#how to draw a van in easy steps

[yovrnewromantic]

WORTH IT

ex!husband eddie munson x reader

based on the hc! by me that eddie kidnaps your kids, charging kisses for ransom wc: 1.2K

“You know you can’t keep doing this.”

Eddie can hardly hold back a pout. He knows you’ll criticize him if he lets it slip, reminding him that ‘he’s a grown man for goodness’ sake’ even though his puppy eyes never fail to succeed against you. Except once. Only once, when you filed for divorce circa 12 years ago.

Filed into the back of the van, your children are pressing their faces up against the glass windows. Their eyes are wide, noses are upturned, fogging up the glass with each breath— looking like the myth of pig-men came to life and are giddy to draw smiley faces and ‘hi mom’s into the steamed up glass. Unlike you, they enjoy when their dad kidnaps them, waving their teachers off with forged letters so they can hobble into his car and fiddle with the stereo as he stops at the florist, and biting their lips to stop their excitement when they see your old camaro pull up.

Forget-Me-Nots lay half-forgotten at Eddie’s side as he ruffles his already messy curls, mesmerized as you step out the car, mom jeans and rock shirt hanging loose. You look as beautiful as the day he met you. Some days, he feels like it is the first time he met you, his heart paralyzed by a certain type of warmth at the sight of your face. It’s like everything around you disappears and he recognizes his purpose. You. You make him feel like a teenager in love.

“Eventually I’m just gonna call the cops on your ass.”

Angry is not how you would describe yourself in the moment. The first time it happened, hell, you were pissed. Smoke practically blew out your ears when he first called, interrupting himself with giggles while he announced “The prince and princess of, phh, Munsonville have been exiled along with the King. Haha, oh um— If you wish to see them ever again, you must pay the price!” After the second, third, fourth, and tenth time, it’s only become a nuance.

“Hi, Mom!” your daughter calls out, voice muffled. Her hands are sprawled against the window, the hair that was once well-kept into two braids is now fuzzy and tangled. Her brown doe eyes peering at you, standing on her tippy toes to see. Looking like the splitting image of her father. Behind her, your son is playing with Eddie’s electric-blue guitar, strumming the string so harshly that you cringe, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s still staring at you.

Dumbly, Eddie just sticks the bouquet in your face, his fist inches from your face. “M’lady.” Through the thin stems of your favorite flower, you can see his lopsided smile.

Rather delicately, you take the flowers from his grasp, looking at them for a second too long to keep up your uneffected act. These must’ve been on sale, you assure yourself. He doesn’t remember the flowers you walked up the isle with, he couldn’t have. When you can finally drag your eyes away, your brows are furrowed. Something fluttering in your stomach as Eddie tilts his head, usual shit-eating grin strangely sweet. Small indigo petals flutter to the ground as they’re knocked off their branches from impact of hitting Eddie square in chest.

“Ow!” He lifts his arms up in defense. The purple-blue veins that flex on his bicep matching the shade of the dwindling flowers. “Y/N!”

Finally, easing your attack, your chest rises and falls as you point a finger at his chest. “Give my kids, Munson!”

“Mrs. Munson!” Again, you raise the flowers to wack him over the head, but Eddie’s hand grips your wrist, holding it in place and smiling innocently at you. “You know the drill by now.”

Groaning, you hide your face in what’s left of your flowers, a red hue rising on your cheeks. It’s embarrassing— giving in this easy to your ex husband’s demands, but there’s a special spot in your heart for Eddie that just. won’t. go. away. No matter how many dates you went on, no one could replace him.

Eddie’s hands are gentle as they pry your hands, and flowers, away from your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. Harshly sighing through your nose, and trying to convincingly eye roll, you choke out, “What do I owe this time?”

“Well, seeing as it took you ten extra minutes to get here from the estimated time…”

You shake your head. “I was busy explaining why the teachers didn’t need to issue an amber alert, dipshi—.”

“Ten kisses.” He’s too happy with himself, rocking back and forth on his heels as he watched the disbelief transform your pretty face.

“Ten?”

He raises his brows, playfully puckering. “Lay ‘em on me, honey.”

It’s never not awkward, begrudgingly (not really) approaching your ex husband with slow, torturous movements. Fingers finding his tattooed skin— which you used to color before you became adults and life went to shit, tracing up the expense of his arms until your hands connect around the back of his neck. He’s nibbling his lip as you inch forward, impatient. When your lips are close enough to touch, your breaths sync and your eyes meet. Heart racing, your eyes flutter shut. Lightly, the plush of your lips meet his— always surprising— soft lips. One.

Again. Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Eddie can’t help himself. His hands fly to your waist, squeezing the flesh he can reach and pulling your closer, shoving his tongue in your mouth when your hands tug on his hair. He tastes just as you remember, like tobacco and cheerios. As his tongue explores your mouth, you moan into his. Betrayed by your own body, dammit. His lips twitch against yours. When his teeth start to clash against yours, that’s when you pull away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. Nine.

Your eyes are hazy, a dumbstruck, lightheaded feeling coming over your body as you lean forward again. Foreheads connecting. Your noses nudging. Panting into each other’s mouth. Far too sensual for a divorced couple. Eddie finishes the last kiss for you, pecking your lips. Your breath hitches when he drags his teeth against the bottom. Ten.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he chuckles, panting. His large palm finds the bottom of your ass.

“Go to hell,” you whisper against his lips. “Kids!”

“Already in the car, Mom!” Tucked in the back of the car, seat belts buckled, your children look unimpressed. Your cheeks go bright red as you adjust yourself, trying hard not to stomp to the car as you avoid contact with Eddie, who walks slowly, cockily, behind you.

“I’ll call you later, sweetheart!”

You shove your hand out your unrolled window, middle finger up. Eddie’s laugh makes your chest tighten, but you won’t let it show, flipping on your sunglasses and pulling the fuck away from him. Eddie smiles as his kids wave through the window, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a knowing look on his face.

He’ll win you back eventually.

—

p.s. 💋

“Mommy, are you and daddy getting back together?”

With your grip tightening on the steering wheel, knuckles turning your white, you meet your five year old son’s clueless eyes in the review mirror— the product of the last time you got back together with his father. “Not a chance.”

not edited or read over 😔

[lavenderlacedquill]

Angst idea: Will and Y/N are working on an investigation together and she gets seriously hurt. Since they had a heated argument before, she tries to hide her injuries but eventually feels dizzy due to the blood loss and he gets startled and rushes to help her.

˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 ˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Trigger Warnings!: Blood, injury, guns

This request has been sitting in my drafts for WEEKS waiting until I could properly dedicate time to it. This angst piece was so fulfilling to write and I hope it was everything you hoped it would be!

My Masterlist <3

✧˖°

“No, absolutely not!” Will’s voice rang through Jack’s small office on desperate ears. His eyes meet yours, filled with a sad craze as he directs his attention back to you. “You cannot seriously be considering this!”

Your heart lurches in your chest, because you completely understand where he is coming from. What Jack is asking from you is no small ask. Your eyes fall to the floor as a whisper leaves your lips hurriedly, “What other choice is there, Will? He’s going to keep killing unless it’s me who goes in.”

The man’s eyes whip to Jack’s, his hair ruffled from his stressed hands running through it. Will’s calloused palms run stressily over his face, covering his eyes as he speaks through them to the Agent. “I’ll do it,” He begins, desperation laced in every word because how could this really be on the table right now? “Please, Jack. Just let me go in instead. Do you know how dangerous this is going to be?”

Jack gives out a hefty sigh. This wasn’t an easy decision to come to. Putting you in a direct line of danger was not his first choice, but it’s the only way that he knows will draw out the unsub. The threats the FBI has received over the last few weeks were alarming, each one bigger than the last. You’re the one he wants, and he won’t settle for anything less. The perfect crime. 

“I need both Graham’s on this. End of story. I’m not going to let anything happen.” His measly attempt at reassuring the frazzled man before him doesn’t make a dent, but the Agent walks out of the office without another word, making intense eye contact with you just before the door closes. 

Your eyes dart from Will to the ground, your arms wound tightly around your middle as you sway softly where your feet have planted themselves. “I don’t like this either, Will. But we have a job to do.”

You hear the soft padding of his footsteps for only a moment before his arms find their way around you, taking you into a soft and protective hold, almost like he’s shielding you from an invisible force. His stubbled cheek meets your temple as his rough whisper sounds, “Using you as a pawn is never going to sit right with me. Jack doesn’t understand just how dangerous this is. He could-”

You step out of his hold quickly, cutting his words short, “I’ll be okay,” you begin, your hands coming up to hold Will’s face. “You’ll get to me before anything happens. Then it will all be over.”

The wheels in Will’s brain begin to turn, you can see it as his eyes almost begin to tremble in their sockets while he looks over you. He leans in, closing the small gap between you two, a soft kiss burning into your forehead for only a few seconds before he moves towards the door. 

It’s go time. 

............

The back of the unmarked van that Jack and Will are cramped in grows mustier as they both breathe, Will continuing to get more and more anxious as he waits for Jack’s queue to burst onto the scene. 

Your voice sounds in the headset he has practically pasted to his ears, but all seems to go quiet for only mere seconds as the weight of this entire fucked situation hits Will. You’re in the hands of a killer. One that has murdered anyone that he could get his hands on that bears any resemblance to you. He’s got you. No vest. No gun. The FBI, Jack, handed you over willingly.

 Thank you for all of your notes. I looked forward to them everyday.

You did? Really? I was so scared you wouldn’t get them. 

I did. 

Your conversation with the unsub snaps Will out of his trance, Jack grabbing his arm as they both listen intensely to each word. He can hear you trying to keep your tone even as you speak to him, but he can hear its subtle tremble. You’re scared and it’s killing him. 

I’m sorry I had to kill the others. I didn’t want to, I swear. You’re just…perfect. Getting to you was impossible. 

Each word the unsub speaks grows sinister, his voice dropping to a whisper as he approaches you. The agents can’t see it, but he’s got you sat at his dinner table, your hands bound by a zip tie. Can’t let you get away from me now! 

Pictures of you litter the entire thing, moments you didn’t realize were a victim of watchful eyes. Moments of you coming and going from work, intimate moments you shared with Will in the safety of your own home, pictures of you changing in your bedroom. Pure terror has you paralyzed. Jack knew it was bad, so did Will. But no one could have prepared you for this. 

Beyond the table, the images cover the floor in a disgusting blanket, bloodied footprints gluing them to the linoleum below. The walls are covered in a layer of red haphazard writing, crucifixes hanging in any empty space. Every light socket is filled with a shattered bulb, the room dimming as the  evening sun begins to set. A stench of dead lingers in the air, thick and musty in each breath you force your body to take. 

WIll can hear your struggle from his headset, his eyes catching Jacks in a desperate attempt to get the go ahead to rush onto the scene. He just wants this to be over. 

Let’s take a field trip. I’ve got something to show you.

The agents hear your chair scrape against the floor, with only their imagination to guide them as a sliding door sounds through your mic. They hear you wince softly as you stumble and hit the ground. 

You silly girl! Always been so clumsy.

Will’s own breath begins to quicken as he grabs Jack's shoulder intensely. “We need to go in. Now.”

Crawford only sends him an intense glare before turning his attention back to the feed from your mic. He hasn’t gotten what he wants from the unsub yet, so interfering would only put you in more risk. 

You're dragged harshly by your arm as he pulls you up from the ground, a scrape on your side burning from air exposure, hot with running blood. The world seems to be closing in around you as he brings you to the edge of an empty swimming pool, the bottom completely covered in lit candles and splotched red splatters. He leans down, speaking directly into your ear. The disgusting heat of his breath spreads across the side of your face. 

You’re the last piece. My sacrifice to Him before I can finally ascend. 

You break at his words, everything feeling suddenly too real as you hear a gun cock just inches from your head soundtracked by his maniacal laughter. A quiet sob escapes you, sending a dagger through Will’s stomach as he hears you continue to break through your mic. He throws the headphones off, sending them clattering to the van floor as he straps on his vest, gun in hand. 

Jack tries to protest, but Will shrugs him off, opening the van door and jumping out. “It’s done!” He yells back at the agent, slamming the door behind him as he slowly treds across the street to the unsubs yard. A fence is all that blocks him from you as he approaches the backyard. 

Will listens carefully as the exchange continues between yourself and the man they’re trying to apprehend. 

It was always you, my dear! And now we can finally be His forever. 

The cold metal of the barrel meets a small patch of exposed skin on your stomach. You try to move away as best as you can, but the man only grips you harder, pressing the gun deeper into your belly. 

“Please! Please, you don’t have to do this!” You sob, any ounce of hope leaving you as the metal grows warm against your skin. He laughs behind you again, shaking your body as it only grows more intense. 

That’s where you’re wrong, silly thing. 

BANG….BANG

The gunshots sound through the air, leaving Will Breathless as he breaks through the fence. Only, who’s eyes he meets aren't the assailants, no, they’re Jack’s. His shock only takes over him for a moment before he hears a soft whimper emit from the ground, a pained cry he would recognise anywhere. 

Everything goes quiet at the sight before him. The unsub lays dead, facedown in the grass, his blood seeping into the dirt. The second gunshot, Will will deduce later, caused by Jack, who went around the other side of the house. But only a few feet away from him lays your trembling body, your hands desperately trying to hide your gushing wound. 

You almost look dead, your skin growing pale against the bright green grass, life slipping through your trembling fingers. 

Jack calls for medical as Will collapses onto the ground beside you, his own hands frantic as they try to remove yours from your stomach. “No no no no,” you call weakly beneath him, trying your best to conceal your wound from him, almost as if to undo it, “I’m ok-okay.” 

Tears trail down the raw skin of your cheeks as Will pries your hands away, peeling his own jacket hastily from his shoulders to press onto your wound, a pained cry escaping your throat at the pressure. 

“I know i know i know,” You feel Will’s palm wipe the tears from your eyes as he tries to comfort you amidst the pain, his head dipping down to rest his forehead on your own, “I’m sorry, baby. I know.”

“I-it hurts” your lips quivering at the admission. Your form begins to tremble in his hold, blood loss weighing heavily on you. Jack watches as his fellow Agent begins to break above you, his own shoulders beginning to shake. He hears the distant calls of an ambulance, rushing to the street to guide them back to you.

“Stay with me,” Will moves to pull you into his lap, holding you still from your shakes to prevent any jostling of your wound. Your head rests in the crook of his neck as his palms continue to press into your middle, warm blood covering his hands. “Please. Stay awake for me. You’re going to be okay.”

He pulls your head from his neck as he speaks, eyes searching yours for any sign, but he only finds you teetering between consciousness. Your head lulls back to its spot, a soft cry of Will’s name leaving you before he feels you go limp against him. 

“JACK!” The broken man cries, gripping your body to his, as if he could pass some of his life into you in this moment. His lips find your temple, kissing you softly, like you’re one crack away from breaking into millions of pieces. 

Somewhere in the mix, paramedics arrive, peeling your tattered body from Will’s hold, his begs of them to be careful and gentle with you are heard by every official on sight. 

They strap you onto the gurney, loading you up into the back of the ambulance before eagerly preparing for departure. You needed a hospital, and you need one now. 

The paramedic signals for Will to load himself into the back of the vehicle, knowing that he won’t respond well to having to travel separately, but before he can step inside, Jack’s hand grabs his shoulder. 

“Will, I’m-”

“Don’t.” The man shoots back, red eyes intentionally dodging Jacks before the door is closed between them. 

Will settles in on the small bench inside of the ambulance, his hand holding yours in his own. Your skin has begun to cool, your color drained as the paramedics begin working. His grip tightens over every bump in the road. 

5 minutes passed before he felt it, the softest grip your own hand returned to his. He is immediately on alert, leaning closer to your form as he watches your eyes open against the bright lights of the ambulance. 

You groan at their brightness, your voice hoarse as you try to call for Will, confusion laced within as you take in the unfamiliar surroundings. He hears the fear in your voice, immediately answering and bringing your hand to his lips. “I’m right here with you,” he whispers chokingly, his free hand coming up to rest on your cheek. 

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, relief dawning on your form at the sight of him. Will’s stomach pangs at the sight of tears welling up in your tired eyes, lip quivering as you look at him with intense fear. 

He feels your weight shift as you lean your head against his knee, his own adorned with a messy mop of curls coming down to rest on yours carefully. “Will,” you hushedly sob, his soft lips meeting your forehead in response. 

“I’ve got you, I promise” 

✧˖°

AAA THIS ANGST PIECE WAS SO DIFFERENT!! I hope you guys enjoyed <3

The gif I used is from a set made by the lovely @hughdancybabyface

My request box is currently open, lovelies! Feel free to drop a request in there (or just Hannibal chitter chatter) just please read my guidelines first :)

[ponpuriitx]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓.

One shot: Blitzø x hell born! Reader.

Summary: A stand up night, that was all it was meant to be. Or maybe it wasn’t..

Word count: 1,0k

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut suggestions but nothing too crazy, friends with benefits, slight angst but fluff.

Notes: This is a one shot ! ! A short story that just came into my mind out of nowhere, and because let’s be honest lil’ Blitzø needs love for fucks sake. If there’s any grammar mistake please let me know ! !

It was no secret that you wanted Blitzø. Well, at least not for Loona.

It all started when you submitted your application to work for I.M.P, you got a call back and had to meet your boss.

And oh boy, was it just you or was he really hot? Couldn’t get through the whole meeting without looking at him not giving a fuck about what he had to say. The last words that actually passed your dumb founded skull was a “You’re hired!” That snapped you out of your trance.

You nodded thanking him like one thousand times, it was easy to do that because you actually needed the fucking money. when you went out of the office you saw a hell hound that was the receptionist. Before entering the meeting you actually got a chance to talk to her, bonding a little rather quickly because of Verosika and her hot Body guard.

After you went out, she glanced at you over her phone “So? How was it?” She asked, going back to her phone but still hearing you. When you told her you would be working here she just smirked still looking at her phone.

It wasn’t a long time till you got used to the Job, I mean it was pretty much just sit there with Loona and usually anytime costumers arrived you would take them. And when Loona did take them and she loose her temper you would do it for her meanwhile she draws daggers with her eyes to the client. You thought that at this steps she would eventually get fired, it didn’t take you long enough to find out that she was your bosses daughter.

Now, with that in mind it didn’t mind you being in this position.

You were in the backseat of I.M.P’s van because Loona called Blitzø to come and pick her up. When you parked and Loona was convincing Blitz to actually hop on the party you weren’t much sure about this idea. You weren’t a party pooper really, but something was telling you inside that you shouldn’t be here. You were on the van because you just so happened to be on the road when Blitz told you to hop on, you didn’t have actual important things to do so you just went with the flow.

Just like now. Looking in between the yelling crowd how your boss was finishing the beer supply without any care and actually beating Beel, making Loona proud. You eventually lost yourself in the crowd, trying not to bump with anyone because you didn’t want to talk to nobody. This type of environment made you uncomfortable, so you stepped into the van and waited for Blitz and Loona to come.

Fuck you fell asleep..

You cleaned the drool from your mouth, looking around where Loona parked in. It was your bosses apartment, “Hey Loona, care to crash at my place for a while and bring me some of the groceries I left? I’m gonna take care of him don’t worry.” She doubted for a second, but eventually let go.

You placed Blitzø in the couch, as you went in the kitchen and grabbed some water for him. Putting the water down, you turned on the tv. After a while of changing through programs you felt a little tug on your things, your head snapping to the sheets as you saw the imp trying to get through your pants. You couldn’t deny it was so fucking hot, still, you pushed him down a little.

“Hey, HEY boss hold on are you all right?” You asked, as he gave you a smirk and relied his head slightly on your inner thigh “I am.. Fiinee” you didn’t believe that because of the tone on his voice. You were about to protest when you felt a sharp but so, so euphoric pain on your inner thigh making a laud moan like whine slip out of your lips.

You felt how the tips of his fingers played through the hem of your underwear, now this was a whole new level. Of course you weren’t a virgin but this, this was different. His fingers slipping in so secure under your underwear touching your aching core, taking high pitched whimpers out of you..

. . .

The next morning, Blitzø woke up in his bed naked. The morning light hurting his eyes as he hugged his own figure, he repositioned himself rubbing his eyes and letting a deep sigh off. He didn’t remember much of last nigh, he could’ve sworn that Loony was the one who brought him back to his place—..

Then, he saw it. Some of your clothes on the floor, he remembered. The long lasting night, the moans, the sounds, how his room was filled with filthy sounds and laughter. The way he grabbed the bare flesh of your thigh as he thrusted deep and rough inside of you. The way you scratched his back so deliciously because of his thrusts, but it was strange. Why were your clothes here if he woke up alone?

It was just a one night thing, this is how it always went for him. You guys fuck and then leave, it was a routine for more that he hated it. That was just how things go, his thoughts stopped when he heard the door opening. You with one of his shirts on and your underwear, “Already up?” You said, you could’ve sworn that he was going to sleep till more later.

Blitz then traced his eyes through your shoulders, how it was laced with Bites and hickeys. You noticed this and chuckled slightly “don’t worry, I’ll get rid of them eventually. Come on, breakfast is ready.” You said walking off to the kitchen leaving a confused Blitzø behind.

This was supposed to be a one night stand thing, but why did you stayed? Weren’t you going to leave? He wasn’t complaining, I mean free breakfast is a win. But it still made him crack a smile.

So it’s safe to say that it wasn’t weird when that “one night stand” turned into three, and three into seven and slowly they didn’t seem like just “meet up to fuck” anymore.

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Family Video

steddie, omegaverse, mdni 🔞

Eddie’s putzing around in the horror section at Family Video when the bell over the door jingles. He glances without thinking, shocked to see Robin Buckley lead Steve Harrington inside.

He’s nosy, wants to know what the hell is up with that. But he also doesn’t want to attract Keith’s attention. Eddie’s taking his time to hang in the A/C as long as possible, nearly an hour already.

Not that Buckley is capable of being quiet, so he hears plenty.

How they’re job hunting and how Robin probably knows more about film than Keith does. How Steve Fuckin’ Harrington likes Return of the Jedi! Even if he can’t remember the title and calls ewoks teddy bears. 

Color Eddie surprised.

Add in Steve’s bright, colorblocked outfit and his swoopy hair, the way he absolutely takes out the Fast Times promotional standee and hurries to fix it, resume in his mouth like an enthusiastic labrador retriever.

Embarrassingly, Eddie realizes he’s been pumping out his campfire and marshmallow scent, too charmed to lock down his sudden interest, subconsciously trying to draw in the stupidly endearing omega.

He figures he should go before he actually catches any attention, dipping around the counter and out the door, but not before he hears Buckley and Harrington get hired on the spot.

It’s easy enough for Eddie to memorize Steve’s schedule, only going to rent movies while he’s working. Sometimes he drags the guys with him, or maybe just Jeff, giving more cover to surreptitiously stare at the moles on Steve’s neck.

“You aren’t being nearly as sneaky as you think,” Jeff mutters on more than one occasion . “Just go talk to him.”

“Can’t.” Eddie keeps Jeff between himself and the counter, eyes on the slasher movies like he’s agonizing over his decision.

“Why not?”

“Cuz I’ll say something stupid like, ‘Please, sit on my face, I wanna drown in your pussy.’ That’s why,” Eddie whispers, risking a glance towards Steve.

“What? Seriously!”

“Have you seen what a mess he is now? And add in that apple pie scent—my mouth is watering and my dick is—”

“Christ! I’m sorry I asked. But I still think you should talk to him.” Jeff turns his attention to the shelf in front of them. “Nightmare on Elm Street?” he asks, reaching for the case.

“Yeah…” Then Eddie stares as Jeff brings the tape up to the counter, his best friend effortlessly making small talk and laughing as he rents the movie. Like a coward, Eddie hurries out of the video store, waiting for Jeff in his van.

When Eddie goes to return the tape the next day, he’s surprised when Steve looks at Robin and says, “I’m going on my break,” even as he accepts the tape from Eddie, their fingers brushing.

“Yeah, whatever,” Robin answers, flipping through a magazine.

Broad fingers wrap around Eddie’s wrist and drag him back to the Family Video break room past the “Employees Only” sign.

Steve smiles at him as he closes the door behind them. “Sorry. Just got tired of waiting for you to make a move.”

“What?” Eddie has never known Steve Harrington to be the kind of omega who waits for an alpha.

“You aren’t doing a very good job of controlling your scent.”

Eddie gulps, cheeks heating.

“And your friend said you were super into me, which… Yeah, definitely picked up on that.”

Nodding, Eddie waits for his tongue to untie, pretty sure he’s gonna die first when Steve steps closer, presses his hand to Eddie’s chest. “You surprised me,” he manages to say.

“Sorry about that.” Steve doesn’t look sorry at all as he leans in, sniffs at Eddie’s neck. “I’m too used to Robin, bad at personal space with pack.”

“Not what I meant—the ewoks—I mean. Shit. Wait.” Eddie closes his eyes, Steve’s scent filling his nose and making him warm. He smells safe. Familiar.

“Yes?” Steve murmurs, hand moving up to touch the skin above the collar of Eddie’s shirt.

“Not pack, what do you mean bad at personal space with pack?”

“Can tell you should be pack.” He nuzzles at Eddie’s cheek and whispers, “Want to be your pack.”

Eddie gives into his instincts then, whining and holding Steve’s face still, bringing their mouths together. He has no idea what he’s doing, but Steve clearly does as he gentles the kiss, grinning as he pulls away.

“My shift ends at seven. Meet me at my place at seven-thirty.”

Eddie nods. “Uh-huh, yep, whatever you say.”

Steve glances up at the clock. “But we’ve still got six minutes before my break ends, and you need to practice,” he teases, pulling Eddie back in for another kiss.

[misty-caligula]

We’re all sad to see Nat go, but I think it’s important to recognise, she’s gone because of decisions that she made, over and over.

S1E10 she made the choice to shoot herself. It wasn’t a GREAT choice, but it was one that she made, which Lottie negated against her will. In eerily similar fashion as Misty with the cocaine.

S2E1 Lottie talked to her about her bees, about how when a new queen was born she’d sting the others to death for the good of the hive.

For most of the rest of the season, Nat began taking the lessons of the cult to heart, despite her initial reservations. Some people wondered how sincere she was, but I genuinely think that she began to really work on herself, really believe in Lottie’s wisdom.

Then the poison came out. Immediately, Nat’s demeanour changed. I was wondering what that was about when Lott was trying to convince them in s2e8. She told Nat that she was in so much pain, and Nat didn’t even fight back at all. Just gave her this look...

I think that right here, at this moment, she recognised Lott for what she was. A danger to them all. She decided that she wasn’t capable of changing, of being helped. Just like she’d said to Misty, “We’re ALL like this, aren’t we?” I think that at this moment, Nat decided that once again, Lott wasn’t fit to be queen, that she’d have to take charge, like she did before, and that she should take the example of the bees.

I think she’s also ... angry. Angry that Lott can’t recognise the SOURCE of that pain. She recognises the reality, that it exists, but she’s blind to how responsible she is for it. Consider:

As far as Natalie knows (because of what Misty said in the cabin) Lottie told them that eating Javi was what IT wanted them to do. And then immediately made her in charge of the team, dropping that burden of responsibility and guilt directly on her shoulders. She’s smiling in the moment, when everyone’s bowing. See how much she’s smiling when the reality of that weight sets in, when the unbearable guilt of being in charge crushes down on her. When that PURPOSE is lifted from her shoulders and all she has left is the pain of what she’s done, what she’s made others do in her name. And now, Lott has the AUDACITY to point at Nat’s pain in public, without ascribing blame, as though it were simply ... a natural state of being.

In the beginning of S2E9 she says that Lott shouldn’t go back to the psych ward, but I believe that she never meant any kind of help should be offered. I believe that she had already decided to kill her. I think that she’d hoped that Lott would draw the Queen of Hearts, and it would’ve made it easy. She’d have submitted, I’m sure. Because when she drew the Ace, she looked  SO crestfallen I’d actually assumed at first she got the Queen. Lottie wanted that queen so badly, wanted so much to help her friends. And then Nat would’ve made it quick, with the secret real blade she’d brought with her.

But it wasn’t to be. So Shauna HAS to be the centre of attention, as always, and everyone’s playing along, not realising that Lott’s brought her own real knife to the party. And when they’re chasing her, if Lott catches up she’s GOING to kill her, for reals. I don’t know what kind of 4 dimensional chess they think they’re playing, but they’ve RADICALLY underestimated the danger level here, and it’s only when Callie steps in that she calms it down a little (with a bullet wound of all things).

But still, Nat goes in for the kill.

And it’s not just because she thinks she’d be a better queen, it’s not JUST that she’s afraid. She’s ANGRY. Because, despite herself, despite all of her bluster and her cynicism, her worldliness, and all of it, SHE was the one who bought in to the cult. Shauna and Tai and Van and Misty are here, they’re playing around, they’re drinking and partying and kind of just taking a vacation. They’ll do the therapy for a bit of fun, but they’re not taking it very seriously.

Nat, in a very short time, has found a BELIEF. She’s gone from 2 seconds away from a bullet to actually having a meaning, a reason to get up in the morning. Sober. And nobody except Lott is taking that seriously. Is recognising that she’s making real growth here, that she’s really trying. They’re begging her to drink with them - HER, NATALIE, THE FUCKING ALCOHOLIC, and they’re peer pressuring her to drink.... and she’s saying no.

Because when Lisa said “Do you want to die?” and she said “Not today” she pushed away her drink. Because that’s what alcohol IS to her. It’s not a fun party, it’s not a joyful thing. It’s a curse, a burden, a poison that hurts less than the one she’s trying to drown out. And now she’s found a way to live without it.

And it’s all a lie.

These two women are doing VERY different things. Shauna’s preparing for a pantomime. Nat’s preparing for a murder. Shauna’s in the light, and she’s casting shadow with her dark thoughts. Nat’s bathed in darkness and the only light is the bright fire of her rage.

So she goes to Lisa, and she BEGS her to leave. I feel like there’s a bit of a comparison here with Shauna telling Javi to run from the doomcoming, like go, you’re not safe here. She’s trying so hard to make Lisa understand that she’s the real deal, that SHE got through to Nat, that she can be better than the cult. (And there’s a layer here too, because Lisa is so much just like teen!Nat, and she’s trying so hard to save herself from the cycle). And Lisa just can’t hear it. Just like teen!Nat couldn’t in her shoes. It’s all hopeless.

It’s meant to be a pantomime, but Nat says “Something’s HAPPENING tonight, and I NEED you to leave, while you still can.” What’s happening tonight? She’s going to kill Lisa’s god, and she’s NEVER going to forgive her.

She stops before she leaves and says “Thank you for trying to teach me about forgiveness. It’s a nice idea.“

But it’s not an idea she can get behind. She’s too far gone for that. She, like Coach, can’t let it go. She’s going to burn the motherfucker down. And in the lull that Callie leaves, she does EXACTLY that, she takes the lunge, and it would’ve worked ... if only Lisa had taken her advice.

And suddenly she’s her dad. Attacking Lisa’s mother figure, without context why. For raising her wrong. And Lisa comes to her defence. And Nat can’t explain. And it’s all too fast and too much and Misty doesn’t understand, doesn’t know her well enough, doesn’t have enough faith that Nat has the situation under control. And all she has is a split second to choose, and so she does.

Because Lisa, like Javi, is just trying to help. Overwhelmed by a situation too big, too dangerous. Stepped onto what looks like solid ground, unaware of the danger til it’s too late. But this time, Nat’s not going to let Misty or anybody talk her into letting someone else take her place, not again. She closes the cycle.

I can’t stand seeing people saying she died for nothing, she died for EVERYTHING she believed in. She didn’t die just as she was working on herself, she died BECAUSE she gave up on that work, she was in that situation because she chose violence, and then she chose to give it up in the last moment. She died because she couldn’t forgive. Herself. Misty. Lottie. Any of the other ‘jackets who stood by and let her live. Let her kill. She died because she decided that Lisa was more important than her, and that maybe just maybe she could do it better than she had.

But here’s the thing. Coach says “You’re not like the rest of these girls.” And she replies...

Cycles, cycles... will Lisa be able to forgive herself for surviving Nat? Only time will tell, but we have to have faith in her, like Nat did.

Tai in the car, with Shauna says “I have Simone and Sammy, you have Jeff and Callie. Who does Natalie have?” Nat had Lisa. And now, Tai has Van. Shauna still has Jeff and Callie. Lottie’s hopefully got help. Misty has Walter (thoughts for another day). And Lisa?... Who does Lisa have?...

Watch this space.

[hopelessrromantix]

Content: religious themes, choking, degredation, f-slur, internalized homophobia

It was supposed to be a calm day. Nothing but the usual glances at the school freaks and maybe a rude comment from the basketball team.

But of course, Eddie and Jason were at each other’s throats. Again.

Jason had attempted to pick on the younger members of Hellfire, annoying both you and the group’s leader. Naturally, Eddie was furious. It resulted in a lovely marker drawing of a dick on Carver’s locker. Washable, yes, but enough to piss Jason off.

“You want somethin’ Munson?” Jason questioned, glaring at a very smug looking Eddie.

He’d managed to catch the group as they left that day’s session. He’d likely gotten out of basketball practice with the rest of his goons, most of which were trailing behind him.

“Of course not good sir!” Eddie smirked, giving the most sarcastic bow he could manage. You rolled your eyes. You’d much rather diffuse the situation, but Eddie was always one for dramatics.

“Don’t make it worse, Ed.” You crossed your arms over your chest “Just walk away, he won’t follow.”

Eddie hummed softly, as if he was considering your advice. You knew he wouldn’t take it though.

“Didn’t know you freaks had brain cells,” Carver chuckled, the comment clearly directed at you. You raised a brow. He had nerve.

“A lot more than you,” Eddie quipped. “Listen, I’d love to chat about sports or girls or whatever it is you gossip about in the locker rooms, but I actually have plans.”

Eddie Munson did not have plans.

“You aren’t leaving that easy, freaks.” Damn he was testing you today.

Eddie only laughed. “I know what you’re thinking and no, Chrissy isn’t at my place.”

The way Jason’s eyes widened was almost laughable. Fists clenched at his side, he strode forward, grabbing Eddie’s collar. You stepped behind your friend instantly, getting ready to push Jason off. The only reason you didn’t, is because Eddie gave a small wave, gesturing for you to back off.

“You stay the hell away from my girlfriend, you hear me?”

It was almost sad. How scared he was of losing Chrissy to Eddie. All the while spending most nights crying into your mattress.

“Loud and clear, big boy,” Eddie mumbled, patting the hand holding his collar.

You glared down at Jason, eyes boring into him. With one glance up, he dropped Eddie, taking several steps backward. He tried not to show his mild fear, keeping his expression cruel.

“Whatever,” He huffed. “I better not see you anywhere near her or me.” He didn’t wait for a response, instead walking past you with his group. He mumbled something to the rest of his friends before walking a different way.

“Well that was eventful,” Eddie said, sighing. “I’m probably gonna get my ass kicked, but I’m absolutely gonna find some excuse to talk to Chrissy.”

You shook your head fondly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” He gave you a half-assed wave, walking toward his van while you went toward your car.

You weren’t very surprised to see Jason sitting on the curb on the other side, out of view from Eddie or his jock friends.

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to the car and unlocking it. After making sure the parking lot was clear (save for Eddie who was blasting Metallica so loud he was sure to go deaf), he hopped in the passenger seat, sinking down.

Most of the drive was silent, your attention focused on the road ahead of you. Eventually he sat up, his knee bouncing and fingers tapping nervously against the car door.

“You know I--”

“If you’re smart, you’ll shut your mouth.” You said, cutting him off. His mouth opened again, but he quickly thought better of it, going back to looking out the window.

You pulled in your driveway and got out of the car just as silently, whipping open the door to your house and leaving it open for Jason to follow. He did a second later, following you to your room.

No one but you was home, your parents on a week long vacation. Originally you were going to surprise him, let him know he didn’t have to sneak around this week. But now, you were just happy you wouldn’t have to gag him.

“You’ve got some nerve, Carver,” You said, smirking. He looked nervous, dropping his book bag by the door. “Comin’ after Eddie and me like that.”

“Just wanted him to stop messing with Chrissy,” He explained quietly, trying not to make things worse for himself.

“Want him to leave her alone, huh?” You asked, sympathetically. He nodded slowly, not sure where the kind tone came from. “Y’know, I think she’d hate it a lot more if she found out you were getting fucked stupid by those ‘freaks’ you hate so much.”

You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was unable to meet your eye, looking from the walls to the floor.

“I just don’t want--”

“I don’t give a fuck what you want, Jason.” Your hand moved quickly, gripping his jaw.

It was tight enough to leave red marks, though you knew he wouldn’t complain. “If you think you can talk however you want to me and get away with it, you’re dead wrong.”

He tried to open his mouth to speak, but couldn’t move with your hand in the way.

He was a sinner, that much he knew. God was surely frowning on his actions, on the way he shivered when you glared at him. But he couldn’t imagine himself stopping.

No matter how loud the voice in the back of his head was, all he wanted was to be good for you.

“Clothes off, on the bed.” You order, finally letting his jaw go. The reddened prints of your fingers stuck around.

“Bu-”

“Did I ask your opinion, bitch?” You watched as Jason shook his head, shedding his letterman jacket and shirt. He took off his jeans soon after, nearly tripping over them with how eager he was to sit on your bed. He was slightly slower taking off his boxers, eyes flicking to watch your expression.

Already twitching and all you did was call him a bitch.

It was always like this. He’d mock your friends then come home with you and get fucking railed. It was some sick fetish for him, not that you were mad about getting to make a pretty boy cry.

He felt sick at how eager he was. His eyes traced your every move, anxiously watching as you stepped closer to the bed. Your hand gripped his chin, much gentler this time. He refrained from leaning into your touch.

Fucking you was one thing. Showing up at your house or begging you to come over to his when his parents were out. Pleading until he got one of Hawkin’s resident freak to fuck him so hard he had to fake an injury in gym the next day.

But loving you? Loving you was something else. Something he couldn’t even consider, not when he was abandoning so many of his morals.

“So pretty like this,” You mumbled, just loud enough for him to hear. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty boy?”

He nodded fervently. He could feel himself twitch, a bead of precum trailing down his dick. He knew you noticed, you always did. Eyes gleaming as you held back a laugh, knowing you could torture him like this.

He slid off the bed, undoing your belt and pulling your boxers down just enough to free your half-hard length.

He didn’t wait for you to say anything, instead completely throating your cock, shoving it as far back as he could. He could feel you getting harder in his throat, forcing him to gag the longer he went.

“Aw, so eager to get a dick down your throat that you choke yourself, huh?” You smirked, voice dripping with false sympathy. He tried his best to nod, tears gathering in his eyes. “Slut like you probably likes it, though.” He tried and failed to nod again, giving a low moan of agreement.

The vibration made you sigh, placing both hands on either side of his face. “I think I like you better when you’re quiet.”

He didn’t want to admit that he twitched at that, thrusting his hips up into empty air. You took hold of his hair, dragging him up and down your cock. He let out a mix of gags and moans, his face tinted red as he struggled to breath.

A few thrusts later you dragged his head fully down, burying his nose against your pelvis. You let out a sigh, relishing in the feeling of his throat contracting around you.

He looked so pretty like this, tears streamed down his face, gagging around your cock as he pushed against you. Of course, if he wanted to stop he only needed to tap you a few times. But he never did, no matter how long you choked him on your dick. You were almost certain he’d enjoy passing out, as long as you fucked him afterward.

His eyes rolled back, stuck swallowing helplessly as he ran out of air. Eventually you pulled him off, smiling as he coughed, inhaling as fast as he could.

“On the bed,” You ordered, gesturing your head toward the bed. It took him a second to react, eyes too glazed to process your statement. “Now.”

That got his attention. He moved slowly, sitting himself on the sheets anxiously. He was hoping you didn’t notice the cum dripping from his stomach. He knew you would, though. You always did.

The second you took in his full appearance you outright laughed. “Don’t tell me you came just from that?” He looked away from you, shifting slowly on the bed. “You really are a whore, huh?” He barely processed the insult, nodding along in agreement.

You scoffed at the action, putting one hand against his side. You flipped him over, making him gasp at the sudden manhandling. None of the girls he could date would treat him like that. None would want to rail big strong Jason Carver until he cried. But you would. You always did.

And everytime, he felt worse about himself. He knew the town would turn on him the second they knew he was a faggot, much less the one getting fucked. It was odd that way. As if him topping would make it all better. But he didn’t want to top, he’d never even asked to. He enjoyed the way you treated him too much. Like he was nothing more than dirt beneath your feet.

You gripped his neck, leaning down to meet level with his ear. “I’d go nice and slow to prep you, but I know you want it rough.”

And he did. He always did.

You spit roughly on his hole, chuckling at the soft moan he let out. You held your hand in front of his face, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, listening as you used it to cover your dick.

“Imagine if your little team could see you now,” You laughed, pushing passed the tight ring.

His mouth fell open, head collapsing against the mattress. It probably would’ve hurt more if he hadn’t fingered himself to this exact scenario in the showers after everyone had left.

But he loved the pain, he loved how you laughed behind him, mocking his constant moans and mumbling. He could barely get a word out, the noises a jumbled mess of “please”, “sir”, “stop”, and “more”.

Naturally, if he really wanted to stop, he could. Just one word was all it would take. But no matter how far you went, he never used it. Not once. Not even when you left him tied up in your closest, vibrator shoved half way up his ass while you went to dinner. He probably could’ve gotten out of it if he really tried. But he hadn’t even thought of that.

His head was clouded, barely registering his second orgasm for the night. The only thing that brought him back was the sound of your mocking coo.

“Fucking whore came again so fast?” You didn’t slow your thrusts, speeding up slightly as he attempted to answer you. All that came out was an extended whine, voice breaking with each harsh thrust into him.

“Think I should call your little friends? Party at L/n’s, right? Let them fuck their ring leader ‘til he passes out?”

He shook his head rapidly, barely realizing he was chanting “nonono” on repeat.

“No? Don’t want your friends knowing you get fucked by a freak?” You questioned, giving a harsh slap against his ass, reveling in the whimper he let out.

“Just want you,” He managed to say, the words slurred. “Just want you using me like this.”

You froze for a second, nearly cumming right there. He whined at your lack of movement, thrusting himself backward.

“You reall are a fucking slut,” You punctuated the sentence with a thrust, earning a loud moan. “My slut.”

And that alone was enough to make him cum again.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 22 - Rule

@rosekillermicrofic September 22, word count 739

Previous part First Jegulus part

The day came for their little heist. Barty fired up his crumbling van and collected Sirius from his flat before making the short journey to Grimmauld Place. The dark house loomed above them. Barty had no idea how it looked so much less inviting than the identical houses beside it, but it did, and it sent a shiver down his spine. 

He looked over at Sirius, who was frozen in his seat, staring at the building. Barty put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ve got your back, mate. Burger Face and Lord Twat are on their way to Wiltshire for the Malfoy ball, which, as we both know, is a total fabrication and will give us the time we need to steal all those damn books Regulus is so fond of. Now, come on, I refuse to carry them all out while you have whatever crisis this is,” Barty huffed at him, but it had the effect he wanted, and Sirius got out of the van.

Together they walked up the narrow steps to the front door, and with a bit of jiggery and the right tool, they were in. As a rule, Barty didn’t usually use his skills for actually breaking and entering, but this was a special case, and Regulus had left his keys behind when he’d fled, the ones with his and Evans's flat keys on them. This was something he needed to rectify. He spotted them on the hook just inside the door and deftly pocketed them on his way past.   

Regulus had slept in the same room since birth and they both knew where it was. Sirius opened the door and whistled. 

“There are a few more books than the last time I saw his collection,” He said, his mouth gaping. Barty snorted. Regulus’s collection had been steadily growing over the years. He had nothing else to spend his money on or any other joys in his life. 

“Well, let's get stuck in,” Barty grinned, pulling the first lot of books off the shelf and stacking them on the moving trolly they’d brought with him. It took hours to move all the books. But finally, the job was done. They brought in empty cardboard boxes and emptied Regulus’s drawers into them. Soon, the room was completely cleared. They did a final scan before Sirius checked his watch. 

“We’ve still got a bit of time, do you fancy a bit of mischief?” His grin split his face in a way that reminded him of Regulus when he had a dastardly plan.

“Always,” He answered, intrigued. Sirius and his friends had been known as the school tricksters, and he wondered what the elder Black Brother had come up with. Sirius’s hands suddenly held two glass jars of sliced pickle pieces and Barty’s face lit up. “Oh you beautiful bastard,” He cackled as he took a jar. 

“I’ll take the top floor, you take the bottom, and we’ll meet in the middle. Okay, ready set go!” And Sirius was racing off to the level above. Barty, fully onboard, ran down the stairs and straight into Walburga’s sitting room. 

He hid pickle slices everywhere. In drawers, under cushions. He even put a few inside the sofa cushions. The kitchen was fun. One went into the sugar bowl, another in the odds 'n' ends draw. He stuck one to the fridge like a magnet. By the time he got up to the middle floor, he was running low.

“Here,” Sirius said when he spotted the near-empty jar. Barty held it up and Sirius poured more of the slices into it. “I had a second jar,” He explained when Barty gave him a look. He didn’t really think that the man had gone easy on his mother's bedroom, but you never knew.

They planted the last few pickles and then made their retreat. Barty carefully re-locked the door with his pilfered keys, and then the van was rumbling down the road and on its way to the café. Sirius let out a laugh, and Barty followed. Soon the van was full of gasping laughter. 

He pulled the van up beside the side door of the café where Evan and Remus were waiting for them. James had very kindly got Regulus out of the way for the day so they could surprise him.

Now the real work began, trying to find space in that poky flat for all Regulus’s books. 

Next part

[fandomfluffandfuck]

TELL ME ABOUT THE SHOES!!!

related to this

Okay, okay, okay, first, I have to mention that every day I drive home from college, I drive past two different sex shops and one strip club and one of these sex shops has an LED sign that advertises a bunch of different spicy stuff, and the other day they had one word up--

Shoes

And upon reading that, I was hit over the back of the head with the first shoe-related thought I have that relates to fandom:

You always want what you can't have

Bucky mentioning in Captain America: Civil War how Steve used to wear newspapers in his shoes speaks to me about the depression, how he must've had beat up, worn out, hand-me-down shoes with newspapers stuffed in them to make them fit better, to make them warmer in the winter, to try and at least make them feel like there weren't holes in the bottoms of them. Steve drawing here and there throughout the Captain America movies--drawing himself as a dancing monkey, sketching buildings--makes me think of his artistic eye. An artistic eye that we see beyond drawing, with his comments about Stark Tower being big and ugly, plus, similarly with, according to Steve, the ugly brown van they use to save the world. Both Bucky's comment of the way things used to be and Steve's appreciation for aesthetic makes me imagine that Steve could gravitate toward shoes. Pretty, slim "women's shoes," as well as generally shiny, bulky "men's shoes."

The first time he notices shoes is early, when he watches his Ma slip into her Sunday best heels. Her stockings might be laddered and torn because she doesn't have enough pairs to have a special Sunday pair--she needs to use all the ones she has when she's nursing, dealing with all sorts of untold grossities at work, often throwing them out--but this pair of shoes look brand new. She takes good care of them, so much so that Steve's not allowed to touch them. Her Sunday best heels are hardly scuffed or creased because she never wears them to work or anything, just to church. They're pretty and special, and on the way, she's always careful, not stepping in puddles, on cracks, or anything.

The way his Ma treats her Sunday best shoes makes Steve investigate during church, more interested in eyeing all the other special shoes than listening to the preaching that Sunday, peering over the open Bible his Ma holds out in front of him. He's cataloging all the differences between the men's and women's shoes. Both kinds are shiny, but women's shoes are especially so. Angular and polished and bright, often with tiny details that men's shoes don't get the luxury of having--tiny buckles, little bows, patterns pressed into or cut out of the leather, etc. Women's shoes are so delicate, clicking across the floor while men's land much heavier, more of a clunk. A thunk even.

As soon as he's drawing, his interest translates there, too. It's the shine, reflective and glinting, every crease exemplified; the angles, shapely and precise; the colors, usually more muted but occasionally very bright and attention grabbing, either way, they're always saturated. It's fascinating to draw shoes. The lines are so clean that it's easy to make a mistake. And it's so challenging to capture the way the positioning of the shoes changes the shape of the whole thing! But that's what makes it interesting. Every angle holds new details. Steve discovers quickly that he can tell stories through shoes, too... where the creases are and how many there are, scuffs, rough leather, loose threads, color bright and bold or not, the angle he draws the shoes from, too--looking down at them from where he stands, lying on his belly and sketching straight on, detailing the bottoms--there are endless possibilities.

But, as Steve gets older and the more it sits in his head, the more it becomes something deeper until it's something beyond a passive, special interest. Beyond somewhere where his eyes always go when he meets someone new--glancing at their footwear just to see. It becomes something of desire.

Desired because of how forbidden it is. Women's shoes are for girls. Steve isn't a girl. He can't have them. He wasn't allowed to touch them. He's still not allowed to touch them.

There is a desire for men's shoes, too, but he knows men's shoes. He appreciates the sound of a big, tall man walking down an alleyway by the hidden bars around their run-down cold water walk-up with the swaggering thunk thunk thunk of their boots on the street. He does like that. Something about it makes shivers crawl up his crooked spine. But, he knows them. Bucky wears work boots. They live in a heap next to their front door. Plus, Steve has his own shoes. Men's shoes are familiar.

Steve buries his desire for men's shoes deeper, for whatever reason. It has nothing to do with internalized homophobia, no, why do you ask?

Women's shoes, though...

They're forbidden and unknown. The closest Steve's gotten to fancy, truly bright, and angular ladies' shoes (outside of staring at them through shop windows) was when Bucky brought home a blonde dame--Steve never got her name, she just came and left once--with a rich Daddy. Her shoes were kicked off by the door when Steve got home, sitting fallen over next to Bucky's heavy boots. Steve's heart pounded unevenly in his thin chest, just seeing them together. Darting between the shoes. The contrast.

(That dame must've been short, too, like Steve. Her shoes were so little, especially next to Bucky's. By the looks of it, they might even fit Steve. Maybe. He wouldn't dare touch them, though, not even to straight them in the way he grumbles but organizes Bucky's footwear.)

The second time Steve really comes close to the off-limit territory of women's shoes is after the serum, dragging through the USO Tour with all the chorus girls. Their glittery, flashy, short, and bright uniforms. Meant to attract, so can Steve be blamed? Because suddenly, it seems like Steve can't go ten feet without tripping over one of the girls' pairs of shiny, bright, tall heels.

Once, just once, one of the gals leaves her heels behind. She's going back home, her service done with, so...

With his heart pounding strongly in his broad chest, practically echoing through it, he swears, Steve grabs them. Hastily stuffing them under his trench coat and wisking them back to his private tent--the luxury of being a technical captain.

Alone and in private, Steve knows just looking at them, understanding space strangely well these days, that they're too small for his feet. Even if they weren't too small, Steve is sure he couldn't bear to try them on. Not here. What would he do anyway? He's never thought past getting his hands on ladies' shoes. He couldn't walk with them on. Could he? No. He would be scared of someone hearing the click click click. And he couldn't... he doesn't have anyone to... show?

So, what would be the point?

There isn't one. And Steve doesn't even try to put them on. Instead, he sets one of the pair of the heels in his lap. Cradling it, the shoe is a lot lighter than he expected it to be. The material is much thinner than he thought even though he's drawn shoes a ton. He's studied them. And he studies them again now, up-close and personal, just... looking.

He just holds it.

Without realizing it, he starts to subconsciously stroke the shiny, patriotic-colored leather. It's so smooth. It's cold to start, but quickly, it isn't anymore, warming up to him. The heel isn't as sharp on the edges as he would've thought, but it's not too soft, either.

He's more familiar, having it in his hold, but they're still exciting. Fascinating. Interesting. No matter how often he sneaks away to hold one or both of the stolen shoes in his hands, they're still so different.

They're special.

Steve loses the pair when he walks to Austria. He's not sure what happened to them, and he's afraid to ask. Did someone find them? If they did, what did they think? At worst, they probably just thought Steve spent the night with one of the chorus gals, right? They wouldn't know about... about what Steve did? (And what did he do? He just held them!?) He can't stop thinking about them, though. His hands are so calloused these days, and all his shirts are grimy and coming apart at the seams, holes everywhere, and wouldn't it just be nice to touch something smooth?

Bucky sees through him and asks him what he's missing, but he falls before Steve can say it out loud. So, the secret dies with him.

Steve doesn't let himself think about something so soft and delicate when he wakes up. He can't stomach it.

Eventually

Bucky is back.

Steve has Bucky back.

And they're both trying to heal.

Healing takes many shapes... including, apparently, the shape of a sleek, biege box with a looping, white font delivered to their front door, which contains rich, red, and shimmering tissue paper, fragile and weightless, and a pair of matching, shiny black heels with blood red bottoms.

Steve doesn't even want to know what they cost Bucky. He vaguely grasps the pop culture knowledge to understand how infamous heels like these are, how expensive they are, and he's not dumb enough to miss all the details, thoughtfulness, and exorbitant materials. Shockingly, they have money now, existing somewhere, acrewing in a bank account that feels like it belongs to someone else entirely, and between the two of them, Steve is the one who doesn't know what to do with it. Bucky knows.

Bucky knows.

Bucky bought him a pair of heels, not so bright, save for the bottoms, but still delicate and shiny and alluring. The shoes feel more like Bucky's style than Steve's and... Steve likes that. He likes that Bucky chose them, he likes that he wants to see him in them, and he likes that they're here.

Steve's almost afraid to put the shoes on, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across the smooth, perfect surface. He's not even sure if he wants to put them on or not. He's only ever drawn or held shoes like these. He's not put them on. Does he want to cross that line? Is that even a line? After all the things he's done, is this even daring?

What if it's not special? What if it's not as good as he wants it to be? Does he want it to be good? What's good?

Should he put them on?

Steve's head is so full of questions that he can't do anything but stand there, a contemplative statue; Steve's supposed to be brave and daring, but there are moments where even he's allowed to hesitate.

Right?

Bucky isn't so hesitant. He knows his best guy is going to look killer in those heels, and he knows whatever Steve has built this up to be in his head... it'll be fine. He just has to let go and do it.

With some convincing and a few charming grins, Steve puts the red bottomed heels on and...

It's good.

It's better than he imagined.

While he's wearing them--falling apart at the seams and succumbing weakly to the fever raging through him--Bucky fucks him hard. Deep and good. Leaving Steve unable to hold back the ah, ah, ahs that pour out from inside him and causing him to put bruises, dents really, in Bucky's back with how tight his legs are wrapped around his stocky waist. He can't. Bucky's dick hits his prostate again and again. Oh, god. It's making him so weak--his dick always does. It forces Steve's brains to melt out of his ears, struck stupid with his lips falling open, bright red and wet.

With another hammering, ah, ah, ah, dick carving so deep in him, sparking and hot, desire courses through Steve so strongly that his toes curl until the soles of his feet cramp. As his toes curl, it forces the shiny heels to slip off of his feet just as he crashes through his orgasm. His moans pitching higher--shattering suddenly, shaking apart with the pleasure coursing through him.

Bucky is merciful enough to fuck him through his orgasm, leaving him a whimpering, shaking mess, all too docile and sweet, but he doesn't say merciful. He's awful. Terrible. Evil because he's slowing his hips to a filthy, deep grind. It's slow enough to have Steve's gasping, his body electric and white-hot, making him go haywire and stay achingly hard. He doesn't do anything about it, though. He doesn't reach to jack him off or touch him or do anything but--

Bucky spares one hand to grab the shoe from where it landed haphazardly on their ruffled bed before sliding it back onto Steve's foot after using his strength to uncurl his leg from around his waist, straightening his leg so the back of his knee is at Bucky's shoulder, all so he can put the stray heel back onto him.

He's so flexible.

The position makes Bucky's cock get in deeper.

AH!

Fuck, Bucky is treating him like he's delicate and cute, kissing the thick curves of his muscles and making sure nothing is out of place as he worships him, fucking him like he isn't soft or delicate or nothing. It's like he's being fucking out to make sure Steve's heated draw to heels is even worse after this!

Also, secondly, I keep thinking about:

You wear your devotion on your sleeve

By the time Steve gets to the front and gets to Bucky, pulling him from the jaws of Hell, dangling above its throat, on the cusp of being swallowed, Steve is fucking sick of...

Everything?

He's sick of being in a body that doesn't fit. Chronic illnesses first. A lifetime of rasping lungs and fatigue that follows him like a shadow, always growing taller and longer with the ever slowing dip of the sun in the sky. Then. This. Whatever this is. A body that attracts attention, eyes always dragging over his form, never leaving him alone when before no one would ever even glance his way. He was invisible and agonized; now, he's in the spotlight and burning up.

Something in him yearns to be small again.

The only refuge he finds for that is at Bucky's feet.

He finds the feeling of being small yet respected, taking up no space at all but still being seen and heard, at Bucky's feet while he's shining his boots. He knows how much appearance matters to Bucky. His hair is always done just so, even in the middle of the rain and wind and wilderness. He's always freshly shaven, no matter if there's running water nearby or not. And his boots are always shining, never mud caked like all the others.

So, when Bucky ended up with bruises shading his ribs, barely able to sit up, let alone bend over or breathe as good as he should be able to...

It's only natural that Steve offers to shine his boots for inspection for him.

At first, honestly, it's terrible. He's holding Bucky's leg as delicately as he possibly can, scared to even slightly squeeze him too hard and leave more bruises or, god forbid, break his bones, but Bucky won't have it. Bucky tugs on his hair, shaking his head to get the point across, making sure he's looking up at him before he assures him he won't hurt him. He can't. He needn't hold him so delicately, and, c'mon, if his boots are gonna be clean, he needs to put some more muscle behind it. A smile cracks across his face, and, suddenly, it's all good.

It's great.

It's so fucking nice to be staring up at his familiar face and be small and--

How does Bucky convince him to wrap himself around his leg and grind against his newly polished boots until he's messing them up, so he has to lick them clean again? 😮‍💨😮‍💨

(I wanted this to be longer, but I don't have the time right now, ughh)

[jakesguitarsolo]

last minute sexy sunday submission!!

just thinking about Jake pulling you aside mid-conversation at some event, taking you out into an empty room or hallway and pressing you to the nearest wall, whispering in your ear, “I need you so bad, darling. I couldn’t stand another minute in there.”

HAPPY SEXY SUNDAY!

This one is from last week and let me just tell you… I have been day dreaming about this idea since I first saw it.

Warnings: 18+ only! MINORS DNI!! Smut! Alcohol consumption, pet names, kissing, fluff, slight exhibitionism, slight mocking, digital penetration, unprotected sex. Please let me know if I missed anything! I’m still very new to this.

Jake was on a high from tonight. You couldn’t stop smiling because he couldn’t stop smiling. Your boyfriend had just won another Grammy with his band, Greta Van Fleet, and you couldn’t be more thrilled for them. They deserved this. Starcatcher deserved this. You, of course, had come as Jake’s plus one to the Grammys after party, and he wouldn’t let you leave his side. He either had his fingers interlaced with yours or held you close by the waist as he led you around the room introducing you to other people in the music industry. You each had 2 glasses of wine to drink at the event and had started to give each other subtle glances back and forth. The way he looked at you was enough to send waves of electricity throughout your body. Jake looked at you with so much love, so much lust, so much passion. It didn’t matter how long you had been together. Time only made you crave each other more.

Jake was lost in conversation with a fellow artist when you noticed that your glass had run dry. You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek, released his hand, and had started to turn away not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that you were going to step away to get a refill at the bar. He grasped you by the upper arm before pulling you into an embrace and pressed his soft, plump lips against yours in a quick but deep kiss. You had opened your eyes to find his beautiful caramel ones staring into yours. He smirked at how caught off guard you were and let you stagger towards the bar, fully aware of how stunned that kiss had made you.

When you finally made it to the bar, you kindly ordered 2 fresh glasses of wine. The bartender set them down for you while you dropped a tip into the tip jar. You then picked them both up and almost ran directly into Jake when you immediately turned around. “Jake, oh my god. You scared me!” You laughed. Jake responded with a toothy grin, “Sorry, my love. Just didn’t want to stay away from my girl for too long.” You could feel the redness start to bloom on your face under your makeup. “I was only gone for 5 minutes max, baby.” Jake took a sip from the glass you handed him and said, “and even that is far too long. Come with me, I want to show you something.”

Jake grabbed you by the hand and led you out of the main ballroom doors and down the hall towards what looked like some dark, unlit abandoned rooms. Before making it all the way there, Jake pinned you against the wall in the hallway, his warm body up completely up against yours. His teeth grazed over your neck before moving up and catching your ear in his teeth, biting down softly at first and then harder before sucking your earlobe between his lips. Your arms twisted around his neck and tangled into his hair, lightly pulling it at the root. “I need you so bad, darling. I couldn’t stand another minute in there,” he panted between the opened mouthed kisses he was placing on your neck and chest. “But Jake, there are people in the room 20 feet away. What if someone hears us? What if someone comes out and sees us?” Despite the hesitant words leaving your mouth, you were grabbing his tie, hiking your leg around his hip pulling him closer. Thank god you had decided to wear a full length gown with a high leg slit. Easy access.

Jake rested his forehead against yours, gazing down at you, and reached his hand down between your two bodies, opening the slit of your dress up wider before cupping your clothed and now drenched pussy. “My pretty girl doesn’t want someone to come out here and see how well I take care of her, huh? You sure about that, my love? You sure you don’t like the idea of someone watching the way you melt under my touch?” With that, Jake pushed your tiny lacy thong to the side exposing your pussy to him. You whimpered when he dragged his middle finger now wet from your arousal from your entrance up to your clit and started rubbing feather light circles on you inadvertently causing you to buck your hips from the wall and into his hand. “Oh so my needy girl wants to ride my fingers now, huh?” He teased. “Do you, darling? Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you with my hand.” You moaned, “Please, Jake. Please. Give me more. I want you, I need you.” You were practically begging him.

Jake crashed his lips hard into yours opening his mouth in a passionate and steamy kiss, welcoming your tongue into his mouth. While your tongues wrestled back and forth, he pushed both his middle and ring fingers slowly into your pussy eliciting a moan from you that he simply and eagerly swallowed down. Jake felt you squeezing around his fingers while he picked up his pace and pumped them in and out of you quicker, simultaneously using his thumb to rub your clit bringing you closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. You could feel his hard erection straining against his dress pants pressing against your thigh as you reached down and palmed his thick cock. Right as you did that, Jake quickly pulled his fingers out of you and moved your dress back into place when he heard the sound of the ballroom door open. He grabbed your hand and you started giggling as you both ran further down the hall to find a secluded, empty room to continue in. You entered a small and very dark coat closet. The sound of Jake clicking the lock into place made you jump. Wow, it was really dark in here. Your eyes took a minute to adjust to it. However, you could already tell what Jake was doing when you heard him fumbling with the buckle of his belt. You reached out for him and found his waist. He shuffled closer towards you and pressed his body against yours again. “That was close,” he sighed. “Where were we?” “Hmm, well… I actually was close before we were so rudely interrupted,” you whined. Jake laughed at your cute play on words. “I’m sorry, darling. As much as I love hearing you moan my name in a public place, I selfishly want to keep your pretty sounds all to myself.”

Jake grabbed you by your ass, picking you up as you straddled him and wrapped your legs around his hips once again. You could feel the shaft of his now freed cock against your pussy. You couldn’t help yourself as you moved your hips up and down. The slick wetness of your pussy easily allowing you to grind up and down against him. He moaned and brought his mouth back to yours as he unexpectedly placed you down on a cold, hard surface. It was dark in there but you could make out that it was a table. Jake pushed you to lay down flat on the table and took hold of his cock before stroking himself with the combination of the precum leaking from his tip and your juices coating him perfectly. He teased your entrance with his head, lightly pushing in and withdrawing repeatedly. You couldn’t wait any longer and tried bucking your hips and scooting further down the table to give yourself some more friction, just a few more inches of him. “Aw you’re so cute when you’re eager for me, my love. You want my cock deep in your pussy? I can tell. It’s all yours. You want me to give it to you right now?” Jake mocked you. Before you could respond, Jake thrusted into you hard. He entered you fully, deep and hard, stretching you so tightly as you tried out. He paused and groaned when he was all the way in. Just wanting to feel how warm and wet you are for him and only him.

You moaned when Jake pulled a few inches out and thrusted back in, changing his pace in time with your sounds. He reached down between your legs once again and began to rub your clit. The stimulation nearly made you lose your vision as he brought you right back to the edge of that cliff. You grabbed his suit jacket and buried your face in it, muffling your noise as you throbbed around his cock. “Look at me, darling. Right now. Don’t you dare try to hide from you. I want to see all your pretty tears as you come all over my cock for me, understand?” You pried yourself away from his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck, opening your eyes and staring at the beautiful man above you. His face was dripping in sweat, his hair wild around his face as he moaned from the pleasure of being buried deep in you. Jake pressed his face to your neck. Kissing you. His sweat on your skin as he rocked against you. Faster and faster. “Fuck, Jake… I’m gonna…” Your muscles clenched, gripping him tightly, as your vision blurred and eyes rolled back into your head. You were hovering right at the edge of the orgasm that had been taunting you for far too long tonight. He didn’t just push you over the edge… No, he sent you screaming into orgasm as your whole body shook against the table. Every trust of his cock drew your orgasm out until you could hardly breathe. You felt him kiss away a tear that had escaped your eye. His hands tangled in your hair, gripping you possessively, grinding out the words, “Fuck, darling…” Jake’s cock swelled as he finally spilled inside you. He was panting, trembling against you as he laid his head down on your chest, still inside you. You could feel Jake smirk against you when he whispered, “What do you say we ditch this party, get home and go for round two?”

[steddiebang]

The Rainbow Connection

Author: @hellfireloserclub l Artist: @_sweatypeaches l Artist: @hellfireloserclub Posting on Thursday, November 16

When Rainbow Graveyard made it big, performing as their alter egos Knocks and Munster, it should have been everything Eddie had ever wanted - sold out gigs, number one platinum selling albums, and a band made up of people he had fought through hell with at his side. The upside down might not have killed him, but Eddie never imagined that being on stage with Steve every night would be the thing that finally finished him. Eddie is not a person that was built to be loved, he has no idea what to do with the feelings that threaten to tear him apart. Since they dragged each other from the brink of death, he and Steve have been doing a dance to which neither knows the steps, building a life out of the trauma that follows them like a shadow, seeping into each and every crack it can find. Being a rockstar hadn't been in Steve's future plans, but it was impossible for him to deny Eddie anything, full stop. He’d helped Steve put himself back together when the upside down literally pulled him apart, and now he was pretty sure that Eddie had kept a piece of his heart and held it hostage. Steve was too much, loved too fast and too hard and destroyed everyone and everything he touched. But when he got on stage, Knocks took the wheel, and what Knocks wanted was Munster. They say that sometimes you can have too much of a good thing, and sometimes you don't know what you've got till it's gone. But how much of you is left when you're living as the personified version of your worst self?

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Eddie looked good, and he knew he wasn’t the only one that thought so. Wherever they went these days Eddie turned heads, it was hard not to notice when it was happening right in front of you. 

Charm and charisma were always going to draw people into him, and now without the stigma he had back in Hawkins Eddie was thriving. 

Steve tried not to think about The Thing. The Thing with a capital T, that grabbed his heart and squeezed whenever Eddie was approached by someone in a bar or the service staff smiled a little too enthusiastically in Eddie's direction. 

Steve was just a good friend who ensured his people were safe. He had always been protective, forever the babysitter. Yet he didn’t feel the need to storm out of the bar and throw up when he caught Robin kissing the bartender. But when he caught Eddie a week later doing the same? It hurt, and it hurt in a way that hadn’t happened since Nancy had ripped his heart out and stomped on it. 

“Is Ed picking you up?” Wayne asked as they loaded the last of the tools onto the flatbed, having finally escaped Mrs Fitzgerald. 

Steve was about to say he wasn’t when Eddie’s van came around the corner, music blaring and windows rolled down. It came to a skidding halt not far behind Wayne's work truck, and Eddie was soon leaning out the window. Wayfarer's almost falling off his nose in his enthusiasm. 

“Get in Stevie, we’re going shopping.”  

“Who are you, Regina George?” 

Steve waved to Wayne as he climbed into the passenger seat, trying his hardest to not let his eyes rake over Eddies exposed arms, or the way the black tank top he wore stretched across his chest as he reached out to grab his lighter and ignite the end of the two cigarettes hanging from his lip, passing one over to Steve. 

It was becoming too easy to be around Eddie, he had slid into Steve’s life and now he was lighting his cigarette and walking around his apartment in the nude like he had been sent by a higher power to push all of Steve’s buttons. 

“Do I look like I would look good in pink?” 

Eddie waved to his uncle as he backed the van out of the street, ignoring the amused knowing look on Wayne’s face as they rounded the corner. Steve ignored the question, turning the station to something they could both agree on. Eddie nervously tapped his fingers against the beat during their favorite song.

Something was bothering the other man and Steve knew it was only going to be moments before he found out if it was going to be good or bad, Eddie only got this fidgety when something was playing on his mind. 

They  drove to the coast, the others would probably join them later, gather on the cliffs and talk till the sun dipped below the horizon. There would be no bars and no bartenders tonight, no need for the thing in his chest to show its ugly head, it could stay safe in the Eddie shaped hole. 

Parking up they clambered onto the roof of the van, both with overalls tied around their waists and their arms out catching the last of the sun. 

In this light, it was easy to make out Eddie’s freckles where they had started to form in clusters.

Steve was grateful for his sunglasses, they hid the way his eyes trailed the scars on Eddie's arms. His tattoos were multiplying at an alarming rate now Eddie had a stable income and hush money to fall back on. 

They were sitting close, they always were, it was like they fused at the hip most days. Eddie was almost in his lap where their knees overlapped leaning in as he threw his arms about as he talked. Always moving. A constant hypnotic presence that drew Steve closer each time. 

“So… hypothetically, if we were going to form a band…” Eddie seemed to chew the words over. “Argyle said he would be able to get us some gigs. His dad owns, like, a whole bunch of venues and bars, turns out the dude is like, mega rich. His dad owns a whole chain of hotels or something, and we were talking – over pizza, obviously –”

Steve let Eddie ramble, for all people that said Steve and Robin were the same, not many people got to witness one of Eddie’s full-scale verbal dumps, they often went on as long as Robin’s. 

Steve was happy to ride both of them out, nodding in what he hoped were the right places, enjoying the happy look on their faces when they were giving him new information.

Helping himself to a bottle of water from the bag between them, Steve listened to the twelve-point presentation Eddie seemed to have been working on since Argyle had put the idea in his head.

Steve already knew he was going to say yes, there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do if it made Eddie this happy.

“So what do you think?” Eddie was practically nose to nose with him now, he could feel his breath on his skin.

“Oh, I get to speak now? The mighty dungeon master deems the fallen King an audience?” Joking when Eddie was this close always felt a little too much like flirting. Steve shouldn’t have enjoyed the way Eddie’s cheeks coloured quite as much as he did.

“We all know I’m nothing if not your humble servant, sire. But yes, you may speak.”

“As long as we don’t call ourselves something stupid like zombie monkey spider brain, I don’t see why not?”

"Are you for real?" 

"Yeah I'm for real" 

Eddie threw his arms around him pulling him into a bone-breaking hug. Steve found he didn't want to let go. 

Read more on November 16!

[dererererere]

Here’s a story based off the drawing by @nilotheberryboy will I continue it? Idk, if enough people want

The bank bustles with activity as customers line up to conduct their transactions. The atmosphere is relaxed, smooth jazz plays in the background. Chandeliers above bathe the bank floor in a warm yellow light. With rays of sunlight bursting through the windows and glass door. A black truck creeps its way toward the front door of the bank. The sound of the engine slowly snuffs out. Sliding the van door open a man dressed in an eccentric chrome suit steps outside. His eyes are covered by sunglasses and faces the world with a bright white smile. His striped rainbow tie stands out against the monochrome background of the bank's exterior. The sound of New York surrounded him. He adjusts his cufflinks with a confident flair before strolling towards the bank entrance. As the man nears the entrance, he discreetly presses a finger to a microphone hidden beneath his silver suit collar. His voice comes out hushed but intense.

“Alright,” the man spoke. “Wall, you got the cameras and communication down?”

The response crackles in his earpiece, and a gruff voice responds.

“Cameras and phone signals are down Mr.Spectrum. Proceed as planned.”

“And Sp//dr?” Mr.Spectrum asks.

“Oscorp is still recovering from the Ven#m incident. But I jammed their communications as well, just to be safe.”

Mr.Spectrum nods slightly, his resolve solidifying. He smirks, revealing a hint of excitement, and confidently strides into the bank. The door opens with a soft jingle. His footsteps echo across the marble floor. Mr.Spectrum caught a few unusual stares, some confused, others slightly jealous. 3145 fashion was ever-changing. He made his way toward the teller. She was sitting with a monitor in her face typing. Mr.Spectrum knocked on the window gaining the teller’s attention. She moved the monitor to see him. The woman looked at him with a smile. Brown hair put into a pun with big round blue earrings.

“Good day, sir. How may I help you?” She asked with a honey voice.

“Yes, I’d like to make a withdrawal. Virtual transaction.”

The woman typed away at her computer.

“Very well. Please provide me with your ba-.”

“See that’s the problem,” from his coat pocket he slowly revealed a silver object. Handle and barrel. No mistaking it for what it was. “Don’t got one but I’d like a withdrawal of ten million.”

The teller smiled. Despite her relaxed face, Mr.Spectrum smiled at the fear in her eyes.

“O-o-of course, sir!” Her shaking hands typed at the computer. “P-please provide me a dock to-.”

Mr.Spectrum slid his watch under the window. Holding the watch was a struggle for her, nearly dropping it a few times. Mr.Spectrum chuckled at the woman’s discomfort. After typing again at the computer the watch glowed a blue light. She slid it back towards him and forced a smile.

“There you g-go sir! Please, enjoy the rest of your day!”

Mr.Spectrum flashed her a bright white smile and nodded. Too easy he thought. He turned to make his way towards the entrance. Ten million he thought. Ten million for us. Looks like we’re becoming real villains. The wall, wheel, and Mr.Spec- his thoughts were interrupted by a figure blocking his entrance. Through his cocky attitude and arrogance, he failed to notice the young woman blocking the entrance. The person in front of him wore a sleek black bodysuit with white web-like patterns. Including the mask that covered her eyes with a large white disk, this person wore a black hood with white tips with the interior of the neck a crimson red. The same crimson red that went down her neck wrapped around her waist. Her feet were covered in black ballet shoes. It was difficult to tell, but if you looked at the costume as hard as he was, you’d be able to see the threads move slightly. Shifting around the person’s body, almost like it was alive.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Mr.Spectrum asked. “The noir spider-woman?”

“Close, actually. Name’s Ghost-spider. Noticed your suspicious truck outside,” her thumb pointed at the truck behind her. Mr. Spectrum looked past Ghost-Spider and saw that his comrades were pinned against the vehicle in black webbing. “So, followed you guys around a bit, and well, they told me everything soooo, I’m gonna get you and send you to jail.”

Mr.Spectrum chuckled. Wall and Wheel failed. Unsurprisingly, he had a few aces up his sleeve.

“Is that so? Well, can’t hit what you can’t see!”

Mr. Spectrum's body flickered and his body became invisible. He smirked and made rude gestures with his hands while invisible. He ran from the spot and headed towards the emergency exit in the back. Should’ve done this from the start he thought. Well, live and learn. Once I’m out, I’ll bust those two idiots out of jail and- Mr.Spectrum felt two sticky things clamp to his feet. He fell to the ground with a thud. His head bounced against the marble floor.

“Shit,” he mumbled. He felt the pain build up from his forehead and slowly disperse around the rest of his head. He heard a ringing in his ears accompanied by footsteps coming towards him.

“See that’s the thing about invisibility,” Ghost-spider squatted down towards Mr.Spectrum’s eye level. “Doesn’t really work that well when your footsteps echo in the building.” Ghost-Spider knocked on the marble floor. The sound echoed in the building.

“Who are you? The new spider hero for New York?”

“Nope,” Ghost-spider pinched his cheek. “Just her friend coming by to visit.”

Lunch with Peni wasn’t going as well as Gwen had hoped. Ghost-spider had shed her costume revealing Gwen Stacey. Wavey blonde hair with a slight shade of pink at the ends. Her teeth had a small gap. Her outfit, a simple black hoodie mirroring the design of her costume. A stark contrast with the young lady across from her. Peni Parker was shorter than her, roughly around 4’11. Her hair a jet black and had a small red ribbon tied into an X. A similar shade of red as her eyes. She wore a puffy brown jacket with blue shoulder pads, blue sleeve ends with the end of her coat laced with, again, blue. Her chopsticks were continuously swirling in her ramen. Her brown eyes carried a blank stare. Shouko’s ramen shop was one of the best places to get ramen. The aroma of ramen was constantly in the restaurant and the seats were beyond comfortable. The wooden table they sat at was shaped like a square.

“So,” Gwen tried to break the silence between them. “How are things....” The deadpan look Peni gave Gwen was enough to answer her question.

“Fine,” Peni lied. “Passed my Algebra 2 exam.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Gwen patted Peni on the shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, Peni.”

Peni only nodded. Gwen carried the conversation dancing around any topics that could conjure any negative reactions. Primarily she asked about Peni’s grades, what books she had been reading, and how her manga she’s drawing going. Each response was void of emotion. Like Peni had been practicing her responses.

“Hey, so how about you ask me about my life?” Gwen proposed. Peni stopped slurping her ramen and stared into Gwen’s blue eyes.

“Your life?” Peni paused and began to think. Her eyes were still empty, but Gwen felt hope flutter in her chest. Whatever question she would have should work as a distraction from whatever had been plaguing her mind.

“What villains have you been fighting recently?”

Odd question. But it was something Gwen could have worked with.

“Fought this man-wolf guy. The worse part about fighting him was his smell.”

“Really?” Peni raised an eyebrow. “Not a fan of dogs?”

“Not a fan of the most rancid breath you ever could imagine. Sweat and fur are an unholy combination.”

Peni laughed. It was quiet, but filled with life. Gwen smiled at Peni watching the brief moment of joy form on her face. Few seconds of laughter the laugh and smile she once had vanished from Peni’s face. Returning to her neutral empty gaze. Gwen took a deep breath and asked the question that was burning in her mind.

“Peni, what’s wrong?”

Peni’s mind went blank. The issue wasn’t she didn’t want to tell Gwen, the problem was that there was too much and she didn’t know the best way to reply. Peni finished her ramen and gently placed the bowl down.

“ウェイターさん、お会計お願いします.” Peni’s voice barely broke through the busy sound of the restaurant. The waiter came by and handed Peni the check. After paying for their food Peni exited the restaurant. She had heard Gwen call out for her but ignored her plea. Outside New York was roaring with life. Cars honking, people chatting, the chaos of the world was comforting. Peni walked down the sidewalk maneuvering around people walking past. All while ignoring Gwen’s call for her. It was unfair to Gwen, Peni knew as much.

“Peni!” Gwen’s voice rang through the chaotic sounds of New York. “Peni, wait! Stop!”

You’re being a bad friend Peni thought. Go to her, talk to her. You don’t get to see her every day. Peni stopped and looked back at her friend coming towards her. Gwen’s eyes held a troubled face. Once to Peni, she placed her hands on her shoulders.

“Peni, what’s going on?!” The worry in Gwen’s voice was filled with unusual intensity. Peni replied only with silence. She felt Gwen’s grip tighten on her shoulder. An uncomfortable pressure grew on her shoulder. Despite her desire to protest, to tell Gwen she was starting to hurt her. She kept her mouth silent. A small personal punishment she placed onto herself. “Peni,” the worry from Gwen’s voice was gone. Replaced with an exasperated tone.”We-I can’t help you. If you don’t tell me what the hell is wrong with you!” Gwen backed away after noticing the uncomfortable look in Peni’s eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m just..I’m just worried,” she raised her hands defensively. “Please, can we talk?”

We? The word sent a chill down Peni’s spine. She must mean we as in her and I. Of course. Yeah, that makes sense. She lied to herself.

“Sure, let’s talk.”

The silence in the taxi was suffocating. Peni felt the best place to speak was the building of operations for the Sp//dr program. Peni kept her eyes focused on the driver, while Gwen’s eyes focused on the world past the car windows. She wasn’t just in an alternate dimension, but in the future as well. While a majority of cars stood on the ground a few buzzed in the air adorned with neon lights. The buildings looked similar to the ones at home though some had unusual add-ons. Circuitry designs were placed on some buildings while others were dressed with a multitude of neon lights. Robots wandering the streets were just as common as a person. While some looked humanoid others embraced the creative freedom a robot could have. Some moved on wheels while a stout one walked on spider-like legs. Gwen had to admit, the future looked pretty cool.

The taxi car slowly came to a halt. A robotic voice instructed the two to exit the vehicle. After typing on Peni’s phone Gwen heard the faint sound of change jingling in the air. Peni opened the door and motioned Gwen to follow. Gently closing the door behind her, the car sped off leaving Gwen and Peni in front of a massive building. Gwen was no stranger to science labs. She’s been to corporate-run facilities and makeshift ones her old friend used to make..but they paled in comparison to Oscorp. In front of the two was a fountain spraying thousands of gallons of water with intense ferocity. Peni walked around it with Gwen following behind her. The massive glass doors opened by Peni typing numbers into a keypad, followed by a retinal scan.

“Isn’t that a little excessive?” Gwen questioned.

“Safety measures. We can’t be too careful. Especially with what happened last week..”

The pain in Peni’s voice indicated to Gwen whatever the two would be talking about would be about last week. The interior of the building was laced with white walls and white tile floors. Gwen didn’t have much time to admire and absorb the building in its entirety.

“Follow me,” Peni commanded Gwen.

Peni walked with a sense of direction toward what Gwen would describe as an alien location. The pair made their way toward the opening of a hallway engulfed in darkness. Peni continued, the hallway illuminated by the flicker of fluorescent lights above coming to life every time Peni walked underneath one. The humming of the lights above formed a knot in Gwen’s stomach. With each step under the lights, the humming above grew louder and louder piercing her ears. Her vision blurred and the texture of the floor switched from stable ground to soft mush. Gwen marched forward trying not to garner any attention onto herself. What’s wrong with me? The question came to her mind. Must be the ramen. It-it must’ve been some bad pork or something. Despite her reasoning, Gwen knew she was lying to herself. Gwen and Peni came face to face with a pink elevator door. After Peni pressed a button near the door it swung open with a ding. The inside of the elevator was painted a teal blue with a pink strip horizontally through the middle. The pair of friends entered the room and descended downwards in silence. The elevator stopped with a shudder and slowly opened the doors. Peni marched forward Gwen followed. Gwen found herself in a dimly lit warehouse standing on scaffolding. Peni walked across the scaffolding and sat down. Her legs swung between the open spaces Gwen sat beside her and followed Peni’s eyes. Peni was fixated on a particular spot in the warehouse. Gwen had trouble piecing together what Peni was looking at.

“Last Thursday,” Peni began to speak. “A pilot for a new mech died.”

“Oh,” the news hung heavy on Gwen’s chest. Judging by the tone in Peni’s voice Gwen could tell there may have been some closeness between the two. “Peni, it’s not your f-.”

“My aunt died in the same mech. It consumed her and the pilot. I fought it, the Ven#m. I barely managed to escape with my life.” Peni placed her head on the railing. Silently crying she continued. “My aunt..she entered in the mech to try and save the same pilot but..but she-she got consumed by it and died. And its all my fault..”

Gwen pulled Peni into a shoulder hug and rested her head on her shoulder.

“No,” Gwen’s voice was soft and gentle. “You didn’t do anything-.”

“Yes, I did! Gwen if I had handled the M.O.R.B.I.U.S situation better, the Ven#m mech wouldn’t have needed to come. And if no need for the Ven#m mech aunt May and Addie....they-they,” Peni wiped the tears from her eyes. “Fuck!” Peni slammed her hand on the railing. To Gwen's surprise, she had left a small dent. “If I was better! If...if I was better..”

“Peni, what do you gain in putting down yourself?” Gwen gently put her hand on Peni’s head. “Bad things happen especially to people like us,” she put her hand over her chest. “What matters is we keep moving forward and do what good that we can. It’s what Aunt May would have wanted.”

Peni looked at Gwen with bloodshot eyes. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes some more.

“I-I don’t know if I can. I-I don’t want any more bad stuff-.”

“It’ll be ok, Peni,” Gwen held her best friend close. “We got your back.”

There it is again Peni thought. Peni pushed herself from Gwen’s hug and stood up.

“When did you start wearing black?”

“Huh?”

Gwen followed Peni and stood up. The question about her fashion choice did not warrant the glare Peni was giving her. What is wrong with her? Gwen asked herself. She’s no threat, we could web her mouth and face shut. Crush her skull in an instant I don’t need to be afraid- her thoughts paused. Realization slowly began to crawl on her back. W-why did I think like that?

“In my dimension, my suit just got an upgrade that’s it.”

“Really? Just an upgrade.”

“Yes! Let me show you.”

Gwen closed her eyes and her hoodie morphed around her. Covering her in an inky cocoon. Stepping forward she was wearing her new outfit. While Gwen was thinking Peni would be impressed, her hanging jaw and shaking body stated otherwise.

“H-how did you do that?”

“I...I’m not too sure we just-.”

“There! You’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?”

Peni's eyes widened, and she took a hesitant step back, her hands trembling slightly as she glanced at Gwen's suit with a mix of uncertainty and fear. Gwen’s body wanted to walk towards Peni and ask her why was she so afraid, but something told her to stay put. Something that felt like it was her, but also wasn’t.

“The Ven#m mech it kept referring to itself as we. Where. Did. You. Get. That. Suit.”

“Peni, please. We-I don’t-.”

Peni banged the railing again her eyes focused on Gwen. Over and over her hand pounded the railing the dull noise echoed in the warehouse.

She’s trying to hurt us a voice told Gwen. Stop her.

“What?” Gwen covered her mouth. An internal thought out loud? That was a first and it was weird.

“I got this suit from a lab. It was some weird alien technology that bonded to my suit and now it’s like this, okay? Nothing weird if anything it's an upgrade.”

“Bullshit,” Peni spat. “Take that off now.”

“Pe-.”

“Gwen. I’m not asking. Take it off.”

Gwen cocked her head at Peni’s tone. She couldn’t be serious it was just a suit! What harm is there in it. Yes, its through unconventional means but Peni is acting like its from hell.

“Peni, listen. We’re from different dimensions whatever my suit is made from and that Ven#m mech thing is made from can be two entirely different things. We’re not one-to-one.”

Peni’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a deep breath. Good that at least calmed the brat down. She thought. “Now, let’s get back to talking about-.”

“Wait,” Peni raised a single finger. “Can I play a song? Help relax me.”

“Oh, uh sure,” Gwen replied.

No! Don’t let her! The voice spoke again. She wants to hurt us! Stop her!

Peni pressed a button on her phone; at first, the music started off as slow synthetic beats. Gwen smile under her mask, watching Peni bounce on her heels listening to the song. Then the bass dropped. The insufferable noise made Gwen collapse to the ground, and she let out a demonic shriek. Instinctively, she shot a web through her wrist. The webbing knocked the phone from Peni’s hand causing it to crash onto the warehouse floor.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Gwen yelled. “That hurt! Never and I mean never play that again or so help me I’ll tear you to pieces!” Gwen covered her mouth, disgust boiling in her stomach. “P-peni, no I...I didn’t mean that! The phone it was just so loud and and-.”

Peni took off her coat and threw it to the ground, revealing the top of a bodysuit. The top part of the suit is red. It hugged her shoulders tightly and covered her neck. The arms were also red. The abdomen of the suit was teal with yellow designs on it. On her abdomen was a yellow hexagon. From her diaphragm, a small yellow v sprouted from it connecting the suit to its red part. Peni pressed two fingers into her mouth and let out a sharp whistle. The sound echoed in the warehouse. As if a wailing spirit was crying out for peace. In the darkness, an intricate pattern in the shape of a spider glowed. The sound of hydraulics came soon after. The ground shook from the thundering footsteps approaching Gwen and Peni. Closer and closer the machine’s footsteps now shifted the scaffolding. Peni gripped the railing for balance. An oddity Gwen did not need due to her powers and suit. Bursting through the darkness Two red dots came to life. In an instant, the floor shook from thundering steps as the object came closer and closer. Standing near Peni Parker was her mech, Sp//dr. Sp//dr yellow eyes flashed with a bright yellow light. SP//dr is a sleek and high-tech suit of powered armor The suit is predominantly red with vibrant orange highlights. In the center rested the design of the spider. Peni backed towards the mech glaring at Gwen.

“Peni,” Gwen warned. “I can rip your machine limb from limb. Don’t do something stupid.” The mech’s head leaned forward giving Peni space to hop in. She jumped inside her mech and it closed with an electronic click. The air was charged with tension, and Peni's mechanical arms flexed and whirred, ready for action. Her mechanical arms snapped forward, aiming to catch Gwen in their grasp. Spider-Gwen gracefully leaped backward, narrowly avoiding the mechanical arms' grip. With a swift motion, Gwen activated her web shooters, launching a series of adhesive webs at SP//dr's legs, trying to immobilize the suit temporarily. But Peni's reflexes were quick, and she skillfully maneuvered SP//dr, avoiding the webs. Web fluid shot from Sp//dr’s wrist pinning Gwen against the wall. Any of Gwen’s movements caused the adhesive to tighten around her body. Sp//dr motioned its way towards Gwen. Despite its robotic face, Gwen felt its desire to kill.

“PENI! LISTEN! WE DON’T NEED TO FIGHT LET ME GO!”

“No!” Replied her robotic voice. “I’m going to save you, Gwen whether you like it or not!”

[aphroditestummyrolls]

time for a spare prayer for the wip game 💌

Hellooooo! This is a direct continuation of the last snippet, here.

He must’ve looked a sight for Kaz Brekker to stay silent while Jesper drained his whiskey decanter.

It did earn him a glance, though, one that Jes categorically ignored. After the day he had? It was easy justification.

“Have we found Rotty yet?” He asked instead.

Kaz took heavy steps to his desk, leaning on the edge and casting a careful eye back and forth between Jesper and Colm. “Floating in the Rosenstraat Canal.”

Rosenstraat. Near the old workshop, from before Kaz moved Wylan to the Warehouse District.

“All the way over there? But, Rotty knows— knew…” Jesper swallowed. “He knew where the workshop was.”

“The assassin clearly didn’t.”

He chewed his lip, eager to draw, to do something. “And? Was he selling us out? Was the assassin following him? What are we supposed to—?��

“I don’t bloody know yet, Jesper!”

“Wylan almost died!” It took more effort than he’d like not to throw his glass at the wall. “We’ve been waiting on your bloody plan for weeks, Kaz! You’ll have to either clue us in or admit you don’t know what you’re doing, because if we don’t do something about this soon, I’ll walk down the Geldstraat and put a bullet in Van Eck’s head myself.”

He hadn’t even noticed the others filing in. Nina still looked exhausted— they all looked a little haggard. Hell, Jesper was still bloodstained. And Da was…

He had blood drying all down his front, and was looking at Jesper with that wide eyed expression. Maybe, he supposed, threatening murder is a reasonable bridge too far. But, he’d said himself that he didn’t know him. And that was, undoubtedly, part of who he was now.

It wasn’t like it was something he enjoyed, but he’d gladly kill for the people he loved. And it felt like he was the only one trying to protect Wylan— he took one day off the job, and his merchling nearly died!

“For weeks?” Inej cut in, her brown eyes incredulous as she stared Kaz down. Saints, he’d missed her. “Was anybody even going to bother telling me that Wylan was being hunted by his father?”

“His father did that to him?” Da stepped back into the conversation. Jesper couldn’t help but feel like he would never get used to it— seeing his old da in Kaz Brekker’s office. It was like finding an old farm dog in a fighting ring.

“Yes.” Kaz hissed, and it wasn’t clear if he was talking to Inej or Colm, but he supposed either and both applied. “Let’s get the facts of today established, and then,” he looked at Jesper in a way that used to cow him, “I’ll consider telling you the plan.”

Kaz looked at Colm, then. It made Jesper’s chest clench uncomfortably— he didn’t like those eyes on his father. He was too close to becoming part of something. Part of a plan.

There were a lot of reasons that Jes had kept his lives so separate.

“Colm, what did you see? How did you find Wylan?”

And then, as if he’d been summoned, the office door opened once more, and a pale-face merchling dragged himself into the room.

Jesper immediately set his drink on the mantle, reaching him just in time to steady him. The urge to touch him, and touch him, and never let him go was almost too strong to resist. It didn’t help when Wy just leaned in, sparing him a small smile. He looked pekkid, with clammy sweat sticking his curls to his forehead.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” Kaz rasped, brooking no argument.

Wylan wasn’t so injured that he couldn’t still roll his eyes. “If you want to know what happened, you won’t get far without me.”

Thanks for playing ❤️❤️❤️

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Meet me in the restroom 

steddie, omegaverse, mdni 🔞

Eddie doesn’t want to be at the club. It’s hot and sweaty, drinks are way too expensive, and he should really be planning the encounters for tomorrow’s hellfire session.

But Chrissy didn’t want to come alone, and the alpha girl she’s been crushing on said she’d be out tonight. Eddie is nothing if not a good friend, totally ready to wingman for Chrissy should the need arise.

It just isn’t likely to, since she’s already off making out with Robin in a dark corner.

Eddie figures he’ll spend the next half hour or so nursing his beer, then he’ll check in with Chrissy, find out she’s going home with Robin, and make his own quick exit.

He’s just looking over his shoulder to check on her when he catches a glimmer out of the corner of his eye. There’s a man—an omega, his brain not-so-helpfully supplies—at this corner of the dance floor. He’s wearing a deep red shirt, sleeves short, his arms and hair dusted with gold glitter. He shines, drawing Eddie’s attention.

All the way down to his perfect ass.

He’s wearing little faux-leather shorts that cling to him like a second skin, showing off toned thighs and the delicious curve of his cheeks.

And from his spot by the bar, Eddie isn’t positive, would know better if he could see him from the front, but it looks like a zipper runs the length of the center seam.

Throwing back the remainder of his overpriced beer, Eddie weaves through the bodies between himself and his golden-skinned omega, sidling up beside him and feeling like a cliche when he says, “I saw you across the room and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to take my eyes off you,” against his ear.

The omega turns, dark eyes glinting with interest as he looks Eddie over, before leaning in to smell him. Eddie’s sure he smells like sweat and Chrissy’s body spray that she spritzed in the van when they arrived.

“You smell like Christmas,” the omega moans, looping his arms around Eddie’s neck and getting another deep pull of his scent. “Like gingerbread. Wanna dance?”

“Yes,” Eddie breathes, being brave and scenting him back, a purr rumbling in his chest at the smell of sweet cherry cut through with lime. He already feels drunk on his scent, on their proximity.

They move together, Eddie mostly swaying, letting himself be guided by his partner, taking the liberty of gripping rounded hips, of pressing their sweaty foreheads together.

The song changes, and this walking wet dream of an omega leans close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “M’thirsty. Gotta get a water.” Eddie nods, ready to take a step back, but the omega grabs his hip, presses their crotches together. “I think there are better things for us to do together than dance. Meet me in the restroom. Third stall.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, mind racing. “How do you know it—”

“Toilet’s broken—no water in the bowl.” He kisses Eddie’s cheek. “Meet me there.”

Eddie does as he’s told, waits in the third stall already half-hard with anticipation, his blood pumping loudly in his ears. Even with all of that noise, he hears the door open, sees royal blue hightops under the stall door and steps back to allow his shining omega entrance.

Here, under the fluorescents, he looks more real, but no less beautiful, a hungry smile on his face as he advances on Eddie. They meet in a biting kiss, one that ends with Eddie sucking on his pretty omega’s pouty lower lip, as the man reaches for Eddie’s belt buckle.

He makes quick work of shoving down Eddie’s pants and freeing his cock, pulls back to spit in his hand, and jerks the alpha to full hardness. “If you want, I can use my mouth. I’m very good with my mouth,” he whispers against Eddie’s ear. “Or…” Reaching for Eddie’s hand, he guides it down to the zipper pull on his shorts, helps him slide it back between his spread legs. “I’m not wearing any panties, and I’m already so wet.”

He lifts one leg up, rests his foot on the seat of the broken toilet, offering easy access for Eddie to slip a finger inside, to pet his lips and gather slick.

Eddie’s not sure who moans first, but they should by quiet, and he dives in to stop both their noises by mashing their mouths together. Soon enough, he’s sheathing himself in tight, wet heat, their bodies rocking as one until Eddie comes with a strangled grunt, his knot tying them together.

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers, reaching between them to jerk the omega off, both of them gasping as powerful muscles convulse around his knot.

“God, Eddie, that was so fucking hot.” Steve rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder, panting as he steps out of their little roleplay.

“You’re hot,” Eddie says, rubbing his back and kissing his temple. “Fuck, Stevie, you need to wear sexy little shorts more often.”

“You get to see me naked all the time,” Steve retorts, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s throat.

“But the shorts really show off your ass-ets.”

Eddie gives Steve a shit-eating grin, and Steve rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe I agreed to marry you.” Then he pulls Eddie in for another long kiss.

[griefabyss69]

fear of the inky blackness of night or whatever

👀👀👀

Finally! A stupid and incoherent one!!!!

I still don't even know what this one is or what the point of it is, it was definitely one of those where I just started writing with zero real ideas. However despite all of THAT, I like it a lot, it's a different Eddie voice than I usually write and maybe is closer to his canon voice than I usually do? (CWs: maybe home invasion and general fear? everything's fine I swear) rated T maybe? and it's Steddie! And it starts from the beginning of the fic

So when Eddie walks into his room, as he does, you know, like a person will just walk into the room he sleeps in, bed and dresser and guitars and all, he doesn't expect there to just be…

A fucking guy in there.

It's dim, the light from the hallway not illuminating that shit enough for him to see more than just the shadows of whoever this guy is, but maybe he doesn't need to see who it is if he judges by how fucking fast his heart rate kicks up.

He gives a brave little choked off scream and scrambles back down the hallway, grabbing his shoes on his way out the front door, not bothering to put them on as he bolts towards his van-

-And runs right into the car parked right in the way, close enough to the trailer to be an unexpected nuisance, an absolute fucking monster of a hurdle towards his safety. And now he's partially flattened over the hood of this parked car like he'd run out into a busy street, groaning at what will become bruises on his legs.

He peels himself back up to his feet and glares at the car, biting back a hiss of annoyance, not worked up enough yet to start making animal sounds about it.

The fucking car is Steve's.

Fucking Steve, and his fucking car, and parking it so fucking close to their front steps that he didn't even notice it despite it being as wide as the gravel driveway. Eddie always parks just to the side of it, and his Uncle usually parks closer to the end of it, and so Steve really should've gotten with the program and parked somewhere else.

Steve, whose car Eddie does secretly hope has no fucking dents in it, dithers at the doorway to the trailer, shifting on his feet enough to make creaky noises that get Eddie's flight response back online as he whips around, already walking backwards towards his van.

"Uh, are you okay?" Steve asks, a lost puppy frown on his face that Eddie usually can't get enough of.

Eddie gestures at him, shoes flinging around violently by their laces as he draws a line between the front door and Steve's car, making sounds of frustration that are probably super easy for Steve to decipher.

"…Right," Steve says, shrugging as he heads back into the trailer, casual, as if there wasn't a reason why Eddie ran out.

Oh God, Steve's going to run right into the shadow guy.

"Come back here!" Eddie yells, halfway up the stairs to the door before he gets cold feet. "I swear to fucking god Harrington!"

Steve just turns at his own leisure, tilting his head at him with another look of confusion that on a better day Eddie could eat right up with a fork and knife.

"When you chill out maybe you can tell me what you're upset about," he says, pulling the same shit he does with the kids, his hands propped up on his hips and everything.

Infuriating to be treated like he's fifteen and not a whole half a year older than Steve.

"Fine! Get serial murdered by the shadow guy in my room!" He yells, stomping off back down the stairs. His stomps turn into gingerly crossing the gravel under his socks pretty quickly, but he makes it to the worn grass by his van and flings the driver's side open.

He's just hauling himself up into the seat when Steve comes out, politely shutting the screen door behind himself and heading over at such a sedate pace that he wonders if he's burnt out the ability to feel fear or not.

He stops in front of Eddie, - standing in a way that looks cool and had to have been practiced at some point, nobody just stands and looks cool without even leaning on anything - and tucks his hands into his back pockets.

"Munson," he says, getting back at Eddie's last name crime with one of his own. "What did this shadow guy look like?"

Eddie squints at him, glaring at his face and his broad shoulders and the way his jeans are pulled just a little bit tighter across his hips with his hands taking up valuable real estate in the back.

"How am I supposed to know that? It was dark, he was some guy, and he was looming in the shadows of my room," he says, tossing his shoes in the passenger seat so he can cross his arms.

Steve nods, looking serious for all of three seconds before he cracks, a smile breaking out over his face.

"Well, sorry man. I didn't see him while I was looming in the shadows of your room, so I must have just missed him."

Eddie's glad he doesn't have anything in his hands anymore, or he thinks he would've thrown his shoes through Steve's face, though the bastard probably could catch them with his jock superpowers.

"Asshole," he hisses instead, pointing at him. "Why the hell were you just standing there in the dark?"

Steve shrugs, licking his bottom lip as he thinks. It should look stupid, and it totally does, the way his tongue presses into it as his lip curls back over his teeth. An awkward thing for a face to do, absolutely, and even more awkward when Steve does it.

"I was like, doing that thing. Exposure therapy," he says, rocking back and forth on his feet. So casual. "I'm trying to get used to the dark again and I didn't want to do it alone in my house."

Eddie wants to call bullshit, but it sounds both weird and smart enough for it to be a Steve original, though he knows he wouldn't have said it was a good idea if anybody else asked him.

"So you did it alone in my house instead?" He asks, grabbing his shoes. Time to go back inside, he supposes.

"Well, yeah. It's like, not haunted, probably. And you were on your way home," Steve shrugs, backing up a step as Eddie hops out of his van.

He slams the door shut a little hard just to try to get some of his adrenaline out, taking a few tries to get the key in to lock it properly, trying not to think about how he forgot to lock it the first time.

Nothing like getting the life scared out of you to remind you about the safety of your noble mechanical steed.

"Right, I guess if you really want it to, that can make sense," he says, heading back up the driveway once again. "However, you could've fucking warned a guy!"

Steve laughs as he follows behind him, something hearty and nice that helps settle Eddie's nerves a bit. He still wants to punch something or go climb a tree and hide up there for a few hours, but he tamps it down as he tosses his shoes by the front door and heads back to his room, letting Steve lock up the doors behind them.

"I could've, yeah. I just didn't think you'd get scared," Steve's saying, and Eddie wants to call him selfish for it but the problem is that Steve still thinks Eddie is brave, despite… literally everything.

"Next time just tell me," he says, starting to peel off his clothes on his way to his room. "I'm going to take a shower, go ahead and hide in the dark recesses of my lair and try not to get eaten by old socks or whatever."

Steve's laugh is a little strangled this time and Eddie hopes that he doesn't think his socks have been living on the floor for so long that they're actually sentient. He's moved recently, after all. These are new old floor socks.

He drops the contents of his pockets on the bathroom counter and keeps his boxers on to come back out, stuffing the rest of his clothes into the hamper by their new washer-dryer combo, fully aware of Steve's ability to see him in all his pasty, bitten up glory, not willing to add even more to that at the moment.

"Also think about what you want to eat for supper, and if it's like, not in the pantry, think about how you'd like to acquire it," he says, glancing back at Steve who's looking a little pink around the edges.

It's cute, in a completely different way than his lost puppy looks, and so Eddie just gets a fucking move on and gets into the bathroom before he starts blushing right back at him.

--

He should've been prepared for it, when he got out of the shower, heard absolutely nothing, and went about drying off. Humming under his breath to fill the silence as he combed his hair and put weird cream over his scars and wrapped his towel securely around his waist.

The stillness in the trailer as he opened the door, finding even more lights turned off than earlier, now just a lamp in the living room and the light over the stove top illuminating the place enough for him to see.

Things he didn't bother noticing or acknowledging until he got to his dark room and let the door creak open, revealing the shadowy figure of the same fucking guy standing in his room.

He caught himself just before he bolted again, this time for some kind of weapon instead of the front door, hands clenching around his door frame as he forced himself to speak.

"Steve?" He asks, voice barely making it past his throat.

"Hmm?" Steve replies, the shadow tilting it's head. "Oh, right."

A light flicks on and there's Steve, just standing in the middle of Eddie's room again.

"I ordered a pizza, I hope that's cool," he says, moving aside to let Eddie get to his dresser.

"Yeah, totally cool," Eddie replies absently, waiting on his heart to stop fucking pounding in his throat before he goes to get dressed. He feels Steve's gaze on him as he valiantly ignores him and the shiver that goes up his spine.

Steve turns while he gets dressed, which is kind, since it means he doesn't have to give away his nervousness and ask him to like close his eyes or something. It also lets him cycle through blushing way too hard for the situation and back down, only his ears still feeling hot as he makes sure they're covered by his hair.

"I scared you again, didn't I?" Steve asks, poking at a poster on his wall. It's a little wrinkled, salvaged from the old place, but it suits the rest of the room.

"You sure fucking did," Eddie mutters, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. "Though I don't know what I was expecting, considering you're becoming more of a freak than I am."

Steve laughs and Eddie finishes getting dressed, torn between wanting to throw something at him and wanting to tackle him onto his bed to swallow his amusement right down.

"How about we leave my blood pressure alone for the rest of the night, huh?" He asks, heading out of the room to the living room.

[azures-bazar]

☀️ Masterlist ☀️

Welcome to my RDR2 dump ! You'll find shitposts and one-shots as well as some very bad sketches lol

Requests are : CLOSED !

(it might take some time, but I'll do my best :.))

See rules right here !

Current requests under progress :

Headcanons : 4

One Shots : 1

TUTORIALS (easy ways to mod around the game)

How to make your character in story mode (with Rampage Trainer and Outfit Changer) - learn how to partially morph your character into the game with a step by step tutorial (bodyguard option included)

Pose and animation playing for greater shots (with Rampage Trainer) - easy introduction to scenarios and animations along with setup creation (+ a few animations)

INACCURATE DIALOGUES (dialogues using a RDR2 style)

Story characters only

Arthur and John - Existential thoughts by night

Sean's bad jokes

Van der Linde gang welcoming Sean - Addams Family Values quotes

Arthur's night out

John needs to read a field guide

Afterlife : Arthur reunites with Isaac (part 1)

Afterlife : Arthur reunites with Eliza (part 2)

"Jane" Marston (SOON)

OC characters included

Bathtub conversations

Catching snow (SOON)

Saving Kieran (SOON)

RANDOM SHOTS (no dialogues, just random screenshots)

Arthur and OC

Arthur and OC - Dance

Arthur and John on Guarma - 1, 2

OC : Adelaide Andersson

DRAWINGS (yes, I draw, sometimes)

Outlaws and flower crowns (sketch)

Own Character Introduction

RED DEAD ONE SHOTS (and I write stuff too)

Gender neutral reader

Caribbean Blue - Arthur x Reader

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Soon <3

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Turkish Beauty - Female!Reader (Arthur, Sadie, Charles and Mary-Beth, Javier and Karen) (SOON)

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[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 19

Words: 2.6k

Lyla is tasked with an important assignment… but can she do the right thing?

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

The day of the meet with Simon I woke up suddenly, already mentally preparing myself in my head as I made a meagre breakfast of a single slice of buttered toast. I could never stomach eating much before an important operation, the adrenaline made sure of that, curbing my appetite.

It was now three days since I'd last seen Van, and each morning I awoke the ache inside me grew stronger. I'd half expected a phone call from him after his sudden departure from my hotel room but there was nothing.

What was he doing? How did he feel? Was he yearning for me like I was for him? Missing the feel of our bodies pressed tightly together, his breath hot on my skin, the desire burning bright like a fire that consumed me?

I wanted him. There was no denying that now. And not just physically. I wanted to explore the depths of him and uncover all of his secrets, no matter how dark. Break down those barriers of control he'd carefully constructed, and know him for who he really was. I knew the cost would be great, but that didn't deter me.

Tensions were running high in the office. Paul was pacing continuously, running a hand through his thinning hair, chuntering on about open lines of communication between me and the tactical team and possible sniper vantage points.

"I don't need to wear two-way comms," I protested. "If the team are going to be as close as you say I can just give the signal for them to move in."

It was second nature now for the lies to roll off my tongue, and it pained me how easy it was becoming to lie even to Paul. I'd thought long and hard about this meeting, hoping to glean some information from Simon about Van... and the sorts of questions that I wanted to ask I didn't want anyone else from the agency being privy to.

Paul reluctantly agreed, grabbing a bulletproof vest off the rack and proceeding to hold it out for me to shrug into.

"I'm surprised the meet wasn't planned for night-time," I said, tightening the Velcro fastenings and slipping my handgun into my holster.

"Yeah well, there's a reason for that. There's less dark shadows in the day for one of those bastards to hide out in." Paul huffed out a deep breath as he saw that I was ready to go. "Right... looks like you're all set. Meet's at 10am on Sloane Street, under the railway bridge. I'll drive you down and park out of the way on Boundary Road. Remember your training Lyla, if anything looks out of place you raise the signal and the team will be on you so fast you won't even get chance to draw a breath."

I nodded, taking in Paul's instructions, feeling the familiar thrill starting to send flurries of nervous excitement through my body. Paul carried on as we made our way outside to the car park.

"I'm still in two minds about whether to pull Simon out even if he doesn't think he's been compromised. I feel responsible for every goddamn one of you lot. It's a tough call."

I offered him a smile. "It's good that you care, but let's not be too hasty. We'd be completely blind if we didn't have anyone on the inside."

"Even with someone on the inside it feels like we're losing this war," he sighed. "McCann always seems to be one step ahead of us. It's a priority for us to find out his next target. If we get to him, we might stand a chance of finding out who's running this whole organisation. Make sure you get as much information out of Simon as possible, but whatever you do, don't take too long. This whole thing makes me nervous. I hate to think of you exposed out there."

By the time Paul had pulled up two streets away from the rendezvous point the heavens had opened and I pulled my coat tightly around my body, walking quickly with my head down to try and minimise getting drenched. Nevertheless I was still soaked through by the time I reached the railway bridge on Sloane Street. I pushed my damp hair back off my face as I took in my surroundings.

This part of the city was run-down and shabby. An old industrial estate with businesses long gone bust was situated at the end with boarded up premises and dilapidated buildings. The only visitors to this area now were delinquents up to no good, squatters and junkies. I grimaced as I crushed a used syringe under the heel of my boot, swiftly kicking it away. The archway of the bridge above me stretched upwards steeply, leaving shadowy depths high up on elevated ledges and I screwed up my eyes, trying to see into the gloom. I couldn't see the tactical team but they were out there somewhere, hidden amongst the shadows or concealed behind cracked, dusty windows. What filled me with apprehension most was the fact that they might not be the only people watching me.

I buried my hands deep in my pockets, hunching over to shield myself against the blustery wind when I heard the scuffling sound of heavy footsteps disturbing the gravelly path which ran down from the railway tracks to the road below where I was waiting. The figure approaching was tall and broad, and I felt relief course through me as it moved closer and I recognised it to be Simon.

He glanced around furtively as he approached, not making eye contact straight away but walking straight past me to the end of the road, where he stood for a good few minutes, looking all around whilst he lit up a cigarette. I pressed myself back against the brickwork of the bridge, waiting for him to come to me. Finally, satisfied that no one was going to lunge out of the shadows he sauntered over, taking his place next to me with his back against the wall.

"Alright Lyla? Surprised to see you here instead of Paul." He spoke with a thick West Indies accent, his face cracking into a wide grin as I turned my head to him. "Shit girl, how long has it been? You're looking good."

"Wish I could say the same for you Si," I teased. "What the fuck happened?"

Simon had always been a smart individual and in contrast he stood before me now a very different man from when I'd last seen him, his clean-shaven face now sporting a wiry beard and his usually close-cropped hair had sprouted into small knotted dreads. But the most striking thing was the deep scar on his cheek which could easily have been four inches in length.

"Oh this?" Simon followed my gaze and raised a hand up to run a finger along the freshly healed wound. "Bad day at the office you could say. Pissed off a co-worker! Comes with the job unfortunately!"

His gruff laugh rang out loudly, bouncing off the underside of the bridge and I glanced around uneasily.

"Hey, chill out," he said, his lazy smile a stark contrast to my creases of concern. "No one's lurking."

"That's just where you're wrong. Armed support are here today. We've got the whole works."

Simon's grin slipped off his face quickly, to be replaced by a somber look. "Ah, yeah... 'cause of Scott. Poor fucker. And his missus too... that's some next level evil shit right there. Savage."

I nodded grimly. "We're being targeted, hunted even. They're desperate to know who we've got on the inside. Has there been any sign that Scott might have talked?"

"I wouldn't be standing here right now if he had, I can tell you that for sure. These people do not mess around." Simon took a long exhale on his cigarette and then flicked the butt to the ground.

"Even so, Paul's still thinking of pulling you out. You know how he worries about us."

"Yeah... good old Paul. Say... how is he? And the rest of the team... Raj? Jen? I do miss you guys. Not that tosser Jason though. He still giving you shit, huh?"

Even the mention of his name made my hackles rise. "Some things never change," I frowned. "Now come on, it's really good to see you but I'm not here for a friendly chat. You know that."

Simon sighed. "I know, I know. It just feels good to speak to a normal person for once. Honestly, it's kinda fucking with my head being in there. You're surrounded by it 24/7, you start talking like 'em, even thinking like 'em. Can almost smell the stink of corruption on me." He mimed sniffing his jacket sleeve to demonstrate with a look of distaste. "Christ... I can't wait for this whole operation of theirs to come crashing down."

"It's gonna happen, just hang in there. You're doing amazing and you'll be out before long. I just know it."

I just wished I meant what I was saying. In reality there seemed no end to it, and if there was... what would that mean for Van? I pushed the unwelcome thought away.

Simon's serious expression dissolved as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Tell ya what, me and you and the others... we're heading straight down the pub when all this is over... like old times, eh?"

I glanced around again, getting impatient with Simon's laidback approach to the meet, like we were just two old friends catching up, not agents tasked with infiltrating and bringing down a criminal network. I liked Simon and had missed our chats, but that was the trouble with this life. You couldn't relax and pretend your life was normal, not even for a minute. This was important. And there were still things I wanted to know aside from the mission that I'd been given.

"Sorry Si... but I really need this information. Do you know who Van's next target is?"

He reached into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, bringing out a small folded piece of paper. "It's all there. Tomorrow night at the Ritz Club on Main Street. You know that shipment of coke that got seized at the docks? Well, someone's got to pay for that loss. Word is it's cost the organisation at least £10 million. All the info's written down there... names, times, everything."

I listened with baited breath, my heartbeat quickening at the knowledge that I had a chance to see Van again so soon. My mind was already working overtime, making plans. I slipped the piece of paper into my jeans pocket, burying it deep.

"I've gone and outdone myself this time. Even got the exact location and method of the hit," Simon added proudly.

And that should have been it. Short and sweet, an exchange of information and a goodbye, but I lingered, taking advantage of Simon's friendly nature and willingness to chat. There were some things I just had to know.

"Do you know... the hit on Scott... was it him? Was it Van?" As soon as the words left my lips I felt my whole body tense, my breath sucked in and held hostage in fear of what I might hear.

Simon pushed off from the brickwork to stand in front of me, scrunching up his face. "Nah... that wasn't Van... he refused that job. Can you believe it?"

My exhale burst from me with obvious relief, but Simon didn't seem to notice. He was too busy digging in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes again, shaking his head.

"Don't know what's got into 'im lately. Something's going on."

"What do you mean?" I blurted, aware that time was ticking on and I'd already spent too long on what was supposed to be an in and out job.

"He's always been so detached, like a fucking robot. Nothing ruffles him... ever. You know they say he can slit someone's throat without his pulse ever raising a beat..."

I swallowed, hard, and waited for Simon to continue. And he was only too happy to.

"Something's changed. People are talking, high up in the organisation. They say he's losing it." He tapped the side of his head. "He flares up over nothing, goes AWOL for days on end. The latest word is he's refusing jobs. Like he has a choice! You do what you're told. Reckons he's got something more important to take care of. I heard that someone dared to challenge him the other day and he put their head through a glass coffee table. I tell ya, he's cracking up. He's more dangerous than ever."

My mind started whirring, raking through possibilities, discarding each one until the same thought kept surfacing. Was the change in him all down to me?

"Do you... do you ever see him? What's he like? What's he really like?" I was aware my questions had strayed way beyond anything we should be discussing. I was wasting time now, stretching out a risky meet, putting everyone in danger the longer I lingered.

Simon looked mildly bewildered, but he humoured me anyway. "No one gets to see him Lyla, not unless he's got business with them. And trust me, no one wants business with him. I just keep my head down, keep my ear to the ground, pass on the intel to you guys. Hey... we'd better arrange the next..."

It all happened so fast I didn't even have chance to register what transpired next. The sharp whizz of a bullet's trajectory a split second before it found its target. The warm splatter of blood and viscera spraying my face from the huge exit wound on Simon's chest as it burst open like some hideous bloody flower. I dropped instantly to the ground, flattening myself against the floor whilst I heard another bullet hit the brickwork just where I'd been standing, a silent scream caught in my throat.

The tactical team broke cover in an instant, bursting from nearby buildings, guns raised, crouched down low, swarming the area like ants. One reached me and placed a hand on my back, urging me to raise up enough to flee the scene. But I wasn't going anywhere. I was staring at Simon, searching for a glimmer of life in his brown eyes which stared back at me unseeing. I scrambled up, drawing my gun out and flattening myself against the brickwork, head whipping around to try and discern the position of the shooter.

The loud crack of another gunshot suddenly sounded, causing most of the armed agents to drop to the floor, then the roar of what sounded like a motorcycle engine and the screech of tyres as someone gunned away at speed. The sound of many footsteps erupted around me with a sudden cry of "OVER HERE!"

I darted away from the wall, quickly following the crowd that were descending down to the opening of the street towards a dark blue BMW parked at the kerb. I could see a figure inside in the driver's seat, slumped lifelessly over the steering wheel. As I got closer I could just make out dark clothing and brown hair through the windshield which was cracked open with a bullet-hole, splintering the glass. A huge sob burst from me unbidden as my strides turned into a fast sprint.

No. NO. It couldn't be. I reached the car just as someone pulled open the drivers door...