddie’s skin. His scalp, his temple.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking from Eddie’s eyes to his own hand with something akin to wonder. Or marvel.

And Eddie shivers again when that hand travels down. Caressing his cheek, definitely with intent. Electricity shoots through his body again, and the intensity in Steve’s eyes leaves him with goosebumps. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare. Barely even swallows as Steve bites his lip absently and moves on, trailing from Eddie’s cheek down to his...

He’s touching his lips, and Eddie doesn’t breathe. Steve runs his forefinger along Eddie’s bottom lip, and in another world would he open his mouth and nip on his fingers or gasp at the touch and be better at this, be so much better at everything. But in this one, he lies motionless as Steve just fucking… explores.

And his touch is so light, it’s so gentle, so sweet on the rough scar tissue, and yet so absent, it doesn’t have to mean anything. He could pull back his hands now and claim that Eddie had something there. He could pull back and live his life unchanged. Leave Eddie behind in this state of paralysis, changed irrevocably, and be safe.

But that’s not what Steve does.

Steve was never one to choose safety over bravery, and he has the scars to prove it now. The permanent stiffness of his back that barely lets him feel anything these days. The set in his jaw when he breathes through the pains phantom and real, the crease between his brows when the memory pains flare up.

But his back is hunched in comfort now rather than in pain, and his shoulders are at ease. His lips are lightly ajar around a barely-there smile, and the skin between his eyes is smooth. Eddie wants to reach out and trace it, wants to caress it in the hopes that it’ll stay smooth forever.

He’s so pretty. Golden light catching his skin in all the right ways, leaving him positively glowing with that look he gives Eddie. That look.

Eddie’s never felt so exposed. So vulnerable. Laid bare, ready for dissection and willing to be taken apart in the hopes of letting him find what he wants and take it. Rip it right out of his chest. Now that he has Steve’s hand on his skin in the lightest of touches that’s anything but fleeting, he knows he would let him take anything he wants. Knows he would be helpless to stop him.

Helpless in the face of that gaze that trails down to his lips now, if only to follow his fingers.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, barely moving his mouth at all around that single syllable.

Golden hazel eyes flit back to his, and they widen a little. Like suddenly it’s Steve who’s caught.

What are you doing? Eddie wants to ask. What are we doing? Don’t stop. Never stop.

But words are for moments lighter than this one. Words are not meant for a world that’s changing.

Maybe that is why Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s chin, tipping it up and turning his face toward him in a gesture so tender it’s almost possessive. Electricity shoots through Eddie again and the air between them is sizzling with it, sizzling because Steve is moving, shifting, dipping his head, his hand coming to rest on Eddie’s throat to keep him from moving away — except there is no force in his touch, and Eddie could still run.

He could. He should, maybe. Like last time.

But he is suspended in time, chained to the ground by the weight of Steve’s gaze and the hand on his throat, and his heart is beating so hard, so fast, that he is sure Steve can feel it. Imagines that those fingers move to find his pulse. Imagines that they find their home there, imagines that they hear the tales of stolen hearts and desires that leave his blood rushing.

Imagines that Steve falters a little, hovering just above Eddie. Dreams of it all, dreams that this is real and that he can have this, just for tonight. He nods, and it’s a tiny little thing, far from enough to ruin this moment or wake him from his dream.

But then Steve captures his lips with such care that Eddie snaps back into his body and realises that this is no dream. Steve is kissing him. Hovers above him with one arm resting in the grass above Eddie’s head, his other hand pulling Eddie’s face towards himself and being oh so gentle about it.

A whimper escapes him when this new reality settles inside his body, leaving him reeling and pulled towards a world of possibilities as those lips, those warm lips, rest so indulgently against his.

No longer chained, Eddie carefully lifts a hand to Steve’s head, because Steve can feel him there, too, and because he doesn’t want this to end. Because he needs to touch. All night, all week, all this time he has needed to touch. To cradle. To hold.

To keep.

Steve hums, and those lips pull into a smile before closing around Eddie’s bottom lip. The first touch of Steve’s tongue has jolts of electricity and arousal zinging through Eddie’s body again, lingering this time and making a home in his legs that begin to tingle with want.

Eddie opens his mouth, tilting his head a little to get a better angle, and is rewarded with the careful, addictive touch of Steve’s tongue against his. It makes Steve smile again, just for a second — but long enough to make Eddie’s heart jump.

He chases those lips when they pull back, capturing them with a little hum as he realises he comes more and more unchained, regaining feeling and control over his body, his mind, his scared little heart. Steve doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, pushing Eddie’s head down into the grass again with an urgency that Eddie is beginning to understand matches the hunger he’s feeling.

The hunger that is reserved only for Steve. It leaves him breathless, leaves him with the sudden need to gasp for air, but then Steve’s tongue is in his mouth again and maybe he doesn’t need to breathe ever again.

He loses himself in the wet slide of their tongues that feels so sensual it’s almost obscene, and all he can do is tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair and keep him right where he is while Eddie himself lies boneless, all the blood rushing down, down, down. Every nip of Steve’s teeth as he devours Eddie so entirely and yet so innocently, so sweetly, so carefully, and every time he sucks on his lips or his tongue results in another wave of intense arousal. And Eddie is stuck in the riptide of it.

It doesn’t take long for the first moan to break the silence, a gasped little thing, almost like an afterthought, and he’s not sure if that was him or Steve; but he doesn’t really care either way, because he’s so hard, he feels like he can come from just Steve sucking on his tongue alone.

And isn’t that an enticing thought.

“Steve,” he whispers, not entirely sure what he’s going to say, or if that’s really all he needs to say. All that’s left to say. Steve, Steve, Steve.

The only response he gets is a breathy little, “Fuck,” and it sounds like a revelation. Like an epiphany. And Eddie wants to hear it again, wants to swallow all the little noises and murmurs and everything Steve will give him.

“You’re so—“ Steve begins, interrupting himself with another deep, hungry kiss. “Fuck. You’re…”

“Yeah?” Eddie counters, breaking the kiss by pulling on Steve’s hair a little. “I’m what?”

Steve hesitates, panting breaths dancing over Eddie’s skin and he smells so fucking good. Eddie wants to lick the aftershave and perfume and sweat off his neck and keep the taste on his tongue for days. Dark, blown eyes wander over his face, and the hand that was on his throat comes up to rest on his cheek again in a gesture so gentle that it almost gives him whiplash. The hunger is gone — or, not gone, but unimportant now.

Steve smiles, hazy but genuine and so, so sweet, eyes zeroing in on Eddie’s no doubt swollen lips.

“Been wanting to do that forever.”

Eddie’s heart jumps, falters, falls. Just a little. Just the rest of the way. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna kiss you forever.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie breathes, voice barely there because his breath has well and truly been taken away, and this moment feels so fragile. So easily broken by quick movements or thoughts that are just a little too loud, just a little too soon. “‘M not gonna stop you.”

Steve’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s something in there that not even the weed could ease away. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods, frowning a little, wondering what makes him so unsure.

“Cool,” Steve says, and it’s almost nonchalant and definitely charming in that way he always is. Makes Eddie laugh a little, his other hand coming up to wipe a strand hair out of his eyes. “So…” He trails off.

“Hmm?”

“Wanna stay here? Or go inside, or…”

And then it’s not arousal that overcomes him but worry. And guilt. And a bit of fear, because that’s not what this is for him. Not like this. Not when they’re high, not for the first time.

He swallows, schooling his face to cooperate and not give it all away right now, not give away how helplessly gone he is for that boy and how he would do anything Steve wants, how he would take anything he can get and try to make it be enough. But instead of choosing the easy thing and betraying himself, he moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his cheek, melting at the way Steve leans into it, moving his face to press a kiss to Eddie’s palm.

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is shaky again. And small. So, so small. “That’s not what this is for me. I don’t… I wanna kiss you forever. And more. Much more. But not… I don’t—“

“Not while we’re high? Inebriated?” He says the word with a chuckle, referencing the way Robin will always use big words when she’s hammered. There’s a gentle sort of understanding on his face after the chuckle, though, and Eddie melts a little again. “Wanna do it right, hmm? Wanna treat me right and make sure I won’t regret it, angel?”

Eddie whimpers at the sudden use of that nickname, because he’s not, but he does. He didn’t realise until Steve said it how scared he was — is — that Steve will regret this. The kiss. And anything that might follow.

Not trusting his words right now, he can only nod, wondering if his eyes are as blown as Steve’s are. If Steve thinks he’s pretty, too.

“God, you’re unreal,” Steve whispers, coming down again to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead, brushing them down to the tip of his nose. He leans into those kisses, tips his chin up to chase it, but Steve pulls away again, his thumb tracing the pout he leaves behind on Eddie’s lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Eddie grumbles, watching the delight on Steve’s face and deciding that he’s addicted now. Fuck the weed, fuck everything else. Steve can get him just as high.

Along with that thought, reality works its tendrils into Eddie’s consciousness again, and he looks around the backyard around them — but there’s only him and Steve out here on the blanket, framed as they are by the fairy lights.

“Hang on, where are the others?”

Steve huffs, his face shifting into an expression of fond amusement and gentle annoyance. “Last time I checked, Robin and Argyle were raiding the fridge, Nancy was lying on the living room carpet, marvelling at how soft it is, and Jonathan was just kinda spaced out on the couch with a bowl of chips. Don’t think they’re gonna come out here again in the next half hour or so.”

“How convenient,” Eddie grins, wondering just how obvious the two of them had been all this time. Wondering, too, if it can really be that easy. If he can have this. If they can; after everything they went through.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, his body shifting so he’s half lying on top of Eddie now, positively vanishing any and all thoughts Eddie could have spared anyone else. He would worry about the hard-on he’s sporting, but it becomes obvious very quickly that Steve has the same predicament. It’s enticing, feeling him against his thigh like that, and Eddie has half a mind to do something about that, especially when Steve keeps shifting against him. “So. Do you wanna make out some more before we light the next baggie? It’s fine if not. We can just… I don’t know, cuddle or something.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulling on his hair a little bit to underline his deadpan. “What about I wanna kiss you forever was unclear?”

“Hey, I said that first,” Steve retorts, digging his fingers into Eddie’s sides, making Eddie squeal and squirm right into his arms. “I also kissed you first,” he continues, sounding so damn smug about it. Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. “So I’m winning.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that,” Eddie murmurs, pulling Steve all the way on top of him, his hands finding his way to those magnificent thighs, so firm underneath his grip. “‘M feeling pretty lucky right now.”

“You think you’re so smooth,” Steve hums, dipping his head to hover just above his lips.

“Is it working?”

“Unfortunately.”

They’re both laughing when their lips meet again, but that doesn’t deter them from kissing and tasting and swallowing moans like they’ll find new purpose in each other. Like they’ve already found it.

Just like Steve’s hand finds his, weaving their fingers together and pressing him further into the grass. Eddie holds on tight, not ready to let him go anytime soon, and marvelling at how sensitive his hand has become.

There is no urgency in the way Steve slowly begins to move against him, grinding their crotches together in slow, sensual motion like waves of the ocean gently lapping at the shore. Eddie meets him right where they both need it most, not once breaking their kiss even when it becomes open-mouthed panting and moaning that the other is trying to chase and swallow and keep only for himself.

“You feel so good,” Steve rumbles, catching Eddie’s tongue between his teeth and pulling a high-pitched whimper from him. “So fucking good, Eddie.”

“Don’t stop, Stevie, fuck.” He’s panting, his legs tingling with want and need and a weightlessness he’s never known before. “I know I said— We can stop. We can stop, we can, but— fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Steve taunts, and oh, there’s purpose now in the the way he’s lifting his chest off Eddie, putting his weight behind the way he’s grinding into him. “You gonna come in your pants, baby? While the others are still inside? Means you’re gonna do this with me again later, right? Try again when we’re not high, hmm?”

“Yes,” Eddie rushes to say, working his fingers into Steve’s belt loops to keep him from stopping. “God, yes, I wanna—“

“I’ve got you,” Steve says, kissing the words right out of his brain, chasing his own pleasure, too. “God, you’re so pretty. So fuckin’ pretty, Eddie. Wanna come with me?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie can only nod and moan around all the words he wants to say, all those cheesy fucking words that leave him all the more vulnerable for how true they are. The tingly feeling builds in his legs, climbing to his core, and he wonders for a split second if Steve can really make him come like this — worries that somehow it’s not enough and that he’ll ruin this, that he’ll fuck it up and make it awkward between them because he doesn’t actually have any idea how his body works when someone else is taking the reins.

But then Steve kisses him like that again, sucking his tongue into his mouth, holding his hand and groaning when Eddie moves in just the right way, and the sizzling pleasure finally finds its release.

Eddie comes with a broken groan that Steve swallows greedily, panting into his mouth as, shortly after, his hips begin to stutter in their movements and he follows Eddie off the brink of this beautiful madness. Steve was always beautiful, there’s no question about that. But like this, face slack, kiss-swollen and spit-slick lips open around a silent moan as he grinds his trapped cock against Eddie’s, wrecked with aftershocks as his orgasm washes over him? He’s a fucking revelation that makes Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his skull, over sensitive as he is and yet so helpless against Steve’s aborted little motions.

Getting high on weed doesn’t compare to getting high on Steve. It’s a high Eddie wants to chase forever, and he starts by wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him down onto his chest again, just to hold him. Steve purrs as Eddie’s hand finds its way into his hair, combing it away from the sweaty skin it sticks to. He cages him with his legs, too, tingly as they remain on either side of Steve’s body.

It’s stupid, maybe, and a bit much, but he wants to keep Steve like this for a little longer. Putty in his hands, his weight on top of him grounding him after that high, and allowing them both to come down slowly.

“Man,” Steve says after a while, just letting that word hang in the air as he regains conscious thought.

Eddie hums, prompting him to say what’s on his mind even though he’s scared he won’t like what he’s about to hear. Still, it’s only fair to let Steve say what he wants.

“I like you so much.”

Eddie holds his breath as he waits for the but. For the regret. But none follows. That’s really all Steve’s saying; and soon Eddie can’t fight the wave of giddiness that overcomes him.

He hugs Steve a little tighter, not entirely ready yet to look him in the eyes and face this new reality they’ve kind of just created, needing to be a little scared for just a bit longer. But still he laughs, because scared is no longer all he’s feeling. There’s so much more now. So much more.

“I like you so much right back.”

Now it’s Steve who hums, shifting to lift his head and look at Eddie, but Eddie closes his eyes before Steve can catch them.

“Said it first again.” A hand lands on his cheek again, just above the ugly scars that Steve doesn’t seem afraid to touch. “So I win.”

And Eddie is looking now. Dares. If only to drive his point home when he says, “God, you’re so fucking lame.”

“Is it working?” Steve grins, and Eddie never stood a fucking chance.

“Unfortunately.”

@izzy2210 here you go darling hehehe 🤍

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #the spicy six get high together #spicy six #yearning hours #yearning hours but make it smut #steddie smut #i like this one so much #high yearning makeout fic #this takes so many turns and i blame the flu for it actually #tone consistency?? don't know her #dio words

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yandere-kittee · 2 months

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Yandere!Jock x Gn! Reader

♛┈⛧┈┈•༶

Note: because of a friend of mine, I'm here to post again just for them after being inactive (so thank tthe for getting me outta this slump)

❦warnings:violence (not at reader), yandere behavior, masturbation, mild blood.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Yandere! Jock who looks like he would be the meanest person you've ever met, but really? He's the biggest sweetheart, he just tends to hang out with the wrong crowd.

He plays for the universities football team, despite his sweet attitude, he can get very rough on the field, rivaling universities know the game is over once they hear the name of your university because he's in the team.

Yandere! Jock is not the smartest out there, the most he's going to get on his quizzes would be a 10, but he tries his hardest! He just focuses on sports a little much more than in his studies,but that's where you come in!

Yandere! Jock likes you, he likes it when you don't chastise him on how slow he is academically, "Everyone is good somewhere, maybe you're smart somewhere else. " you had told him when he didn't seem to get the equation quite right.

But when he did get good scores on your practice tests, you make sure to shower him in so many praises, "Good job! You did so well. " you smile at him as you pat him in the head. He imagines the feeling of your hands running through his hair while he jerks off at night-

Yandere! Jock is so cheerful, you always wonder where he gets his energy from, sometimes you forget he is an athlete with amazing stamina.

He had once remarked about how he has this rigorous work out routine, you could feel the muscle pain already without doing it yet, you wonder how he does it everyday.

It's why he stays in shape, it's why he's able to manhandle the people who've been so mean to you lately, they found it funny to be taking your things and hiding them, tripping you over and all those immature things you wouldn't expect to find in university.

"Jasper! That's enough, you've almost killed him! " You shouted, trying to pull this big jock away from the poor student he had beaten to a pulp, you tried to look away from the blood that was on the floor and the blood that had seemed to coat Jasper's knuckles.

Jasper breathed heavily as he looked down at the body of the student who had been vandalizing your locker with photoshopped pictures and markings.

"This is small compared to what they did. " he glared down at their beaten body, the student had looked up at the two if you with wife and scared eyes, glittering across between you and Jasper, seeming to be looking for mercy.

Just then, you thought to yourself, 'Thank god it was them and not me. ' as malicious as the thought sounded, but if you weren't the holder of his affection, then who knew what would happen to you if the roles we're reversed, all you could do was grip the Jock's varsity jacket sleeve.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

Anywaysss, I'm back from the dead! Hopefully for the meantime I post more content and ideas I've been saving up.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere blog #original character #male yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc x reader

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repulsiveliquidation · 3 months

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Darlin’ I’d Wait For You.

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Very loosely based on the song j’s lullaby (darlin’ i’d wait for you) by Delaney Bailey and this poem!

It’s the night of your wedding, you’re dancing in the middle of the room with your friends. Lucy and Ona have you between them, the country song that half the guests didn’t understand still managed to give them a little pep in their step. Alexia sips on her drink, sitting around with her Barça teammates as they all watch the girls on the dance floor lose their inhibitions with the free-flow alcohol the longer the night goes on.

Frido taps her on her shoulder, seeing the lovestruck look on the Spanish captain’s face as she watches you let loose on the dancefloor.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” the Swede starts, the rest of the girls listening in, “how did you know she was your person?”

Alexia looks up at Frido and takes a long swig of her gin. She slams the glass down on the table, looking back at you. You’re being spun around by Mapi, a huge grin on your face when you catch Alexia’s eye. You bite your lip and grin at her, giving her a little wave. She gives you one back, leaning back into her chair. She takes a deep breath, looking at the girls.

“When I did my ACL, there was no one else who could get me out of bed.”

“Alexia, for fuck sake, if I come up there and see you still in bed, I’ll do your other ACL myself!”

You walk up the stairs, steam about to erupt from your ears when you enter the room and see Alexia sitting up in bed with her head in her hands. All your anger dissipates and you rush to her, kneeling in front of her holding her wrists.

“What’s wrong, Ale?” you ask softly, thumbs rubbing the back of her hands.

“I can’t do it,” she says quietly, eyes filling with hot tears.

“What can’t you do, darling?”

“This, I can’t do this. This isn’t me,” she cries, bottom lip wobbling as she leans into you. You cradle her head as she rests her forehead on your shoulder and sobs.

“You’re right baby, this isn’t you. This isn’t my Alexia. My Alexia is strong and stubborn. My Alexia refuses to quit. She fights, no matter what it takes,” you tell her sternly, wiping away her tears as your hands cradle her face.

“I just want to be the old me,” she begs, grabbing the front of your shirt. You stand and hold her head to your stomach, rubbing the back of her neck.

“But, what if the new you comes back stronger than ever? What if the new you is better than the old you?”

“Will you still love me?” she asks wearily, watery eyes looking hopefully up at you.

“I will always love you, Alexia, nothing can ever change that.” “When there were setbacks, she was the only one who could get me to keep trying.”

“It feels funny, amor,” Alexia whispered to you on the pitch, hobbling over to the side of the pitch for a quick swig of water. You follow her and rub her back, taking a drink of water too.

“What does bebita?”

“My knee,” she says, pointing to her ACL one. You look up at her and bite your bottom lip, a habit you had when you were concerned.

“Do you want to come off, I think we can cover for you till someone’s warm.”

“Bebé, what if it’s happened again?” she starts, dropping her bottle and head spiraling to all the worse possibilities.

You take her hands and grip them tight, bringing her out of her thoughts. She looks scared, eyes and expression unreadable to everyone except you.

“It’s probably nothing, but I don’t want you taking risks. Sit out, we’ll be fine,” you give her a quick peck on the cheek, turning to see Jonatan already having someone to replace Alexia. She walks off slowly, nodding at you when you give her a thumbs up. “When my start was delayed, she was the only one who would listen.”

“How did they not find anything?!” Alexia yells at you, throwing her book towards the window.

“Ale, it was exploratory. It’s good!” you rationalize with her, trying to calm her down.

“There’s supposed to be nothing, then why was there discomfort?” she screams, tears filling her eyes. Your heart breaks in two, her head hitting her pillow as she begins to break down. She had been holding it in for weeks since that day when she benched herself.

She refused to talk to you, engage with you, and look you in the eye. Your mind thought the worst until you heard her sobbing in the bathroom at 3 in the morning the night before she was due to be at the hospital.

“Ale?” you called, walking into the bathroom and finding her slumped in the shower. You quietly sit beside her, taking her hand away from her face. She gasps, looking at you with red eyes. You see fear in your girlfriends eyes, a look that she rarely had. You didn’t like it one bit.

“What’s bothering you, my love?”

“I’m scared again, bebé,” she admits simply, voice shaky.

“Why’s that, my love?”

“What if something is wrong?”

“Does it feel like when you did it?” you ask, rubbing the back of her hand in soothing circles.

She shakes her head, sniffling softly.

“Does it hurt like when you did it?”

“No.”

“It’s just not feeling like your knee?”

“Sí,” she says, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Well, they had to reconstruct the ligament amor, it’s not your knee. You’ve got to give it a bit more time.”

“But, the fans, they want me out there playing I-”

“They also don’t want you playing if you’re not 100%, the Alexia they want is the one scoring magnificent goals, not standing by the sidelines scared of hurting her knee again. Take your time and give them the new and improved Alexia when you’re ready.”

“They’ll wait?”

“No matter how long it takes, darling.”

“When I was ready to get out there, she held me like a child taking her first bike ride without training wheels. Promising to never let go.”

You promised to be by her side the entire process of recovering again. You took her to PT, made her eat well, and comforted her when things didn’t go to plan. What she didn’t tell you was that she was cleared for training and games again, Jonatan promised to put her back on the bench to be subbed in for a bit later in the game this weekend.

“I’m on the sheet,” Alexia whispered, looking at the team bulletin. “I’m on the sheet!” she yelled, jumping for joy as the rest of the team celebrated with her. She hugged Mapi, then Ingrid, high-fiving the rest of the girls. You waited patiently in your cubby for her, back turned as you ruffled in your bag.

Alexia got down on one knee (the ACL one of course), and the ring held out for you to see. The whole room was dead silent, and you turned to see what made the normally rowdy bunch all quiet.

“You better not be up to something, you guys are never quie-”

You look down and see Alexia grinning at you, tapping her knee.

“Ale, your leg! You’re not supposed to do that!” you say, completely ignoring the beautiful diamond ring in her hands. You begin to get her to stand when she slaps your hand away and Patri yells “Look at her hand, idiota!”

After showing her the middle finger, you look down at Alexia’s hands and see the open velvet box.

“There is no one else I’d want to have by my side the rest of my life, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

She looks at Frido, smiling when she hears you yelling at the DJ to play your favorite. She leans forward, tears in her eyes.

“I knew because when I want to run away, she is who I’m running toward.”

Alexia looks at you again, you’re standing on a table dancing to the song the DJ just put on. She leaves the girls and walks towards you, helping you down.

“Amor,” she says, pulling you into her arms.

“Sí, Mi esposa?” you grin, wrapping your arms around her neck.

“Te amo,” Alexia whispers, forehead pressed to yours as the dancefloor clears for the two of you.

“Yo también te quiero,” you say to her, lips leaning forward to press a deep kiss on her lips. She kisses back as the room erupts in cheers, their favorite couple displaying what true love looks like.

I’m in a bad place with my head right now so I wrote this out hoping it helps :) I don’t know if it makes any sense since I haven’t proofread but oh well.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #fc barca femeni

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waspsinyouryard · 11 months

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Alrighty gamers,

As a "reddit refugee" who has been on Tumblr for a year at this point and hopefully knows some stuff about how this website and its userbase operate (even though I haven't been on that frequently), here's what I have learned over the course of my time here that might be helpful to any redditors coming here (long bullet list incoming):

Absolute Basics

Apply a profile picture to your blog. It can be anything, but it needs to be there. If you have a default profile picture then you will probably be blocked on sight by almost everyone. It's not personal; you just look an awful lot like a bot.

Make at least 1 original post on your blog. It can be anything—from a long introduction to a random shitpost—as long as it isn't the sort of post that a bot would make. Maybe hold off on posting sexual gifs with a bunch of random unrelated tags for the time being.

Interaction With Posts

Likes on this platform are sort of like saving posts and comments on Reddit. They do add a note and they can be seen if you don't have your likes set to private, but they don't help spread the post at all and are most useful for later easy access.

Reblogs without added text or tags are mostly analogous to crossposting in function, although not in website culture. Instead, think of it more like taking a screenshot of a post somewhere else online and posting it onto your favorite subreddit of choice. Reblog things you find cool/funny/pretty/have something to add to/whatever frequently.

Comments on Tumblr are mostly like comments on Reddit. The biggest difference is that you can't have comment threads.

Posting (including reblogs)

Tag things when relevant. Especially tag topics that people might want to avoid, like bigotry or very long posts.

In your main text, say whatever it is you feel you want to say/add. If you're reblogging, this is were you put your hilarious zingers that will be forever immortalized by r/tumblr repost bots.

Tags are frequently used to elaborate or say anything that's not the main point of the post or reblog.

Interacting with other users

Don't be afraid to block people.

Don't be afraid to follow people. Following tags is functional, but following people that post things you are interested in is better.

If I'm leading anyone terribly astray, please feel free to add on to and correct this post

#reddit #reddit refugees #reddit refuge #tumblr #r/196 #r196 #196 #because there's a lot of refugees in those tags #also #reddit refugee #singular #just so anyone looking for a post like this can hopefully find it #slightly #long post #curatedtumblr #because that tag also has some refugees posting to it

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

TWST dorm leaders where Reader and them aren't aware everyone else thinks they're dating

Anon I love the "didn't know they were dating" trope. It's so funny to think about and has some pining/angst potential too.

Pairing: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, confessions, feelings realization, misunderstandings, courting

A/N: When I see this trope I know I'm gonna want to punch the screen but also laugh my ass off.

Riddle knows there's something odd going on. He sees and hears the other students glancing at the two of you and whispering among themselves. Frankly it's a little annoying to him that they're talking behind his back. It's not until he overhears them talking about him inviting you to tea parties often that he realized how that might have looked to an outsider. If the other students seem to think that there's something going on already then he might as well go ahead and try his luck at the next tea party.

Leona loves having you around really. Having you sing his praises, stroking his ego, flashing him those sunshine smiles that do odd things to his heart and mind. It took him a long time to realize that those feelings were, and once he did he was determined to win your affections over the right way. He might not apply himself fully when it comes to teste and studying but he will for sure fine a way to sweep you off your feet.

Azul is aware of your feelings for him right away but not of his for you. He saw you a fun plaything at first, not even realizing how fond he's growing of you despite it being obvious to his Housemates. He tried to deny his feelings for a while only to fail miserably when he thought you might be stolen away by another student. He suspects that this is just a ploy by Jade and Floyd. Damn them it worked. The next thing he knew he was embracing you, pulling you away to privacy and set to confirm what he already knew with a kiss: the two of you were meant for each other.

Kalim is much too nice to realize that his actions were flirtatious in nature. He loved hanging out with you, his arm around your shoulder, joking with you and complimenting you all the time. He did start noticing the way you blush around him though and it made him re-examine a few of your interactions with him as opposed to your other friends. He couldn't sleep all night when he did the same for himself as well and realized how blind he was being this whole time. He asked you to meet him in the gardens the next morning to straighten things out with you. When he met you with a full bouquet of flowers you suspected what he was going to ask. The answer was yes of course, you would love to be an official couple.

Vil was never too concerned with what people talked about, the rumors they spread, he knew the truth and it was all that was important. Or was it? When he heard that there were rumors going around that the two of you were a couple it have him pause. He wasn't sure what to make of that, you were amazing, smart, beautiful, but did you really like him like that? Did he give you reason to? Did he give you reason not to? He was determined to find out either way, and hopefully by the end of it, win your affections for real.

Idia and you exchange a lot of texts and video calls with each other, more than with anyone else really. It's not unusual that people started talking when you spend so much time in each others company. Neither of you were aware of just how affectionate and flirty you were acting over text until it was pointed out to both of you. His next few texts are very careful, testing the waters, trying to see if there is actually something more between you two. It's not working. When he gets frustrated he decided that it would be best to confirm it face to face. He could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice, in the way your hands shook when you held his, he knew you liked him, and he liked you as well.

Malleus doesn't even think about it when the two of you walk hand in hand, or when he's reading a book with his head in your lap. He's touch starved and you provide that touch and affections and smiles, he loves that. But he didn't realize how much he truly loved you until it was time for the dance. He knew he wanted to go with you, to see you laugh all evening, to feel you close to him, to feel your lips against his. He wanted to make what he'd been hearing whispers about all term a reality.

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badasmuse · 5 months

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“Drunk and Possessive”

Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: 18+(MDNI), language, drunk!bada, possessive!bada, lowercase intended, violence, suggestive if you squint, name calling (from outsiders), no relationship (yet)

Summary: bada takes you to a party and man she’s never been more angry.

A request so no song

bada has had a crush on you for so long. she’s your best friend and has been since you met on the playground after some little asshole was bullying you so she kicked sand in her face. even tho there’s six years between you two, you don’t let it bother you. you’re still besties for the resties.

but despite being able to read her like a book, you’re completely oblivious to her so disgustingly obvious crush. she’d do anything for you. literally anything. she proved that when one time you were walking in the park and thought it would be funny to go, “i bet you won’t grab that squirrel.” big mistake on your end cause the mf went and grabbed the squirrel and it bit her.

“you’re a fucking idiot why would you grab the squirrel?” you said driving her to the hospital.

“you told me to.” she said pouting, holding her bleeding hand close to her chest.

you’ve also had a crush on bada for awhile but you hide it from everyone. you didn’t think you were her type. you weren’t a dancer, you don’t have any real talent, you’re an art major but you don’t even think you can draw that well. (even tho you’re absolutely amazing to anyone else. especially bada.)

speaking of bada and art, you just left ceramics class, your last class of the day, and guess who’s outside with your favorite biggby drink and a soft pretzel.

“hey.” bada says softly as you approach her.

“you don’t understand how bad i needed this.” you say throwing your bag in the backseat and hugging bada tight, planting a light kiss on her cheek before taking the coffee and pretzel.

bada blushes and opens the door for you, grabbing your arm to help you in. “i don’t understand how you wear those heels.” she mumbles before closing the door and getting in the driver’s seat.

“i wear them to match your height. you’re too tall.”

she chuckles and starts driving. “you wanna come to a party with me tonight?”

“what i tell you about this last minute shit bada?” you say rolling your eyes.

“i know i know a week in advance. but like.. you’re not doing anything. might as well come.” she says pinching your cheek.

“i guess so.” you groan. “fine i’ll go. what time? what should i wear?”

“whatever you want.” bada pulls into the lot of your shared apartment and obviously goes around to open the door for you grabbing your hand to help you out.

“bada you’re such a gentleman.” you giggle going to grab your bag but she beats you to it.

“come on, angel.” she says walking behind you with a hand on your back. like she always does.

a few hours later, you’re out the shower and standing in front of the mirror wondering what to wear. you have two options and you don’t want to ask bada cause man- that woman is no help. none at all.

you settle on the short black dress and pair it with ankle boots, obviously heeled. you do a quick smokey eye look to match the dress and finally put it on pouting as you reach for the zipper but it’s just out of reach, barely touching your fingertips.

“bada~” you call out, the pout evident in your voice.

“yes?” she walks in fully dressed looking like a tall glass of water and all of a sudden, you’re thirsty.

but you’d never say that.

“can you zip this for me?” you give her doe eyes knowing she wouldn’t say no in the first place but they add character.

she walks behind you and gently pulls the zipper up and man the electricity that went through you when her long fingers brushed against your back.

“you look good.” bada comments looking at you through the mirror.

“thanks i’m hoping to find someone tonight. hopefully a relationship but a hookup is just as good.”

bada’s jaw clenches and she clears her throat, “let’s go.” she mumbles walking downstairs to get her shoes and keys.

you follow her grabbing your shoes and blushing when bada kneels to put them on for you and zip them up.

like girl how can you not see she in love with you???

———

once you arrive at the party, bada immediately goes to get a drink. you follow and pull her down so she can hear you, “don’t drink too much bada.” you whisper and she just nods.

you get yourself a drink and leave to find someone to dance with. you find yourself in the middle dancing with a group of people.

bada watches, standing next to lusher and tatter with a pout on her face.

“you know,” lusher starts, “if you just told her you love her she wouldn’t be all over them she’d be all over you.”

“if she feels the same way.” tatter added which she immediately regretted cause if looks could kill… yeah.

time passes and bada has had way too many. she can barely stand up straight and her speech is beyond slurred, she’s practically incoherent. not to mention her vision is incredibly blurry.

despite all that, she does see the guy that approaches you and starts dancing with you. you’re having a great time and bada is pissed.

she pushes herself off the wall and stumbles over to you and the guy. “hey.” she slurs separating you two.

“bada what are you doing?” you ask holding onto her as she slings her arm around you.

“she’s my girlfriend. back.. back off.” she says pushing the guy back.

“she’s been dancing with everyone in here.”

“mhm and i’m putting a stop to it. she’s mine. fuck off.”

“go ahead keep her. but in my opinion, if she’s gonna act like a whore i’d just pass her off.” he shrugs.

that sobered bada right up.

she runs a hand down her face, cocks her arm back, and swings. hitting the man full force in the face, knocking him to the ground.

“BADA!” you yell, barely able to hold her anymore. you quickly drag her outside and make her sit down on the curb. “what is your problem?” you ask, inspecting her hand.

“my problem? you. you’re my problem. you’re so fucking… oblivious. i’m in love with you and you’re constantly flirting with other people and sleeping with other people. you’re mine. i don’t want anyone else touching you the way i should be touching you!” bada grabs your hand and drags you towards her car.

“what are you doing?” you whispered.

“showing you that you’re mine.”

part 2 maybe?

#bada lee #swf2 #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #imagine #bada lee smut

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piichuu · 7 months

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♡ AN UNWANTED LETTER - GOJO SATORU

WARNINGS: MAJOR SPOILERS if you haven’t seen the new jjk leaks, so read on your own risk. angst, f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

yuta is quiet as he reaches a letter over to you. he’s standing in the doorway with a somber look on his face. “you should go sit down somewhere, i’ll stay here in the hallway,” he mumbles and without a word, you make your way towards the bedroom where you sit down, opening up the letter you’ve been given.

“to my dear y/n.

if you receive this letter, i will be dead. that’s a horrible sentence to start with, but it’s the truth. it’s not that i don’t believe in my own capabilities, but i can’t leave you with nothing if i die, that would make you even sadder.

i’m giving this to yuta, he’ll look after you now for a few weeks, i’ve made him promise because i know you’re gonna be crying, probably become depressed. if you do get depressed, i’m gonna be there and hold you close, even if you can’t feel it. my pretty girl, i know i always tell you that you’re pretty when you cry, but i hate when you do so. i prefer your smile, to know you’re happy. your laugh is a little funny, but i prefer it that way, because no one laughs like you and i love that you’re your own person, not faking anything for me.

i’m a little (very) sad that i won’t get to have a family with you or put a ring on your finger. will it hurt you more if i told you that i was going to propose when i got back? probably, but now you know. i wish we could have our own little children who would run around the house and annoy you. they would love me of course, they would get to do everything they wanted to. they would get to eat so much candy and play video games with me. maybe they could help you cook every once in a while since you always insist to cook when i tell you than i can do that to! you would be a great mom, the greatest of them all actually. all those years you helped me take care of megumi showed that. he loves you a lot even if he’s never told you, but i can see that he sees you as his mom, hopefully he sees me as a dad as well.

he’s always clung to you more than me. i remember when i found you two asleep on the couch after you had read him a bed time story. you looked so cute and he was holding onto your hand so tightly like he really trusted you. it hurts me to say, but you’ve probably always been his favorite. even now that he’s older he likes you more than me :( but that makes me a little happy as well, because he’s always so stone faced around everyone else but you. you make him smile and that makes me happy :)

apparently people who’ve had a partner who has died always say that they would want them to find someone else, but even if i want you to be happy, that thought makes me a little sad. but if you do ever find someone else who you love as much as you love me (which is impossible), i hope he treats you like the princess you are or else i’ll have to haunt him. i’m not joking. and if you do have kids, please tell them about me? i’m sure they will think i was super cool. my death is probably gonna be called the coolest deaths of them all, i hope!

i’m sorry if i’m joking too much, at this point i’m sure you’re bawling. but just know that i’m right behind you with my arms around you, okay? maybe you can’t feel it but i’m giving you a kiss on the cheek right at this moment.

don’t be too sad, okay? but also take the time you need to heal, i don’t want you to rush anything. it’s okay to be sad, so cry how much you want, but not for the rest of your life please because that would make me sad :( you should try to smile at least once a day so i can look at you and know that there might be at least some things that are making your days good.

you’re gonna meet me again, don’t worry. but please don’t put yourself in danger just so you can see me again. i want you to live until you’re old and then we’ll meet each other when you reach heaven with me, because that’s where i’m going! i’m gonna watch over you and wait, i have all the time in the world now so grow old and do everything you’ve ever dreamt of.

just know that i didn’t die without putting on a fight. it must be going on for a while before i die, but i’m gonna try to do my best not to die because i want to see you so bad and just hug you and kiss you and tell you how beautiful you are. but you will always be the prettiest human ever, no matter how many wrinkles you have or if your back gets all hunched in the future.

i have a whole bottle of perfume in our bedroom that i bought a while ago, but i haven’t really used it a lot since i’ve been gone for a while now, so you can use that and spray it all over the house if you miss me too much. good thing i bought that stuffy for you before i went to shibuya!

i need to end this letter now. i’m sorry for not being able to see now for a while, but we will meet in a couple of years. i’m always gonna look after you now that i’m gone, so there will never be anything to worry about. i hope you will be okay and that you aren’t crying too much now :( but i know that you’re still just as pretty as always. i can’t believe that i got the best girlfriend in the entire world to spend my life with, even if i would’ve wished my life would be longer. you’ve made me so happy over the years and i really hope i’ve made you happy too, even if you’re probably sad because of me now.

yuta and the others will look after you, i promise. maybe you’ll be annoyed with them, but that’s because i sent them and i’m made to be a little annoying, so you won’t get rid of the annoyance too easily! i’m gonna watch over you for a good while now, i’m always listening to every word you say, even if i’m not somewhere you can see me. if you ever have a bad day, tell the sky and i will hear every single word. cry your eyes out and i will wipe your tears away.

my love, my one and only. i love you more than you can ever imagine. you’re my sun, you’re what’s been keeping me alive for the past few years and don’t ever blame yourself for anything that’s happened to me. you are the greatest thing in my life and have been healing my soul. i will forever love you. from your idiot boyfriend <3”

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inner-viper · 9 months

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Why is my FS attracted to me? (Short Ver)

Hello, this is Inner Viper and I decided to focus on channeled messages. My tarot divination skills have been improving. It’s been a year since I have been practicing tarot, it’s been my whole life since I have been practicing my intuition, like everyone else lol. I took a break from my Patreon and this blog because I have a full-time job but I am going back to school so hopefully I will have more time for consistent uploads. I do want to go on lives here, but I might create a youtube channel to upload pac readings. If I do go down that route then I’ll probably do live readings on there. I’ll let you guys know if I do decide that!

If you want a paid reading please check out my list here.

Remember to choose the image that is calling out to you. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t because this is a general pac reading. Some messages are not meant for you, while other messages aren’t meant for you. Also, this is meant to give you insight, not concrete evidence.

I hope you enjoy the reading for today!

»»————-　♡　————-««

Pile 1

I am getting the energy of them being attracted to your work ethic. Perhaps you are a very committed individual, you may have a lot of projects underway. You know how to build and develop things to flourish. You may be extremely creative and they notice these things about you, I also am sensing that they love the smaller things about you too. Perhaps you do a certain face when you get something you want or dislike. It’s a unique facial expression, they like how expressive you are. They love the way you daydream about the smaller things in life too. They want to know what is going on inside your head, they want a small peak into your world. The way you perceive things and the way you speak is intellectually stimulating towards them too. They could spend hours just speaking to you about multiple topics. They also think you are fine asf.

Pile 2

Are you emo? They like your dark aesthetic, like the gloomy look you have going on. Honestly, it’s like all you have in your wardrobe is all black and they love that. They love the way you dress and the way you smile. They think you are an enigma, you have a contrast to yourself. If you aren’t having a dark aesthetic then it could be vice versa too. Let’s say you have a cute theme going on but your personality is super serious, yet you like these small cute things. I am honestly picking up in this pile that a majority of you really like Kuromi or any Hello Kitty stuff. Which is cute! They love the contrast in you and they are always amazed at how you are so different than most people. I am getting some non-conformist energy too. The love you for who you are.

Pile 3

They love how you are a bad bitch. I feel like mainly women choose this pile but if you aren’t then I feel like you just have a badass energy to you. They love how you look tough and mean like you give off mean-girl vibes but you aren’t one. They find you to be so sexy and alluring because of the way you present yourself too. Perhaps you find yourself meeting people and them saying “Oh, I thought you were mean at first” because that’s the type of energy I am getting. They love the way you move when you dance or are freely doing your own thing. They love it when you are so expressive because they themselves feel free with you. One of the other things they love about you is your jokes, they find you to be so funny.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Thank you for reading! If you want a paid reading please check out my list here.

#pac #tarot #hellenic pagan #pagan witch #pick a card #witchcraft #paganism #pick a pile #tarot cards #tarot pick a card #fs pac #pac tarot #pac future spouse #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a picture #tarot reading #tarot community #daily tarot

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prismuffin · 1 month

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so for my bday ficcc i have two ideas

idea number one: male reader is based on my demon oc. basically personality wise they very sassy and flirty. kinda a bitch ass ho. idc who u pair it with imma be real. it could be ghost, soap or or price. or like batman. he summons them n junk

idea number 2:

polycule ghost, soap x male reader. male reader is a smart dumbass. like they’re an airhead all of the time minus work. they’re a colonel but honestly dumb as shit outside of work. obvious as hell.

if u want more ideas i can tell u love u mwahhhhh

A/n: Hey Webbie!! Happy birthday!! (Or late birthday depending on when I get this out) decided to go with option 2 kay? also i didnt know how to end this- fight me-

Idiot Boyfriend

Poly!GhostSoap x airhead!male!reader

( summary: Ghost reflects on how he fell in love with two dumbasses )

Warnings?: swearing, mentions of alcohol, talks of guns and violence, reader being a dumbass

!-!more under the cut!-!

Ghost sighed as he watched you chase Gaz around base. He'd apparently tickled you which you saw as a threat, immediately taking off to get your revenge. Hearing a laugh beside him Ghost turned, seeing an amused Soap who was also watching your silly antics. "Go get 'em sweetheart!" He cheered you on and Ghost groaned. "Don't encourage 'em Johnny," "Why not? This is a funny sight," He smirked, sitting next to Ghost, his head instinctually falling onto the taller mans shoulder. Ghost rolled his eyes as he watched you trip, Gaz stopping to laugh at you. "Oh damn, think he's alright Lt?" Soap asked only to get silence as a response. "Lt?" Ghost had heard him, though he was too busy wondering why he was even with such an airhead anyway. He'd already been dating one headache why did he feel the need to worsen his pain with another.

When he'd first met you he was already with Soap, their relationship being monogamous at the time. Though that was more of a suggestion than set in stone. Maybe it was the fact that the first time he'd met you- you were choking some guy out with the power of your thighs alone that'd intrigued him. Either way you'd easily clicked with Soap after meeting him, and after exchanging war stories and silly jokes with the two men all day they both knew at the end of it that they liked you. Initially, it wasn't going to go anywhere but Soap was the one who suggested adding you to their little relationship. Ghost was hesitant at first, not because he didn't like you but because he wasn't sure if you liked him. You'd obviously liked Soap, romantically or not you both clicked immediately, but for some reason for Ghost it was so hard to read you on your feelings for him. Sure you were polite out of respect but could it ever go deeper than that? He knows sometimes his dark humor can fall flat and his stoic tone doesn't help either. Soap had reassured him that he had a charm that couldn't be beat, but of course he'd say that. You and him clicked so easily, you both told terrible jokes and fucked around when you shouldn't. You both had a mutual love for explosives and beer and karaoke and had this natural bond he could only wish for with you. After talking about it they sort of dropped it for a few weeks but it was clear that Soap had liked you and he could understand why. Especially after what he considers the true turning point for him. It was a pretty normal night on base, everyone asleep in their barracks, everyone except Ghost. He often had nights like these where sleep was the last thing on his mind, memories plaguing his brain as he fought desperately to think of anything else. He would wake up Johnny, tell him about the bad thoughts, but he really needed the sleep after the last mission they'd been on. So he thought to deal with it alone, going into the kitchen to hopefully find a stashed bottle whisky to drown his sorrows for the night. Only upon entering he found you, leaning against the counter, pouring yourself a freshly brewed pot of coffee. You both locked eyes, a mutual understanding flooding you both as you held out the warm pot, asking silently if he'd join you. He, of course, was hesitant but had nothing better to do. So he grabbed a mug from the cabinet and watched as you poured his coffee, black.

You'd both sat in silence for some time before you asked quietly why he was up. He told the truth, nightmares, but didn't go into much detail understandably. You hummed, replying with the same answer when he'd asked you a similar question. Your jokey manner was all but lost in this moment, at least for a second. You'd asked him to talk about his nightmares with you, saying that it'd be better than him just holding everything in all the time. He didn't expect it, but you were so easy to talk to. Just the smallest amount of convincing and he did what you asked. That night you both shared the stories of your nightmares with each other. You comforted him, gave him advice and told him things he definitely needed to hear. Him ranting only got the ball rolling as he found himself sitting on the common room couch with you simply talking about anything and everything, your company in the now silent base was warming. You'd even laughed at his horrid jokes, throwing back a few that he's now added to his growing roster of dark humor. He hadn't felt like this since...well...Johnny. As the sun rose and light cracked through the curtains he couldn't help but feel a little glad that he'd gotten to spend time with you. That night alone showed him he did have a natural connection with you. You understood him in ways he didn't even think you could. He found you also shared his insomnia episodes, his love for dogs and specific guns, his respect of stealth and going at it alone on missions. When he saw Soap later that day he nonchalantly added that he's now considering asking you to join their relationship, and he couldn't help but replicate the smile on Soaps face.

One which he held now.

"Lt?" Soap glanced up at Ghost, noticing the slight crinkle in his eye and the small indent underneath his cloth balaclava. To anyone else he'd look completely normal right now, but Soap knew that those miniscule signs meant that he was smiling. Smiling at you as you groaned on the floor. Closing his eyes, Ghosts shoulders bounced in a silent laugh before he moved to stand, Soap following him with his eyes before realizing where he was going, and moving to go to you too.

Rolling on your back, you huffed, the cold floor on your rear as you stared up at the blinding white flood lights that shone down on you. Only they were blocked by a shadow, then two, the smiling faces of your boyfriends stood over you. "Need a hand sweetheart?" Soaps Scottish accent filled your ears and you couldn't help the small smile that found it's way to your face. Reaching out with both hands you grabbed onto one of each of theirs, laughing as they hoisted you up with ease. You felt Ghost pat your back before his arm wrapped itself around you. Looking at him you noticed the small smile beneath his mask and reciprocated his action, now committing to a full side hug. You just held each other there before Soap joined in, now you held both of your boyfriends in your arms. You rocked back and forth between them, your chase with Gaz momentarily forgotten as you accepted this newer task of being held. Only momentarily though as Gaz came back into view you suddenly remembered what you were doing before this, your glare being set on his form. "Garrick!" You yelled and he ran again, you moved to chase him but the hands of ghost didn't seem to want to let you go. "No you don't, come on, we're leaving." "Awww but Simon come on-" you groaned, "I'm starving." He stated bluntly, practically dragging you away from the scene as Soap laughed at your pouting face, following the two of you to the kitchen. Ghost simply listened as you began ranting about some random show that you and Soap had been watching, allowing you to completely forget about the Gaz thing as you got distracted by your own thoughts again. He watched as you and Soap recounted a particular episode that seemingly got on your nerves as it ended on a cliff hanger, silently smiling once again as he relished in the company of his two idiot boyfriends.

----!----

( HAPPY BIRTHDAY WEB I HOPE YOU LIKE YOU BIRTHDAY FIC SEXY !!! )

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

My requests are CLOSED !!

See my DIRECTORY for upcoming fics!

Masterlist

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blorbosinmyheadcentral · 5 months

Note

your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

#showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime ship #cherpiet #Really appreciate how their dynamic can blur the line of friendship/romance so easily #Supervised Machine Learning is just. *gestures at all that*. minus the romance #Also sorry for taking so long to answer the ask I am not good at answering asks #I don't always know what to say #I wish I had what gooseworx has. She is a big insp #long post

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months

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Papa loves you so much, princess (Mick Schumacher)

Mick and Y/N find out their family is growing

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy! I have been talking about this since January, so this is ver long overdue!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's period and pregnancy

Getting up from the bed, you were fortunately quick enough to reach the bathroom in time to pour your guts out on the toilet, leaning on the toilet's side to support your torso. You were already up by the time Mick walked inside the bathroom, his sleepy expression with some traces of concern, "I told you I shouldn't have had that last piece of dessert", you pointed your finger at him through the mirror while you splashed your face, "you kept looking at it like you were a dog that was abandoned on the road, and then when I asked if you wanted my piece, I swear I saw happy tears in your eyes", your husband teased you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner, "do you want me to get you anything?", he asked, "just some cuddles in bed should do the trick", you muttered, allowing him to carry you back to the bed for a few more hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep.

After leaving work, you stopped by the grocery store since you and Mick had noticed you were running low and running out of a few items at home, "we just had a snack break and the next part of the meeting should be the last one, I'm sorry I'm not helping you", he said over the phone while you browsed the aisles, "it's okay, handsome. You can still help me out here, though. I'm the cleaning section and I already have dish soap and the spray for the wooden cabinets, anything else?", you asked, earning a negative answer from him, "no, that's all I think. Next is the bathroom one, right? We are running low on toilet paper, and I used the last plaster yesterday. You only had one box of tampons in the cabinet so given that you are about to have your period, see if you need more of them", he pointed out, grabbing your attention to the matter. It should have started by now, you checked the date on your watch. And you were never late.

"We also need those tissues you keep on your bedside table, I used some today and I noticed they were the last ones", you could hear the smile on his voice, "alright, bub. I'll see you at home, have a good meeting!", you dialed off, grabbing the things he mentioned before looking at the pharmacy section.

You were never late, so it had to be this, right? Barring any other health situations, all of your symptoms aligned with pregnancy symptoms: you had been nauseous, feeling sick (and maybe it wasn't the stolen dessert's fault), you kept falling asleep whenever you rested on the sofa at home and Corinna had complimented the way one of your summer dresses fitted you, claiming that the neckline looked beautiful on you. And you and Mick had been trying, not with a whole calendar but rather just not using protection and seeing where it led you, and maybe this was it. Grabbing two boxes for the sake of it, you put them in your shopping trolley before heading to the till to pay for everything so you could go home.

When Mick got home, dinner was already on the table while you also fed Angie her own dinner, his kiss on your forehead coming with an apology for having arrived just in time for it, "no need to apologise, myself and miss Angie kept ourselves busy", you petted her soft fur before heading to wash your hands, joining Mick at the table and enjoying the meal.

"Does it taste okay to you?", you asked Mick, the taste of the broccoli seemingly off to you, "yes, tastes like this dish always tastes. It's very good, why do you ask?", he questioned, "I don't know, tastes funny to me", you mumbled, using your fork and knife to push the green vegetable to the edge of your plate, "maybe you got a bad one", he noted. That was another symptom, you thought, remembering when one of your friends couldn't eat her favourite meal while she was pregnant because she claimed it tasted different.

"Actually, I've been having a few symptoms, and they are all compatible with-", you were interrupted by your husband, "pregnancy", he smiled, seeing your brushed and stunned face, "I've noticed them too. You haven't told me you are craving your usual sweets when you're on your period, your boobs look even more amazing but the moment I so much as graze my finger in the skin you hiss because of the pain, you're not one to take naps during the day but the moment your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, and it's not common for you to have a bad stomach", he reasoned, making you blush even harder, "Why didn't you say something though?", you asked softly.

Mick shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't want to burden you, or maybe I was keeping my hopes up and I didn't want to ruin yours, or point out something about your body like that, I'd never want to do so in a way that could be harmful", he answered apologetically, making your get up and go sit on his lap, "you could've said something, I wouldn't be offended, I think anyway, apparently pregnant women get mood swings so I can't speak for sure", you shrugged your shoulders, "truth is, I got some pregnancy tests at the store today because I also thought the same thing, but I wanted to do them with you", you looked at him, "but I don't know how to deal with this hope, like, I could just have some bug, but it is also true that everything checks out...", you fiddled and played with his fingers, "we take it step by step, if you'd like", your husband began softly, "and if you're not pregnant, we can keep trying", he explained, grabbing your hand once you nodded, heading to the bathroom so you could do the tests.

The plastic sticks were on the counter, Angie lying on the bathroom floor while Mick sat on the edge of the tub wirh you on his lap, "just a little bit more, liebling", he kissed the side of your head, "I'm sorry", you whispered, gaining his questioning look, "if I'm not pregnant, I got both of our hopes up for nothing", you explained, feeling his fingers lift your chin up to look into his eyes, "no need to apoligise, liebling. We just keep trying, it's not like we mind trying", he winked, looking at his watch to see the time was up, "I'm ready when you are", he said soflty.

You got up, picking up the sticks and seeing that both of them had the same information, "it won't be trying for a baby, but I've heard that sex while you're pregnant is a whole another level of sensations", you smiled at Mick, showing him the positive results.

"We're having a baby?", Mick mumbled, still not sure if he had grasped what you said in the right way, "we are, baby Schumacher is going to be here in nine months", you cried out, smiling as Mick cuddled you, his arms circling your before spinning you, "Angie! You're going to be a big sister!", Mick said once he put you down.

"I remember reading about these old wives' that help you guess the gender of the baby, and your grandmother did some on me for both of you and they turned out pretty accurate, I think", Corinna said as she sat in the outdoor sofa in front of you.

Since Gina was visiting, you and Mick decided to invite her and Corinna to spend the day together, Angie sitting next to her auntie while you sat next to Mick, "Oh, that would be fun!", Gina said as she straightened her back, picking up her phone so she could look them up on the Internet while Corinna started with the ones she knew, "they say that if you have a pointed belly towards the front, it means you're having a boy, and if you have a rounder bump and wider hips, it means it's a baby girl", she said, seeing Mick quickly ask for you consent before he helped you stand as he lifted your t-shirt, "what do we think? Pointy or not so much?", you did a turn around yourself, "I think it's rounder", Mick said earning a nod from his mother, "me too", Gina said, "but I've always had wider and rounder hips", you tried to reason as Gina wrote girl and a stick next to it to help count.

"The next one was that sweet cravings were sign of a baby girl, and salty cravings were sign of a baby boy", and Mick wiped the smug smile off his face, "I've been eating a lot of savoury stuff", you nudged your husband while his sister wrote down the tie.

Gina opened the lunar calendar on her phone while the four of you looked at all the details they asked for, "it's a girl according to this one!", Mick yelled way too close to your ear, "another point for babygirl then", you said, cuddling back to his side and giggling at everyone's exciting.

You saw and tested a couple more and, without realising it, you tried the last one without noticing it was the last, only for it to make another tie between babyboy and babygirl, "so that's it?", Mick said, not expecting it to turn out like this, "you just have to wait and see, you know, like all the people do because you can know for sure on the ultrasound", Gina teased him.

Once you got to the OB/GYN, Mick offered to go get you checked in at the desk while you went to find a comfortable chair to sit in while you waited, "final bet: are they a baby boy or a baby girl?", Mick said once he sat down with you, his hand holding yours to calm down your nervous thoughts. The ultrasounds always made you nervous, always wondering if everything was alright and as it should be, so having Mick there to support you and distract you was appreciated, "I think they're a baby boy, and he looks like his papa", you cradled his cheek on your palm, "I think they're a baby girl, and she has your kindness and empathy. It's just my gut feeling", he smiled, kissing the top of your head while he moved your conjointed hands to rest on your bump, feeling the baby kick, "not my chubby cheeks?", you playfully gasped, "what can I say? I think the Schumacher genes are much too strong", he teased you, looking up to the door when your name was called.

Entering the room and greeting your doctor, she asked you a couple of questions before asking you to lay on the little bed, the gel cold on your bump as she moved the wand around, "okay, everything looks good, strong heartbeat for little one and mother as well", she smiled, "I can see it. Do you still want to know?", she asked one last time, earning a nod from both you and Mick, "you're going to have a baby girl, congratulations!", she announced.

Your hand squeezed Mick's, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both looked at your baby on the screen, "we're having a little girl? Liebling, it's a little girl", he said, his eyes tearing up as he kept looking at the screen. Despite having feelings and guesses about it, neither of you didn't have any preference, feeling happy just with the idea that you were carrying a combination of you and Mick, but you couldn't help but get all goddy as you imagined Mick with a little daughter, knowing she would have him wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. Even thinking now, she has him wrapped around her finger since you both found out you were pregnant.

"She looks good, there isn't anything that looks concerning. The measurements are all within the norm, everything looks good. Congratulations, mama and papa!", she smiled, "do you want copies to take home?".

While she went to get the slightly exaggerated number of copies of baby Schumacher (Mick wanted everyone that was important in his life to have one), your husband helped you clean the skin on your bump, "are you happy?", you looked at him, not seeing any signs of uneasiness but feeling his a little bit tense, "I am, liebling", he said, "but she's going to be here soon, you know? Little one is growing so fast, I can't believe we're past the half way point", he admitted, "I just don't want to disappoint any of you", he gulped, making you craddle his face with your hands, "My love, I know you and believe me, if how everything has gone until now is any indicator, we are going to have princess treatment", you smiled softly on an attempt to calm him, "thank you for sharing this with me, though. You can always share your worries with me, Mick", you finished, kissing his lips passionately, "I love you, liebling", he kissed you back, "and you little one, papa loves you so much, princess".

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