#i started the save in summer as usual but i wish i started it in autumn so i could share some spooky day posts too ;-;

[sonicblooms]

i hope these screenshots calm you like they’re calming me <3

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[astralphobia]

anyone else think of how terrifying sock opera must have been for mabel

like

when bipper’s looking down at her with that shit-eating grin, holding the rope?? Yk, that iconic scene??

Yeah, I can’t imagine how Mabel must have felt or how many nightmares sprung from that.

just. Imagine with me, okay? You’re twelve. You have a twin brother who’s been there for you your whole life, and always has your best interest at heart. He’s given up so much for you, and you’ve tried your best to help him in return, helping him solve mysteries and engaging in the things he enjoys with him. You don’t have to do that, but you do, because you want him to be happy.

And one day, something odd happens. He hasn’t gotten a lot of sleep lately, so maybe it’s just sleep deprivation! Maybe he’s just. ..Acting so oddly,, because he’s tired!

yeah. That’s it. At least he wants to help you with your crush for once, even if he wanted to focus on that laptop earlier. You feel kinda bad about ignoring it, but c’monnnn!! This guy is. So hot. You can’t help yourself! .. probably.

When you’re almost halfway through your attempt to impress this guy, this.. puppet you made starts floating, talking to you in the voice of your brother, telling you that he did something stupid (made a deal), and his body is currently being possessed by this triangle jerk you encountered earlier in the summer.

… kinda a lot to take in, but hey!! At least you know what was off now. .. wow, you’re kind of a bad sister for not noticing, huh?

anyways, he needs your help! But it could totally ruin your chances with this guy…. But that doesn’t matter, he needs your help. This only happened because you didn’t help him earlier, so you gotta help him now, right??

you rush to find the only thing that could possibly help you in this scenario. The journal.

And when you do find it, well..

even though you know that is not your brother, that’s a demon, possessing your brother’s body.. it still looks like him. And never have you felt such utter horror, such primal fear at the sight of a simple grin, ear. to. ear.

seeing him above you, standing on the catwalk makes you feel small, useless, insignificant.

and the expression on his face is one you hope you never see his facial features contort into again.

And he’s holding onto the rope that could mean the difference between life or death for you, the rope that is holding you and the wooden cake in the air. You’re lucky he caught it in the first place.

He could drop it any time he wants. Let go any time he wants. And he does, briefly, toying with you.

When your eyes widen and fear squeezes at your heart, he laughs at your pathetic, meaningless actions.

and even though you know it isn’t your brother. You know it’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not, it’s not…

And yet. It sounds like him. His laugh. The little one he makes whenever you make a silly joke, or fall over dramatically, possibly at the expense of your dignity. The one you have heard so many times, usually just as innocent and sweet as the last. And now you hear it again, and even if it’s something else laughing through him,, you can’t help but hear it. Tainted with ill intent.

The day does get saved, however. Your brother gets back into his own body not too much later. And everything is back to normal!

….. but.

You can’t help but remember that moment whenever he smiles a bit too wide, or laughs a bit too hard.

You can’t help but stay awake at night, replaying that moment. Telling yourself that it wasn’t him.

And you still have nightmares about it, too. Where you don’t notice until it’s too late and that thing that looks and sounds like him but isn’t him is back and this time you’ve lost, you’ve lost, you’ve lost!

..you wish you were a better sister.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi !!!! I’m sorry if this is bothering you and if so you can totally ignore this but…

I’ve been thinking about how Ghost would react to reader gradually pulling away from him because she gained some weight and is self conscious and ashamed and doesn’t want to be seen by him, so sculpted and beautiful… but of course he’s feeling low because he wants to be close to reader and so he asks and she finally explains it to him (ready to be broken up with…)…. And I’d love to read your take on it !

You can make it female or gender neauteal I don’t really care !!!! Thank you anyway ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Wildflowers Grow in Ruins

(Ghost x F!Reader, word count: 5 k)

Summary: Reader tries to break up with Ghost because she thinks she's not good enough for him.

Tags/warnings: FLUFF, soft sensual smut 🔞, hurt/comfort, light angst, Jealous!Ghost, Soft!Ghost, self-loathing & self-body shaming. Good girl talk/praise kink. Reader is female and wears a skirt for smut plot purposes.

A/N: I hope you like this take & I hope you don't mind that I tweaked this request just a little bit!) Also: JFC I'm wordy. The "I need to explain why they're fucking!" meme comes to mind every time I write anything.

Wars are exhausting. 

You know fighting for something can empower people. Fighting against something usually just depletes your strength.

But waging a war against yourself… 

Now that is pure hell. 

It started somewhere in your youth. You thought adulthood would take it away; that reason and tolerance would take it away. You were supposed to feel more confident in yourself, more positive about life. And for a moment, you thought you might just succeed.

But standing beside a god of war is no easy feat.

He came into your life like a walking myth, swept you away, and you only laughed as you went. It was fun at first. He was supposed to be your savior, the solution to all your problems. If a man like him found you attractive, perhaps it was the world that was crooked and not you.

But then you got soft: you started to gain pounds. Meanwhile, he became even more magnificent. It reminded you that it had all been just a dream.

Perhaps it was his eyes that seemed to worship you, that seemed to look past your every flaw. Perhaps it was the hands which never seemed to get enough of your skin. Whatever it was, it was too much. And at the same time, never enough.

The day has finally come to let him go.

You think yourself heroic. It's like it should be: it's only right that you finally release him to someone better than you.

But inside, the noble feelings twist and turn and curl around your throat and stuff your stomach full of ice - the kind they fill glasses of mojito with. The drink you'll always remember him by because he teased you about it: that you wanted an ice-cold summer drink even in the middle of winter.

Now you feel cold all over, and wish he could warm you like he used to. 

You would forsake all the mojitos of the world to keep him. You would renounce the whole drink if it came to that; if you could make him yours.

But he's not yours. He never was: he was just on loan to give you a taste of what it would be like to have a man like him. That taste should be more than enough for a lifetime. You should feel grateful.

So why is it so hard to let go?

The key on the front door turns, and your heart shoots up your throat: you're supposed to settle this thing once and for all. You're supposed to let go of him today. 

And still, when he arrives, you can't find the courage to say what you need to say. The words are stuck in your throat, but tears are not. He should already be a memory, but you find yourself suffocating on memories as you cry. You've learned to do even that in silence, like the rest of your suffering.

You take a few deep breaths, wipe the tears away, shove the rest of them down your throat – you save them for later, later, when he's far away and you can finally curl up and cry your heart out without no one there to look. Fucking later.

Good. 

Good.

Great.

You put your heaviest armor on. It protects weak and soft flesh because you can't meet him all bare. Then you step forward with the knowledge that you’re a thoroughly wounded guerrilla while he is a seasoned, well-rested veteran. The fight is nowhere near even, but it's ok. You are not meant to be in the presence of immortals anyway.

The man looks at you warily as you finally enter the room. That haunted look has followed you for some time now as the distance between you has grown. 

It should be easy, what is about to come, because he hasn't touched you in weeks. You haven't wanted him to.

Or you have… But it's not easy to have his hands on you when your body is only a vessel you hate. How can you even think about pleasure when all you think about is how it must feel for him to caress something as awful as this?

The man is a vision, and he settles for a peasant. It should be against the law, but it's not… so you figured a some time ago that you should simply find the strength and grace to do ii: do what's right.

"I need to talk to you." 

Your voice comes out neutral, and it makes you more confident, if only for a second or two.

He lifts his chin: already knows what's coming, because he's not stupid. You've been shutting down for weeks, and he hasn't done much about it. But when the thunder rolls in, he doesn't flee. Probably because he fears nothing.

"Go ahead then," he says, equally as neutral, equally as icy. Got his armor on, too. 

This should be easy…

It's really not, so you decide to rip the band-aid off in one yank.

"I think we should go separate ways."

The following inhale from across the room pierces the air like a bullet. You can hear his breaths gain depth and speed all the way to where you're standing.

"Ok."

It doesn't look or sound like he's ok. If anything, he looks like he's trying to process the sudden storm. 

"Ok…" His eyes are on the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. Then he starts to pace around the little kitchenette you've shared for almost six months, just before you started gaining weight.

He stops to look out the window, then turns to you, and the hurt in his stare comes through like a thousand needles pushing through skin.

"Is it because of my work?" 

"No."

"What is it then?"

Your breaths are getting out of hand, too. He looks like a lost, tired creature in an abandoned animal shelter for a moment, and it breaks your heart. It squeezes the organ inside a flaming fist until it shatters like it has never been nothing more than ice.

Your lip starts to tremble, and he notices, as per usual. Nothing escapes this man, except perhaps the true reason for your anguish.

"Hey. Hey."

He comes to you and hugs you like it's the only thing that matters: to comfort you when he sees you're about to cry, no matter how crushed he's feeling himself. The sudden warmth, the intimacy after weeks and weeks of pain is knee-buckling. 

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?"

His voice is soft, so soft… The tears rush forth now; there's no way of stopping them. What the hell can you even say to a question like that? That you wish he could grab a magic wand and turn you into someone gorgeous, the woman he deserves?

His embrace feels good, kind of. It also feels smothering because your self-hate makes you want to disappear from existence entirely. His eyes are equal to physical touch, a probing scan that sees every little flaw, not to talk about massive faults, the ones which make you feel like you're simply disgusting. His touch only reminds you how you must feel like to him: soft, too soft, weak.

And he must hate weakness.

"What do you need me to do? I'll do anything," he tries with a parched throat, then swallows. 

It's fucking horrible. This isn't going at all like you had imagined.

"It's not about you," you struggle out of his hold, and he lets you go with reluctance. You have to basically fight your way out of a bone and steel prison. Why would he even want to hold a pathetic woman who's on the brink of ugly crying on top of everything?

"What do you mean?"

He's slightly breathless – and restless as fuck. He's usually so calm; nothing can get to him, nothing can rattle the tower of raw strength. Now you've not only pierced some invisible armor; you can hear pieces of it falling on the floor.

"Have you found someone else?"

What the…

"No." You put as much weight on that word as you possibly can. To imagine that he thinks you are cheating… Fucking cheating on someone like him. "Jesus Christ…"

He takes a deep breath and sighs deeply, sighs out relief, perhaps. Then his razor-sharp stare fixes on you again, and you can see the fear turning into something akin to concern. You suspect you have to tell him the truth, otherwise he will dig it out of you. 

"I'm just…" 

Jesus, this is just humiliating. 

"I'm just not your type."

"What the hell are you talking about," he mutters, the impending fury giving way to momentary surprise. 

He gets intense sometimes. This time, the ferocity is born of barely concealed distress. He's broad and magnificent, even in despair. He’s just so fucking fine… The perfect man, someone you had never even imagined yourself with. Pulled down to the world of puny mortals, evidently stressing about losing one. 

Losing you.

"If you have someone new, you can just bloody well tell me."

"It's not that. You don't understand–" 

"Try me."

"I just…" A tear escapes down your face as you finally break for him. "I'm fat. Okay? And ugly. And–"

"Stop right there."

The look on his face is just… It's priceless, you suppose.

"Bloody fucking hell…" 

He looks at the floor, then runs his fingers through the short cut hair on top of his head. You've yanked those blonde strands more times than you can count, nearly every time he's been between your legs, and you miss it – you long for it, like fallen angels long for heaven. 

And if there was a time this man was rendered speechless, you would say you were witnessing that moment right now. His brows knit together, then he looks up at you again with blaring disbelief.

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"This is the reason you wanna break up?"

Ugh.

"Yes?"

His voice grows rougher with every question until it resembles thunder, and you suspect this is the commanding tone his soldiers are used to hearing. 

But you're not: it's gravelly, harsh, and betrays the feeling of having been insulted. You feel even more devastated with yourself – it appears you can do nothing right.

"Where has this… idea even come to your head?"

"I don't know." 

"And you never thought to ask my opinion?"

"Would you please stop yelling," you whisper and blink back some putrid tears. His mouth is snapped shut, his head pulls back just a little as he realizes what he's done. 

"Sorry," he says with a half-whisper, and you catch the strain in his throat. You've never seen him cry, but now his voice is suddenly thin and frail. "I'm sorry."

He takes a step, then another, places fingertips on the counter as if to take the faintest support.

"Can I touch you?"

You don't really want him to do that, but you feel pity for the man. He's trying to find a way through this mess, and you want to help him.

"Yes," you whisper, and he immediately comes and takes you in his arms again. Hot tears disappear into his shirt, and you sniff a few times. He feels so good, so safe, even when you're about to lose him. His hold tightens around you, and the kitchen is silent; the whole world is silent. You don't know if you're being put to a grave or if you're in a deaf womb, waiting to be reborn.

"Now I don't know who's said this shite to you but ugly is the last fucking thing I'd call you," he declares above you. As if it was some bully whose fault it is that you were this way, a bully he could deal with with his fists or a gun. If only things were that easy…

"Have I said or done something? To make you feel this way?"

Then the blade is turned against himself. The man desperately searches for a culprit so he can deal with them.

"No," is the only thing you can say because it's true: he has never done a thing to make you feel like you weren't good enough; quite the contrary. But then again, he doesn't have to. It's enough that he exists and resembles a god.

"Then why do you think you're not my type?"

"Because you're so perfect," you hear yourself wail, no, cry into that shirt that smells of sweet safety and familiar musk – his scent, another thing you have missed like it's the only way to heaven.

"That for sure ain't true."

"But it is."

He seems to have the utmost difficulty in grasping what the issue here is. You can almost hear the wheels turning in his head with a rusty, laborious creak.

"Can't believe you wanna break up because of this," he finally says. You've chipped his pride, the ego that lives off of pleasing the ones he loves: the few chosen ones who he wants to give his whole life to. 

"To me, you're perfect," he then says, and you simply… You stop breathing. "You're like… my dream woman. Ever thought about that?"

It can't be true, even if you vehemently, desperately want it to be. You reach out to his words like they're precious food after years of famine. Like they're sun and spring rain after being buried in the cold, dark soil whole winter.

"No…?"

"Never occurred to you that I might find you fucking beautiful?"

"Stop," you whisper, because it's too much to take in. He sounds so serious, so sincere.

"No, I don't think I will."

He pulls back a little and cups your face. Brushes away a tear, looks at you with so much love that it physically hurts; you feel like it's a lance that slowly drives through your heart.

"How about I kiss every part I love about you?"

You let out a soft little whimper. Fuck, that you want him to… 

It would also be uncomfortable as hell. To try and let him love you and your body, which you have grown to loathe.

"It's gonna take all night, though. Wanna be as thorough as possible."

"Simon–"

"Love. I want you. Thought I'd made it pretty clear, but apparently I haven't. If you only knew how much–"

He sighs deeply. The man is frustrated with his shortcomings, thinks that this is all his fault. You cry a tear or two just for the sake of how absurd it all is. 

"I don't want you to go. I fucking love you. Everything about you."

For the second time this afternoon, your lower lip starts to tremble as if this was some stupid, romantic movie. He can be so soft when he wants to, more romantic than the soft-spoken gentlemen in Jane Austen's novels. It doesn't even require any effort: underneath the cynical surface, there's fiery emotion, so powerful and raw that it almost bleeds out of him. Fuck… Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"I love you too," you whisper back, and the warmth that starts to bloom in his eyes is an entire sun on its own. It's hope, and you believe him, almost believe him.

"Then I'd say it's a bloody bad idea to break up."

You chuckle while few more tears push through to the surface.

"Simon…" You sigh and look back up at him, your armor falling to the floor too. "I feel like a wreck."

You allow him to see the pain, all of it. His breath is sharp as it hits him, but he still doesn't waver.

"Then let me help you."

The arms around you gain more strength, and you're crushed against a chest made of power. He tries to turn shit to gold, and threatens to succeed. You allow yourself to soften in his hold. How good it feels to be supported – no, loved.

"You don't even let me touch you anymore."

It's a filed complaint, but also heart-rending, soul-wrenching longing. You have evaded him for weeks now – hell, this shit began months ago and has escalated gradually, stealthily, until the moments together were a rarity, the space between you was full of frost; and not the crispy, happy summer drink kind.

"I thought you'd found someone else. Could've found out if that was the case in minutes, but honestly, I didn't wanna know."

Oh my God…

Has he lived with a growing suspicion and dread all these months? 

That would explain why he has avoided you too…

He has allowed you to go to your supposed lover, has given you space to be alone and without too much attention. The man has shielded himself from pain. 

Jesus fucking Christ.

"I'm so sorry," you say with a strained little breath. "I swear it's nothing like that. I just… I feel like a mess."

"Never seen such a gorgeous mess." 

He speaks on your skin, the kiss on your forehead feels like an absolution. 

Then you notice it's not only his words which try to assure you. He's growing harder by the minute against your stomach, just from a simple hug. Just from being pressed against you like this, after weeks of dry, bitter longing.

"Miss your taste," he murmurs to your skin, his voice like sand wrapped in burning velvet. "The sounds you make when you want it hard."

Oh God–

"Miss your smile when we go to shower after."

"Hmh…"

"Don't wanna live without that smile."

You don't have to. 

God, you don't have to…

"How about we make a deal," he draws fingers down your chin, coaxing you to look up at him. His eyes are stripped from the cold distance that greeted you just moments ago: now they are filled with warmth that spreads to your chest and belly and bones. You drink him in like summertide.

"You come to me every time you feel bad and I'll make you feel good. Alright?"

"...Ok." 

He tilts his head a little to the side, not entirely satisfied with your shy little answer.

"Come on. Make me believe it."

"It's a deal," you say with more grit to it, even if you're nearly crying again, this time from relief.

"That's my girl."

Oh fuck…

He knows exactly what strings to pull, the good girl talk being one of the things that instantly makes your legs feel like jelly. 

And why does he always have to use that voice when he calls you a good girl or his girl, that sultry smoke that makes you want to swoon until he catches you and carries you to bed?

The man seems to be a mind reader as well, because he sweeps you off your feet and does exactly that: carries you to your bed which has mainly seen silent tears and painful sleep last months.

"Poor thing doesn't even know how lovely she is."

He sounds amused in the face of your darkness: sees it in full and still doesn't fear at all. He's ready to battle your demons for you, and you feel like shaking: from his touch and that voice, from the stress and loneliness that starts to release as he lays you down on the bed.

He looks so different from the man that has haunted this place for the past months, the complete opposite of the reserved soldier retreating into the shadows.

He moves to kiss you, and it's been – what? Weeks since your last kiss? And even that was only a quick peck, nothing like this… Wet, and desperate; a devouring. It makes you clench around nothingness, and you finally surrender. 

No one can fake such fervor.

You try to accept it: accept the fact that even if you hate yourself, he does not. For some reason, he adores you. His breaths hit your face hot and urgent, and he can't keep his hands to himself anymore. They wander over your waist and hips, they even risk to steal a feel of your breasts, and then he groans in your mouth.

"I've missed you. Fuck, I've missed you..."

You taste notes of burning leaves; tobacco, his only weakness. You fantasize on the thought that you might be another weakness, too.

"Remember when I fucked you in my office?"

"I've missed you too," you utter softly in between the kisses that threaten to turn into a sloppy mess. "So much..."

He smiles at that, and it makes you weak, even when lying down like this.

"Yeah…?"

"You were so loud I had to put a hand over your mouth."

His voice is thick as he laughs a short chuckle. Your inner walls clench again at the sound, you throb among the warm syrup surrounding you.

"Never seen you so wet. Almost dripped all over my gear."

"It's that stupid mask you wear," you hear yourself breathe like you've just been underwater. Feel yourself throb some more, feel a burning sensation in the nether areas from the scorched desert turning wet again. You want him so much that it actually hurts down there.

"Knew you'd like it. That's why I kept it on."

If this man keeps talking, your underwear is going to be utterly ruined. And of course he does; of course he continues to pour more love in your ear.

"Everyone looked at you like you were a queen," he grunts in your ear, sounding almost… pissed.

"Don't be ridiculous," you try to form sensible words. It's only a faint breath, really, but he huffs at your modesty. 

"You don't have eyes in the back of your head, love."

Wow… He is a bit pissed.

Had they checked your ass out when you visited him? 

It was the first and, what you thought, the last time you got to visit him at his workplace… but you never would have guessed the reason for him not asking you to visit again would be jealousy. 

"Don't worry. I put those fuckers in their place after you left." 

Whoa. 

Ok…

First, he had fucked you senseless in his office – a highly inappropriate move for a man in his position – then got jealous because some soldiers had checked you out as you left with his cum practically dripping from your cunt.

You put yourself in his shoes for a moment: he's had to live with thoughts of you running to some other man's arms when he's not home, and then watch you waltz around his workplace after making what was supposed to be the last effort to make him love you… When he has loved and adored you this whole time, has watched the sway of your ass with the rest of those home-deprived, horny soldiers, thinking you had fallen out of love and were on your way to go see some other guy.

Had he invited you there to try and win you back, too? By showing himself to you in all his puffed up, masculine glory? A desperate man in a skull mask, hoping to get love from you…

There's so many misunderstandings; they rip your throat. A sob escapes, and he stops his caress.

"Love… Tell me to stop if you–"

"No. No, I don't want you to stop." 

Your request comes out with such demand that he hesitates only a second or two. Then he moves on top of you and tugs your skirt up. You don't even have time to realize what is happening before he has worked himself out of his pants.

He's hard and heavy between your legs, and your eyes go wide as you realize he's not going to bother to take your briefs off. He just slides a hand under the skirt and draws the fabric aside, and the fat tip of him is pushed in the middle almost clumsily. It's hot, and slips down to your opening with ease.

Oh f–

"Been jerking off to you nearly every night at the base," he says just before he pushes himself in. 

"Uh–...."

Your thighs spread wide as he fills you slowly, inch after inch. The sound that leaves him is starved: a dry, painful sigh. He's been waiting for this for god knows how long, and you're just as hungry to take him in. He seems endless, the way he finally works himself fully inside, spreading you even wider as the thickening base of his cock reaches its end. 

"Thought you were getting railed by someone else while I only get to fuck my hand."

"Oh god…"

There's really nothing else to say as his balls press against you, heavy and taut. He's not going to last long.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he admits, breathless like you. 

You look at him with what must be the most helpless stare of longing in your eyes. Then he moves, and you want to grip him to keep him inside. The first thrusts are divine, they're pure heaven, and your head sinks deep into the pillow as you try to get enough air, try to not scream from pleasure already. Somehow, all you are able to utter is a desperate little whisper.

"Simon–"

His cock is good enough to bring tears to your eyes. You're starving too, you're pulling him in with fierce hunger, and he groans, then nearly falls forward, his weight pressing against you, swallowing you, until you feel like you're an idiot for thinking that you're too big. The thickness of his chest rubs against you as he makes love to you with passion that echoes the first times you did this.

"Just wanna adore you, love." He's panting desperate somewhere above you. A god and a man, both furious and gentle. "I wanna adore you. Just like this."

You answer him with what must be those sounds he told you about, the sounds you make when you want it hard. 

You want him to fuck you, to wreck you after weeks of loneliness and hate. To love you until you break into a million pieces.

"Simon," you whisper. "...Love me."

He halts, huffs in your neck. It's almost a sob. There's so much emotion and desperation in the air that it could be scooped up and sold in the streets.

"Always," he rasps in your ear, then moves to kiss you again. "Always."

The promise echoes around you, it coats your lips as he loves you with all he has. It's been so long, and he feels so good that you nails dig into his shirt, his shoulder, you try to hold onto him even though he's the wave that rocks you.

"You feel that?" He goes deep; he's out of breath and desperate, even more desperate than you. "That's love. You feel it, yeah?"

"Yes," you sob in his shoulder, tears trying to escape your waterline as you're going dumb from the pure sensation, the sensuality of it all. 

"That's it, love. That's a good girl," he turns to your neck and gruffs in your ear as you whimper and moan. "Always such a good girl."

Shit…

"I, I'm gonna…"

Your legs wrap around his middle, your muscles twitch and your hands reach and grab – they claw and yank and tug everything they can: his back, shoulders, shirt, something sturdy to keep you from drowning in a glorious orgasm.

He laughs in your neck and continues to grind you through your climax even when you're shattering, sighing, moaning, writhing under him. He just laughs, the man who never laughs: from witnessing you respond to him calling you a good girl.

Fucking bastard…

Lovable, infuriating bastard who knows you to your core. 

You're an overstimulated heap by the time he comes as well, not long after you, but long enough to make you feel like you're only a tender bunch of nerves. Your legs have fallen to the side, he has open access to take what he needs: you, your love, all of it.

His whole middle goes tense as he cums, he groans and swears somewhere deep into your neck, rolls his hips over and over again like it's a must that his balls press against you with every thrust that shoot his load. 

Then he falls slack, nearly collapses on top of you, reminding you of what it feels like to be small under a giant like him. You're throbbing together, you're full and fulfilled, and he is still lodged deep inside you, panting and broken in a sweat.

"Jesus Christ…" 

He sounds dazed. 

Relieved. 

"Should've done this weeks ago."

You laugh at seeing him so done – a man in love, torn by jealous yearning, finally taking what's his. You stroke his neck, his back – it's so good to have him finally there… So close, with no barriers in between.

"I should've talked to you weeks ago..." 

"Yeah. You should have."

"Are you going to punish me?" You giggle a little – the flirt is light and frees your heart further from its recent jail. He moves to look at you with all the tenderness there is. It's too much... His love is too much. But you won't run from it anymore.

"Nah. Think I'm gonna spoil you some more."

He spoils you right away with a kiss. You surrender to his treatment with happiness: happy tears, even. 

The medicine to your anguish has been the exact opposite to what you had first tried, what you had originally thought. The true remedy for your sickness is mercy. Perhaps some spoiling…

And love.

[atimeofyourlife]

Time after time

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: uncle wayne adopts steve | rated: t | wc: 942 | cw: reference to abuse, reference of canon fake suicide | tags: steve harrington has bad parents, steve harrington needs a hug

The first time they met, Wayne knew the boy couldn't be much older than fourteen. Definitely younger than Eddie, who was fast approaching sixteen. It was early, a little before 6 am, during summer vacation, no less. Wayne had finished his shift and called into Benny's to get a coffee and breakfast, on the mornings he did this, he was almost always the first customer of the day. Occasionally beaten in by a cop, or a firefighter, or anyone else that had been stuck with a night shift. But he had never seen a kid in so early. Sat alone in the corner booth nursing a cup of coffee with an almost empty plate in front of him.

"Mornin' Wayne. The usual?" Benny asked.

"You know it. But, uh. What's with the kid?" Wayne replied, nodding toward the boy in the corner.

"Dick and Linda's kid. They're back in town, and he needs a safe place. So he comes here."

"Why don't you report it?" "You think I haven't tried? His parents paid off just about everyone from the mayor down. Kid's not lucky enough to have any other family around to look out for him."

The kid came over with his empty cup and plate.

"I've told you a thousand times that you don't need to do that kid." Benny said.

The kid just shrugged.

"What's your name, kid?" Wayne asked.

"Steve, sir. Steve Harrington." He replied.

"I'm Wayne. And I wish my boy was as polite as you."

The second time they met, it was in more unfortunate circumstances. Benny's funeral. There'd been weird shit going on in town, starting with the Byers' kid going missing. Wayne didn't believe any of the official stories. But especially not the story of Benny's supposed suicide. He knew Benny so well, and something like that wasn't the sort of thing to cross his mind.  He took his place in the community too seriously for that.

But the kid had changed. A few years older, and a lot more haunted. The look in his eyes giving away that he'd seen more than his fair share in his young life. And he was jumpy, almost always looking over his shoulder.  He kept to himself, away from everyone else there. Wayne didn't see much of him until after. Steve was standing at the edge of the parking lot, his hands shaking as he tried to get his lighter to work.

"Here, kid." Wayne held his own lighter out.

"Thank you, sir." Steve replied, after taking a long puff on his cigarette.

"No need for thanks, kid. You doing okay?"

"I. I think I'm gonna miss him. He's helped me out a lot." Steve admitted.

"That was Benny for you. Always ready to help anyone out. But do you have anyone else you can reach out to if you need it?"

Steve hesitated a moment. "Yeah, sir. I do."

The third time, it was less of a meeting than Steve yelling directions at everyone. Tabitha, a woman who lived on the other side of the trailer park, collapsed in the middle of Big Buy. The kid snapped into action without second thought, checking Tabitha for a pulse, for her breathing. He yelled at an employee to call for an ambulance as he started chest compressions. At another to clear space. At some other customers to block the end of the aisle so no one else could stand around and watch. Wayne approached as Steve gave rescue breaths, before going back to the chest compressions. When he noticed Wayne, he looked like he was about to yell at him, but Wayne spoke first.

"It's okay, kid. She's my neighbor. And I know CPR too, so when you need a break I can take over."

They swapped places a few times before the paramedics showed up and took over.

"You did good, son. You acted quicker than any adults did. You may have just saved her life." "Anyone would have done it, sir. I was just the closest who knew what to do."

The fourth time, it was at the hospital. Steve in the hospital bed next to Eddie's, identical wounds, but Steve's were infected. Wayne got to talking to Steve while Eddie slept.

"I tried to protect him the best as I could, sir. I patched him up, and made sure he got to the hospital in time. I know I should have done more-"

"You did more than enough. You kept him alive, now you need to focus on making sure that you're healthy. And you can drop the sir shit. It's Wayne."

After that, Wayne lost count of the meetings. From sharing the hospital room with Eddie, to being friends, to being more. He would do as much for Steve as he would for Eddie, and wanted to ensure that both always had somewhere safe to return to.

"Steve, if you ever want to get out of that big empty house of yours, you're more than welcome to join us here. We'd love to have you move in with us." Wayne said to Steve one day while they were cooking together. Eddie always conveniently disappeared when anything cooking related came up.

"Sir, Wayne. I couldn't put you out like that." Steve replied.

"Nonsense. You're as much my kid as Eddie is, it don't matter who your momma or daddy is. We want you here, you spend enough time here as it is, we might as well make it official."

"I, Wayne. I'd like that." Steve was quite choked up, so Wayne pulled him into a hug. All was going to be okay, with him and his two boys.

[goldsbitch]

Our wedding

Y/N and Lando probably went a little too overboard when planning their wedding. She finally looses it when his friend suggests a product placement bucket hat.

A dream wedding.

Distant palazzo, with acres of private lands to roam around at night. Lavish dress, designed to fit perfectly and re-done three times. Coordinators, who made sure everyone who needed to be invited actually was. And also took care about almost anything one can imagine.

A perfect wedding, that's what they both wanted. Go big or go home. Combining romance, with generously giving everyone they loved, or deemed important, the time of their life. To say that this event was supposed to be extra would be an understatement.

Lando said yes to all of Y/N's wished regarding flower arrangements, menu items and rooming lists. She said yes to all of this ideas about the music, sound systems set up in each part of the venue (because heaven would turn upside down if there had been one quiet spot with no music, according to Lando) and drinks choices. They could not agree on the photographer - so Lando just booked his, and hers option as well. Saving money was not on the table. He knew that the amount of good PR and brand deals the Quadrant team managed to get together was going to pay out in the long run. Everyone loves a wedding.

That's where the first issues started - the amount of people invited grew into higher hundreds. She voiced her point few times, but Lando quickly shut those off with a promise to book a private charter for all friends and family who were coming from her homeland. She caved in and agreed to just few more CEO's she'd never met, as long as they did not share their table.

It was the final two months before the wedding and things could not be more hectic. They had to plan the wedding around Lando's race schedule, so summer break between races it was. Y/N had to juggle her job with all of this planning, so she attended less races than she usually would. Most of the calls she shared with Lando were wedding related and it seemed like his best friend Max took it upon himself to speak on behalf of Lando - so sometimes it felt like she was marrying Max rather than her fiancé. After a total break down she had few days ago, which resulted in her crying on the phone to Lando at 4 am his local time, they agreed she absolutely had to come over to the next race so that they could find some down time.

//

Having to endure a tiring overnight flight, she finally stepped into the hotel where Lando was staying at. Exhausted, jet-lagged and generally in a bad mood were the main ingredients in the perfect cocktail of "you should just avoid me" Y/N. She finally opened the door to his room and let out a groan. Traveling to see him used to be her favorite thing. A bombastic cherry on top was that she immediately recognized Max's voice coming from the living room. Was this guy staying in the same room as them now?

"Y/N, is that you?" she heard, desperately hoping he hadn't heard her enter in. She felt like a bitch for wishing that, but he was the last person she wanted to see at that point. Her hopes of jumping in the bed and cuddling Lando the first thing coming here dissolved like cotton candy, leaving tooth aches behind.

"Yes, Max, it's me," she said, not even bothering adjusting her tone to something more socially appropriate.

"Great, just on time. Can you come in here? We have some decisions that are becoming pressing matters," he said dryly and added his own frustrated comment quietly "...since someone does not feel like answering emails." She heard that, bit her lip and swallowed all her comments, otherwise she would explode.

"What's up?" she asked, entering the living space. There were dozens of baseball caps and buckets hats laid down on the coffee table with Max and some random young guy towering over them.

"We need you to pick out one of these which you'll be wearing after the reception. I have a great brand deal on the table which I need to close today. So, go ahead - pick one." She could not believe the words coming out of Max's mouth. Was he for real?

"May I ask when did I agree to wearing a baseball cap with my dress right after my wedding?"

Max glanced at her and then rolled his eyes. "Can you just pick one? Lando is on board with this, he'll be wearing this green one," he pointed to objectively very nice stylish item of clothing - but still, it was a bucket hat. Rage levels shot up in Y/N blood steam.

"Max, I'm suppose to be wearing my wedding dress until the evening, that's also in some deal you guys made," she proclaimed, hoping this would finally make him get some sense. "The dress is very classical, I don't think this would fit the vibe."

"Oh, come, we agreed to sticking to the Quadrant Athletes color palette and all of these check that. We want to break the classical vibe up with this."

"I'm sorry, who exactly is we in this scenario? And who the fuck are you?!" she pointed at the guy standing next to Max.

"I'm...I'm the product placement controller," he said in a shy voice.

Her eyes just went wide at that point.

"Y/N, no need to freak out again, you need to create a viral moment to make the brand grow," Max said, as if he was talking about a new merch launch.

And that was the final straw. "I'm getting sick of you guys making my wedding into a Quadrant PR stunt. You need to realize this is my wedding, not yours! The whole event is already dripping with brand deals and promotions, is there nothing out of line to you? Will my mom also have to wear one of these hats? Will force the officiant to wear sneakers? Where will you stop?"

Max stared at her, his own cup finally also full. But unlike her, he spoke calmly - again, giving strong business vibes. "Oh, I'm sorry - I'm sorry I am pulling heaven and Earth to make sure your wedding does not ruin your future husband! I apologize that I seem to be more stressed about this wedding than you are. Sorry for caring and trying to uphold some standard."

"Max, this is all too much! I feel like I'm suffocating," she tried to reason with him once more.

He just had enough at that point. So many little moments of mutual disagreement finally grew on him.

"Yeah, well maybe you're just not suited for this world."

Before she could even take a breath to respond, a familiar voice cut them both off.

"Guys, that's enough I'd say," Lando said as he slowly stepped out the same corridor Y/N had entered moments ago. Both Max and Y/N turned around, knowing they'd have spoken way differently had they known he was there as well.

Max gulped, knowing he stepped over a line and immediately started to apologize. "Mate, I'm sorry, we just sort of lost it. I'm sorry."

Lando glanced at him, his face suddenly hard to read for both his friend and his fiancée. He quickly flashed Y/N a look, seeing the obvious distress finally on his own, in a way the camera on a phone just does not capture. It pained him to see them two fighting, but it pained him more to see her on the verge of crying.

She couldn't find words to apologize to Max. In fact she could barely even see him, as Lando took all of her attention.

"Can you guys leave us for now? I think we need to talk alone," Lando said in a tone so serious that Max hardly remembered last time he'd heard it.

"Yeah, mate. Of course," he said shyly, gesturing to his companion to quickly exit with him.

Once the door finally clicked, Y/N felt like she could get out of her frozen state.

"My god. Lando, I knew it would be a challenge these few months, but I did not expect to grow so far away from you," she said, as the words flew out of her mouth without her being able to control it.

He was more careful with his words, but brave nevertheless. "It's true. I don't think we've even been so distant."

Him acknowledging it just made it real and hurt more.

"Right. At least we have that in common."

There was an awkward silence, something these two hadn't experienced in months.

"Why is Max involved so much?" she asked, hoping that she would not hear anything that would make her biggest fear come true - Lando's lack of desire to marry her.

He took a moment to get his point in the right order. "He's my best friend. This is our wedding. I can't stop focusing on racing, but I want it to be perfect. I'd say not giving him any credit sometimes."

Of course, he was defending him. She wondered if he defended her in front of Max sometimes.

All card on the table. She gulped before uttering the next sentence. "I'm scared that I don't want to go to my own wedding anymore. I feel like an unwanted guest."

They shared a look full of hidden pain. It was impossible to tell, but Lando was scared as never before. "What are you saying...Do you want to call it of??"

She looked back at him, praying that he would understand. "God no, that's the last thing I want to do," she sighed and put her head in her hands. How did it got to a place where he could even assume that? "Marrying you, the love of my life, is my dream. In fact, I'd just like to jump to the moment where I can finally say yes to you."

The air still felt really heavy. "Then let's do just that."

"What do you mean?"

Lando took few steps closer to her, missing her close proximity for the past few weeks. He desperately needed to fix them. "Let's book a wedding for next week in Monaco, just you me and any other people required by the law."

The idea of that seemed silly at first. But the more she thought about it, the more she craved that idea. "So, you want to call the actual wedding off?"

Lando chuckled at the image of them cancelling that at last minute and all the hustle that would bring. "No, silly, not unless you really want to. But who says we can't have a fake ceremony there, celebrate with everyone, while already being married at that point? We don't need to tell anyone, keep the magic for them. We can have two weddings."

It was her time to laugh now. "So because we find organizing one wedding hard, we're going to be doing two now?"

"We are anything but conventional. And if this is news for you then, well...That would mean I'm marrying the queen of delulu. Twice."

The weight of the past weeks was lifted.

"Does this mean I can say "No." at the big wedding?" she teased him, closing the distance between them and holding his hand.

"Not if I'll say "No." first," he winked and quickly gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm not wearing a bucket hat. Just stating that now."

"Oh come, at least one of our weddings," he said as he ruffled her hair. "Wow, I think you need a post airport shower, my love."

"Do not try and change the topic - no bucket hats!" she mumbles as she tried to fix her hair.

"Fine, I'll just get you drunk. You'll wear a bucket hat at one of our weddings one way or another."

It felt so good to just banter with him, like they always did before they got caught up in all the stress. A shot of guilt went through her system, as she flashed back at the whole process so far.

"I should probably apologize to Max," she uttered, avoiding his eye contact once again.

He finally hugged her. "Yeah probably. But...let him rot in his feelings for a moment. I hate when someone makes you upset. Apart from me, of course."

"What makes me upset right now is the alarming amount clothes you're wearing."

"That's my girl!"

//

They got legally married the following weekend, Lando bribing anyone he could in order for them to skip few spots that were unavailable. The first wedding was secret and full of inappropriate, but honest kisses. The second one was fake, but they slayed it together, as newly married couple. Without the stress of actually getting married, they really enjoyed their wedding. The little secret stayed with them - and Max of course, because he just had to get involved with everything.

[pitchsidestories]

HOT TO GO! II Niamh Charles x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1026

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, have fun. <3

Usually the atmosphere in the dressing room would never be this relaxed right before a London Derby.

But this was a friendly against Arsenal. And it wasn’t even in London. So the tension and explosive nature of such a game were slightly subdued.

You slipped your sock on and pushed your shinguards down while simultaneously humming to “HOT TO GO!“ which was playing in the background.

Niamh was right next to you, tying her shoes. Her jersey hung right behind her, and alongside it, the bright yellow armband with the big C on it.

You smirked: “Nice armband, Captain Charles.“

She looked up. Her gaze shifted from you to the captains armband and back to you.

“Thanks.“ Her voice rose at the end, making it sound like a question. Still, her cheeks blushed in a subtle pink.

Smiling, you leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek. An inconspicuous way of showing how proud you were of her.

“Ugh, can’t you two be less couple-y for once?“, Erin groaned from the other side of the room, her face a grimace of disgust.

“We’re not doing anything! At least I don’t.“, Niamh protested and pointed innocently at her chest.

Nathalie laughed: “Then get your girlfriend to behave.“

You rolled your eyes in a playful gesture: “Oh come on. This was all innocent.“

Niamh turned to you with one eyebrow raised and her hand on your thigh: “Ignore them, babe. Erin’s just jealous and Nat wishes Aurora was still on her team.“

“WHAT?!“, they both said in unison.

You smiled at you girlfriend, knowing it would annoy your two teammates: “You might be right about that.“

Erin shook her head, visibly annoyed: “Let’s go warm up, Nat. Or else I’m going to puke.“

Giggling, you watched as the two left the dressing room.

“Come on, you two lovebirds need to warm up as well.“, Zecira reminded you. She was clearly biting back a grin.

Niamh got up, ready to follow the others outside as well but she patiently waited for you while you slipped into your shoes.

“Sorry, love. Blame it on the Chapell Roan songs they played. They got me in this certain mood.“, you apologized with a wink and pressed yourself into her side.

“Come on. As captain I can’t be the last to the warm-up.“, Niamh smiled.

You let go of her and nodded: “Right. Especially not on a derby day.“

Side by side you entered the pitch for the warm-up, doing your exercises.

“Girls, get ready! The game is about to start.“, Millie called across the pitch, repeating the instructions from the coaching staff.

While everyone went back into the dressing room to switch from their warm-up shirts to their actual football jerseys, you used the break to run to the bathroom.

A tradition that was part of every game for you. But this time you were lost in thought, still repeating the chorus of that song in your head.

“Ready!“, you announced as you walked back onto the pitch, high-fiving your teammates.

Once you reached your girlfriend, she just looked you up and down: “Nice Shirt.“

“What? Shit?”, you cursed when you realized you were still wearing your warmup shirt, your skin turned pale despite the tan from the summer vacation.

The horror and embarrassment were written all over your face.  Before you could think any further about what to do next your feet started running.

“Jersey to go for y/n.” With a huge grin on her lips Lucy threw your jersey at you which you pressed relived to your chest.

“Thanks.”, you mouthed gratefully as you quickly put the new third kit on.

“Everyone ready now?”, Niamh wanted to know, still looking pretty amused by what just happened to you.

“Yes, everything’s sorted out.”, you assured her.

“Luce, we’ll never let y/n forget that this has happened, right?”, Millie bumped her shoulder against the brunette defenders one.

“Never.”, she agreed smirking.

“You two aren’t as quite as you think.”, you intervened, wishing a hole on the pitch could swallow you whole to save you from the awkward situation.

“You know you deserve it.”, Lucy kept teasing.

“That was so embarrassing.”, you muttered hiding your burning cheeks with your hands while you were getting ready for the group photo.

“Stop thinking about it. This could have happened to everyone.”, Niamh tried to cheer you up, putting an arm around your shoulders encouragingly.

The two of you and the rest of the team waited for the photographer to frame this memory. After that was done, everyone was beginning to move again, eagerly anticipating the start of the derby.

“Right, but I just know that it’ll haunt me in my dreams.”, you admitted.

“That’s what you get for flirting with the captain.”, Millie threw in with a wink.

“Y/n?”, Niamh immediately approached you after the referee blew the final whistle.

“Yes?”, you looked up, feeling her gaze linger on you.

“Good game.”, your girlfriend congratulated you beaming.

“Thanks, another derby win for us and you didn’t play bad either.”, you commented cheekily.

“Oh wow, nice of you.”, she chuckled.

“I know.”, you laughed.

“At least I didn’t forget to put my jersey on.”, Niamh reminded you.

“Cold captain, what about the it-could-have-happened-to-anyone-talk from earlier.”, you pouted playfully.

“I take that back. I only said it because you seemed embarrassed.”, the defender declared.

“You can sleep on the floor tonight.”, you gasped, pretending to be offended by her thoughtful gesture.

“Okay, and you can make sure you never forget your stuff again.”, she countered promptly.

“Fine.”, you agreed.

“Are you done now?”, Niamh asked, her hand resting on your back while you made your way to the changing rooms. The heat hasn’t dropped down yet, and the sun still shone strongly on both of you.

“I am time to go to our room with no shirts on.”, you announced.

“I can tell you’re not the biggest fans of shirts.”, your girlfriend remarked smiling.

“You know it’s still hot so they can go.”, you decided bluntly, referring to the song from earlier, but also the temperature which was making the thought of nothing on very delicious.

[e-dubbc11]

Ik the summer sleepover is long gone 🥲 But i got hit with Matt Murdock feels and I saw the angst prompt list. Feel free to ignore this!!!!!

So this is for my fave catholic hoe 🫠

"You have to let go." - Y/N's already dead and he keeps hallucinating that she's still there

or

"I give up. You won." - Y/N breaks up with Matt because he always keeps her at arms length but it reaches breaking point when Elektra comes back

Chose wisely 😭💖

I could never ignore anything you send me, my dear friend ♥️ I hope you like what I did. I went with the first one BUT your second prompt reminded me of a Matt fic I wrote awhile back called Unsung Hero, so if you’re feeling ambitious, I’ll leave it linked HERE.

Thank you for always sending me things that pop into your brain, I love them ♥️

Letting Go

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: Death, dealing with grief

Word Count: 1.4K-ish

Summary: You’ve been gone for awhile yet Matt still feels you everywhere he goes, he swears you’re there with him but you’re not and in order to start processing his grief, he has to say goodbye

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It hit him every time he walked into the apartment. It was here where he felt an overwhelming sense of your presence…only you weren’t there, you had been dead for 8 months now.

Reminders of you were scattered all over the apartment like stray pairs of earrings on the nightstand, a bottle of your favorite perfume, or the blanket you used to when you were quietly reading on the couch.

Not having his sight, Matt was never exactly sure what you looked like. He only had the pictures in his mind. Based on the description you had given him, he knew your eye color, your hair color, and the tone of your skin but he remembered the softness in your voice, the curves and hollows of your body, and the sound of your heartbeat as you slept soundly next to him.

Matt could never see your smile but he knew when you were smiling. He felt it tug on his heart as it stretched across your face when he did something to make you laugh or when he called you “sweetheart” but it also crushed him to taste the salt in the air if you had been crying.

He loved the smell of fresh flowers you would bring home every Friday for your date night at home but you always bought ones that didn’t have a strong scent because you didn’t want it to be too overwhelming for him. He loved how considerate you were, worrying about overloading his senses, like if the music was too loud or if cleaning products were too strongly scented.

Matt’s only wish was that he could have kept you safe, he wished he could have protected you, and more than anything he wished he wasn’t the first one to hear your heart stop beating.

Everywhere he went, he felt you with him, and he swore you were there. When Matt stopped for his morning coffee or Thai food, he had to stop himself from ordering your usual. He just couldn’t believe you were gone. You were dead and never coming back.

The guilt ate at him every day. Matt blamed himself and his nights as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen suffered because of it. “What’s the point in doing this if I couldn’t save the one person I loved the most?” He had asked himself after a particularly bad night.

Talking to Father Lantom helped but not as much as he hoped it would. Matt wanted answers that Father Lantom didn’t have. He would just tell him that “God had his reasons.” And Matt just thought he was being punished in every way possible. It was the typical Catholic guilt.

“I know you don’t wanna hear it but you know exactly what I would do, Red. I’d make sure they’d never get back up again.” Frank had said.

By asking Frank for advice, you knew Matt’s desperation was apparent as he had seriously contemplated taking their life. He knew it wouldn’t bring you back but maybe it would make him feel better knowing he avenged your death.

Maybe the hallucinations would stop, maybe he would stop hearing your voice in his head, and just maybe it would stop him from reaching for you as he was trying to fall asleep at night. The scum of Hell’s Kitchen felt his wrath every night and with every punch he landed, with every drop of blood that was spilled, he had hoped he would start to feel better but he didn’t.

And what about the tortured and unspeakable dreams where he would have to hear you cry out in pain over and over again. The heartbreak Matt felt left him miserable enough to be vulnerable whether he was awake or asleep.

At least when he was awake, he could throw himself into his work, talk to Foggy and Karen, and you would be far away from his mind. It was the alone time that left him confused, angry, and ashamed. Those feelings infiltrated his body where his heart was scorched and irregular with spasms.

“I still feel her here, Foggy! I can still smell her perfume, feel her smile against my lips, and hear her laugh. I swear she’s still here!” Said Matt, emphatically.

“But she’s not Matt, she’s gone.” Foggy had said.

You knew all of this was true because you were stuck in between worlds, you could see him. And like an angel on his shoulder you were there with him, protecting him as he was protecting his city.

As he sat perched on the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen, you would reach for him, gently brushing his shoulder, and you were positive that he could tell you were there by the way his head would tilt to the side. You knew you couldn’t stay with him forever, but long enough to be able to tell him goodbye and that you were alright.

With his cheeks flushed with rage and his mouth twisted in anger, Matt left the office and headed for home even though that’s where he felt your presence the most.

He decided not to go out that night but instead he set aside the random belongings that you had left behind, held them in between his fingers, and gently inhaled the scent of your perfume one last time.

“You’re here with me now, aren’t you angel. I know you are; I’m not crazy like Foggy thinks I am.” Said Matt.

You’d give anything to be able to touch him again, to feel his days-old stubble against your cheek, or run your fingers through his soft brown hair.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling but knew you didn’t have much time so you moved in close to look at him one more time.

Matt was so handsome. You were going to miss his hazel colored eyes with the little flecks of gold like autumn leaves, the dimple on his cheek when he smiled, his soft full lips against yours, and the low gravelly tone of his voice. It always sounded so calm and soothing to you except on the night you died.

His screams could probably be heard for blocks in every direction but he was the last thing you saw before your world went dark and you were suddenly looking down at your body while Matt tried and then the paramedics tried to revive you.

After your funeral, Matt stayed after everyone else had left and apologized profusely for not being able to save you. Matt had to let you go but he told himself that burden of guilt rested on his shoulders. Although, you knew it wasn’t his fault.

You knew he couldn’t hear you but you replied anyway.

“I’m here, Matty, but I have a feeling not for much longer.” You said, trying to touch his hand but it just passed straight through and maybe you willed him to hear you as you spoke again. “You have to let go.”

You sensed he was ready to say goodbye which pained you more than that mugger’s lethal stab wound ever could.

“I don’t want to but I have to let you go, sweetheart.” Matt said as his eyes shined with unshed tears. “I’ll always love you, y/n.”

If you were capable of crying, you would have.

“I’ll always love you too, Matt.” You said with a warm smile and “touching” his face.

He closed his eyes and let out a long exhale just as you swept your hand across his cheek, almost as if he could feel your touches.

A slight smirk stretched across his lips as he said, “You’re trying to tell me you’re ok, aren’t you.”

Your hand ghosted against his other cheek and he smiled again.

“I’m ok, Matty. It’s alright, you can let go now.” You said.

The light at your back was calling to you. It was time to go. Although you didn’t know where you were being called to, you wished with all your heart that Matt would be alright and deep down, you knew he would be.

As you turned to walk away, you gazed at Matt one last time, committing to memory what he was wearing, the look on his face, and any other small things you never wanted to forget about him.

You loved the way he adjusts his glasses, rolls the sleeves of his dress shirt up, the way he puts his suit on in the morning, or anytime he kissed you and told you he loved you.

You wondered if he had little things about you he committed to his memory, and if he did, what were they? It made you sad that you’ll never know what they could be but you hoped that Matt Murdock would never ever forget you.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @chezagnes @elgrandeavocados @freshabogados @matt-erialgirl

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @k-marzolf @fluffyprettykitty @hellskitchens-whore

Thank you for reading, I appreciate it! I’ve only tagged a handful of people. If you liked it, you can tell me, I don’t bite. I know I haven’t written for Matt in awhile, no pressure.

[luveline]

hi!! i was wondering if you would write more ab spencer, r, and baby amanda from your single dad au? :o they’re so precious <3

Thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.6k

"How come you aren't hungover?" Spencer asks. 

You can barely hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. You're waiting for Hotch to finish his decathlon, the girls in their sunglasses, Jack and Morgan holding a homemade sign aloft. 

Amanda's sitting on the barrier with her weight against Spencer's chest, her soft brown hair splayed out against his collar like a wave. 

"I know the meaning of moderation," you say with a sweet smile. 

You might be imagining the pinking of his cheeks. "Not moderate enough, clearly," he jokes. 

JJ hadn't picked Henry up until three in the morning. Which is fine, Spencer will take Henry whenever he needs to, as per his self-ordained godfathering duties, but when JJ hadn't appeared at 11 like she'd promised, Spencer had obviously been worried. 

"Things got a little… out of control." You dip your face to his ear. "I've never seen Emily dance like that. It was crazy." 

"I wish I could've been there, but we had a date with Edward Tulane, didn't we, Amy?" 

Amanda tips her head back at her father's affectionate tone. "Daddy, I can't feel my butt." 

"Not your butt!" he says, taking her seriously but chuckling at the same time as he pulls her up and off of the barrier. With some careful manoeuvring, he's tucked Amanda into his chest, one hand held protectively over the bottom of her back. The other hooks behind her knees. 

"Is that better?" 

He speaks to her with the same fatherly fondness as always and every time you find yourself melty like butter in the summer sun. In Spencer's eyes, Amanda is the smartest, most interesting girl alive. You're tempted to agree. 

"I was worried it might be depressing for her," he says, tucking her hair behind her ear. "It's sad for a children's story, you know? But she's really interested, and it's important for kids to hear sad stories. Children who read stories with unhappy plotlines are more empathetic, and have a stronger sense of justice." He smiles at her. "Plus, I think it's her favourite so far. She asked if we could read it again, all in one go. It's gonna take hours." 

"That doesn't surprise me. I mean, she's yours. I thought you'd be reading her Tolstoy by now." 

"I'm saving Tolstoy for first grade." 

He's serious. 

Hotch runs through the finish line and the members of the BAU that are assembled cheer loudly. He doesn't seem embarrassed at all, only proud, ducking down to give Jack a sweaty hug. Then he, Jack, and his new girlfriend move away from the group. The remaining members of your team start to break away, too.

The girls all want to go home and die in their own beds. Rossi and Morgan have separate dates. You're thinking you'll go home and shoot the breeze until a more reasonable bedtime when Spencer turns to you with his usual genial smile.

"Do you want to come over? We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock." 

Spencer's changed a lot since he became Amanda's primary caregiver, but some things stay the same. He loves doing things with other people and he'll always extend an invite if he thinks the other party might enjoy themselves. Going over for dinner feels a lot more intimate than his having an extra ticket for a foreign film festival, or late night takeout, though. 

"I don't want to impose," you say awkwardly. 

"Do you think you're an imposition?" Spencer asks in concern. 

"No, just, you know, I don't…" 

"Amy doesn't mind. Do you, sweetheart?" 

"What?" says Amanda's little voice. 

"Can Y/N come for dinner?" he asks. 

Amanda smiles, pearly white teeth and cheeks chubby with baby fat. "Yes! We're gonna make pasta and watch Fraggle Rock!" 

You laugh in delight. 

"We decided in the car," Spencer explains. 

"Here I thought you were telepathic." You direct your smile at Amanda's doe eyes. "I'd love to come for dinner. Thanks, baby." 

Spencer has the cleanest car any parent has ever had. You know he spent days choosing the safest one he could find in his budget, and even more days on a car seat. His apartment is just as clean but way more crowded, stuffed to bursting with Amanda's toys and his books. 

"I'm gonna change, do you mind?" he asks, leading you down the hall into the kitchen. Amanda had tipped half a juice box down his front, and the stickiness is clearly making him uncomfortable.

"No, by all means."

He smiles. "Stay here," he says with a feigned sternness, pointing one of his pretty fingers at Amanda. His daughter only giggles. 

You follow Spencer with your eyes as he leaves. 

"Will you take off my shoes, please?"

You look down. Amanda stares up at you, her round eyes pleading, one foot held a half inch off of the ground. 

You leap to action, and say, "Oh! Yeah, baby, no problem," as you get down on your knees. 

They're simple buckles and take all of ten seconds. Amanda holds onto your arm and lifts her feet one at a time so you can pull them off. Her small toes wiggle in her socks when she puts them back on the floor.

"Feel better?" you ask knowingly. 

"Daddy says shoes are a con-d-struct," she tells you. 

"They are!" you say, though whether you really agree might take some thought. "They're silly, huh?" 

"Yeah. If we walked with no shoes, we would have tough skin like trees!" 

"Like trees," you repeat. You love listening to little kids speak because they're so full of joy to share what they know, and Spencer Reid's kid? She is a walking book of facts. "That's so cool, did daddy tell you that?" 

"Daddy tells me everything." 

Spencer appears in a graphic t-shirt. You've only seen him dressed down through barely open hotel room doors or in photographs with Amanda. It takes a second for your brain to recognise what you're seeing. 

He's a genius, so he understands what you're doing immediately. 

"Oh no," he coos, bending down to take Amanda's shoulders into his hands. "I'm so sorry," —he kisses the top of her head— "I forgot all about your shoes. How will you ever get tree bark feet?" 

It's sweet to see how she responds to his affection. Her eyes squint closed and she smiles softly, giggling when he scratches her shoulders through her dress. 

"Thanks for releasing her, she can't stand wearing shoes when she doesn't have to," he says to you, nudging her out of the way to offer you his hand. 

You take it, letting him pull you up. He doesn't let go of you straight away, instead brushing his thumb over your fingernails, one after another. 

"I've been meaning to ask you to dinner for a while. I– I've never been any good at this part, I thought it would be harder, because Amanda's the only girl in the world I understand no matter how many books I read, and that's not going to last forever, but I…" Spencer's voice steadily quietens, until the tone he's using is dulcet, and his brows have pulled together. He's just as pretty frowning as smiling. "It feels easy, with you," he finishes. 

"Are we having macaroni?" Amanda asks. 

Spencer looks torn. "I was thinking rigatoni," he says. 

"Gross, dad." 

"Farfalle?"

"Bowties?" she questions suspiciously. 

"Is that better than rigatoni?" he asks. 

Amanda dwells on this, leaning her weight into your leg. It's an unthinking gesture that fills you with light. 

"We can't have macaroni?" 

You know from Spencer's bemused sigh alone that she's about to get her way. 

"Do you mind?" he asks you. 

Amanda pins you with a pout, raising her hands into a praying triangle. Her puppy dog eyes are killer and unnecessary. 

"Whatever you want, babe," you say hurriedly. 

She bursts off to her toys with an excited cheer. You're sorry to see her go, petrified of embracing yourself, and still majorly caught off guard by what Spencer said. He's wanted to ask you over for dinner for a long time, does that mean he likes you? And the way he'd held your hand — that's not an ambiguous affection. 

You like Spencer. All the small things that make him him, and the huge things too. His daughter, his books, his genius mind and his clumsy heart. If he likes you too, you might just combust. 

Spencer nips into the living room to put Fraggle Rock on TV. Amanda's sweet voice chases his heels, her singing a mixture of melodic gibberish and passionate recitation. 

You linger as he starts to gather what he needs for dinner. He's either not worried about what you think of his confession or trying to hide that he is, knee deep in a recount of the invention of boxed mac and cheese when you touch his elbow. 

"I know what you mean, about what you said before, I feel the same. It feels easy with you." 

You don't know what it is. But Spencer knows everything, so you aren't worried. 

He beams. His smile warps each word he says as he turns back to the saucepan he's filling with pasta. "Maybe we should get dinner without Fraggle Rock, sometime." 

"I don't know, I don't think it gets any better than this." You nod your head toward the living room, Amanda's singing an adorable echo. 

His smile grows impossibly bigger. 

"Me neither," he says. 

[caffeinemachine]

Life Jacket - Chapter 1

Conrad Fisher x Eldest Conklin Sibling Reader

I just wrote this so quickly cause it was sitting in my head and it had to get out. Go read this post for an idea of what this series will be! I'm very excited about it!

Here's Part One!!!

Word Count; 1.2K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cousins. Lots of mixed emotions came with going to Cousins. I loved it I really did, but I wasn’t blessed with the privilege of experiencing the blissful, worry-free love like my sister. Things still followed me to Cousins, responsibilities. And I always was stuck wishing they didn’t.

My siblings got to go swimming whenever they wanted, I had to swim once a day to “keep up with it” in my parents' words, mainly my Dad. I know they don't mean it. That in their hearts they do it out of love. Cause I do love swimming, I really do, but sometimes I wish reality could go on pause so I could live freely for a little while. With no concerns, or right way or wrong way, just me doing as I please. Without my Dad here the past two summers it helped. He’s harder on me than Mom. I grew up to realize it was just cause he didn’t really know how to be a parent. Does anyone really?  But his way of showing me love as a parent was by promising my success and ensuring my future. Well, I got recruited to Harvard's swim program with a scholarship so I guess his way of love kind of worked.

Despite everything, Cousins meant I got to see them. Susannah, Jeremiah, and him. Conrad. He was what stirred my emotions about Cousins the most. I’d had a crush on him for as long as I could remember. But I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t jeopardize our families like that.  I didn’t have time for boys. I had tried to date here and there, but everyone got bored, or mad that I “didn’t have enough time for them”. I couldn’t even get upset because they were right. I didn’t have time for them like normal high school girls did. I couldn’t hang out after school, I had swim practice and very few high school boys wanted to hang out just to do homework together once I got home if you know what I mean. I couldn't afford to be distracted, so I let them all go. I couldn’t do that to Conrad, put him in that situation. I also think I couldn’t do it to myself. The other boys didn’t matter, but him? Losing him would crush me so hard that I don’t think I would recover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I drove to Cousins with Steven in my car.  I had saved up all summer and bought my trusty Volkswagen Passat last Fall. That was another pro about Cousins, the money. I've worked as a lifeguard at the club since I was 15, and I also did swim lessons there as well as private lessons. Those people will pay real well to have an all-star swimmer teach their three-year-old how to float I’ll tell ya.

“So you excited to work this summer?” I asked Steven. He got a job at the pool snack stand at the club and I had helped Jeremiah get a position as a lifeguard.

“Yeah, I guess, I’m excited to make big bucks like you have been all these summers.” He smiled at me making me instantly light up. Steven just had a natural energy to him that brightened people's moods. 

We jammed out to music for the rest of the drive and before I knew it we were pulling in the driveway. I noticed my mom's car wasn’t here yet. Knowing her and Belly, they probably stopped for snacks. Man, this house. I dreamed about this house. It was absolutely beautiful. I honked, our signal to them we had arrived. 

Jeremiah was the first one to run out to see us, but Susannah was not far behind. Conrad was nowhere to be seen, odd. I didn't have time to think about it though as Jere scooped me up in a big hug and spun me around. I noticed then how much he had grown since last summer. He probably started working out and he definitely grew a couple of inches. As we said hello he had a huge smile on his face, he usually did Jere was always a golden retriever in human form. 

Then Susannah came up to me. when Susannah hugged me it was like life went on pause, the way I always wanted it to. In her arms I was safe, in her arms I was still just her baby, the first born girl. 

“ Wow Y/N look at you, my precious girl, you've bloomed," Susannah said to me as she held the sides of my face. I never doubted a word Susannah said, the way she said things made me believe them. Susannah never said it and neither did I, but we were each other's favorites. She always spoiled me, she always was my number one fan. Susannah had a level of enthusiasm to her that most people didn't have. It probably wasn't fair for me to call her my favorite. She got to love me like a mother and spoil me like the fun aunt, and she never had to give me any of the negatives. So yes it probably wasn't fair for her to be my favorite, which is why I only ever told her private.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We all walked back inside, Susannah and Jere helping Steven and me carry in our bags. Still no Conrad. I dropped my bags on the floor as I scanned my eyes around my room. Nothing out of place, everything was as I left it. I really do love this room. It was bigger than my one back home, it even had a small walk-in closet.  Conrad and I had the biggest rooms, we were the oldest so we got the first pick of rooms. 

I'm mindlessly unpacked for a while before hearing the same signal I had done myself just a bit earlier, Mom and Belly were here. I didn't rush down after all, I had seen them just a few hours ago. I thought it was okay to let them have their own proper reunion with the Fishers. So I finished putting the rest of my clothes in my drawers before I went downstairs. However, when I open my bedroom door, I open it to find Conrad with his hand in mid-air as if he were about to knock. 

“Whoa- oh, hi,” I said somewhat skeptically, he had just appeared out of nowhere, where had he been when I would got here? He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet somewhat awkwardly as he put his arm down from its spot in the air and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Hey, um I was uh coming to say hello!  I was down at the beach surfing all morning, I didn't even realize you were here until your mom pulled up and you weren't with her.” He seemed nervous for some reason, I wasn't sure why.

“Don't worry about it, was the surf any good?” 

He smiled at me then, “ Yeah it was so good, I lost track of time.” I smile back at him, I had missed him. 

“Glad to know you missed my entrance for something worthwhile.” He laughed, me along with him before his face went back to being relaxed. He stared at me in silence for a few moments before suddenly, before I could even realize what was happening, Conrad had his arms around me. Conrad was hugging me. It was nice, but odd. Conrad wasn't the most affectionate person and this was very out of the blue.

“I'm happy you're here Y/N.” He whispered, slightly muffled by my hair. We backed away as I said,

“Me too.”  The silence stretched a moment too long for my level of comfort. He was too intoxicating, his gaze on me was all consuming, I had to get out of there. “I'm going to go say hi to my mom and my sister.” I rushed out, going past him down the stairs before he even replied.

This summer was already off to an interesting start.

[thewulf]

Treat You Better || Steve Harrington

Summary: Request - Steve Harrington x Reader based on Treat You Better by Shawn Mendes😩 I used to LOVE that song when i was younger, and now it just reminds me of my boy stevee💙

A/N: Loved writing these even though men suck (sometimes!!). Thank you for the request @marennnx. This is a 3x1 - or the three times your boyfriend treated you like crap and the one time he did something about it!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.7k +

T/W: Dismissive boyfriend, absent boyfriend, gaslighting

Steve Harrington had been a constant in your life as you grew up in the small town of Hawkins. You’d moved in next to the Harrington’s when you were just six and became fast friends with the neighbor boy, Steve. The two of you became fast friends as there was no other six- or seven-years old’s in the neighborhood close to you. You’d quite literally been there for each and every single first for the other. You’d learned and grew through life with Steve right by your side.

For the first time in your lives things got a little strained when he started dating Nancy. Not that you didn’t like her, she was lovely. It’s that Steve did that stereotypical thing and kind of forgot about you for a while. Tired of being bored around your house you too started going out and doing things with your other friends. It was fun, you enjoyed yourself. You still wished you were doing it all with Steve though.

Then you met Derek. You’d seen him around Hawkins High but never actually met. Not until the summer Steve had ditched you. That was almost a year ago now. Steve and Nancy had long since broken up. You and Derek were still hanging on, albeit by a thread, as all of you were heading into your junior year. It dawned on you that you were going to have to start looking at school soon if you really wanted to get the hell out of Hawkins like you and Steve always talked about.

Things never really got back to normal between you and Steve after it was all settled. The two of you talked and hung out more but you attention usually went towards trying to save the failing relationship between you and Derek. You were truly miserable, but you didn’t let a soul know, not even you mom who you usually told everything. It was almost embarrassing admitting it at this point with how much you’d been faking your happiness. Derek also didn’t like you hanging around with Steve. He was jealous of course so you tried to keep it to a minimum or as hush hush as you could.

That was how you got to the semi-awkward place between you and your best friend. The two of you stealing longing glances but neither having the courage to broach the growing tension between the two of you.

The Bonfire

It was the Friday before school started the next Monday. You’d arrived with Derek, pulling him along to find some seats. It was the annual class tradition since you’d been in eighth grade to have a class wide bonfire before school actually began again. You, of course, had to drag your reluctant boyfriend along with you to the event. That should’ve given you the wherewithal to understand where his attitude would be for the night.

But you ignored it as best as you could. Press on and have fun. Don’t let the stupid boy ruin your fun night. You knew you were pushing it when you found some seats next to Steve. When you stopped in front of him your boyfriend groaned in annoyance. Ignoring him you turned to Steve, “These seats taken?”

He shook his head quickly with a small smile on his face. It wasn’t usual for you to come around let alone with your shit head of a boyfriend in tow. He was missing you more than you even knew. He knew he messed up by nearly dropping you for Nancy completely a year ago. This was his karma, and he was taking it.

He shook his head, “Nope.”

“Come on babe, let’s go get some drinks.” He tried tugging at your hand this time, but you just shook your head instead.

“I’m going to stay here and catch up with Steve. I’ll take a drink though when you make it back over.” You gave him a sweet smile though you knew it was no use. He was already pissed, and you surely pissed him off even further by not doing what he wanted. Steve just looked between the two of you before he grumbled something incoherent and walked off.

“He’s a real charmer, that one is.” Steve knew he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was growing tired of your boyfriends attitude. He didn’t understand how you could put up with it. You were such a light, happy

You gave your friend a soft smile, “He just didn’t feel like coming out tonight. Cut him some slack.” You knew Steve was at his wits end with him. Your family was too. Nobody seemed to like him but you. And you didn’t even really like him all that well. The solution seemed all too clear, but you still didn’t want to give it up just yet. Derek was your first real relationship. The first guy you said ‘I love you’ too even if he wasn’t the first guy you loved.

“You cut him a lot of that, Y/N.” He spoke freely seeing that Derek was still far away at the drinks table. Even though you asked for a drink you had a feeling he wouldn’t make you one. He’d forget or just not do it as some sort of punishment. That wasn’t love. That was manipulation. You felt that all too familiar sinking feeling growing in your stomach as you thought about your situation.

You looked down feeling the weight of his eyes on you, “I know.

He waited a moment seeing the despondent look on your face, “Hey,” He waited to continue until you looked back up to him. When you finally found the courage he continued, “You just deserve so much more than that. Somebody who wants to be with you…”

You shook your head stopping him, “That person doesn’t exist here. So, I’ll just enjoy what I can. Alright?” Your voice snapped at his ever so slightly telling him you were done talking about it.

He knew he shouldn’t have pressed, but you were his very best friend. He cared for you. Wanted the best for you. Loved you so dearly. He hated to see you treated less than how you deserved, “That’s just not true Y/N.”

“Steve.” Your eyes told him to drop it. There was a reason you didn’t tell or show your friends or family about that side of him. It made it pretty obvious how shitty he actually was.

He gave you a quick nod before leaning back in his seat, “Just think about it. Please?” There was a pleading look in his eyes that made you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, I will.”

He stood up from his seat seeing your boyfriend walk back without a drink for you, “I’ll see you around. Remember what I said.” He gave your boyfriend a sharp look before heading to the drink table deciding to get you a drink since your boyfriend had no interest. Steve decided he would show you that somebody did in fact want to treat you right.

The Football Game

You’d messed up and forgot to swap your light jacket for your heavier coat before heading out for the game. It was fine at first, but the temperature was dropping quick. As soon as the sun set behind the bleachers and the Hawking High football game started you began shivering. You tried cozying up to your boyfriend who was none the wiser of your chilly predicament. But he just shrugged you off.

“Babe.” You whined feeling another shiver ripple down your spine. It was getting cold, cold and you were not prepared.

“Shh, Y/N. I told you not to interrupt when they’re playing. I’ve got to watch Josh.” He grumbled pushing you off him. His brother, Josh, was the star wide receiver of the team and he had to watch everything live to report back to his brother. It made you roll your eyes week in and week out. Derek wasn’t good enough to play varsity, but his older brother was. You’d found it a little weird how much he lived through his older brother when it came to football.

Your mouth clamored back and forth, “But I’m cold Der.” It came out whinier than you intended which surely irritated the man further. How dare you inconvenience him when he needed to pay attention.

He sighed, “I told you to put a coat on. Go get a hot chocolate or something.” He didn’t take his eyes off the game and his voice was audibly annoyed with your presence.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes in return before heading off to the concession stands. Walking was good. It got your blood flowing. You needed to move to warm up anyway. It’s not like Derek would even throw and arm around you to warm you up.

You were so focused on walking to get your blood flowing you hadn’t even seen that you zoomed right past Steve who decided to follow you out of curiosity. When he saw you shivering and rubbing your hands back and forth to get some heat to them he had enough, “What are you doing out here in just a jacket?” He shrugged off his overly warm coat and handed it to you.

You shook your head in a hurry, “You’ll get cold Steve.”

“I’m fine. You’re not. Take the damn coat.” He shoved it further into your hands not giving you another chance to argue. When you slipped it on the audible sigh that left your mouth made him crack a small smile even though he was awfully worried about you being out in nearly freezing temperatures with a jacket made for the fall.

“Thank you.” You nodded up to him, “I forgot my coat. Derek told me to get a hot chocolate to warm up.” You laughed it off knowing how bad it sounded. Because it was bad. He was terrible. Derek might not have even liked you. Why were you even with him at this point?

Steve’s smile downturned at your comment. He’d made it quite evident how much he didn’t enjoy your boyfriend or his presence, “Some boyfriend he is.” He grumbled knowing it was likely going to set you off. You’d been more than defensive about your relationship. You’d always been like this, but it broke him seeing you so seemingly stuck in a loop. You wanted everything to look perfect, but it wasn’t. But you couldn’t admit it because then you’d have to admit it wasn’t perfect. A loop that he couldn’t pull you out of.

“Steve.” You sighed but knew it was a lost cause, especially because you were wrapped up in his coat. You couldn’t really defend the guy that much anymore. It felt so insulting because the entire relationship seemingly fell apart so quickly, right under your nose. Things were fun in the beginning. The two of you got along well and laughed at a lot of different things. But then it turned sour a few months ago, right after Nancy and Steve broke up. It’s not like anything changed for you. But apparently it did for him. It’s like he was pushing you right into Steve’s arms and you were pretty sure you’d be just fine with that.

He put his hands up in defense, “You know what I’m going to tell you.”

You sighed, “I know. I’m thinking about it. I promise.”

He nodded, “Keep the coat tonight. Drop it off whenever. Take care of yourself okay? Anytime you want to talk I’m all ears. I miss you.”

The floor was suddenly far more interesting than his face. You felt bad that you had in fact been avoiding him like he had you early on in his relationship, “Yeah, I miss you too. I’ll stop by more often. Promise.”

He grinned seeing you look back up to him, “That’s two promises I’m going to hold you too.”

You laughed for the first time that night. Curious it came at the mouth of Steve rather than your boyfriend. Your heart tugged as the two of you joked around like old times without your know-it-all boyfriend there to ruin the moment. You knew the relationship with Derek was doomed when you wanted to follow Steve back to his seat rather than head back to your boyfriend. But you had appearances to keep up. So back to Derek you walked.

Biology Class

“Alright class settle down. Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for. We’ll be dissecting pig hearts!” Your overenthusiastic Biology teacher stood in front of the curious junior class who had a big mix of emotions. Some were thrilled, that was Derek sitting next to you and Steve a row in front of you with his lab partner. Some were not so thrilled, you.

When the teacher set the heart down in front of you, you let out a big breath moving your chair away. Derek just started laughing like a little kid seeing your reaction to the dead pigs heart in front of you. Shooting him daggers you simply covered your mouth and nose with your hand trying your best not to throw up all over the desk in front of you.

When Derek started cutting you thought you might actually puke. The smell alone was starting to send you over the edge, “I don’t think I can do this.” You mumbled scooting even further away. Taking a quick peak around the room you were surprised almost everyone seemed just fine. Seemingly you only had the weak stomach in this class. You didn’t notice Steve’s eyes watching you with caution. He knew you well and knew this would be a unique kind of challenge for you.

“Ahh, grow up would you Y/N?” Derek rolled his eyes before returning to cut away, “Just plug your nose up if it’s that big of a deal.”

You huffed in annoyance at his complete lack of care, “I’m already doing that Derek.” It was sharper than you intended which of course set him off.

“You’re being a baby about it. Grow up.” He snapped back full out ignoring the look on your face. It was becoming harder and harder to fake your happiness. Especially when he treated you like you were nothing but a nuisance to him. Did he even like you? Why did he want to spend time with you if all he did was get annoyed with you? When was the last time you’d genuinely been happy with him? It’d been months. Months since the last time you giggled with him or smiled from a conversation.

You stood from you seat, “I’m getting some air.”

He just continued on, “Suit yourself.”

You stood quickly before letting the teacher know you needed to get some water. You walked to the water fountain down the hall trying your best not to break down right then and there. How did all this happen? How could you have let it all happen so quickly? When did he start to dip out on the relationship? Why wouldn’t he just breakup with you if he was this unhappy?

“Hey,” Steve’s sweet voice pulled you back into the present, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly trying your best to come off as cool as possible, “Yeah, was thirsty.”

He smiled, “It’s just me. You don’t have to lie.”

A frown formed from that. It was just Steve. Why did this all feel so weird and awkward and so far out of your control all the sudden? All you wanted to do was scream and beat on the wall in frustration of how you felt at the state of your life. But you knew better than that. Especially at school.

“I couldn’t take the smell.” You admitted to the boy who cared more to check up on you than the one who supposedly loved you sitting in the classroom. The more you thought of it the more Steve seemed to be the one who cared for you. And you knew he did. But with all that he had done for you and the lack thereof what Derek had made you realize how backwards it all was. You were meant to be with Steve not Derek. Steve cared. Steve loved you. Steve wanted you and put in the effort to be with you. And for some reason you still called Derek your boyfriend.

He grinned, “I knew it. I thought you looked squirrely in there.”

“You were watching?” You asked curiously.

“I’m always watching you.” His grin dropped as he realized how creepy that had sounded, “In a not weird way I promise!”

You laughed at his attempted recovery, “Thanks for checking in Steve.”

“I’m just keeping true to my promises. Speaking of which. How are yours coming along?” His smile grew into a smirk as he knew you were stalling. But that was his job as your best friend to keep pushing. That and he loved you. So, he’d decided it was his time to be selfish. He knew he could treat you better. So much better than that shit head you called a boyfriend.

“I’ve thought about what you said.”

You answer surprised him, “You have? And?”

“You’ll see. Soon.” You gave him a quick nod and smile before leading the two of you back to class. As much as Steve wanted to decipher that with you he knew better than to push too hard. That was more than you’d ever given him, so he was rolling with it for now.

After School The Next Day

You sat down on the bench in front of the High School in utter defeat. He had forgotten you. This truly was the last straw. Derek had promised he’d take you home knowing your car was in the shop this week and he forgot you. Steve was right. He didn’t give a rats ass about you. He only cared about himself. He only cared about you when it was convenient for himself. How had things unraveled so quickly? You couldn’t keep up this charade anymore. Not when he was up and leaving you places now.

When you heard the soft honk of the car in front of you your heart dropped seeing Steve’s car idling there. Fuck. Why him? He’d seen first-hand how shitty Derek had been treating you these last few weeks and this might actually set him off. Slowly, you walked over to his car. You slid into the front seat not daring to look at him. You just knew he was giving you that disappointed Steve look that only came to his face when Derek did something that should have been a red flag for you.

“You alright?” He asked after a moment of silence.

Closing your eyes you leaned back into the seat, “You’re right.”

“What about?” Steve asked as he pulled out of the school parking lot.

“About Derek. The whole thing. I deserve more.” A tear slipped out as you said it out loud for the first time. Sure, you’d thought about it in your head, but it was different spoken out and for Steve to hang onto.

He pulled over onto the side of the road, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m so glad you’ve realized it. He hadn’t been treating you well.” Steve hesitantly reached out and brushed away the stray tear which brought on an entirely new set of waterworks from his lighter than a feather touch.

He let you cry it out in the passenger’s seat of his car not uttering a word until he thought you could actually hear him, “I’m here for you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He didn’t know his words only made you cry even further for you were mourning a relationship you never had. One where you thought you were in love, but it was just stupid teenage hormones. The one you loved was sitting right here comforting you beyond your wildest imagination.

You hiccupped after a moment of you unexpected breakdown. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized how you had quite literally cried like a baby in front of Steve, “I’m so sorry Stevie.” You whispered breaking out the nickname only he let you use.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart.” He’d never called you that before. Shoot, he’d never really looked at you like this before. He looked at you like how you felt about him. Like he loved you.

“I didn’t mean too… I didn’t…”

He shook his head before pushing up the arm rest separating the two of you. He maneuvered his legs so you could slide over, “Shh, come here. It’s okay. I promise you that. I don’t break my promises, remember?”

You nodded before launching yourself into your best friend arms. You let him wrap you right on up as the car idled with the two of you suctioned together. He squeezed as he held you letting you know that he had no plans or intentions of letting you walk away again.

“Y/N?” He asked after minutes of the two of you just wrapped in the others embrace.

“Yeah?”

He took another second before letting out a long breath, “You remember how I said that somebody wants to treat you better? Somebody out there wants to be that person for you?” He asked with an unusual shakiness in his voice. Uncommon for the usually so confident Steve Harrington.

You hummed just enjoying being wrapped up in his arms. This didn’t happen that often anymore no matter how much you wanted to. You were with Derek. You couldn’t do that. But now? All bets were off, “Yeah, thank you for that.”

He nodded, “I can be that person. I can treat you better. If you’d let me that is.”

You sucked in a breath at his words, “You can?” Was this really happening?

“I can.”

You turned your eyes up to his with a bigger than life smile, “Okay.”

His scared eyes turned hopeful at the simplest of statements, “Okay?”

A quick nod before you turned your head into his chest, “Let’s do it. I love you already so?”

“You do?” His hopeful eyes turned from that of hope to shock right back to those lovey dovey ones he had on you days prior.

“I do.” You grinned feeling better than you had in a long time admitting that to him so freely. It shouldn’t be hard. This was about to be the best thing that you could’ve done for yourself. Who would’ve thought two crappy relationships was all the two of you needed to finally open your eyes to what was right in front of you.

Permanent Taglist ((If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea

[pauline-sunshine]

Guilty as sin?

rbr! Sebastian Vettel x Fem! Reader

inspo: guilty as sin?, by taylor swift

Warnings: mentions of masturbation

Word count: 1656

A/N: I apologize for any errors! English is not my first language. Enjoy!

Even the toughest people need to catch their breath at least for a second. Especially when their lives move at 230 km/h. That’s when a summer break becomes quite handy.

At this point, your life seemed to be perfect. You love your job at Red Bull, Sebastian is fighting for another title. You have the opportunity to support him at every race. You are his friend and he feels comfortable sharing personal things with you. Sometime he sends you his favorite songs because he wants you to listen to them or teaches you german slang. What’s to wish for, right?

For this summer break Luis and his girlfriend Liz invited some drivers, wags and buddies to their villa. It was a week vacation for everyone to have fun with friends by the pool. And it would’ve been fun indeed if you didn’t have a major 1 yearlong crush on Sebastian Vettel. It was easier to bottle up all your feelings when you both were at work but now…seeing how freaking adorable he is, observing his natural behavior, his good humor being mixed with his high intelligence and looks. It was just way too much for your poor little heart.

Well, long story short, you were just in love with this man. He was the object of your desires and dreams. It took you less than a second to become all wet and start whispering his name while touching yourself imagining it was him. Everything, even the smallest interactions with the driver made you a complete mess and after you would spend hours imagining things you would do if he was yours.

The vacation was going as planned. The weather favored you and it was another day by the poolside. You were sitting there reading a book and sunbathing while others were swimming.

“Y/N, please, come to the pool. I need you to win Luis” pleaded Sebastian.

“Seb, sorry, I’m not in a mood for all your water fights” you quickly looked up to him.

“Is that a no, schatz?”

“It is a no, Seb, and stop calling me that unless you tell me what that means” trying not to pay too much attention you just casually continued reading as the loud splashes were your calming background music.

“And what about this?” You heard the whisper in your ear and felt cold wet hands finding their way from your hips to the waist. You gasped at this cold touch and the next thing you remember is finding yourself in the pool in Sebastian’s embrace, which was accompanied by his laugh as a reaction to your screams.

Needless to say, shower that day took you a bit longer. As you were recalling his hands leaving trace on your skin, your labored breath mixed with his name upon your lips.

///

“Jees, it has been raining science the night” Liz spoke as she was staring to the window

“No pool today, I guess” answered Luis as he hugged the girl from behind and gave her a kiss on her head.

During the day everyone was trying their best to occupy themselves. Boys were having a passionate discussion about their season; the ladies were chatting in the kitchen while cooking dinner.

“So, you and Seb, huh?” inquired Liz being supported by other wags smiles.   

“Oh, giiirls, seriously, stop. We’re just good friends” you laughed.

“Well, maybe you consider him as a friend but he’s definitely not. Luis told me one day how he just couldn’t shut up talking about you”

“Liz, what do you mean?”

“Are you truly don’t see how he looks at you, he is just…well…different around you. Softer and more caring, and we know that usually he’s a super energized pain in the ass” explained Hamilton’s girlfriend.

At this moment your eyes were wider than the planet Earth. Are they serious or just using your feelings to have fun? The fact that the dinner was ready saved you from continuing this conversation.

As you were setting the table you caught yourself daydreaming, fixing your gaze on the german driver, and replaying what Liz told you. Is there even the slightest chance you two could be together? Right now, you felt so privileged just by looking at him. Yes, this was Sebastin without his car, race suit and image he had to show. It was just Seb with his soft naturally curvy hair, wearing a bit worn out t-shirt. There was something so soft and so cozy about the way he looked. It was just the man you loved.

“The dinner is served!” Liz called everyone to the dining hall.

Men came to the room filling it with loud voices. The big wooden table, decorated with long white candles burning, mixed with a view of rainy gray skies peeking through big windows. The combination was bringing unsensible touch of warmth and calmness.

“Smells so good,” Sebastian exclaimed with a smile, “schatz, did I tell you look great today?” he now approached you fixing his gaze on yours “do you mind if I sit with you?”

After the dinner you found yourself looking at the piano. It was standing in the corner of the living room next to the big couch. You’ve noticed it on the first day of your arrival but never got to play. Now seemed to be the perfect time as almost everyone left to their rooms and some stayed at the dining hall.

But it didn’t go as planned. Obviously. As you were in the middle of playing you heard a voice which made you stop.

“Y/n, you are a woman of many talents!” Liz was applauding as you turned to her.

“Oh, I really didn’t want to disturb anyone” you apologized.

“Are you joooking?! That was amazing!” she continued, “EVERYONE go down here!”

Eventually the room filled with people. They were sitting next to you with expressions of pure joy and excitement on their faces.

“Can you sing something for us?” Luis asked.

“Well, there’s a song that I really like at the moment, I think it would sound great with the piano,” and you started playing.  

As you got to play firs notes you smiled because you new the reason why this particular song was playing non stop in your mind and this exact reason was sitting in this room. Every line, every single word screamed “it’s him”.

Drowning in the Blue Nile

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

That was the song you two were obsessing over recently and wondering how come the band was so underrated.

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

I'm seeing visions

Am I bad, or mad, or wise?

Sebastian Vettel made your life filled with joy and laughter yet he was so out of reach for you with your unrequited love. You would imagine you two being together which made you drowning in your visions. Were you bad or mad for thinking about that? Were you wise for bottling it all up when he was actually close to you?

What if he's written "Mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

Sometimes just thinking that you were only his was enough because your heart belonged to Sebastian.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our tryst

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

On the days you knew Sebastian were coming to the Red Bull headquarters you were running to the office just to see him, to make sure he is happy and alright.

If long suffering propriety is what they want from me

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly

I choose you and me, religiously

Your friends told you a million times during this year to go out more, go on dates but it wasn’t for you. Even if you gave some guy a chance you would quicky realize his not even close to Seb. They were not funny, not clever, they just weren’t as good enough as him. He was always at the back of your mind.

He sent me “Downtown Lights”

I hadn't heard it in a while

Am I allowed to cry?

As you were singing the last lines your eyes met Sebastian’s and he smiled back at you.

The room exploded with applause. You played a couple of songs more and then all of your friend group was just sitting in the living room and chatting for a little longer.

“Good night, everyone” you wished as you were leaving the room and going upstairs to your bedroom.

You mind was a mess after realizing what song you just sang.

“Was it too bold to sing that song? Does he know something now? But it was just a song and moreover it isn’t even my song. Can we call it a good cover version except a love confession to Sebastian?”

As you were beating yourself up and pacing around the bedroom, the door opened and Sebastian entered.

“How come you never told me you knew how to play piano?” he questioned cutting the distance between you two.

“I don’t know, it just didn’t come up, I suppose. You know, we don’t have pianos standing around the paddock,” you beamed and slightly bit your lip.

He smiled, “I guess you have a point”, he came even closer to you, “I actually wanted to ask if you’d agree to be piano to my guitar.”

He realized everything during the time Y/N was playing a piano. His feelings are mutual. He couldn’t help but smile when you were singing. Still, it amazed him how you had more courage to confess than him. You always fascinated him, to be honest.

“What?” the only thing you could say with a completely blank mind, which was caused by his question.

Sebastian shortened the distance and you felt how the man intertwined your fingers.

“I love you, schatz,” he grabbed you by the waist and left a soft kiss on your smiling lips.

[katyawriteswhump]

Closer–a stranger summer/steddie microfic

For @astrangersummer wk 4 prompts, outdoors/camping and @steddiemicrofic May prompt, ‘top.’ Thank you also to @bananahoneycomb and yesdanger for inspiration on discord :) All my stranger things fic are also here on AO3

Rating: M CW: sex Words: 510  Tags: established steddie, hurt/comfort, smut, nightmares, cute, fluff, post s4 eddie lives, top eddie, bottom steve.

...

Eddie rolled into another excruciatingly uncomfortable position on the lumpy earth.

“The great outdoors sucks,” he informed the Milky Way, which swept above him. “It's a one-way-ticket to insomnia-ville.”

In the adjacent sleeping bag, Steve snored softly.

This had been Steve’s idea: “We saved the world. It totally owes us good times.”

Nonsensically to Eddie, 'good times’ included sleeping on a hilltop under the stars.

Now, Eddie rested his chin in his hand and watched Steve sleep. Steve looked pretty, bathed in moonlight. Eddie’s heart swelled with love. Christ, if he told Steve how cute his sleepy snufflings were, Steve would chew his head off.

Wouldn’t change my bitchy darling for a sell-out gig at the Garden…

Steve gasped, began fighting his sleeping bag. “No! Robin!”

“Sssssh, Babe.” Eddie leaned over Steve, whose arm escaped his cocoon, flailing wildly.  “Ow!”

Steve sat up. “Wha—?”

“Bad dream?” Eddie rubbed his nose, not exactly stunned. The nightmares usually started when they both slept, and Steve rolled out of Eddie’s arms. “Bats or creepy vines, honey?”

“Both.” Steve blinked. “Shit, did I..?”

“You’re no demo-bat. See? No blood.”

Steve buried his fingers in his messy hair. “Jesus, I’m sorry. This idea was dumb. Thank Christ the kids ditched us, Robin cycled home, and—"

“Shhh.” Eddie pressed his forefinger to Steve’s lips. “I got to watch your ass go as you raced to the summit. Totally worth it.” Steve’s mouth quirked toward a smile. “Besides, it’s my turn to look after you. In hospital, you sat with me so long, Wayne complained he couldn’t get a front-row seat. Cuddle?”

Steve nodded, squeezed into Eddie’s sleeping bag. Spooning Steve from behind, Eddie rubbed circles on Steve’s belly, till Steve stopped trembling.

Eddie might’ve dozed off then. However, his dick nestled against Steve’s ass…

“Seriously?” Steve scrubbed against Eddie’s semi.

“Up for it, honey?”

“Totally. But the kids—"

“—lit a campfire miles away.”

“Fine. I wanna feel something other than my skin crawling with horror.”

Eddie wrapped his hand around Steve’s dick.

“Not that,” Steve mumbled. “Want to feel you in me, dipshit.”

“Your wish is my command, Princess.”

“Shut the fu—Gnng!”

Eddie hand-jobbed Steve into a frenzy anyhow, then worked his fingers into Steve, slicked with lube and mingled juices. When Eddie finally eased inside, Steve clenched super-hard about him, which was super-sweet.

Nearly pushed Eddie over the edge waaaaay too soon. He paused, relishing Steve’s growling gasps.

“You finally snoozing, Munson?”

“Nope. Finally waking up.”

He fucked Steve hard. Steve finally quit complaining: “Yes. Th-there. Pleeease… Christ!”

They both came hard—Steve yelling and messily—before snuggling in Steve’s fresh sleeping bag.

Seven hours later, Steve flipped over in the circle of Eddie’s arms.

“Good sleep, Stevie?”

“Best in forever. Love being so close. You?”

“Pretty shitty. I crave my soft mattress. Buuuut… I've a theory what might stop the nightmares.” Steve started apologising. Eddie kissed Steve’s nose: “I reckon we should try sharing my sleeping-bag every night, home-sweet-home in bed.”

“Okay,” mumbled Steve. “Jesus, I came all over the thing! Let’s launder it first, right?”

[russellradio]

~to be updated when I post a new fic, so I have them all in one place~

you can find me as bucksclipboard on ao3 💕 kudos and comments make my day!

bucktommy fic masterpost here

be someone (T, 2.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A call leaves Buck wondering if he’ll ever be a parent. Not just a donor, a dad. A great dad. Chimney tries to convince him of his qualities – and Eddie has a hard time staying quiet.

or: eddie thinks buck already is someone to chris

will you remember me? (T, 4.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

You know the trope: Someone suffers from amnesia and they don’t remember their partner. Well, this is the opposite. Buck doesn’t remember a thing – except that he loves Eddie. How is Eddie supposed to tell him they’re not actually together?

for summer of buddie – week 5: break the cliché

nobody compares (G, 1.3k) | ao3 | (ambiguous bucktommy/buddie)

"Sorry", Eddie said and scrunched his nose.

"No, you’re right", Tommy admitted. "I don’t want that. I want to give him something he’ll love."

"Well, then not a gift card. Look, I’ve been a terrible gift giver in relationships, so I’m not judging. But you look like you’re getting a migraine, so maybe… let me help you?"

A deep sigh escaped him. "How?"

or: eddie helps tommy shop for buck's birthday gift and inadvertently makes things worse

unless you're choosing me (T, 4.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"Could you check that?", Eddie called from the kitchen. He had insisted to make something for them tonight instead of ordering their usual pizza and ice cream dinner.

"Sure", Buck replied and snatched the phone off the coffee table. He knew the pass code – it was the day Eddie had started working at the 118. There was no new text, just a message from his phone provider, but an earlier conversation was still opened. Before Buck could place the phone back on the table, something caught his eye. Why was Eddie talking to Hen about him?

or: buck reads a text he wasn’t supposed to read

when it all melts down (T, 2.2k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck thinks a beach day is the perfect distraction from an empty house and a lack of summer plans. Eddie thinks if Buck walks out of the ocean like a Greek god one more time, he might just lose his mind.

or: there’s only one cure for a frozen tongue after too much ice cream

I wish I could help (E, 2.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie is so pent up he can barely focus on his job – and Buck is all too happy to help. That’s just what friends do.

or: I couldn’t find any smut referring to *that* scene in 7x05, so I wrote it

thanks, babe! (T, 1.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie accidentally calls Buck babe and refuses to have a meltdown over it. It was just his subconscious betraying him because they were surrounded by couples, right? Right?!

or: I love “accidental” tropes, how did you know

more under the cut

do you want to know a secret (T, 3.2k) | ao3

Buck overworks himself and his family worries. When Eddie overhears a conversation between Maddie and Chimney, he learns he might just have caused Buck’s change in behavior. The good news is – there’s something he can do about it.

or: maddie and chimney worry over pining!buck – eddie takes charge

it's just the thought of you and what I leave behind (T, 6.4k) | ao3 | rebloggable

As the cruise ship starts to sink, Bobby and Athena aren’t the only ones in desperate need of saving. The 118 goes on a high-risk mission and a close call brings Buck and Eddie together.

or: 7x03 reimagined

I let my guard down for a moment (M, 6.5k) | ao3 | rebloggable

"It didn’t stop. Buck went from hoping the packages were from someone special to suspecting someone was toying with him. The hopeless romantic in him was slowly wilting. When he opened the latest letter, suddenly he was not so sure his secret admirer was of the good-natured kind. "

or: who needs police protection when you have eddie diaz by your side?

hold tight, you're slowly coming back to life (T, 3.1k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Eddie runs into Natalia at the grocery store. He learns something about her and Buck’s breakup that gives him the final push to take care of his own complicated love life.

or: what if buck didn’t tell eddie the entire truth

how's your head? (haven't had any complaints) (M, 2.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When he glanced over, Buck had already drifted off to sleep. He looked so innocent, Eddie almost couldn’t believe what had come out of his mouth mere seconds ago. Almost. Because he was 100 percent sure he’d heard it.

or: you can’t just make this kind of joke and forget about it

rose-colored boy (T, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck is draped across an armchair, rambling about rosefinches and Eddie just can’t help himself. In some kind of out-of-body experience, he gives his best friend a completely casual, meaningless (lie!) forehead kiss.

or: yes, another accidental kiss fic because I don’t think there can ever be enough

we should be at the club (E, 2.8k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When Buck hears that Eddie has been going golfing to put himself out there, he offers to be his wingman. The world’s worst wingman. Although, to be fair, Eddie brings his best friend to the club and leaves with a new boyfriend.

or: just an excuse for them to wear tight pants and take them off

8 days a week (E, 6.3k) | ao3 | rebloggable

A sweet moment of weakness helps Buck and Eddie get together. While Eddie doesn’t expect much to change about their relationship, Buck slips back into old patterns.

or: eddie notices all the ways buck tries to make himself smaller

don't blame me, love made me crazy (E, 1.6k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Steam was fogging up the room and Eddie cursed inwardly. Was Buck trying to cook himself? Eddie wasn’t one for steaming hot showers but Buck ran cold even on his best days and this wasn’t one of those. He must’ve been desperate to warm up and soothe the pain his bruises were causing him. Eddie was suddenly very aware he was intruding on his best friend's privacy, even if he did need help, and decided to announce himself. “Buck, it’s me, I-“ He stopped in his tracks when Buck came into vision and met his gaze. Worry turned to lust quickly. Buck was hard. Incredibly so.

or: eddie joins buck in the shower (plot? what plot)

I only ever want you (E, 2.7k) | ao3 | rebloggable

When a handsome guy flirts with Eddie, Buck can’t stand to watch. He leaves the 118’s bar outing in a hurry, only for Eddie to follow him to the loft and confront him. A misunderstanding of why Buck is so jealous leads to a confession – and more.

or: there’s jealousy, there’s fighting, there’s delicious makeup sex

love is stored in the picnic basket (T, 4.9k) | ao3 | rebloggable

Buck participates in the 118’s basket bidding on Valentine’s Day and things go exactly as (Bobby) planned. When Eddie is done standing on the sidelines, he makes the grand gesture Buck has been dreaming of.

or: buck’s heart (um, picnic basket) is up for auction and eddie is ready to pay

whose peace are you keeping? (G, 3.9k) | ao3

Buck tells Eddie about the Buckley-Han family dinner and how odd it felt hearing his mother call him a “miracle baby”. Why can’t he trust his parents’ support when that’s all he’s ever wanted? He doesn’t know that Eddie lost his temper with them when they visited the firehouse two years ago. Now it’s time to come clean. A call that feels all too familiar interferes but a good night’s sleep brings them back on track.

or: it’s actually incredibly easy to love evan buckley – and eddie told his parents as much

my heart is trying to crawl out of my chest to get to you (G, 2.1k) | ao3

Buck is released from the hospital and while the rest of his family is understandably on edge about his recovery, Eddie throws himself back into work. He refuses to be a part of Maddie’s “operation buck up buttercup” and Hen grows suspicious. Listen, it’s not like Eddie isn’t worried, quite the opposite actually. He just found a better way to watch over Buck, without having to spill any of his secrets. Unless technology plays a trick on him, as it usually does, and his foolproof plan goes wrong. But Buck might just surprise him.

or: the one where eddie takes buck's recovery a little too seriously

and my attempt at rpf if you're into it:

closer than ever – ryliver (E, 2.k)

if you made it to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading!

[wrongbodies]

The Punishment

Kurt thought of himself highly. Being one of the better players on the school’s baseball team, he was well regarded on and off the diamond. Having always been athletically gifted, and with little done to mitigate his ego, he had grown into quite a jerk. It was common for him to outright ignore students and peers who he deemed below his social circle. And with all the adoration he was used to, he was mostly able to surround himself with the people he wanted.

However, there was a side to Kurt not many knew. In fact, the only ones who knew were boys at summer camps or other such short term happenings. Kurt was gay, and loved getting with guys when he was certain there was little chance they could expose him to his precious social scene at home. When he was with these faraway trysts, he was pleasant and tender, but only because he never would face them again.

But all inflated egos pop one day, and usually at one’s own doing. As Kurt was a senior now, 18 years old and already scouted for college, he wasn’t so careful anymore. He figured he was bound for another state at a great school… Why worry about some nerd who was going to a school across the country (opposite where he was going)? 

Enter Ian. The boy was as doomed as far as poor gay boys in unwelcoming states can get. He was the kind of gay who couldn’t shuck the mannerisms or quash his hormones when flights of fancy caught him. Still, he was a good student and tried his best to do right to others as his single mother taught him. And despite the hard times he was bound for a decent enough school, below where his aptitude could get him, but well within their price range.

Kurt found Ian one day checking him out, a not so surreptitious stare giving him away. Normally, Kurt would ignore someone like that. But something about Ian’s lustful eyes and Kurt’s unchecked libido had him look back. He walked by Ian and whispered to meet in the dugout at the school baseball field afterschool. They would begin a secret affair, where Kurt would put Ian through his paces.

Ian, unfortunate romantic that he was, caught feelings. How could he not? Kurt, with his perfect body, unblemished save for the occasional bruises and scrapes from baseball, he was beautiful. And sometimes he handled Ian in their secret hookups so tenderly one could think it was love. But Kurt loved only himself and how he felt when he released inside Ian, and when the stupid nerd begged to be more than secret fuckbuddies… Well, Kurt roared with laughter. They had just finished screwing that fateful day, when he pushed Ian off his dick, who would fall into the reddish-brown dirt. 

Kurt pulled on his clothes, snickering as he turned away and reminded Ian that he was a nobody to him. That he was basically the human equivalent of a cumrag. Ian, outraged, felt his thin fingers claw into the dirty floor. Something inside him broke, a power he didn’t know he had or perhaps an entity beyond our ken took pity. He had little thought other than what he admonished Kurt with as he spoke: “I wish you knew, you jerk. I wish you knew what it was like to be me, and I wish I could be you.”

Kurt chuckled at that, and said, “sure, Ian. When I’m you tomorrow, are we still on to meet up and fuck here? I guess you’d get to top then, huh?”

It was as he was turning away he felt the air change. It wasn’t breezy before, but now it was like molasses. He came to a rest, as a shudder ran all across his body. From his position on the ground, Ian saw Kurt stop moving, just as a similar sensation ran across his form. Kurt turned to look back at Ian again, this time fear in his eyes. Someone always in control, always domineering and powerful, now was in the grip of something he couldn’t comprehend. 

As the shuddering feeling came again, this time the two felt something like a wave start from the top of their heads, sweeping all the way down to their feet. Ian looked at Kurt, and noticed he was shrinking, turning paler by the moment. Kurt saw the opposite, Ian naked on the ground seemed to expand and gain tanner skin by the moment. It became apparent as their faces rippled and changed, the two were switching bodies. Kurt was horrified to see his body before him, his muscles rippling now without clothing to hide under. And Ian became strangely giddy to see Kurt swimming in the clothes he once filled out so perfectly.

“What, why is this happening?” Kurt cried.

“I think this is… your punishment.” Ian smirked. Kurt looked mortified, and started tearing up. Ian started grabbing at the clothes Kurt was wearing. “I need these, you're much too small for them anyways.”

“B-but-” Kurt whimpered. Ian tossed his old clothing at Kurt, garments Kurt would never wear but now were the only hope of hiding his tiny new body.

“Hey Kurt, or Ian I should say…” Ian grinned from his new body, his clothes now in place. “I think I WILL top tomorrow. But also, I think we should go public, don’t you think?”

Kurt felt his stomach drop… this truly was a punishment.

[joels-darlin]

Surprises

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of alcohol, mentions of stress.

Summary: Pedro has been planning something special which is finally revealed over your weekly Friday evening ritual.

Word count: 1402

Author Note: Little piece I've been working on for a short while. Debated not posting this the ending is pretty crap but hey ho here we go. Sorry it's not great. As usual any feedback is appreciated, enjoy <3 Posted on AO3

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Since the start of your friendship with Pedro, when he wasn’t away filming of course, Friday nights had been the one stable thing in your life. This consisted of sharing a bottle of wine (sometimes 2 depending on how the week went) out on the patio with a takeaway of choice. Losing count on how many times you had frequented his guest bedroom, Pedro not wanting you to be driving under the influence. Now that your friendship had progressed into a relationship nothing had changed, that time still reserved for just the two of you - except now spent cuddled under a blanket. It wasn’t hard to believe how it happened. All the years of built up feelings spilling out over (you guessed it) a bottle of wine one cool summers evening, the start of the relationship sealed with a kiss.

You where in the midst of wrapping up work for day in the office of your now shared home, Pedro asking you to move in after some time together, beaming with excitement for your week off but also your normal Friday night plans. A quick glance at the clock showing it was 6pm and after already working well over your normal hours, it was time to log off. You sent a brief message to you colleagues wishing them pleasant weekends - but also the reminder that you where on leave next week. Making sure to also set your emails to Out of Office mode, before shutting down the computer.

It seemed strange taking a random week off in the middle of the year, you usually saved any annual leave for Christmas time so you could travel to either see his or your family - rotating every year. It was only last month that Pedro suggested it whilst sitting down one evening to dinner at home. It was the one time he had a break in filming until the end of the year, so you agreed that it would be good to spend some time together.

Grabbing your phone from the charging stand noticing the screen littered with notifications - mostly messages from family members & friends. Scrolling to the bottom the one that caught your eye was from Pedro from an hour ago, swiping the screen to open the conversation.

P 💜 Just nipped out cariño, let me know if you need anything. I popped my head in earlier but you where engrossed in work. See you soon hermosa xx

Messaging back a quick response the phone then placed in the pocket of your shorts. Deciding on a shower before Pedro returned home you padded through the house to the bathroom, not forgetting to grab a towel from the cupboard on the way.

The sun was just starting to set as you took the usual spots on the couch outside, casting a glowing orange hue across the garden. The only background noise being the ruffling of the tree leaves, caused by the light breeze in the air, and the random music playlist that was playing on the outside speakers. You sighed in contentment as he reached over to pour a large serving into the empty glasses that lay on the table. “For you mi amor” he said softly, holding out the glass, you thanked him lifting the glass to your lips for a small sip before setting it down on the table. Already feeling slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine you had consumed with dinner you made a mental note to take it slowly with this one. He settled back into the couch again, arm slung across your shoulders, you curled into his side appreciating the warmth radiating off his body in the cool evening.

The general chatter was flowing easily with you discussing how both your weeks had gone as well as sharing a few funny stories and awful jokes from Pedro’s end. It was quite the romantic setting, taking moments in between conversation to steal a few soft and slow kisses - mostly just appreciating each others company. It was nice to just switch off and forget about the stresses of everything, you hadn’t failed to miss Pedro’s brows furrowing with concern and pulling you little closer when you mentioned that you had a lot on your plate at the moment, regards to your job. Making a promise to push it to be back of your mind so you can finally enjoy a week off together.

“So…I have a surprise for you, let me go grab it quickly” he said untangling from your embrace before walking back inside the patio doors. Pedro re-appeared a few minutes later clutching 2 white envelopes, taking the seat beside you. “This one is first” He grinned handing over one of the envelopes, shooting him a mysterious look. You sort of hated but also loved surprises, he knew that, and prayed that he hadn’t of gone out of his way to spend a fortune on you again. The excuse always being “Well I like treating my girl”.

Sliding your finger under tab you carefully prised open the envelope, careful not to rip the contents, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper. Unfolding it carefully, taking a moment to read it’s contents. “Wait…P…what” you gasped, bringing a hand to cover your mouth in shock. There in back and white, the details of two flight tickets back to your home. “You where probably wondering why I asked you to take a random week off I have been planning this for awhile, I thought we could take a vacation and go visit your family…” he explained. “…It’s just you have been looking a little down recently and thought this might give you a pick me up” his free hand dropping to caress your thigh softly. “I-P-thankyou” moving your eyes from the paper to look into those soft brown orbs, tears threatening to spill from your own. He smiled softly. “That’s not the only thing…” placing the second envelope in your lap “Open this” he grinned excitement present in his voice.

Picking up the second envelope with shaking hands. Pedro obviously noticed this moving his arm to snake around your waist fingers grazing softly over some exposed skin; a calming gesture. You made quick work of the seal then unfolded the second sheet of paper, scanning it’s contents. Was this really happening? How had he managed it? Two tickets to see your favourite artist at the arena back home.

“Oh. My. God. P-What-” and that was it the flood gates opened, tear tracks staining your cheeks. “Oh sweetheart, I hope those are happy tears” he cooed pulling you into his embrace, placing a kiss on your hair. Pedro knew when the tickets released months ago you had tried and tried to get your hands on some - eager to see the artist live again. After pulling a few strings with his agent and a shift around in schedule he not only managed to bag 2 VIP tickets but also some well needed downtime - which is when the idea came into play about visiting your family. The concert being something you two would also attend whilst over there. It had all fell into place superbly. Taking a moment to compose yourself then you leaned up looking into his eyes. “But-how? I tried but-just Thankyou P, I-I don’t know what to say”“ stuttering to form any coherent sentences, instead deciding to lean over and press a soft kiss on his lips which he happily reciprocated. “Anything for you mi querida” he whispered against your lips, moving to kiss the tip of your nose softly. You pulled back to scan the papers again. “Wait-” you exclaimed eyes scanning the dates, “We-we leave tomorrow?”. He hummed and nodded in response to the question, draining the last of his wine glass and placing it on the table. “Come on querida we have some serious packing to do” Pedro grinned, standing up from the couch he extended his hand which you took intertwining both your fingers. You giggled following suit to stand a moment after, hands still laced together. “Lead the way then mi amor”. In the blink of an eye you where being pulled (gently of course) through into the house and up the stairs, the sounds of both your laughter filling the rooms as you collapsed on the bed. Absolutely no worries in the world enjoying a moment; just the two of you.